Spanky

The Everglades Bar, 1984. He was a cute slip of a boy, very slim, with light brown hair, a very light mustache, and a shit-eating grin. We went back to my place. (I was renting a 2-bedroom house, with Florida room, very cheap from my friend Ted. This was great because as one room got too cluttered I just moved into another room).

Anyway, we went back to my place and he was being coy and somewhat shy. He said, “I have a very smooth ass.” I was planning to find that out for myself. He repeated himself and added, “Do you wanna know why it’s so smooth?” I decided to play along.

Part of the game was that I was to coax the story out of him. He said that he was raised in an orphanage and that the other boys used to pick on him. He kept teasing me along, sweet-talking me, cajoling me into asking him why his ass was so smooth. I had finally asked him in just the right way: C’mon baby, why is your ass so smooth?

He looked at me shyly, looked away quickly, and blurted out, “Spanky!”

I started spanking him, thinking that this was a prelude to some smooth fucking in that smooth ass. Over the knee spanky. Standing up spanky. In the kitchen spanky. In the bedroom spanky. He wanted more spanky. He wanted harder spanky. And the more I gave him and the harder I did it the bigger his grin got. Ear to ear.

Hours later, he had finally had enough spanky and I got what I wanted. My poor hand was sore for three days after.

Moral of the story: Keep a hair brush handy!