Nick and I were not related but we were very close, skinny boys in our first summer after college, staying with a family friend, our Uncle Tony, in his cottage in the woods of central New Hampshire. Tony was a hot bachelor, about 35, who enjoyed his garden, tinkering with an old motorcycle he’d bought second-hand, and playing poker with his friends on his screened-in porch. With Nick and me, he was pretty informal, walking around the house in his briefs and T-shirt, letting us see him shave naked in the morning, and sometimes popping a boner in the shower.
He was pretty strict, though, about us doing our chores around the place, cutting the grass, painting the bulkhead, weeding his tomatoes, taking the trash to the town dump. Our families had given Tony permission to give us both spankings if we really got out of hand, and, once, when we’d come in late after a few too many beers, Tony had confronted us at the front door with a paddle in his hand.
"I really dislike irresponsibility," he had said. "And, even more, I really dislike disrespect." He pulled up a straight-backed chair in the living room, took my pants and briefs down, bent me over his knee, and gave me a bare-bottom spanking in front of Nick. Then he lowered Nick’s pants and did the same to him. Our sore bottoms cut through our hangovers, to be sure. We couldn’t believe it.
We were so embarrassed we didn’t even mention it again to each other.
A few weeks later, we relapsed. We skipped sweeping the garage, left the dishes in the kitchen sink, and came home late for supper. When we met Tony in the front hall, he would not even look us in the face, not even speak. Then, later, he grumbled, "You guys aren’t great. About learning lessons."
After dark, around nine that night, Tony put down his newspaper and told us, on the front porch, "I think I’ll drive down to see Officer Mike about that building permit I need. My project with the bathroom." I thought this was odd, at night, but I just said, "OK, we’ll mind the fort."
Nick smiled at me.
"You boys don’t do that well," Tony told us. "You’re coming with me. You need a little exposure to police procedure."
I didn’t like the sound of that, and Nick acted nervous. "Can’t we stay here?"
"You can’t." Tony picked up his briefcase. "Sam, Nick, let’s go. Get your butts in gear."
Tony tuned on the car radio and seemed in an unusually good mood. "What a beautiful. A nice night for a full moon." But the moon was just a sliver in the sky, a bit over a quarter.
Officer Mike was a friend of Tony’s, an occasional poker partner, tall, hairy, with a mustache and wide hands. Like Tony, he was an ex-Navy man and he was sarcastic and tough on teenagers. He was holding a cup of coffee, chatting with a colleague at the front desk, when Tony led Nick and me into the station. It was swelteringly hot, but I think Nick and I were sweatier than the weather alone should have made us.
Tony took out some papers from his briefcase and gave them to Mike. "For the guys at town hall. If you could take a look, to make sure I’ve done everything right." He slid the papers across the counter to Tony. "Unlike, say, these two, who seem to do everything wrong." He nodded toward Nick and me. "Nick and Sam need a little official attention. First, they came back drunk the other week, and, now, they’re slacking off on everything ask them to do around the house."
My gut tightened when I saw Tony pull the paddle from his briefcase.
"Well, there’s your solution," Officer Mike laughed. "I’d give them a good, hard, bare-bottom spanking."
"I will." Tony swatted his own palm. "Will you give me a hand, Mike?"
Nick glanced desperately in my direction. He blinked rapidly. I’m scared too, bro, I wanted to tell him.
"Feel free to use the conference room downstairs," the cop at the front desk told Tony. "Of course the windows are all open. The sound may carry."
"Oh, good, Tony said. "Maybe some punks from the park will hear the noise and come look in the windows for a good laugh."
This couldn’t be happening! I knew Tony took down our pants at home, so he was sure to do it here. He smacked the paddle against his thigh, humming. "I hope the sight of a bare bottom doesn’t offend you, Mike. I always spank on the bare. You don’t object to hot buns on the menu, guy?"
"Hey, that’s the way to go." Mike lit a cigarette, opened the conference room door, clicked on the lights. Panic moistened Nick’s eyes. I felt bad for him; I was slightly older and thus the ring-leader, and we were good friends, who, on occasion, wrestled and jacked off together.
Trying to behave, trying to be a good boy, I motioned to shut the conference room door.
Tony inhaled his cigarette. "Leave it open," he snapped. "Paul at the front desk wants to hear you cry when you get your spanking."
They’d planned all this.
Tony pulled up a folding metal chair and unbuttoned my fly. Then he unbuckled my belt and unzipped the zipper of my fly, tugging down both my pants and briefs simultaneously. I saw Tony smirk as he looked down at my privates, all public now.
Tony bent me over his knee, positioned me on his lap, and my face began burning.
Officer Mike sat down, his cigarette in his mouth, a big grin plastered across his face. "It’s bare-bottom time," he said.
"Stick your bottom up. Higher. Higher. That’s better."
Tony began spanking my bare bottom. Wham, wham, wham. The slaps seemed amplified by the dank basement room. I saw Nick blushing and shifting on his feet, his T-shirt stained under his arms, his blond hair dark with sweat.
"A spanking doesn’t start until the crying does. That’s what my Dad always said," Mike told Tony.
Tears clogged my eyes. I hung my head, but Tony yanked up my hair and forced me to look up at Officer Mike and Nick. "Don’t hang your head. You show your face. You’re showing your bare bottom, buddy."
"Ow, ow! Please! It hurts, please!" I burst into tears and Officer Mike started laughing. "Enough with the love pats, Tony. Give him a good licking!"
Tony intensified the spanking, and I kicked and cried, almost falling off Tony’s lap, and, I’m sure, opening up my crack as I struggled. At last, Tony rested the paddle on the conference table. I coughed and sobbed. Thank goodness it was over. But then, Tony said, "Officer Mike! Do me a favor! Come put your official imprint on this boy’s bare bottom!"
Officer Mike put his cigarette in his mouth, and, smiling, picked up the paddle. "Oh, yes." He gave me twice the licking Tony had...
Standing, crying, with my pants down, I watched Tony take Nick’s pants and undershorts down and bend him, bare, over his knee. Tony was grinning as he administered Nick’s bare-bottom spanking, making Nick jump and cry after about ten whacks. Seeing my little guy cry made me cry all the harder, and Officer Mike, I know, caught the tension and emotion between us. Poor Nick cried just like a baby, and both men clearly relished that, and the fiery- red of his bare, swollen behind.
"Just look at that behind. It’s so bright, I could read a book by it tonight."
Officer Mike paddled Nick and spanked him, bare, with just his wide strong hands, just as he had me. Then Tony stood Nick up, stumbling and dizzy, rubbing his bare bottom, and told Nick and me to stand together in the corner. It was then that we noticed the two grinning punks, about our age, from the park across the street, who were peering down through the basement windows into the conference room, and had been watching us getting our spanking.
Officer Mike yelled at them. "Show’s over, boys. Get your asses out of here or get them tanned!" The boys scrambled away.
Tony followed Officer Mike out of the conference room. I was left alone, bare, with Nick. "I’m sorry, buddy," I said. I wanted to hug him or rub his neck, but, instead, I gently put my hand onto his sore bare bottom. He whimpered. We both had boners. "Sorry." I stroked his bare behind.
I pulled my hand away when the men came back.
"Hey," Tony told Officer Mike, "thanks for all your help."
"Not at all," Officer Mike said. "Always happy to get to the bottom of a situation."