"But, Dad! I'm too old for a spanking! Come on!"
But he insisted. I said that I would pay the speeding ticket. I said that I was sorry. I said that it would never happen again. But he insisted.
He said, "You need to really learn a lesson from this and have it stick. I don't want anything else happening to that car... and I definitely don't want anything to happen to you."
I didn't say anything to that. What could I say? And he was always a great dad. He cared about me growing up right. But it had been years since I did anything bad enough to actually get spanked. The threat of it is usually enough to keep you in line.
So here I was, standing in front of him as he waited for me to go over his lap. He sat on the side of his big bed and waited. He was wearing just an undershirt and khakis. When I got home, he was just staring to get ready for bed, so his button-up shirt and belt and shoes were off. The window was open and letting cool air blow in after a warm day.
I was sweating already before I got home, and now I was nervous and watching him reach out to undo my jeans. I guess I'm not even getting any over the jeans. With them open, I lean over his leg, and my shirt slides up around my armpits. He holds my waist and slides my jeans down off my butt. It feels different since the last time I was in that position. I'm older and bigger.
He decides that he doesn't want my clothes in the way, so he stands me up again and strips them off of me. The shirt lifts up off my chest and over my head. The jeans are pulled down to my ankles, and I'm stepped out of them. I know not to complain or whine, but that's all I want to do.
Standing there in just my underwear, it feels different. We're not that bashful, and he's given me The Talk. We don't get embarrassed. Compared to some of my friends, whose dads aren't as open about that stuff, we're pretty relaxed.
But being over his lap and my dick getting pressed against his leg had made me a little hard. The cool air gave me goosebumps, and his first few smacks against the fabric covering my firm butt made me clench against him. My dick shifted. I was trying to move it with my hand, and he noticed and stood me up.
He had a wet dot on his khakis while I stood there trying to cover myself. He moved my hands away to look, and that made it harder, being looked at. The spot came from me. My dick was stiff, with a wet tip making the material more strained and see-through.
He said, "I remember that happening to me when I was in your position. It's okay. But I don't want to get these messed up." So he stood up and undid them and took them off and set them to the side next to my clothes. He was just wearing an undershirt and tight white briefs. I could see the shape of his dick and balls in them. It made my dick twitch up. I adjusted myself again without thinking. He looked over at me as I did it, but he didn't say anything.
When he put me back over his lap, each spank came slower, with more time between each when it was just me draped across him, pressed together at that point of contact, with my chest over his bicep and forearm, his hand into my armpit, which was starting to sweat. Now I was against his bare skin, his muscles.
I felt his thumb slide into the elastic around my waist and tug lower to tuck the material under my ass. That used to be the way he would do it, and I thought back to getting some bare-assed slaps in the past. But this time he pulled a little more, all around, lower on me. My underwear was barely covering anything.
The next swat had a sting, and I flexed forward and felt my dick slide over his hairy thigh and then flop between his legs, gravity pulling on it, my underwear rolled lower. It made me groan. And his thighs came together. They felt tight and fleshy and warm. His hand rested in the small of my back between two muscle mountains. My feet were up in the air behind me.
"Steady there. Stand up." He lifted me back and up on wobbly legs, and my hardon pointed out between us as my underwear shifted down towardsmy knees. I felt even more embarrassed and said sorry. "You've got nothing to feel sorry about with that. I told you, the same thing used to happen to me."
I looked down at his, bigger and more obvious in his briefs. He looked down and repositioned without thinking about it. I saw wetness at the tip, and even though it was outlined in almost-see-through strained white fabric, I wanted to see it all out in the open, to see if mine was almost as big now.
I said, "Did that used to happen, too?" and I pointed. He looked down at himself and thought about it, thought back to his father.
"Well, I always wondered... but couldn't tell for sure," he said. We sort of stared at each other. I felt hot. My ass felt red. My balls felt full. My cock was as stiff as it ever had been, like those certain mornings when it's just a solid rod when you wake up from a deep sleep.
Then he felt his sweaty armpits, making wet spots and peeled off his sweaty shirt and ran his hand through the hair on his chest. "Okay now, let's finish up."
My underwear was around my knees, awkward, constraining. He reached out and hooked them and slid them lower to my ankles and then waited until I lifted one foot and then the next and suddenly became naked, not just stripped or undressed or standing there with my clothes off, but naked and hard and trying not to touch myself.
And then he was going to give me the last of it. He reached out and held my sides and stepped me closer and leaned me over. As my chest pressed down against his legs and his arm, I felt his fingers slide into the sweat in my armpit, feeling it. I liked it.
His other hand rested again on the small of my back, also sweaty, and then slid down to between my thighs to hold me in place across him. That touch made my body relax into him, my balls hanging between his thighs, and my weight pressing my dick into his other leg now, squeezing it between us. It made me moan.
He stroked my butt. His other hand held my chest, with his thumb sliding into in my armpit. My hand rested down on his knee below me. I pushed into him, flexing my body into him, and then I stopped myself. It made him inhale deeply. I felt wet and warm under myself. His body felt hot and slippery, and I slid across his lap.
Then I felt his fingers leave my armpit and slide down my chest between his legs, and his hand was flat against my stomach. Then his hand found my cock. His wet palm slid across and closed around it. He pulled once. I gripped his body tighter. I flexed my thighs and pushed forward into him. His other hand slid between my thighs and up between my legs, up against the firm mound and forward to the thin skin and my balls.
I surprised myself when I said "yeah" under my breath. He said "yeah?" I said "yeah" again. When his hand moved away, my hand reached down between us to grab my cock.
But, on the way, I felt the small bit of fabric he wore. The back of my hand felt it and pushed against it. My forearm and wrist grazed it. My hand spun around to grip it. I hooked the fabric and pulled on it and waited. Then he leaned forward and slid his briefs down in the back, off his waist and out from under his ass and down his thighs between us until they fell around his ankles. I looked down at them and felt all that flesh between us.
I felt him poke me. I pushed against him. He pulled me closer over his lap. His hand returned to my ass and smacked it. It felt different now. His sweaty chest leaned over my arm and shoulder and back, slippery.
I pulsed my thighs into his and slid across his skin. He tensed up. He held my body against his and pulled it closer, then let me slide back, closer and then letting go. Between us was all wet sweat and slippery precum pooling and pulling, drooling out and slobbering between our bodies.
My hand reached back and felt his ass. His hand slid all down my back and butt and leg to hold my foot and stretch my thigh out. I lifted up, and he set me down again. No words, just groans, and an occasional sound of a spank that cracked the cool silent air and echoed around the watching walls and out through the window to the lamppost at the corner of our quiet block.
Then faster and faster we wriggled until I was coming and squiting and dripping and feeling his hand reach under us and holding out to catch it and to grease himself and stroke with it under my stomach until he was moaning in my ear and squeezing my thigh while I struggled to hold tight and not slide off.
When we slowed and steadied, he held me there for a minute maybe two while we breathed heavy. Then he brought me up to stand in front of him again, with our mess between us. I looked down at him, and he looked up at me. I reached down and held my cock in my hand, squeezing out the last of it.
He touched himself while I saw. He let me look. Then eventually he told me to go hit the showers.