Chris is Whacked at the Car Wash

 

This is a short story that I wrote late 2008. I've modified it slightly and I hope you enjoy it.

Regards,

DJ

nifnut@hotmail.co.uk


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Chris is Whacked at the Car Wash.


Even though he was just sixteen, Chris Dixon was a real stud. He was passionate about sport and how his young body showed it. Chris was a great all rounder who excelled at any physical activity. Wrestling was what he enjoyed most as he loved to pit his strength and skill against the other guys. The one-to-one contact and controlled aggression of wrestling gave Chris a tremendous buzz especially when he was fighting bigger and more powerful lads.

Chris was very popular with his peers though a few guys believed that he was too cocky for his own good. In truth, there was a little bit of jealousy from some of the physically less gifted lads at his school but most of the boys loved him, and wished that they were just like him.

Whilst young master Dixon loved his wrestling he also contributed significantly to the successes of the school swim team. Chris could always be relied upon to put in a tremendously spirited performance in the pool. In reality, the lad swam because it offered the best opportunity bar none to show off his physique as he paraded around in his tight little Speedos.

There was, however, one person in Chris's world who was guaranteed to keep him in check and that was his strict Methodist lay-preacher father. Fortunately, Chris's mother was much more modern thinking and she moderated Mr Dixon and usually ensured that their son was allowed the freedom to express himself.

On occasion, the lad's father would find cause to chastise his son, and when he did he certainly knew how to make it count. Chris's peach like bubble-butt knew all about it when his father had finished with it. For this reason, the boy tried to ensure that he kept his more extrovert and exuberant tendencies away from his dad's sight.

One memorable weekend, the lads in the swim team had arranged a group swimwear car-wash to raise funds for their summer training camp. Naturally, Chris was well up for this as it was a perfect platform for him to parade his goods. He did need permission from his parents as did all the lads. Chris `forgot' to mention that the activity involved the boys being clad in their swimwear, so Mr Dixon had no hesitation in giving Chris his blessing for the day.

The lads were typically excited and boisterous when they gathered at school and changed for their `work'. They all arranged to be in their board shorts and trainers and Chris's body looked great when clad in his low-slung royal-blue and white shorts. He had worked out with some heavy weights for an hour before joining the others to pump up his young muscles.

Collectively, the boys very soon started to provide an entertaining sight for the local community as they offered their services to the passing traffic.

With his buff, sinewy body, Chris was initially allocated to the reception team of two who stood at the roadside with banners and buckets, waving at the passing vehicles.

As always, Chris was fully committed and very enthusiastic and frisky. He was soon throwing some comical but fantastic bodybuilding poses at the traffic, especially when there was a girl on board the passing motor. The cars that didn't pull in honked their horns in appreciation of the enthusiasm and splendour of the fit young muscle boys. Even the mothers were impressed by young Chris's rippling abs and decent guns as he threw them a double bicep pose with his huge white toothed and very infectious grin.

Those folks that did drop into the yard received a very enthusiastic welcome and a good quality car wash from the strong, hard-working lads.

In no time at all, the boys were soaking wet with the water. They were steaming hot which added to the spectacle.

After an hour, the shift changed, and Chris and his pal went across the yard and started to do some washing. This was carried out with just as much enthusiasm and posturing. They laughed and joked and had a wonderful time.

The lads needed to retreat for a cool down at mid-day as the sun reached its maximum intensity. Most of the boys went into the locker rooms and grabbed a refreshing shower.

Afterwards, Chris declared; "We need to give the girls an added incentive to drop by. We should work in our Speedos."

Some of the lads declined and some didn't have their Speedos, so they couldn't change. This didn't deter Chris. He dragged his tight little trunks on, tucking in his tidy cock and then he slipped his flip-flops on.

There could be no doubt to anyone that Chris looked mega-hot with his buff tight wrestler's body and wide bronzed shoulders. His tiny peach butt was perfectly held in suspension by his trunks. Chris's tousled beach-boy blond hair was in need of a cut, but now, as it cascaded wet almost onto his shoulders, he presented a spectacular vista...and didn't he know it!

The final touch came when the boys added the lashings of high-factor sun-oil to one another's bodies. Chris ensured that his body was coated with oil, `so his muscles shone and so he looked buff for the girls'. He laughed and told the others that he was getting horny just thinking about the girls looking at his body. In truth, he was very horny at the thought of his mates looking at his hot body and his dick was twitching.

"Don't be getting a boner around me," stated Chris's mate Joe who was enjoying applying the oil to Chris's chest.

Chris grabbed at his own dick and balls through his trunks. In an exaggerated sexual manner he moved towards Joe who laughed and dashed away.

As he prepared to return to the parking lot, Joe caught another view of his pal and he thought how superb he looked from the rear. Chris's speedos were small and tight enough to be ultra-hot, yet just big enough to ensure his modesty. They were predominantly white, with a few small red and royal blue motifs.

When the lads emerged again into the yard, Chris was the obvious centre of attention and fun. He was undoubtedly the focal point of interest for the passengers in the cars, whether the folk were female or male.

Chris simply got better as the afternoon wore on and his body shone out with his sweat. His muscles pumped up even more with the hard work that he put in. The lads sprayed one-another with the hoses and Chris's Speedos became partially transparent. This caused even more of a commotion and a flutter of many a woman (and boy's) heart.

After a while, a big red Jeep pulled in for a wash, and to the assembled lads' delight, they saw two stunning young blond girls in the wagon. On closer inspection, the girls were seen to be wearing just tiny bikinis. Naturally, all the bare chested lads wanted to get to work on this particular vehicle. But by luck, it was Chris and Joe's turn.

The girls in the Jeep certainly rose to the occasion and they screamed and laughed as Chris and Joe approached and started to sponge their motor with loads of suds. The boys worked slowly and methodically to ensure they got maximum benefit in seeing as much of the frisky young girls as possible. Chris also ensured that he flexed and posed as much as he could, trying his utmost to impress the girls.

In turn, the girls giggled and played up to the boys. They even shouted out that the lads needed to put their backs into the job.

The young driver of the Jeep called out to Chris; "Come on blondie, let's see those muscles in some real action."

The girls then screeched with laughter again, and watched the boys intensely.

Chris grinned and worked even harder, flexing his muscles as he caught his own reflection in the Jeep's windows. He gave the girls a real performance and Joe did his best to compete on the other side.

Chris went to the front of the car and provocatively took his sponge and rubbed it across his chest, circling his hard pectorals. He then dropped the sponge in his bucket and threw the girls a wonderful double bicep pose followed by his `most muscular' pose. He held the pose till the veins in his shoulders popped. The girls cheered and laughed and encouraged Chris to do more. They got what they asked for, and Chris gave them everything he could think of, and more. He grinned and returned to the side of the Jeep with his bucket.

He had to stand up on the Jeep's running board and reach up on his tip-toes to sponge the roof. As such, the boy's bulging groin ended up being squashed into the window right adjacent to the driver's face.

Again, the girls screamed with enthusiastic delight. They were having great fun and sport with this young stud and they made a few light-hearted, but very provocative comments about Chris's `performance'.

Chris laughed back and felt incredibly horny. He knew that he'd have a great jerk-off later on as he thought about these two temptresses.

In his excitement, Chris didn't even notice when he started to get a real hard-on whilst his wet dick rubbed against the Jeep's windows.

The girls, of course, couldn't fail to notice the youngster's arousal as it was pressed like a leach to their window. They laughed even more and then shrieked and pretended to be horrified.

Chris now realised what was happening, and he jumped down and tried to adjust his trunks as his dick began to strain at the fabric.

He looked up and the girls were falling about laughing.

As a final act of boyish bravado, and as the teenager was so excited, he grabbed again at his crotch as he had earlier in jest with Joe. He then made out as if he had his hard dick in his right hand and he began making coarse, deliberate, and very exaggerated sexual movements towards the screaming, giggling girls in the wagon.

Something had to happen of course.

Right at that very moment, young Chris's nemesis, in the form of his father, pulled up in the yard.

Chris's father's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as he observed his near naked son making the most crude gestures towards the vehicle carrying two semi clad girls.

Chris had no knowledge whatsoever of his father's arrival.

Mr Dixon parked up and stepped slowly from his car. He was absolutely pop-eyed and glaring, and he was extremely red-faced.

Chris continued his fun.

Even when Joe on the opposite side spotted Mr Dixon and tried to warn Chris with gestures of his own, his friend failed to notice.

There was a loud bellow of a voice; "Christopher!"

Chris froze. He then slowly turned, still clutching his groin. He saw his father quickly descending upon him and he suddenly turned rather pale.

"Oh fuck, shit, god no," exclaimed Chris before he had chance to realise what he was saying in front of his father.

Mr Dixon's face turned a darker shade of crimson, speaking slowly between his gritted teeth; "What are you doing, what are you saying boy?"

"I'm sorry dad," was all Chris could say.

His father continued; "Are you deliberately trying to bring all of our family into utter disrepute with your horrible, crude manner boy? How could you show off your body like that to two young ladies?"

Chris was already as red-faced as his father. He kept his hands together in front of his groin to cover the heavy lob in his dick.

Mr Dixon wasn't finished; "Never in my life have I had to witness such crude and base behaviour from any boy, man, or even a beast. To complete your debasement, you utter the most horrible, vile language and then you compound it all by taking the Lord God's name in vain."

If Chris hadn't already fathomed it out, he now knew for sure that his young peachy arse was in for the hiding of its life.

Chris's father just about got a hold of his emotions to enable him to properly consider the options. He looked all around him glaring at the other boys as he considered how to deal with his delinquent son. He knew that he had to teach him a real lesson to ensure that he realised the error of his ways.

He glanced across and saw a young lad of Chris's age sat grinning in just a pair of board shorts. He was obviously the cashier of the event as he had a bucket with money in it on the ground alongside his kitchen-type chair.

"May I use your chair young man?" asked Mr Dixon, affording the boy much more civility and politeness than Mr Dixon thought he deserved.

The boy looked up and stopped grinning. Without any question or comment, he simply rose and scuttled off with his bucket.

"Thank you," said Mr Dixon as he sat himself down in the vacated chair.

Chris looked on without moving.

The voice of his father bellowed out across the parking lot; "Christopher Dixon, come over here immediately and prostrate yourself across my lap."

Chris looked mortified.

The other boys looked astonished and yet very interested.

"No dad, please, you can't," pleaded Chris.

"Can't? Can't? There is no such thing as can't boy. I can, and I will. Now, come here and come here quickly, or else," growled Mr Dixon.

Chris moved hesitatingly towards his father and the other boys stood there pop-eyed.

The two young girls in bikinis climbed out of their Jeep to get an eye-full of the proceedings.

Everyone looked across at the stunners who were about twenty or twenty one.

Chris now stood quaking in front of his father. He still couldn't really believe that his old man would contemplate smacking his butt here in front of everyone.

"Drop them boy," ordered his father.

"What?" gasped Chris.

"Drop them and take up the position," stated his father.

There were murmurs and nervous giggles all around them.

Chris gasped; "Oh no dad, not here in front of everyone. You can't ask me to get naked in front of girls."

"Are you defying me boy?" asked his father.

"There are girls watching dad," reiterated the boy.

Chris's dad was in full flow, "Yes there are girls here, and before you saw me, you was more than ready to shame yourself. You was humiliating the girls by showing your body off and by making such crude gestures. Why are you being bashful now that I'm here?"

Chris finally moved his cupped hands and everyone including his father saw that his dick was engorged and straining at his speedos.

Mr Dixon only hesitated for a moment. He coughed, and then composed himself again, "Drop them," he ordered.

Chris looked at his father and knew that he must comply. He slowly put his thumbs under his trunks' waist band and began stretching the fabric away from his body. He pulled the Speedos down over his boner. His dick saw its chance and it escaped with a violent catapult into the air. It stood ram-rod rigid and splendidly magnificent in full throb.

The lads all around them gasped then giggled. Many of them already had the beginnings of erections of their own, and few now remained flaccid. A couple had boners to match Chris's own.

The two girls gagged and marvelled at Chris's virtuoso performance. The each went very damp down under.

Chris kicked off his flip-flops to enable him to step out of his trunks. He then quickly bent over and laid down across his dad's lap trying to cover up his embarrassing state. He hung his head and stared at the floor.

"Look up boy," ordered his father.

Chris slowly raised his head and twisted it round to look up at his father.

"You are being punished for you near nakedness in public, your crudity, and for your blasphemy son," stated his dad.

Chris couldn't help but see the irony in his first `sin'. His father had just ordered him to be bollock naked, and now, here he was punishing him for being in his Speedos in public.

His dad started again; "I intend to show you and everyone else here that our family have high standards and values and that we know how to behave properly. You will receive eight of the best."

Chris sighed with relief. It was bad enough being publicly humiliated and there was no doubt that in the weeks to come, he would need to be constantly grovelling for forgiveness. He'd also get grounded, but at least this public ridicule would be short-lived.

Mr Dixon hadn't finished; "...you will receive eight of the best...for each of the three offences. I believe that this equates to two-dozen of the best."

"Oh fuck," muttered Chris.

"That's thirty two then," growled Chris's raging bull of a father, as he added another eight for the last expletive. "Do you have anything else to say before we begin son?"

"No sir, sorry sir," replied Chris quietly. How he wished that he could just keep his mouth shut.

Chris pondered his fate. His dad had never given him more than ten smacks before. This number of whacks would certainly draw out the mental pain, but what about the physical stuff? Could he cope?

One of Chris's pals was now very active himself as he toyed with his dick through the pocket in his shorts.

Chris lowered his head again and braced himself.

"Pass me that shoe," ordered Mr Dixon to one of the nearest lads.

The lad quickly picked up Chris's flip-flop and passed it to the man, fully understanding the intention.

Chris hung down with his head close to the floor, realising that his thirty two whacks were to be administered with his own hard rubber soled flip-flop. They were still deeply ribbed as he'd bought the flip-flops only recently in the sale. His dad had only ever used his hand on his arse before, and that was bad enough. He cringed at the thought of a whacking on his bare arse with his flip-flop.

Mr Dixon smiled slightly as he took the flip-flop and looked admiringly at his son's beautiful butt. He hadn't observed it for a few months and never before had it across his knee in full daylight. Now, here it was, somewhat sweaty and twitchy in the full glare of the afternoon sun. For the first time, Mr Dixon noticed some downy fair hair on his boy's perfectly formed globes and some slightly longer hair forming within the crack between his lovely cheeks. Chris's butt was nice and firm with some muscle definition as it stretched across his father's lap.

What a pleasure it was, thought Mr Dixon, to have this very unexpected job to do this fine summer's afternoon.

"Are you ready and prepared boy?" was the call.

"Yes sir," replied the lad. He could hardly have said no, even though he desperately wanted to.

Chris felt the shoe tap lightly on his arse as his father readied himself and got his distance sorted.

Everything and everyone went silent in delighted anticipation - Forget the `delighted' for Chris he wanted to fart but didn't dare in case he followed through.

Mr Dixon was like a master at his work. He raised his arm theatrically and with great precision, he whacked the flip-flop with a wonderful squelching crack across Chris's bare arse.

There was indeed a rumbling wet fart and all the watching lads were creased up in fits of laughter.

One glare from the big man drew a halt to any further frivolity.

The next whack followed quickly and Chris's head lifted as the pain registered. It was truly awful for Chris. He knew that he couldn't scream in front of his friends, and particularly with the girls there, yet how could he control himself for another thirty whacks?

The big fellow wielding the flip-flop was well pleased with his work so far. There were two wonderful red imprints of the flip-flop on his lad's arse one on each globe. They looked fiery and splendid on the pinky-white buttocks. Down below, his son's hard dick twitched, and the man smiled with pride. He knew that his boy would soon be a man, and he knew that opportunities like today's would be thin on the ground in future.

He again whacked the implement with a slapping crack across his boy's arse, and then another. He started to build up a decent head of steam as he warmed to the task.

Chris muttered and groaned with each, increasingly painful whack.

The boy's buttocks went increasing red and began to look quite inflamed as the strokes increased in number. Sweat cascaded from every pore of the boy's body and it dripped from his matted hair. His father continued without pause, calling out the stroke count in a loud voice.

Chris forgot all about his dick (which was still fully boned-up). His mind was totally preoccupied with the pain in his young arse.

Mr Dixon was very proud that his son was taking his punishment so bravely, and he loved the fact that he didn't cry out. He decided to increase the force of the strokes.

On and on the whacks went. Chris was almost out of his mind as the strokes grew more intense. A pool of sweat formed on the concrete adjacent to the teenagers head.

Finally, the thrashing stopped. The big man looked exhausted as he called out; "thirty two."

At least two of the watching boys had already exploded inside their shorts.

The girls were so excited that they were fully juiced up down below. They had loved watching the naked young stud being mastered so totally by his father.

"That is it for today," announced Chris's dad in his booming voice.

Chris was so relieved.

"You are now grounded for two months," stated the big fellow. "You will have double chores throughout the summer holidays, and you will take a further dozen whacks every Saturday at three in the afternoon for eight weeks."

Mr Dixon was now enjoying himself and he was making this up as he went along; "I will punish you in our rear garden, and all your friends are invited to come and enjoy your punishment."

The big guy couldn't think of anything more to add to his boy's humiliation.

In truth, Chris sort of liked the thought of being able to further demonstrate his bravery and tolerance to pain in front of a selected audience.

"Now, get up and get showered and dressed. We are going home," was Chris's father's last order of the day to him.

Chris stood somewhat unsteadily, and everyone gasped and smiled when they again saw the boy's rock hard boner.

Mr Dixon glowed with pride at the wonderful sight that his boy presented.

The girls also gasped, or in reality they gagged, and they scuttled off back to their Jeep, just pausing long enough to get Chris's address from his pals. They didn't intend to miss next Saturday's instalment.

The lads finally all called it a day on the car wash and they headed with the still naked Chris to the changing rooms. They all admired Chris's courage, and they closely inspected his crimson globes.

As they got inside, the lads gathered to admire Chris's boner and everyone quickly got naked and showed their own crowning glories to one another. The mood was very light now and the lads were quite giggly. Incredibly, every lad decided that they wanted to sample a whack on their arses from Chris with his flip-flop. They each bent over and offered their naked butts to Chris and he had great fun whacking the lads and showing them how bad it was.

Finally they retreated into the hot shower room where they all had a spectacular team-jerk. They competed to see who could splatter their load the highest up the tiled wall. Chris won by a proverbial mile, after which, most of the boys associated a whacked arse with a superb jerk-off.

On each of the next eight Saturdays, most of the boys duly arrived to witness Chris's performance at the hands of his dad. As the weeks went by, some of the lads even came with their own confessions, telling Mr Dixon that they had done something bad and that their own fathers had suggested that Mr Dixon might give them a few whacks. Old man Dixon never needed to see any evidence, and he was always happy to help out with the correction of any boy who asked for it.

The two girls also came along to the first few sessions and they seemed to love the spectacle.

Chris remained grounded as decreed, and his father was very gratified to know that his punishment routine had sorted his slightly wayward son. Chris did all his chores and more, and he was a model son.

What nobody else ever knew, was that when Chris's mom and dad had gone off to choir practice for a couple of hours after Chris's regular punishments, the girls quietly returned. Once there, they tended to young Chris's flaming buttocks and they showed him many wonderful things to do with his raging boners.

Young wrestler Chris became a man that summer. He and the girls found that if one of the ladies whacked Chris's bare arse whist he was servicing the other, he could perform to a much superior level.

In truth, Chris did enjoy being looked after by the girls, but he much preferred the fun times that he had with his mates as they whacked one another with their flip flops and jerked themselves to a frenzy.

Happy days!




The End.