This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission. Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice.
The author would appreciate your comments – pro and con, including constructive criticism, and suggestions.
Other Nifty stories by PJ Franklin in the gay, authoritarian section:
Jesse: Nebraska Rancher's Son: nebraska-ranchers-son/
Twenty Minutes To Midnight: twenty-minutes-to-midnight/
Dog Star: dog-star/
My Sarg, His Son, The Lieutenant And Me
I guess I just got carried away, you know, caught up in the moment. Pounding away on the Xbox's hand controls is kind of addicting in its own right, but deep down, I thought I knew why I was still there doing it, kind of mindlessly too. It was the heavy approaching footsteps that finally distracted me, then the booming voice,
"Conner!! Conner Mason! Front and center young man!" and the fifteen year old wasn't the only one that snapped up to attention in Sergeant Buck Mason's family room, turning just in time to see the man himself standing in the doorway, all six foot five of him, hands on hips with a fatherly snarl on his handsome face. Did I say handsome? Yea, I guess I let that one slip out.
"Oh, Corporal Stiles, I didn't know you were still here," Sarg's face softened just a tad. If the "old man," as we had been calling Sarg since boot training, had a soft side of any kind you'd better not be letting on unless you wanted a size thirteen Army boot shoved up your ass, rhetorically, if not literally. But the truth was, he had a heart as big as the Fort we all lived on, but a fist of steel if you cared to fuck up around him.
And speaking of fuck-ups, there were the antics of his nearly perfect look-alike son, Conner, who kept us all either in stitches some days or wincing on others. This seemed a wincing moment. Sarg then returned his glare from me and back to Conner who said nothing, but I noticed eye-balled his Dad back without blinking or signs of nervousness. Eye-balling is not usually a good idea from a soldier of lower rank to one higher, but in this case, Sarg knew the difference between a son who actually needed to be making eye contact and a soldier who needed to be not staring him down or face the consequences.
"I thought I told you to get that crap out of MY garage and onto the trash heap for the pick-up Conner!?" Sarg said with his classic finger-pointing in a funny kind of angle for emphasis, then returning to his hands on hips posture.
"You did sir," Conner replied, now with a little more apprehension. "That was two days ago boy! When were you planning to do it, next week, next year?!" Sarg said with remarkable sarcasm control, something that apparently was reserved only for his son, as his other nick-name among the troops was "Sergeant Sarcasm."
I heard Conner audibly gulp. If I knew my Sarg with his son, this was not going to be pretty. Somebody's bare bottom was about to get a tanning and I had better be on my way, because if I stayed, it would be a problem for me.
"Um … I'll get to it Dad, I promise, right now in fact!" and Conner tried to bluff ol' Sarg out of the inevitable, but a big upturned palm (I swear, the man could hold a basketball in his grip, just like NBA pros could) stopped the six foot tall teenager's attempt at desperate egress in his tracks, "You bet you will, after you go to your bedroom and get ready for a well earned ass whipping! Now MOVE IT!"
My chest tightened up, hard, and not, unfortunately, with empathy. Well, there was empathy, of course there was, but if I was really honest, the feeling was more of considerable guilt for wanting it to happen, to hear Conner's punishment, knowing that I should never, ever be allowed to actually see it. I know, sounds sick and perverted, but every man has a burden to carry, something that sets him back on his heels for which he needs to be accountable, at least that what my theory was then, even at my young twenty-one years.
My weakness, my "crime" as it were, was corporal punishment of guys with guys and it turned me on something fierce. It had been that way only vaguely through my early teen years with my own Dad, so not in a major way. But then, after I enlisted and was in boot with Sarg, then continued on with him after basic, nothing in that experience had ever discouraged my secret notions whatsoever, much less when I found out that Conner's father, my boss, punished his own son by the good old fashioned methods that I knew were a part of my sexual make-up. Well, let's just say I've been living with that shame for more months than I care to mention.
You see, it wasn't that Sarg hit his men, he most certainly did not. He wanted to. He had verbally threatened each one of us through basic that he wished he could tan our worthless, candy-soft bare asses with his service belt, but then would humorously say that he "officially" had not said those un-politically correct words and would "apologize" to us all so that some fuck-up wouldn't whine to the base commander about being sexually or verbally harassed. What bullshit. I lost sleep for nights on end all through basic, stroking my dick into orgasms, wishing like hell Sarg would take his service belt to my upturned naked ass and set me straight, Army straight, just like him!
But I was too much a good boy, too good a soldier for him for me to ever deserve anything like that. I wanted desperately to please him, not piss him off, hence my everlasting frustration. Then, along came Conner, his son. Now that turned things into a different wind (to use a Navy term), a direction I could not have possibly anticipated and one that was now a mixed blessing of major proportions.
Sarg had a family, pretty much all the non-comms. did. They lived on base with their families and trained us newbies, one after the other for years. Well, Sarg's wife, Marg, she was a wonderful wife for Sarg and a great mom for Conner and we private trainees all knew her too. Then she had to go and get this horrible disease, cancer, and was dead within six months. I had been promoted to Corporal by then and her death hit me like a ton of bricks. I had lost my Mom to an accident when I was ten. Conner was fourteen at the time.
Nobody had to go to the funeral, but everyone did. I stood there under an umbrella in a downpour at the graveside, trying to pretend that the tears streaming down my face were for her, for Marg, but they weren't. I had shed buckets of tears for my own Mom's loss long before and didn't have any of those kind left for Marg, who was now in a better place anyway.
No, my tears were for my Sarg and his son. We all knew Conner of course. He would go to the base school and then come over to the barracks and do his homework and then sometimes hang around, that is until his Dad would come booming in and chase him home to do his chores. That would always crack us up and we would all laugh our asses off, well, I pretended to laugh. The truth was, I could see the love in Sarg's eyes for his son and not that my Dad didn't love me, but you get the picture.
Anyway, there Sarg stood holding the umbrella, his arm around Conner and their faces pale and ashen with grief as they watched the casket lower into the ground. Conner would wipe his nose or a stray tear away and Sarg, well, he stood there like a rock for his son, but we all knew he was heartbroken beyond words.
I'd like now to say that was the end of it. People die, closely held loved ones even, but you have to let them go and go on with life on your won accord. But about a month later, Sarg called me into his office, his face not looking happy, and I don't mean angry. He told me that Conner was not doing well and Sarg needed my help. He knew I had lost my Mom. Hell, Sarg had lost his too for that matter, but this was different. Conner had grown distant from him and no amount of bribery, cajoling or anything Sarg could do, seemed to make a difference. Sarg was not one to send his boy to the base counselor either. He didn't believe in that sort of thing whatsoever for his family.
So, would I help? My initial reaction was that I had no business being involved with this man and his son. I knew my place in the Army and I was barely out of diapers myself, as they say. What did I know about grief counseling for teenagers? But I couldn't stand there and say no to him. I told him I'd try, so I did.
That night, Sarg let me in the front door of his home and then he walked down to the sidewalk and disappeared around the corner, leaving me alone with his son. I found Conner in his bedroom and just stood there helplessly in the doorway. Conner knew me, well, not as well as I knew him, though not personally. He looked up. He knew I was coming, his Dad had already told him.
"I don't know what to say Conner. Your Dad he …" and my throat caught. I wanted so desperately to say the right thing, to make it all go away both for him and my Sarg, but I didn't know how and now I was in danger of making it worse. I froze in my tracks and Conner looked at me, "Dad, he lost my gran a while ago. I didn't know her that well, not like Mom … " and his face fell a moment, then came up, "Dad said you lost yours when you were ten, that would suck," and now he was empathizing with me. What a fuck-up this was turning out to be!
"I did. It did suck and losing yours has to suck even more," I said with a stab in the dark. He looked at me and his chin started to quiver, "Why more?" and I had no answer, "I don't know Conner, maybe because I feel so badly right now that there's nothing I can say to make this go away or feel better for you or for your Dad!"
"He tries! But I just can't … "and then Conner lost it, right in front of me and I couldn't yell "Medic!!" or anything and I was alone, the only "adult" in the house, but I was still really just a kid too. I rushed over to his side and he grabbed me and burying his face into my blouse started to just outright bawl and there was nothing I could do but hold him like that.
Later, I met Sarg in his driveway, I thought alone. Conner had cried himself out, my blouse was soaked. Sarg saw it and me and knew that something significant had happened. I was about to say something to him when Conner then burst out the front door and rushed into his father's arms, his tears gone and just hugged his Dad, saying nothing. Sarg was not ordinarily a very patient man with such things, but hugged Conner back and looked at me and with his eyes alone said, "Thank you so much." I didn't need or want him to say anything and didn't let him. I said, "Have to go sir, see you in barracks," and didn't give father or son a chance to say anything back to me as I left.
It was soon after that when the invitations to just "come over, kick back with a brew and barbecue and let's discuss platoon business," started to come, month after month, sometimes week after week. Conner was Conner, but whenever I would come over, he would bug me away from his Dad to play Xbox or show me something he had done at school or ask me to join in with one of many friends he would have over, as if I was now just part of his gang.
Nothing particular was ever said about these times, only that somehow, I had become part of Sarg's extended family. Oh, he would have other platoon members over too, not just me. Marg's death had changed subtle things, but nothing overt, save maybe that was one of them, he was just a tad more personable at certain times.
Conner did not question his Dad's directive and knew he had pushed the limits beyond his control. His ass was going to get seared and he had earned it. "Yes sir!" he said sharply, but not sarcastically and marched to his room. I grew nervous, "I should go sir, you have family business to attend and I have work back in my office."
"Oh, don't be in such a hurry Mac. He needs his can warmed up, then I need to talk to you about that advanced training course you've wanted to go to. I think I found a way to get it pushed through command." Sarg smiled. Yes, by now, when we were more or less on informal turf, he called me by my first name, Mac, which was short for McKinley, my real first name. I had wanted to get some training in advanced computers so that if I continued on with Sarg and at the Fort, I could justify some ideas I had about moving the unit a bit further forward into the 21st century with better technology.
"Um … yes sir! Thank you. OK, I'll stay," I replied with a nervous smile and then watched him grin, nod and then his face got stern as he took off down the hallway and disappeared behind his son's bedroom door. My chest tightened. I should have just went outside and left it all alone, but no. I had to walk down the hall and park my butt right by Conner's bedroom door to listen, feeling so damn accused and guilty of what I was really doing.
I made up the excuse that the bathroom door was just right there on the other side of the hallway and I really just needed to take a piss. The truth was, I had it all planned out. My dick was getting hard, and if I heard what I thought I was going to hear, I was going to shoot over to the bathroom, masturbate myself into the toilet, flush and get the hell back out to the front room before anyone could catch me. Talk about shame.
Well, the belt was first. Conner had to take twelve hard cuts, bare butt too. I could tell, I knew. The sounds hit my balls like a warm affectionate cozy blanket and Conner took them all as stoic as his Dad gave them, then the spanking. Yes, the spanking; loud, rapid sharp cracks of a big man's palm onto his son's already whipped fanny. It almost made me cream my trousers right then and there and in fact, I headed for the bathroom like a cannon shot.
Conner was starting to complain some and I knew that would finish me. As it was, I barely got my hard dick out of my trouser's fly and shot a huge load into the clear toilet bowl water, the massive pleasure of my orgasm being swiftly neutralized into more guilt than I had ever had in my whole life. I heard some kind of noise that I mistook for Sarg or Conner coming near and shoving my dick back into my trousers, bolted out of there like a bullet and back into the front room, my chest pounding with fear.
I was so distracted by what I had done, that later, it must have showed. Sarg kept asking me if I was all right and had this strange look on his face that I couldn't identify. I got so uncomfortable that I even uncharacteristically made up an excuse to not join father and son for supper and high-tailed it out of there and went back to the barracks feeling as if I needed to turn myself into the M.P.s and confess to gross misconduct. I did not, of course, but I felt that badly.
* * * * * * * * * *
After that, it was one excuse after another for me to stay away from Sarg at his home. Naturally, I had to work with the man and a few months later, I couldn't ignore something as important as Conner's sixteenth birthday party, but there would be tons of other people there, so I couldn't possibly get myself into trouble. Funny, just when you think you're in the clear with yourself in a safe crowd, bang! You get it right between the eyes, but let me tell you how!
Conner was in great form the evening of the party. His friends and several of the platoon staff were there and he was the center of attention big time. Well, good for him. He and Sarg were alone now, but were doing pretty good and Conner richly deserved to be happy and free of the grief that he and his Dad had suffered. I gave myself credit for having helped in the process, but now I could slink back into the shadows of their family history and not be revealed for the pervert I knew I was. Enter Lieutenant Mark Stevens.
Our previous unit leader, Lieutenant Klinger had moved on. Those West Point types were always aiming for bigger game and believe me, Sarg's platoon and many like them were nothing more than a promotion spring board, thanks to Sarg and to me for a smoothly running unit that made all of us look good. Sarg said he had tried to pull some strings to get us a commanding officer who was something more than just a high command suck-up, a man who would at least try to stick around for awhile and do us all some good, but after that, it was always going to be a dice roll. Well, Stevens seemed different after he arrived, but I couldn't quite put my finger on how different.
Well, you never know how the stew is going to taste until you let it cook for awhile, so Stevens had been with us about a month now and seemed to be much more involved with us, even with me and I have to say, he wasn't a bad man to look at or be around. He smiled, so many of them didn't. And he joked with us and let his hair down. One Saturday night even, he joined me and Sarg and a couple of the guys and we played poker and drank beer deep into the night.
I don't know, maybe it was just me, but as I sat right next to him, his knee kept bumping mine, but we were a little plastered and I knew that drunkenness made for loose body control at times. But then I would catch him glancing at me. I mean, there's a glance and there's a glance, but then later, when it was time to turn in at like 02:30 Sunday morning, I caught him doing more than just glancing at me, he was staring a hole through me, I swear, right at my ass.
It only lasted a few seconds, but by then in my career I know when I'm being eye-balled, just like Sarg did. Nothing happened, he disappeared behind his barracks room door. See, that was the other thing. Lieutenants had the privilege of private quarters within "Officerville" as we termed it, safely tucked away from "the other side of the tracks" with us ordinary types. Stevens choose not to do that. Believe me, Sarg was grinning ear to ear about that decision, saying in effect, "I finally caught me a good one!" Well, I joined in. Any West Point type willing to slum it in a training barracks couldn't be all bad.
Anyway, so Stevens was at the party with us and seemed to be having a good time. I was having a great time, only that it felt like old times and I badly missed hanging around with Sarg and Conner by myself. The party proceeded to its logical conclusion, the birthday cake, Conner blowing out the candles and then the gifts. Oh, I almost forgot, don't forget the birthday spanking, a tried and true American tradition. The prior two years, Sarg himself would haul a grinning son across his knee as I watched, believe me I watched! Then Sarg would give Conner his swats in a very playful manner over Conner's trousers of course. Naturally, my mind played tricks with that sort of thing for weeks after.
Well, I was prepared and this would be fun and no immediate problem for me. The cake came, we all sang a lusty "Happy Birthday Conner" song and he blew out the candles. Then it was time for gifts. Sarg passed a few to Conner who opened them and thanked the giver effusively. I knew Conner was into music, so I gave him a gift certificate for a bunch of CDs, but not only did he thank me verbally in public, he came over and gave me a hug and whispered in my ear, "Thanks Mac, I miss you," and then stepped back.
Well, talk about an unexpected explosion of inner embarrassment, chagrin and guilt all wrapped up with a nice red ribbon of self-pity. He didn't hug his friends, hell, he didn't hug his Dad like that in front of others. Nobody else had heard what he said to me, but now I felt like a heel, like an ungrateful jerk. Here Conner and his Dad had taken me into their lives, truly thankful for what I had done for them and here I was, avoiding them because I couldn't control my god-damned dick.
I couldn't look at Conner just then, but I did catch the eye of Lieutenant Stevens. He was sitting across the room and I swear to God, it was like he knew what I was feeling, somehow, he just knew. He looked at me, I thought kind of disapprovingly, but I reasoned that I was just flipping my own shit back on myself through his eyes. At any rate, now my stomach was flip-flopping and the worst had not yet come either.
It was now birthday spanking time and I got to watch it Scot-free, right? Wrong. "Can I Dad?" Conner asked Sarg. Sarg smiled and nodded, "Have at it son," and then Sarg looked at me. I don't know, I didn't see this train coming around the corner at all and I should have, I suppose.
"Dad told me that I can choose whoever I want to give me my sixteen spanks this year and I choose you Corporal Stiles!" and he came over and stood over me as I was sitting on the couch at the end. Everyone looked at me, even I was looking at me! "Me? Conner? Oh come on, you know your Dad does this, not me," I stammered, hoping this was just a joke, the room horribly silent.
"No, you Mac, come on, it's just for fun!" and he started to lower himself kind of sideways across my lap, my hands flailing upwards and here's me, looking at Sarg, looking at Lieutenant Stevens and wondering how an innocent party had turned into my very own Spanish (or Spankish) Inquisition. Well, I was trapped between the back of the couch and a boy whose trousered bottom was now only a few inches from my face, much less my dick, which was beginning to stir, the bastard!
"Um … OK … I guess," I said and I looked at my hand like it was detached from my body and told "it" to spank the boy. So "it" did. Only it wasn't a spank, it was a pat. "Harder! Come on sir! A real spanking please!" Conner said nearly loud enough to wake the war dead. So I tried it again, only "it" didn't cooperate and another wussy pat resulted. "No! Come on Mac!" Conner said a bit more assertively.
I looked over at Sarg. His face had changed from mirth to "concern," but then I looked at Lieutenant Stevens. He didn't bother with looks, he said or rather commanded, "Corporal, spank the boy how he wants, now please!" and I looked at him, then at Sarg and Sarg got this funny smirky look on his face as if to say, "Now that's leadership!" and so I tried again. The spank was better, but not by much. Then I got a little glare from Conner that said, "You call that a spank?"
"Spank the boy Corporal Stiles, properly or how about I take YOU over MY knee and spank you instead?!" and that did not come from my Sarg. That was Stevens and his face had steeled into this almost paternal glare with everyone looking at me! You have to understand that humiliation is not forbidden in Army circles, just carefully practiced. Well, this was old school big time. My mouth kind of slacked open and I looked over at Sarg and he was positively about as pleased with himself as a man could be and for about the first time ever, he shrugged and the shrug said, "Sorry kid, I can't help you, better get cracking or your ass is going to be very sorry and I get to watch!"
I took a big breath and finally went at it. The spanks came down hard and firm and the crowd got into it and counted and Conner had this big grin on his face and I just hoped to god that I could escape soon, as my dick was enjoying this all too much. I got to the sixteenth spank and added "one to grow an inch," and that was it. Conner sprang up, grinned down at me and then bending over, hugged me again, "Thanks Mac, you're the best," and that was it, for him anyway.
I stood up. I was half-hard in my pants , but ignored it and quickly made my way through the happy throng and into the home's back yard, there was nobody else there. I stuffed my hands into my pockets, my face in a frown of disbelief at a performance so disappointingly poor that I began to hate myself for it. How had this party turned so sour for me? Suddenly at my side was the Lieutenant.
"Mac? What was that all about in there?" he said using my first name. When an officer wants an informal discussion "off the record," he avoids your last name and uses your first. That allows for more freedom of speech. Sarg did it all the time with me, so I knew the drill.
"Sorry sir, I froze up in there." I said dryly. "Cut the 'sir' crap Mac, it was just a simple birthday spanking, it wasn't orders to mow down children with an automatic weapon." I hated his informality. I hated that he was being nice to me and I hated that he was doing the right thing by making me face myself.
"With all due respect, SIR, why I froze is nobody's business but mine," I dared and it kind of felt good to say it that way. He didn't say anything a moment, then shocked me really good,
"You know Mac, when I first got to the unit, I thought I would meet up with a bunch of namby-pamby half-lifer Army types that would bore me to suicide. Then Sarg proved to be somebody I could really trust, a real man's man, you know what I mean? He loves his job, his country and more than that, he loves you and so does that kid in there. He told me all about his wife and how you saved his kid from months or years of problems, just by being there for them. But you, you seemed a good guy and a hard worker too and just as dedicated, but you hide from yourself, don't you. Just like in there, you were so wrapped up in yourself and what you should be doing or liking or not, you couldn't possibly make it easy on Conner could you. No, you had to go and make me open my mouth and say something. I don't know Stiles. How badly do you want to stay in the platoon, huh?"
My ears were burning and my mind was zooming helplessly around trying to get my bearings, but it was that last cut, that last threat that opened my mouth, "What could you possibly know about what my problems are, SIR!?" and I turned to walk away from him, but his hand caught my shoulder, "Then tell me about them Corporal, that's part of why I'm here. I doubt you've been through anything that hasn't been seen in this or any other Army, " then his hand came down and his face softened. Oh the temptation to blurt it all out at once, but I didn't and instead listened to my own sad and defeated sounding voice,
"Sorry sir, chain of command sir, I would have to go through Sarg first and he does not want to hear what I have to say," and he let me go back into the house. So that was it, right? Nope. The party started to disband and I sat off to the side by myself kind of watching Conner and his friends having the best time and me, excluding myself from the fun to "punish" myself. But they allowed me to be alone in my misery. I thought I would return to the barracks in a little while and now I was even beginning to have thoughts that when my current tour of duty was up, I was finished with Conner, Sarg and the U.S. Army forever. That would be in about four months of time.
When I saw all of Conner's pals leave and all of the other adult guests but me and the Lieutenant, I took that as my cue. I stood up and headed for the door, but two men and a boy stood in my way, "You're not going anywhere Mac," Conner said and the men confirmed.
I was stunned and afraid, but Conner, bless his heart, marched up to me and pointing his finger at the same damned angle just like his Dad always did, said with conviction, "You need to be spanked Mac. You've been avoiding me, my Dad and yourself for months. Don't you get it? We all love you, even the Lieutenant there. You're acting like an ass and all that, just because you can't tell one of them or me that you loved it when my Dad whipped my can, remember that? You got off on it, didn't you? Well so what. We all get off on something. You know what kind of gets me off? Watching Dad's recruits marching around, Dad yelling at them at the top of his voice and them stumbling around trying to please him. When I finally had the nerve to talk to my old man about it, and THAT was because you helped me get back together with him, he laughed his ass off and told me about a few things that he had done as a boy and young man as well. So get over yourself!" and then Conner stepped back.
"How … how did you know?" I asked weakly. Sarg cleared his voice and raised his hand, "Son, you don't go and masturbate yourself into my toilet bowl, not flush it and me not figure out what the swirly white stuff is. Even Conner knew you had shot off your load. We figured you were just getting your rocks off. Even if I might have minded, Conner reminded me that you're human and neither of us wanted you to have to feel badly, but you didn't let us in, now did you?"
Finally, I felt a huge load lifted from my shoulders. I looked at Conner and at my Sarg and at the Lieutenant, "Yes, it's all true. I do get off on … " and I swallowed hard, "On butt whippings. I have since my kid years at home. And then when I came to boot, I masturbated myself silly under the covers, wishing Sarg would whip my naked ass over his knee for any number of imagined fuck-ups and yes, I loved it when you got your ass spanked that one time Conner, sorry."
Conner grinned and pumped the air, "Yesss! I knew it! Pretty hot, hey Dad?" and Sarg looked a little uncomfortable but had to admit, "Yea Conner, pretty hot." Then it was the Lieutenant's turn,
"Not to mention you're pretty damn dense Stiles. That one drunken Saturday night poker party when I kept knocking your knee, what did you think I was doing, giving you secret code for the next day's assault of the red team on the training course?" and then it all clicked. I looked at my Lieutenant, "No way, sir!"
He smiled, "Oh really?" and then he marched right up to me and kissed me, on the lips, in front of Conner and Sarg. I fell back a little from him, now not only stunned, but finally awoken-up to a few salient facts that I had been hiding so deeply within myself that I thought it might take the Army Corp of Engineers to dredge up to the surface where they belonged. Well, apparently Mark Stevens had his own engineering abilities. I lunged forward and kissed him back, then stepped back and wiped my mouth, "Sorry sir, but if you're going to accost an inferior rank, you'd better be ready to face the consequences."
"And what are those?" he asked with a sly grin. I felt my nostrils flare and I looked at Conner, "Conner, can we borrow your bedroom?" His eyes lit up, "Sure! Can I watch?" and there followed a coordinated volley of oral cannon fire times three, "Nooo!" and Conner's face fell into a hilarious little disappointed pout. "Sarg, can you give the Lieutenant that belt or whatever it was that you used on Conner that night?" I then asked.
"I'll go get it!" Conner said all too agreeably and was back in a flash, putting it into Mark's hands who gave me this deliciously sardonic grin and pointed with the belt, "March!! MOVE IT!" and I did move it and Mark right behind me and yes, Conner was going to listen at the door, his face grinning ear to ear as Sarg would just relax with a very self-satisfied smile on his face and putter around his home cleaning up the glorious birthday party mess.
Sarg's plan to find the right man after Lieutenant Klinger had left had worked all too well. He and his new Lieutenant had not only hit it off from the get-go, but had made me a kind of project of sorts. Sarg knew all about the Lieutenant from the get go, he was really just a West Point version of me, dressed in a prettier package of course. Sarg had pegged me for who I really was since boot, but patiently waited for the right time to assault the "fort" and "get it done," as it were.
I was done all right, right over Mark's knee, my bare ass up so high, that if it got any higher for him, it would be on the ceiling of Conner's bedroom. As it was, I was getting the fast idea that the Lieutenant was somehow all too familiar with how to lay a blistering swath of deep red across the center of a pair of willing, or unwilling, male buttock cheeks and I would not be wrong. Apparently, much more goes on behind the gates of our hallowed U.S. Army institution called West Point than the non-military (and most military) public could ever know.
Did it hurt? Damn right! Was I in Heaven or Hell? Mostly Heaven, but a little Hell that I richly deserved and wanted. Punishment for pleasure is a distinctly different animal from punishment for punishment's sake. They seemed the same on the surface, but the difference was not in the ass or even in the dick or balls, it was between your ears, where it belonged. Right now, the Lieutenant was "telling" me not only that I was out of line as a soldier in his command group, but also that he loved me or was in love with me, but how did this all happen so quickly is what I want to know? But the answer was quick and ready. This was the Army. In the Army, you didn't question things you just obeyed orders and followed the rules. I was doing a bit of both now, including the following the "rules" of the heart.
When Mark was as satisfied as I was that my ass was the proper shade of crimson and throbbing like a hand grenade had gone off over it, I pushed him back onto the bed, fell on top of him and we went at, right there on Conner's bed. I'm not talking fucking or sucking or anything much but just smiling, laughing, wrestling and then just crawled under the covers buck naked both of us and cuddled and talked, my head on his chest feeling as if my world had suddenly and completely changed. Humorously, there was still a certain boy waiting outside of the bedroom to come in and reclaim his territory and pretty soon, the noise inside having subsided, Conner cautiously opened the door and poking his head in said, "Are you guys done yet?" and then he saw us and his eyes bulged open, "Hey! Get a room somewhere else or something!" and then Sarg was right there with him, "Get out of there Conner! That's rude boy!"
"But Dad! All my stuff is in there!" Conner mildly complained. "What's the first rule?" Sarg then questioned his son and Conner rolled his eyes, "I know, adjust and improvise! Great!" and Sarg grinned at us, "You won't be disturbed again, carry on sir," he said. I sighed to Mark after the door closed, "How difficult is this going to be? I mean, this is the Army, not exactly a club for men to be with other men very easily." I got a soft pat on my head, "You leave that worry to me Corporal, keep your nose squeaky clean and I'm sure Sarg will give us safe refuge when we need it, though Conner may not like us using his bed too often!" he grinned.
* * * * * * * * * *
The truth was, Lieutenant Mark Stevens did take care of it, Sarg and Conner did give us safe refuge when we needed the space to be ourselves and we literally never looked back. I re-enlisted another four years only because Lieutenant Mark Stevens wanted a shot at becoming Captain Mark Stevens and did. But after that, the lot of us left the U.S. Army, including Sarg who really didn't want his only son to follow in his foot-steps military-wise. Conner did not and Sarg and he found themselves a new Mom and wife, a wonderful woman named Nancy who swept them as well as the rest of us off our feet with the verve and grace of a den mother with a home full of cubs.
Not only did Nancy help to further make Mark and I a permanent part of their lives, but she and Sarg had another child, a daughter named Shara. Conner doted on Shara as he should as her big brother and as the years rolled on, we four adults, rather make that five as Conner grew to be quite a young man and though he had often flirted with the male sex here and there, ended up marrying a wonderful girl Sammi. Well, like Nancy, Sammi loved Mark and I and she and Conner started a family that ended up with two girls and two boys.
Christmas-time, Sarg and Nancy's home, December 22 of that year …
Mark was hugging me from behind in Sarg's den all three of us fighting off misting eyes, yes Sarg too, as we were pouring over old photos of all of us in those last years together at the Fort as we all always did during the Christmas and New Years holidays. Those were the good old days now and Sarg Buck Mason had aged and mellowed, but not beyond one of his classic big smirky grins, verbally recalling special moments both before and after Mark and I got together in Conner's old bedroom.
Suddenly there was a commotion outside in the hallway and a voice, a very familiar voice, "No! I'm not going to do it, I told you Dad, I'm gonna do what I want!" and suddenly the fourteen year old spitting image grandson of the man Mark and I admired the most appeared in the doorway, "Grandpa! Hi! … Uncle Mark!? Uncle Mac!? Can I come to live with you guys like you promised? … and Merry Christmas!" and Mark let go of me just in time for my godson, McKinley Conner Mason, to rush into my arms, I was sure a ruse, but a loving one if knew this boy as I had since he was in diapers. "Dad is being a prick! I want to live with you guys now, I hate him!!" Mac complained to me.
Suddenly there was Conner himself in the doorway, Sammi nowhere in sight. She would hang smartly and safely in the kitchen with Nancy and Shara, avoiding as much male adolescent angst and drama as possible, leaving the "men folk" to iron all that out. Mac (yes, my name too, but I "gave" it to him, meaning shared, for Xmas the prior year) turned his head as he hugged me tightly and stuck his tongue out at his Dad, "See? Unlike you, Uncle Mac actually loves me!" and I rolled my eyes and looked at his Dad who shook his head, "Fine! You go to live with Mac and Mark, see if I care! You're impossible McKinley Conner!" and then a ten year old boy, Mark Buck Mason shot around his father and into the room yelling, "Can I come to live with you too!?" landing up on the fly into Mark's arms, Mark grinning at his godson with more pride than any father could ever have for a biological son.
See, Mark and I didn't need kids of our own, we were doted on by Conner's and Sammi's sons and daughters to an extent, we felt they were all of our sons and daughters and who had more time for more? We didn't. "No you can't! Stop being a copy-cat Buck!" Mac complained. Buck stuck out his tongue at his big brother, "I will if I want!"
And where was Grandpa in all this? Just grinning ear to ear. Payback was a bitch and now his son, the one glaring at his middle boy, was getting his big time. Oh yes, Sarg was eating this up like figgy pudding at Christmas. We had all seen this coming a mile away, even Conner. But when you're the Dad, well, it's not easy. I patted Mac on his seat, "Let me go talk to your Dad, OK?"
"Fine, but don't expect him to COOPERATE MUCH?!" and I stopped in my tracks. Mac was getting a bit worse, more rebellious and I did not approve of him talking like that to his Dad, "That's enough Mac! Zip it or take it to your Dad's old room and expect a little more than just red on a Christmas tree ornament!"
That was code for a good hard butt tanning no matter the time of the year. Mac was prone to pushing his Dad to the limit and that meant a spanking, but lately Mac was not responding too well even to that threat, at least from his Dad. When Uncle Mac, me, spanked his godson, that worked, but only because it was me and I was not around him all the time.
"Yes sir, " Mac said quietly and respectfully, then looked up at me with honest and frustrated eyes, his Dad's eyes of course. I nodded and headed out to the back yard of Sarg's place, Conner at my side. When we hit the chill of the cold December air, our breaths now visible, I felt better, it was a little stuffy warm inside with all the people and the Christmas tree and electric lights and aromatic, delicious food wafting and sending heat out from the kitchen.
Conner looked plenty frustrated, his hands stuffed into his back pockets. I let him stand by himself, but predictably, he sighed, turned and hugged me, "Merry fucking Christmas Mac," and I hugged him back trying desperately not to grin ear to ear or chuckle, instead putting a quick peck on his temple before he turned back, "Merry Christmas to you too buddy. So, trouble in paradise huh?"
"I guess I deserve him. God knows I gave Dad a pile of crap to deal with for a lot of years, but my god! Was I ever really as bad as this little … so and so!" and Conner's lips pursed and he refrained from saying anything too caustic about his "problem" child, Mac, "I try … I try hard, but he just doesn't get that I don't care who he loves, who he wants to sleep with as long as he's safe. He's had one boyfriend after another, after another, after another and do I say anything? No. Do I encourage him to be himself 24/7? Yes. Does he respond to any of that?! Fuck no!" and Conner scuffed at the cold cement under his feet. I just sighed, my arms folded. This had been coming on for about eighteen months. Yes, Conner's middle son had turned out like his Uncles, something nobody cared a lick about anymore really.
It was not an easy thing being a Dad, no matter how your kids fly their lives, it was still their lives and their mistakes and at some certain age, you as a Dad are just in the way, no matter the love. "Mac, it's OK if Conner wants to go live with you and Mark. (I know, it's confusing who was calling who what and when and with which name!) In fact, I think we need the space he and I and besides, he likes you guys better than me," and I reached out and spanked Conner's seat, hard! "That is not true Conner and you know it!" and Conner's face softened and he smiled, rubbing the sore hand print, "Thanks. Even a Dad needs a reminder now and again that he's loved by somebody older and wiser."
I smiled, "You mean your Dad," and Conner then smacked my arm, hard, "No stupid, YOU!" and I grinned. Just then the patio door opened and Mark and Mac (the son that is) came out with us. Mac went around to face his Dad, the look on his face quite solemn and his head down. Mark reached out and tilted Mac's chin up. His eyes were a bit red, "Dad, I'm sorry I said the things I did. I didn't mean any of them, in the car or here," and went to hug his Dad. Conner hugged his son closely as Mark came around in back of me and hugged me snuggly, our foggy breaths combining in the air ahead of us.
Conner moved his son away from himself again and managed a Dad's smile, "You know what, I think it would be a good idea if you went to live with your Uncles, maybe for a whole school year. Give you a chance to grow up a bit with men that you like and respect and I trust. We'll get along better after that. I don't like feeling as I do sometimes with all our problems and I know you don't like it either, OK?"
Mac looked at me and Mark and then back at his Dad, "But, I love you Dad … but … I think you're right, that is if it's OK with Uncles," and father and son looked at Mark and I. "So, what do think Captain?" I asked Mark. Mark never answered anything quickly. He was the president of our own company, a small start up in the I.T. world and was a very astute businessman. Me on the other hand, I was just one of his flunkies, but a good one, I worked in the field.
"I think that if your godson wants to come live with us with his father's blessings that YOU … need to decide. He'll be mostly your responsibility Mac," and that is exactly what I knew he would say. Mark let go of me and I faced my godson eye to eye, he was getting pretty tall. "Grades, obedience, a curfew! … " and Mac rolled his eyes hoping that his godfather would not remember that little gem, "and a fair screening of potential boyfriends and after that, you can have your own life Mac. But I won't put up with any shit. If you do, you know what will happen."
Mac nodded, smiled and coming forward, hugged himself to me, "I know, I know, I'll get my can blasted." And I smiled so that just his Dad could see me and patted his rump, "That's right, OK, it's done!" and Mac grinned widely, "Cool! I'm gonna go tell Mom!" and went back into the house.
"You really OK with this Conner?" I asked Mac's Dad. Conner smiled, "Yea, I am. I need more time with Buck and when Frank comes home, we have some things planned. I feel … a little guilty pawning Mac off on you though." I knew how that felt, "Honestly Conner, you'd be doing me, and maybe Mark too, a favor. I really did want to have our own kids, you know that, but … we're not going to."
Conner turned to me, "You'll be a great Dad to my son, your godson. You made a mistake not having kids both of you, so if it's all the same, you can help grow up Mac, OK?" and Conner hugged me, my eyes getting a bit wet of emotion for Sarg's kid to trust me especially with their precious son.
We all went back into the house and Sammi came up to me, trailing Marsha and Belle, their daughters behind, "So, I understand that you're to be a father?" and I smiled, "I guess." And Sammi kissed my temple, "I think it's a good thing. I'll miss him, but lately, maybe I won't," and I laughed with her as she scratched her head with a little self-bought confusion.
* * * * * * * * * *
Things happened a bit faster than anticipated. Mac and his Dad and Mom decided that if this was going to happen, that maybe Mac should move in with Mark and I as soon as possible, so schooling had to be arranged as we lived much further out from his old school than made it practical not to transfer and Mac was packed up and moved in with Mark and I inside of two weeks after New Years.
It wasn't as if he was moving a million miles away, that was for sure. Well, as the saying goes, "familiarity breeds contempt." It wasn't that Mac was really contemptuous, but he was quickly getting uncomfortably too comfortable. He was the new boy at his school and extremely popular at the get-go and that started to go to his head as did his casualness around the house.
Mark and I were used to walking around in underwear only and wasn't about to change and boys Mac's age were used to more brash measures. Somehow, Mac got a hold of a couple of thongs and started to wear only them around Mark and I and when I protested, you should have seen the glare he gave me.
"Leave him alone, he's OK like that honey," Mark told me. Then, the little shit stuck out his tongue at me, "See? It's OK, so chill!" Oh my god! It was like I was Conner, his Dad, and now and he was giving me the same lip! I looked at Mark, "Baby!? Maybe that's not a good idea?" and Mark looked at me, kind of off-handedly and distracted, "What are you talking about? It's fine, chill out."
"Mark!? He's being disrespectful! " and I could not believe what I was hearing. Mark barely turned to look at Mac as he was busy at his desk behind us, "Don't be disrespectful Mac, look, I need to run, take care of it, OK?" and Mark kissed me quickly and zoomed out the door.
"Can I have some of the guys over this weekend?" Mac then asked me, kind of daringly. "NO! You can't. You fucked up, manipulating Mark like that!" and I started to stomp down the hallway towards my own private space, a small office that I could go to if I needed and right then, I needed.
"I'm going to anyway!" he said and I turned and about shit my pants. There stood my godson, naked except his iridescent green thong, looking quite good by the way, but the middle finger of his right hand was upturned in the wrong direction for it to be anything else but the biggest dare of all time. Admittedly, I had tried like the devil for a full six weeks now to avoid confrontations, unpleasant discipline and anything but good vibes and quite a bit of freedom for Mac to be able to grow into the adult world that he wanted and I thought he deserved; but apparently, he had turned into a fourteen year old, going on twenty year old young gay prima-donna, quite the thing now-a-days I understood.
I saw nothing green and everything red. Now I understood Mac's Dad and fully empathized, but I was fed up. I headed towards him and pointed, "To your room now Mac, MOVE IT!" and he moved it, but backwards. He knew what was going to finally happen. He had been "begging" for it for weeks apparently, "Oh come on Uncle, I was just kidding, we do it to each other all the time at school!" and I glared, "This isn't school!!" I said as he backed into his room.
To Mac's credit, he didn't fight me or anything. I pulled him over to his bedside, over my knee and didn't bother moving the thong. I didn't have to. It didn't cover any bare butt, not really, so I spanked and spanked hard from the get go. He was not used to it and started to wiggle and beg, "Please, it hurts! Please sir!!" he smartly said.
I paused, at least I had finally got a "sir" from him, the only one so far in the six weeks of his newly found teenage gay freedom. "You do NOT flip me off Mac! Ever! Not even for a joke and you were not joking!!" and I spanked again and he started to sob and just lay limply and respectfully, his eyes pouring tears and his beautiful face looking back at me and then (in my mind anyway), disaster struck in the form of an erection in my trousers.
I stopped, froze, stood him up and said without turning my front to him, "Stay here, you're grounded!!!" I screamed at him and stomped out of the room, slamming his door shut! I got his father on the phone, "Come get him Conner! I'm sorry, I can't do this! Come get your son! " and I didn't give Conner any chance to respond. I called Mark next, "Get your ass home NOW and I MEAN IT!" and hung up on Mark and then I went to my bedroom, slammed the door shut, went to our bed and getting into the fetal position started to cry, feeling ten times worse than the time years before after I had masturbated in Sarg's bathroom during Conner's spanking.
By the time Mark found me, Mac was bawling in his room, I was nearly finished sobbing in mine. Conner had wisely called Mark who reassured that we were just having some adjustment problems and not to come pick up his son. Conner was glad for that, but I would later find out that he felt kind of good that it had happened, at least he didn't feel so badly alone about Mac anymore. He had good company, me.
When the door opened, I sat up, wiped my face and Mark came over and sat and gently held me, "So, what happened?" and I started to try and tell him and there in the doorway was Mac, having chucked the green thong and was wearing a pair of baggy house boxers that I had given him for Christmas, tears running down his face, "Please don't send me away Uncle Mac!"
I briefly covered my face groaning, "OH my god, what have I done!" and stood and Mac came flying into my arms and cut loose, bawling all over again and me nearly with him, but I got control, "I'm sorry Mac, I panicked. I'm sorry I hit you too."
He sniffed back, "No, I needed it and you didn't finish it, I don't think … and … Uncle Mac, I knew it turned you on. You forget, I know what you and Uncle Mark do for fun and I think it's hot and I'm sorry we both forgot about that, it's not your fault!" and here was this dear godson of mine empathizing with my needs, apparently much more grown up than I was giving him credit for.
Finally, everything got dry and Mac admitted, "I baited you. I wanted to know what it was like, have been for awhile now, so that's why I flipped you off Uncle." He explained with Mark sitting there on my other side.
"You wanted to know what a spanking was like?" I asked, incredulously. "Nooo! I know what that's like from Dad, but not from you … and getting turned on by it and stuff and I think I did, until things got out of hand … so yea, imagine that. Your godson is much more like you than his own Dad!"
I winced and looked at Mark, I guess for reassurance that it was OK to kind of enjoy that kind of notoriety. Mark shook his head, "You still haven't gotten over yourself, have you, after all these years? You need a spanking!" and I paled. Mac picked up on it, "YES!! Can I watch?!"
To my chagrin, I said, "No!" but Mark said, "Yes!!" You can guess who won that one and my godson was treated, after he promised just to watch from the doorway, to a playful but effective bare butt spanking of his godfather from his husband and yes it turned me on terribly and I actually shot a load on Mark's knee, but Mark shooed Mac out of the doorway way before he could see (but I'm sure he pretty well could guess about) my hard dick or my semen running down Mark's knee and leg.
* * * * * * * * * *
Four months later, just two days before Mac's fifteenth birthday, Mac having been promised (after much negotiations, promises and eye-rollings) that when he turned fifteen, he could start to date again and look for a more permanent gay teen relationship, but only with my supervision and the boy had to be no older than 17! …
I sighed, so far so good. His name was Matt Keating, just seventeen and he and Mac had been talking at school about dating each other. Oh my, had things changed over the decades in American high schools! Actually, our Mac was technically not supposed to even be in his high school yet as a freshman, but could really pass academically for a junior, he was that bright and his Dad and Mom were thinking about him getting a GED and passing him along to a college.
At any rate, this was not about that. I looked at the boy. He played football (American), had a 3.40 grade point average in a very tough school, was devastatingly handsome (a must!) and more importantly, came to "interview" with me in a dress shirt and tie (very impressive and old fashioned, smart move!). He was out to his family (very important) and more importantly, he and Mac had not had sex, though they had talked about it.
I was glad for his GPA. If Mac and he got along, I didn't want school and educational considerations to block either of them should they want to go to college together. I was concerned about Matt's physical size though. I could understand Mac's infatuation. Matt was six foot two, one-ninety, a real athlete. He played a variety of positions for football including both quarterback and full-back, not to mention wrestling and track, and our Mac was but five foot ten and about one fifty and though he could play sports, he really didn't like them, only the boys who played them of course.
I had asked Matt a variety of questions and he had poise, I'll hand that to him. It was when we got to the important stuff, yes, sex, that he got understandably nervous, but I knew why. Though Matt's Dad was OK with Matt being gay, they never talked about it and he wasn't used to being asked, but I did. But I noticed that the closer I got to the subject of sex with my godson, the more interested he seemed and more comfortable. We finally ended up at a very important topic, one with which I and Mark and now Mac, were very familiar,
"OK, hard question. What's Mac's favorite fetish sport?" and Matt looked down a bit. Talking about sex was one thing, but talking about kink was another. Apparently it was a part of why they were thinking about getting together in the first place, but not easy to talk to an adult about. He blushed, "Spanking, for fun that is," and he still looked down, blushing, quite a sight for a boy so prior poised, "Matt, look at me please," and he sat up. He was genuinely embarrassed. I found it charming really, but he was not going to be dating me, "Matt, are you really into that sort of thing? Or are you just trying to get into my godson's pants?" I said very bluntly.
Matt's six foot two frame had been slouched a little and his attitude a bit light up until then, but now he sat up and taller and looked a little offended (which was good), "Look Mr. Stiles, that's not something I joke about. When I was thirteen, my Dad caught me paddling my own bare ass out in the garage when I thought he wasn't home. When I was fourteen at school and got a paddling from my P.E. Coach, I sprang a boner and barely made it out of there before I shot my load, all over the outside of the wall of his office and got sent to detention for it. My Dad is OK with me being gay and is even used to me playing football and being gay. But he's still a little too old fashioned for me in the sense that he would gag if he knew about all that other, OK?" and his face was red and he looked away.
I sat back, that's all I wanted to hear from him, a little passion, a little nerve and the ability to defend himself if challenged. "I'm sorry Mr. Stiles, I didn't mean to go off. Mac has told me about you and Captain Stevens and what you guys do. I hear about you guys all the time. He's so damn proud of both of you, but you Mr. Stiles, to him, you're a god."
I didn't think for one moment that Matt was shining my shoes, as they say. In fact he looked down, "In fact, there's been times that I wanted to come over and talk to you after I met Mac, just to have somebody to talk to about this stuff, there's never been anyone."
I sighed. I was past emotional reaction, mostly, mainly just to keep as objective as possible, but I was satisfied. I smiled and nodded, "Dad ever spank you?" I asked. He nodded, "Yea, but I … I should have told you, I got a boner the last time when I was thirteen and that was the last time, he knew it and he was disgusted."
"Really?" I replied. Matt sat there a very long and extended moment and thought about his answer, "No, not really. It wasn't Dad, it was me. I was disgusted at myself. I wasn't down with it, it was difficult," and I nodded, knowing exactly how that felt and was very impressed with Matt. "OK, inquisition over, go get Mac for me please," I said.
Naturally, Mac was just outside of the door pacing, tossing a football up and down. Matt had promised to teach Mac how to throw it. Mac must be very serious about this guy to want to offer to do that. Matt opened the door and Mac came quickly in, "Well?" he looked at me. I nodded, "You can keep him if you like," and Mac grinned trying to look quietly triumphant, "See, I told you, so did you ask him?" and Matt looked chagrinned, "No! I changed my mind, it's not a good idea Mac, come on, let's go outside."
"Chicken-shit! You have to, you promised me, you told him you liked spanking for fun, didn't you?" Mac said and Matt rolled his eyes and looked at me. I wanted to know what this was all about, of course. "Mac, don't push him like that, it's rude," I said. Mac ignored me, "Fine, just leave then, I don't care," Mac said a bit harshly, but didn't move. Matt sighed as he faced Mac. I said nothing, I wanted to see how Matt reacted. He turned to me then,
"I promised Mac I would ask you if sometime, I mean, I've never, well … I want to know what it's like for somebody to spank me for fun … um … and Mac said you would do that, maybe." And Matt looked so much not like the jock he so obviously really was. I grinned, "Mac, that was wrong, don't make him say things like that, OK?"
"What's wrong about it? How do I know it's OK for me to let him do anything, if he hasn't done it before?!" and Mac was right about that. I shrugged, "You're right actually Mac." And even Matt looked at Mac, "Yea, you are right," then Matt turned to me, "Mr. Stiles … " and I saved Matt the embarrassment, "Yes, sometime, after Mac's birthday party, OK?" and Matt smiled, "Thanks Mr. Stiles and … for the record, Mac is right … you're a god."
"I never said that!" Mac said looking chagrinned. "No, you didn't but I did!" Matt said and grabbing the football, walked out of the room leaving me alone with my godson for a short while. Naturally, Matt's impression of me was very hard just to pass off. I was flattered and kind of liked his opinion of me and so did Mac. He came over, "So, what do you really think about him Uncle, he obviously is pretty impressed with you and Uncle Mark?"
"I think he's a great guy Mac, you chose well, I'm proud of you." And Mac gave me a hug, "I think I really like him. He treats me respectfully and has never pressured me. And, it doesn't hurt that he's so tall and has a great ass and all," Mac said and blushed and I chuckled, "Yes, he does, now go find him!" and Mac ran off.
Two days later found all of us, Sarg, Nancy, Mac's brothers and sisters, Conner and Sammi, not to mention half of the boys' high school, it seemed anyway, at our poolside for Mac's fifteen birthday party. Conner was just gleaming with pride at his son and I was gleaming about Conner. Father and son had visited each other here and there but the experiment had worked great. Their relationship was awesome now and very close. Not only that, but Matt hit it off really well with Conner and Sammi, so everything seemed perfect. Well, that's when it sometimes gets imperfect.
Matt had taken me aside when Conner was busy with friends, both boys and girls, and worried that Mac was going to embarrasses him by asking him to give birthday spanks. Matt had coaxed over a couple of his very macho football buddies to the party. They were OK with him being gay and dating a freshman and all, but that whole spanking scene might be a bit much, not only for them, but Matt as well. To public, to soon. I had to agree and promised him that I would talk to Mac about it. I did. Mac was a tiny bit upset that he was restricted to asking me, Mark or his Dad or Sarg to do it, but agreed. I thought all was in good order.
The party proceeded smoothly to birthday singing, birthday cake, blowing out candles and gifts. We laughed our asses off at the crazy stuff that kids give to each other now-a-days, and then somebody yelled, "Give him a birthday spanking!!" and that was the cue. We all sat around the room which was stuffed to the gills with family and high school friends, Mac in his element. He walked slowly around the circle. I had bet Mark that he would chose me, so I was ready, so was Mark and I knew his Dad was primed as well as Sarg. Suddenly he stopped and pointed at Matt, "Matt, you're gonna give me my birthday spanking!!"
You should have seen Matt's face fall, blush and I quickly glanced over at Matt's buddies, they all were smirking and whispering among themselves. I was pissed off! Mac had promised me! "Um … hey, that's cool, but your Dad really wants to do it, OK?" Matt tried. Mac stared at him, "No, I chose you!" and I had no idea why Mac was doing this, other than Mac was being Mac! But still! He knew he was embarrassing Matt to death. Why would Mac do that? I looked at Mark who was just as confused and Conner, his Dad, was seeing red as well.
"Well, I'm not doing it, OK!?" and Matt asserted himself in front of everyone. I was proud of Matt for that, but Mac would not give up either! "Hey, you are!" and they just stood there, the room just tense and very uncomfortable. "Mac, that's enough," his Dad said and Mac glared over at Conner, "It's none of your business!" and then he flew down the hallway into our bathroom and slammed the door shut!
Matt jumped up and looking at me with a face I'll never forget said, "I'm sorry Mr. Stiles, I would have loved to have hung around you guys, I can't do it, " and tore out of the house, his buddies right behind him. I was stunned, almost knocked clean out. Conner was stunned and looked at me. Sarg, Mac's Grandpa was, well, he was Sarg. He marched down that hallway with a verve I had not seen in a ton of years as the guests quietly departed the unpleasant scene.
Mark took care of the multiple apologies as I tried in vain to catch Matt before he drove off in his car, but I was too late. I felt insane. I thought I knew my godson, but maybe I didn't. Maybe this had all been a farce and Mac was just a kid that loved to ride the edges of life and behavior, that kind that Mark and I could never get used to.
* * * * * * * * * *
Mac tried in vain to apologize and get back together with Matt, but he had gone too far and Matt knew better than to give Mac a second chance at humiliation. Mac cried for hours after that, broken hearted. Unfortunately, I had no sympathy for him. He knew what he had done and my coolness towards him is what made him move out and back in with his Dad and Mom. I had to fight some guilt, but not a lot. Life sucks sometimes, no matter how much love you pour into a person or a situation, you cannot control others, no matter if they're your own family.
Two years later, a pair of very unexpected and uninvited guests knocked on the door of Mac's seventeenth birthday party. Yes, the party was at Mark's and mine home. Mac had grown up a lot through his painful fifteenth year of life and had refrained from trying to date. He was living with his Dad and Mom, but came over on a lot of weekends with friends, none of which he was sexual with.
I answered the door and was shocked, but pleasantly. There stood a very handsome man, Matt Keating at nineteen years of age, holding the hand of his one year boyfriend, a great looking kid named Adam, also nineteen. "Mr. Stiles. I knew it was Mac's birthday and took a chance. I know I wasn't invited, but I'm not here to see Mac, I'm here to see you and Mark. This is Adam. It's because of you that we're together."
Mark was next to me now and smiled, "Come in guys!" and we let them in and we all four hugged. Suddenly, there was Mac in back of us. Mark and I stepped aside. Mac's face looked humble, very humble at Matt, "Hey." Matt's face was soft and gentle, "Hey Mac, this is Adam, we're going to college together, Happy Birthday Mac," and then Adam brought out a wrapped gift and gave it to Matt who stepped forward and gave it to Mac who took it, "Thanks." Matt and he hugged and I saw Mac's chin quiver a little. He had changed a lot, though not completely.
It turned out that Adam and Matt were very close and very sexual and like Mark and I enjoyed rough stuff including spankings and such. Matt and his Dad were much closer now as well. Matt praised me for how I had affected him when he was trying to date Mac and I accepted his praise with a warm and thankful heart.
Seeing Matt really affected my godson. He had been much better behaved, much less impulsive and self-centered, but after Matt and Adam left, he got me alone and head down said, "I fucked up when I was fifteen. He's ten times more handsome now, than he was even then. It feels like a really bad spanking, only with none of the fun." And I nodded, "You got that right sport."
* * * * * * * * * *
Christmas, December 25 of that year, Sarg and Nancy's home, Mac is 19 now …
"Open it!" Nathan grinned. "No! I don't want to!" Mac grinned back at his boyfriend of six months as he held the rather obviously shaped flat and rectangular wrapped Christmas present. "Do it! Or I will and you won't like what happens!" and we all laughed, save Sarg. Sarg was nursing the residuals of a broken hip surgery, but doing nicely. He still had his old military verve and wit however, "I say you open it Nat and give the boy what he obviously never gets enough of!" and we all roared, save Mac, "Grandpa!!" he grinned and blushed.
We were finally at the end of the protracted and much celebrated Mason-Stiles-Stevens and yes, add Nathan's last name, Burrows, to that chain, classic two hour Christmas morning gift opening extravaganza as was usual for that time of year. Mac adored Nathan, but not more than Nathan returned the favor and they had been that year's Santa Claus for everyone, including Buck, now a stellar fourteen and of course Conner's daughters. The boys had handed out gifts with jokes and comments that kept us all in stitches, but were now face to face on their tummies in front of the Christmas tree surrounded by a huge mess of crumpled Christmas wrapping paper and distorted used ribbons.
Finally Mac gave in with a huge grinning sigh, "Oh all right. Thanks a lot for the embarrassment HONEY!" and Nathan grinned widely as Mac opened the box up and out popped a beautiful handmade oaken spanking paddle, light but effective. "Oh maaaan!" Mac exclaimed and we all laughed ourselves with delight. "Give that to me!" and Nathan snatched it and getting up on his knees faked to threaten to paddle my godson right then and there, "Nomo!" Mac squealed with fake terror, covering his seat with his hands. I looked at Mark and he stared back at me with an evil grin, "Hey Nat, give that thing to me," he said and Nat immediately tossed it to Mark.
I got the hint and stood up, "Oh no you don't!!" and Mark chased me around the couch. I thought he was really going to paddle me in front of everyone, I just knew it! Well, he did catch up to me or rather I let him. I got a soft whack on my seat and then we kissed briefly and I thought I was in the clear, but the next thing I knew, I was being dragged down the hallway towards our bedroom for the holidays, Conner's old room actually. He and Nathan were roughing it in on the front room couch.
We stopped in front of the room and kissed, a good long one. "Get a room or something!" Conner said coming down the hallway, Sarg after him, limping just a little. We opened the door to the bedroom and invited Sarg and Conner inside on the spur of the moment. It had been a long, long time since just we four had any real time alone, I swear it had been nearly twenty five years or better, but that was just my burgeoning sentimentality talking.
I looked at Mark and then at Sarg and then at Conner and my eyes misted up, really badly just then. I looked at my Sergeant, Buck Mason, the man I still admired the most, "Merry Christmas, sir." He looked at me, stepped forward and embracing me whispered in my ear so everyone could hear, "You son-of-bitch. You'll make me cry and Sergeants can't do that in front of their men," and then he started to sob just a little. Mark started to wipe his face as did Conner and then we all four hugged together, our red eyes each giving way to a few tears. But we dried them quickly.
Suddenly the door opened and two heads poked inside, Mac's and Nathan's, "Ooops! Sorry! We kind of wondered what the paddle was doing!" and went to close the door. I said, "No! Come on in guys!" and they came in, sheepishly, seeing that we four were having a very emotional moment together.
"Didn't mean to interfere or anything," Mac said shyly, sidling up to between me and his Dad, Nathan between Mark and I on the other side. I hugged my godson, "You're not interfering, you both belong here too, well, you do Nathan. Mac sometimes is too obstinate and needs to stand in a corner alone sometimes!" and Mac just grinned and shrugged, "Guilty as charged."
Suddenly, Conner had a strong arm around his son's shoulder, "Hey Uncle Mac, I'll hold him and you paddle him!" "Nooo!" Mac said, but not with a lot of conviction and then we all watched father and son, both giggling, kind of wrestle their way over to the bedside and at the last moment, Mac gave in and went over his Dad's knee. Mark was still holding the paddle and gave it to me and I went over and popped my godson hard on his seat twice, then handed it to Nathan. Nathan gave him two more and then handed it to Mark who make it a full six whacks.
"Is it my turn now?" Sarg asked. Well, Mac was fine with the rest of us, but when Grandpa had ever spanked or paddled, he always did it hard and with full force. "No Grandpa, noooo!" Mac blurted and we all laughed, but especially Sarg, "You big wuss!"
Later, quite late that night, all the kids and most all the adults soundly asleep in various parts of the house, Mark and I were sitting together, cuddling on the front room couch in our robes in the dark, save the post-Christmas tree light glow. My mind was empty of everything but love, love for the man next to me and for every person in the house. Suddenly from down the hallway, Nathan rushed out of Conner's bedroom. We had switched off with the boys for the night. Nathan whispered something into Mark's ear and then rushed back to the bedroom, closing the door. I looked at Mark, "What was that all about?" Mark grinned, "Come on," and he got up and I followed.
We ended up one on each side of the closed bedroom door. Suddenly, the sounds poured out, not too loudly though. Nathan was paddling my godson's bare bottom with that new paddle of theirs. I blushed, "Oh no!" and Mark grinned down at the evidence, "Just like old times huh?" and it was.
I was getting a boner as I listened to Mac's humorous complaints and giggles, then his more honest pleadings, "Hey OK! It hurts! Come on Nat! Ouch!" and then, Mark grabbed my wrist and shoved me into the bathroom across the hallway all by myself, "Have at it babe, Merry Christmas!" and he closed the door and there I was alone, just like that time so very long ago in that very same bathroom while a relatively young Sarg spanked his young son Conner.
I looked at the same toilet, aged by now, all of the fixtures otherwise the same and I sighed, raised the seat and did it. I masturbated myself off into the toilet bowl, my mind freely bathed in the special memory. I paused and looked at it. I was going to flush it down, then smiled and didn't and simply left the room and padded quickly down the hallway and sat back down next to Mark, "Thanks for that honey, Merry Christmas," and lay my head on his chest and closed my eyes.
A few minutes later, my eyes opened to the muffled sounds of, "Gross!! Uncle Mac!" and then I heard a flush and both boys came partway down the hallway and grinned at Mark and I. I grinned to my godson, "A problem?" and he came over by himself and I sat forward and he got on his knees in front of me and we hugged as he whispered, "No problem, it was Nathan's idea. Dad told me and him about you and him and Grandpa and the toilet not too long ago. I love you Uncle, merry Christmas." I gently patted his boxer covered seat and whispering back to him, winked over at Nathan, "Thanks for that Mac, I love you too, Merry Christmas."
© Copyright PJ Franklin April 30, 2009
Your comments are appreciated. email@example.com or Email optional feedback form
The URL for this page is: http://www.asstr.org/~pjfranklin/sargsonlieume.htmlPJ Franklin's Erotic Story Pages
Last updated: April 30, 2009