Craig and I are sitting in the shade outside my back door smoking cigars. It's the middle of the summer. He is telling me about the time some policemen gave him a beating for talking back to them. That's when his nose got broken. Craig gestures with his cigar and uses the F word a lot. I lean forward in my chair. The muscles in my back are tight and my skin is red. A few minutes ago Craig strapped my back with a belt. I pay him to do this every few weeks.
I met Craig after I placed an online ad offering to pay someone to give me a bare back strapping. I'm gay, but I wasn't looking for sex or a kinky S&M scene. I just wanted to see how much I could take from a man using a belt on my back. For me this is an extreme sport. I am one of those guys who are into taking a whipping. I can't say why and don't care. My back makes a good target for the belt because I do a lot of pushups and chin-ups. Although I carry a little extra weight around my waist, my back, shoulders and arms are muscular. I'm 55, the age when you want to try the things you may not be able to do in a few years. Most of the people who replied to my ad were not serious. Craig was. He said he had never done this but had been laid off work and was interested in giving it a try. We agreed to meet at my house on a Saturday afternoon and set the pay at forty bucks.
That first meeting was a little awkward. Craig was cautious about what he was getting himself into, and I wanted to make sure he was not a weirdo or out to rip me off. The first thing he wanted to do when he got to my place was smoke a cigarette. While he smoked, I showed him around my yard and garage before we went into the house. Craig is a handy man, so I figured he would relax a little scoping out my garage and house. When I suggested we head to the basement and get started, Craig asked for a glass of water and admitted he was nervous. He said I would have to tell him what to do.
Craig is 50, straight, divorced, probably an alcoholic and a bit of a pot head. He used to drive big trucks, but his bad habits mean he can't pass the urine test they give drivers, so he makes a living picking up odd jobs. Once we got comfortable with each other, he told me about his jobs, his ex-wife and his daughter. Hell, he told me about his whole family, crazy father, blind brother, the whole works. Craig is part American Indian, which gives him a dark complexion and chiseled face. I could see why women would like him. He comes across as what they call a bad boy, not really good looking but sexy.
When we got to the basement, I handed Craig the leather belt I had hanging on a hook and pulled off my shirt. Giving a whipping comes naturally to most men once they get started. I knew Craig was not sure how to start, so I suggested he take off his work shirt so I could place my hand on the part of his back where the belt should land. He obliged by stripping off the shirt and the wife-beater underneath. I saw Craig had a lean build, a flat belly, and a real hairy chest. I'd nailed a three foot piece of two by four to the floor beams of the high ceiling. Grabbing the ends of the board stretched my arms and back and kept me in place. Craig landed the belt on my upper back. It took him a few strokes before he put some muscle into his swing. He gave me four sets of twenty that first time.
When we were finished, I could tell Craig still didn't understand why anyone would want to do something like this but he admitted he was impressed by my tolerance for pain and how my muscles flex under the belt. I gave him his forty bucks. He said he was willing to come back. I told him that was fine by me as long as he was comfortable with the job. His reply was that we were both old enough to know our own minds. A wise man.
Once he understood I could take a real strapping, Craig got pretty good with the belt. He wasn't sadistic and certainly not sexually aroused by what we were doing. He just took pride in his work, whatever it was. He'd change positions from left to right so my back was evenly striped. If the belt didn't land with enough force, he wouldn't let me count the stroke. Craig had done too many wild things in his life to be bothered by a guy who liked to have his back strapped. He even managed to find a little side benefit in this job. Craig said whipping me helped work off some of the frustrations that drive him to drink and smoke pot.
Our first session lasted only about twenty minutes. I enjoyed it but I needed to figure out a way to slow things down so I could take more punishment. I'm fairly tough, but you need a break in the action if you're going to receive 120 lashes with a belt in one afternoon. Then I thought of the solution. Cigars. I knew Craig smoked cigarettes. I don't, but I like to smoke cigars every now and then and always have a supply on hand. My preference is to smoke with a buddy so we can shoot the bull and take our time enjoying the cigars. There is nothing like a good stogie to make men comfortable with each other. The next Saturday I suggested to Craig we stop and smoke a cigar after he gave me my first forty. That did the trick. We headed outside to smoke stogies for fifteen or twenty minutes and then back to the basement for another strapping. During our smoke breaks, Craig loves to tell stories about his life. I draw on my cigar, listen to his funny stories, and enjoy that great tightness you feel in your back after it's been nicely strapped with a leather belt. Craig is crafty. After we're done with the strapping and finishing up our stogies, he tells me he could use a beer. So, even though I am paying him forty bucks to whip me and providing him with a good cigar, I get the man a beer.
Craig doesn't have his own phone. Every three weeks or so, I leave a message with his brother that I have a job for him on Saturday afternoon at 3:00. For the rest of the week I think about taking the belt and smoking cigars. The two go together for me now. Craig shows up, usually late. We head to the basement and strip off our shirts. I give his flat belly a few playful jabs and pump myself up by slamming my fist into the palm of my hand. Craig snaps the belt. I get into position. After the first forty, we're both sweating. I pass him a cigar and light mine. The first taste of the smoke always makes my dick get hard. Once we're sitting down outside, Craig starts talking. I listen and watch him exhale big clouds of smoke. He's a great cigar smoker. My back feels good. I'm enjoying my cigar. I'm getting ready for another round with the belt.