Date: Mon, 14 Jan 2008 01:18:18 -0800 (PST) From: Boy Smack Subject: Schoolteacher's Confessions: Part 2 Mb spank oral The warm breeze ruffled my hair as I walked along, enjoying another beautiful day in what had become far-and-away the best summer I had spent since becoming a teacher. Instead of the usual barrenness I experienced during the vacation months, I was being treated to a remarkable interlude. The company of a roomful of students had been replaced for a time with the company of one very lovable boy. Ryan's mom had of course been very worried that Ryan was intruding too much on my time. After all, he had only been invited over to shoot baskets in my driveway, and when he took advantage of his enlarged boundaries to visit my house, Deb was quick to apologize. I, of course, had made it clear that Ryan was no imposition at all. I had time on my hands every summer, and I could only spend so much time on projects around the house. In the end she had been grateful to have someone near at hand that Ryan trusted during her shifts at the hospital. One way in which my time with Ryan was so different from my school-year was that it was entirely play time. I was free of the responsibility of bringing my students to a series of bench-marks by year's end; with Ryan I could engage whole-heartedly in the important business of play. And play we did. I didn't see him every day, but usually when his mom had a shift he would drop by at some time and I would become his playmate. We played basketball and soccer in my yard, and we played monopoly and checkers inside. Best of all, we wrestled. Ryan had never really known his dad, and he was anxious for the attention of a man who cared about him. Like boys everywhere, he longed for physical touch, so we chased each other around my house, laying ambushes that usually ended with me astride his prone, struggling form as I tickled him mercilessly. And, inevitably, I spanked him. That was the even greater difference from my existence as a teacher. There I had to keep my hands to myself. I had to wait for one of the boys to actually merit a paddling before I could indulge my spanking fantasies, and even then there were considerable limits. I never, ever got to touch the boys' bottoms with my hand. Ryan, however, expected it. We never wrestled that I didn't give him a few smacks, and I rarely missed an opportunity to pat or slap at his butt when he walked past me in the house. I had grown accustomed to letting my hand linger in that forbidden zone, and I had even given him a few pinches and squeezes. Far from being driven off by these attentions, the boy clearly hungered for more. Ever since the first day in my house he had gone out of his way to manufacture situations in which I would take him over my knee. Sometimes he would hint broadly at how bad he was being, and on others he would simply ask me if I wasn't going to spank him. Inevitably I would bend him over and begin to spank him gently. I would slowly increase the intensity of those spanks, sometimes with him demanding that I slap him harder. Both of us would grow aroused, and Ryan would wind up franticly humping on my knee, although I think he somehow imagined that I didn't realize that's what he was doing. As I walked along that morning in late June, I reflected again on the unlikelihood of finding myself with a beautiful boy who enjoyed being spanked as much as I enjoyed spanking him. My own reasons were clear enough to me. As a boy I had never cared for being spanked, but I had often fantasized about being the one in power. I wanted to have a boy of my own stretched across my lap or bent over a chair waiting for me to punish him. When I graduated with my certification I passed up the union salary of the public schools to teach somewhere where the paddle was in use, and it had been well worth it. Whenever I looked down on a pert little upturned bottom I felt a surge of power, and everything about it was just right. I loved the feel of the paddle in my hand, the cracking sound it made, and the squirms and yelps it produced. My self-acknowledged sexual attraction to boys was intertwined with this pleasure in more than one way. On the one hand I was obsessed with boy butts. I wanted access to them, and paddling was a strangely allowable type of access. It was no difficult thing to go home and think about the boys I had punished - to imagine what they would look like with their pants down and to dream about pounding their butts in a more intimate way. At the same time, my genuine affection for my boys held me in check. I enjoyed paddling them, but I would not enjoy it at all if it hurt them too much. I was as interested in comforting them as in disciplining them. So of course, now that I had the opportunity to be all alone with Ryan, I was living out some of the fantasies I had entertained about my students over the years. He was actually over my lap, not just over a chair. I was touching him with my very own hand, not through the mediation of the paddle. Best of all, he reciprocated my lust, growing every bit as aroused as me, though I doubted he realized it. It was Ryan's fascination which had at first baffled me. Ever since I was a boy, I had wanted to spank someone else; it was hard to figure out why he wanted me to spank him. As we spent time together, though, I began to understand. For one thing, Ryan really did crave the authority of a father. He maybe didn't realize it, but he missed having a dad who kept him in line. He naturally responded to spanking as a form of affection, even if our games were all in fun. Furthermore, he genuinely wanted the more traditional affection which always followed our spanking sessions. I would hold him on my lap straddling me like a little boy, and I would caress and soothe him. I even bestowed innocent kisses, and he obviously warmed to this affection. I don't think he could have brought himself to accept such attentions on their own, especially not at first, but as part of the game he could receive them without shame. One other thing was splendidly obvious to me, even though Ryan had missed it himself. Somewhere along the way his longing for a father had morphed into a sexual attraction to men. It might not last forever, and it was certainly repressed at this point, but I couldn't doubt its reality. He humped me more urgently each time he was over my knee. His hard little cock pressed into my legs and poked against my belly when I hugged him afterwards. He was living out a sexual fantasy, and probably nothing short of the attention given to one of his more erogenous zones would have allowed him to express it. And so it had come about that I was spending much of my summer with a beautiful little boy, one after whom I was undeniably lusting, and he, through the innermost needs of his psyche, was also lusting after me. It was a perfectly symbiotic relationship; each supplied what the other wanted most. With these thoughts in my mind I swung round a corner and started across one of the local parks. I had long made a point of arranging my summer walks to come by this particular park, where local kids could swim in the municipal pool for a cheap fee. It was a boy-watchers bonanza: nearly-naked boys came out of the pool area glistening with water and with their wet suits clinging to their legs and buttocks. I could see more boy-flesh on one walk through this park than I could in an entire year at school - lithe boy-backs, tight boy-tummies, and slender boy-legs. I had perfected the art of walking through and drinking it all in without appearing to stare, thus feeding my fantasies for a few nights. Never, of course, would I run the risk of talking to any of these kids. "Kent!" I swiveled around at the sound of my name being yelled in the melodic, sexual tones of a pre-teen boy. A group of four boys stood by the pool gate, their near-nude beauty slightly marred by the towels they had wrapped around their shoulders, but their hair and legs still glistening invitingly in the sun. A fifth had broken away from them and was bounding toward me. His sandy hair was plastered back with water, and his piercing blue eyes gleamed with the joy of boyhood in summer. I thought for a moment he was going to jump on me, and it didn't even occur to me to worry that my clothing would be soaked. He pulled up, though, and stopped in front of me, panting and smiling. "Hey, Ryan," I said, "how did you get down here? Isn't your mom at work today?" "She let me come swimming with my friends today," he answered, "but they're going back home. Trevor's little brother hit his head on the side of the pool, and he doesn't want to stay." "He's OK, isn't he?" I asked, trying to show concern, though in reality I only had eyes for my Ryan. His shirtless form was perfectly slim, and I found his slick, drenched skin incredibly sexy. "Yeah, he's fine, but they're going home, and I live in the opposite direction. You don't mind if I walk home with you, do you? Trevor's mom was going to drop me off, but she's not coming for another hour." "Sure, of course, no problem," I answered. Ryan turned and waved to his friends. "It's OK, guys, you can go. I'll walk home with my neighbor." The boys turned and headed in the opposite direction. I should have had a good view of their wet butts, but I didn't even look. My eyes were locked onto the boy at my side. I couldn't believe the luck that this summer was bringing me. Ryan skipped along beside me on the walk to our street, chattering away about his friends, and who had said what to whom, and who had pushed whom into the pool when the lifeguard wasn't looking, and on and on. In spite of having me to hang out with, he was missing other kids that summer. It was bound to be somewhat boring being restricted to his house and mine while his mom was gone, and he was reveling in the morning he had had. By the time we got to his house, he was all dried out except for his hair and his swimsuit. I hated to see him go inside, knowing I would likely see him again that day, but not with his shirt off. "Do you want to come over to my place for lunch? I've got left over pizza^Å" Ryan let out an exuberant shout, knowing none of the restraint of adulthood, and rushed off to lead the way to my house. As soon as I unlocked the door, he sprinted for the powder room. I smiled to myself; I remembered summer days at the pool from my childhood. I heard Ryan emerge from the bathroom as I threw the cold pizza on a plate and put it into the microwave. "It should be just a few^Å" I stopped cold. Ryan had come out of the bathroom with his towel wrapped around him and hanging like a loose skirt. It emphasized his thin waist, but even more, it raised questions about the location of his swimsuit. Was he naked under there? The very thought of being with him in that state of undress left me momentarily speechless. I struggled not to show my confusion any more than I already had, but Ryan had seen. Fortunately he didn't catch the sexual undercurrent of my thoughts. "I didn't want to get your furniture all wet, so I hung my suit on the hook." He gestured vaguely behind him and threw me a self-satisfied, aren't-I-a-good-boy? grin and waited for my approval. "Thanks," I managed, and as he walked by I squeezed his shoulder, uncertain whether I should give him the customary swat. His skin was silky, and I longed to get my hands back on his shoulders. We ate our pizza perched on stools at the kitchen bar. I listened to him gabble on and let my eyes feast on the sight of his bare chest and shoulders, as well as on the still-damp sandy hair that was beginning to frizz up around his delicate face. When I threw out our paper plates I turned to see him still seated, looking across the bar and away from me. His bare back was near perfect, and his towel barely cut off the view before his spine plunged down to his butt crack. I stepped behind him and placed a hand lightly on each shoulder, commencing a very gentle massage. Ryan sighed and leaned back against me as I rubbed his shoulders, and I wrapped my arms around him from behind, squeezing him tightly for a moment. Those innocent displays of affection were becoming more common between us, and Ryan obviously saw nothing strange in them. I walked out to the living room, hoping he would stay, and he followed me in. I sat on the couch and watched his cute belly button as he came toward me. "So, Ryan, what do you want to do?" I obviously couldn't wrestle with him^Å "Want to play checkers?" Ryan shrugged. He had grown quiet while I rubbed his shoulders, clearly enjoying my touch. He came and sat down directly beside me and leaned up against me. He didn't want to switch over to a less intimate activity like checkers quite yet. "You know," he said, "you haven't spanked me all week." It was a self-evidently silly statement, given that it was Monday morning. It wasn't the first time he had asked me to spank him, but he seemed more serious somehow. I was worried. Somehow spanking him while he wore nothing but a towel seemed to cross a line that scared me, even if he had suggested it. "I don't know, buddy," I answered, "I don't think that beach towel was made for spanking. Ryan looked at me seriously, then without a word stretched himself over my lap. His shoulders rested on one end of the couch and his knees on the other. In between his bottom peaked over my lap, the towel hanging in folds around the back of his thighs. He reached back, still wordlessly, and fiddled with the towel. I suddenly realized that he was untying it. Then he folded his arms on the couch and rested his head on them. He looked up at me seriously and said in quiet, husky tones, "Then don't spank me through the towel." I was, of course, rock hard at that moment. A minute before I had been unwilling to consider spanking him when he wore only a towel; now that he was inviting me to flip the towel away, nothing could stop me. I laid one hand on the small of his back and rubbed gently. "Are you sure, buddy?" I asked in an equally husky voice. He nodded, and, trembling, I grabbed the edge of the towel and flipped it over. I decided right away that Ryan's bottom was his sexiest feature. It rose in a gentle curve from the small of his back and fell away again towards his legs, describing two perfect arcs. It was round and full and sensual without being chubby. It was as though it was the only feature on this thin little boy that was filling out. I gasped at its beauty, and carefully, almost reverently, placed my hand on it. A thrill ran through my whole body as I touched that forbidden flesh. I forgot that I was supposed to be spanking him and I caressed him lovingly instead. My hard cock pressed up against the towel from below, and Ryan's pressed down from below. My breathing grew ragged, and I still didn't spank him. "Well?" the boy inquired at last, and I smiled, the spell somewhat broken. I began to smack him very lightly, drinking in the sight of his bare buns jiggling under my hand. I had spanked Ryan in fun, and some of my nephews in the past as well, and I had paddled boys at school, but I had never had the pleasure of spanking a bare bottom. I relished the luxury of it, gently spanking his beautiful butt and pausing periodically to rub and squeeze it. The boy whimpered, obviously from pleasure rather than pain, and wriggled around on my lap, sending waves of sensation into my rigid cock. After a minute or two I began to gradually intensify the smacks until his pale bottom took on a decidedly pinkish tinge. Then I paused, my hand resting on the warm flesh. I couldn't resist squeezing him once more, and I fairly well mauled his bare flesh as I pawed at it. Then I lifted my hand for one more swat, this one a fairly good stinger. Ryan yelped and bucked upward, and then we both laughed. He rolled off my lap and stood up, smiling at me as he reached back to vigorously rub at his reddened cheeks.. Then he froze. My eyes had dropped to view his prominently displayed little stiffy. It was as though he realized for the first time that he was aroused. The red tinge that filled his face rivaled that on his bottom, and he stuttered out, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." as he quickly moved his hands to cover his erection. "Oh, no, buddy, no," I said, and I drew him toward me. My own erection had been hidden beneath the towel and my jeans; he couldn't realize that I shared his predicament. I was determined to let him know that it was alright; I didn't want him embarrassed in the least. I pulled him onto my lap like always and wrapped my arms around him. I began to rub both hands up and down his back, and then lowered both to gently massage his stinging bottom. Soon I felt his cock pressing into my belly like always, only this time he couldn't help but be aware of it. I kissed the top of his head like always, and then, carried away by the moment, I went further. I reached up and took hold of his chin and turned his face up to mine. "It's OK," I whispered, and then I bent to kiss his lips. He didn't shy away, so I kissed him again, and then again longer. His hard cock still pressed against me, so I went on. I slid one hand behind his head and with the other I reached down to squeeze his bare bottom again. Now he moaned, and I took advantage to slip my tongue into his mouth. Ryan's eyes popped open in surprise, but I simply tried to smile with my own eyes. It must have worked, because he opened his mouth to receive my tongue again. His body lay like dead weight in my arms; he was overpowered by the sudden intimacy. I gently laid him down on his back on the couch and I bent over him, continuing to kiss him. He began to reciprocate, probing into my mouth with his tongue. I was in the throes of wild passion by now, and while I loved the taste of his tongue, I thought strangely that it was not filling. I wanted more. I had started down this road to show him that it was OK for him to be aroused, and now I wanted to show him just how OK it really was. The boy's hands had locked behind my neck; I disentangled them and put his hands at his sides. He looked disappointed and was about to protest, but I hushed him and bent to kiss his lips again. He opened his mouth, but I pulled away and moved my mouth down to his chin, kissing him there and then all around his neck. He squirmed with delight. I kissed his lips again, then shifted even lower, kissing first one nipple and then another. Ryan nearly jumped off the couch; I had to restrain him in his ecstasy. Then I plunged my tongue into his belly button before licking a long line back up to his chin and kissing his mouth passionately again. Ryan was moaning loudly when I moved back to his chest, this time reversing course and running my tongue down his torso. I didn't stop at his navel, though. I kept on and stopped just short of his rigid little boy-cock. He had stopped breathing, scarcely daring to imagine what was coming next. I smiled up at him and then turned my attention to his little penis. This had started because he was embarrassed by his erection; I was determined to show him just how little offended I was. Ryan gasped when my tongue first touched the head of his cock. He thrust it forward, craving more. I ran my tongue up and down the shaft for a few minutes, and then engulfed the whole in my mouth. Now that was satisfying! Having his little cock twitching and jumping inside my mouth while I sucked away, still bathing the shaft with my tongue, was the most filling meal I had ever enjoyed. He was thrusting upward with a desperate urgency, and I slipped my hands under him, kneading one buttock with each hand while he sought an ever-escalating pleasure. At last his body froze rigid, while his cock continued to jump and twitch inside me. Then it was over, and he pushed me back as I lifted my mouth from him. Ryan was crying in his joy - actually shedding tears. I pulled him into my embrace and we cuddled quietly on the couch for a while. That night I relived the moment repeatedly alone in my bed. Sometimes in my fantasy I spanked him gently and sometimes hard. Sometimes I used a paddle. But every time I returned to the joy of sucking him to climax, and every time I watched in my mind's eye as he burst into joyful sobbing as I finished. I don't know what he dreamed of that night, but it may have been very much the same.