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He wore faded, bleach stained and torn blue jeans years before such things became expensive designer jeans. A solid black leather belt looped through the jeans and the buckle in front was simple oxidized brass.
His black leather jacket was vintage and used to belong to his now dead uncle who had been killed in a knife fight with a rival motorcycle gang member. The back of the jacket had a large beautiful yellow-jacket bee decal sewn into the leather that set off his nearly strawberry blonde longish hair as if off of a movie set.
Under the jacket he wore a faded white wife-beater T-shirt over which dangled a thin gold chain that looped through a tiny heart-shaped locket. The tiny picture inside of the locket was of his now deceased mother, Maria.
During the summer's hot sultry weather when us younger kids ran around barefoot in skimpy cut-offs without underwear and no shirts, he would still be wearing the blue jeans and wife-beater and would only carry the leather jacket over his left shoulder so that one could see the dull red rose tattoo that adorned his right upper arm.
His name was Nicky Barrows and most of the mothers and fathers in the neighborhood threatened their sons with sound bare bottomed spankings if any of them, us, choose to keep any company with Nicky who was only sixteen years old that summer.
Nicky lived with his father at the very end of the cul-de-sac block, the last house before a deep broken glass littered culvert that used to be a drainage ditch. His dad's place was a dingy two bedroom ranch with old deteriorating white siding the front yard of which was half brown Bermuda grass and half dandelion weeds.
The front yard was home to Nicky's dad's aging mixed breed junkyard dog who lived at the end of a chain to scare away strangers. The dog's name was Crusher. You could hear Crusher barking day and night clear down to my end of the block whenever anything moved near the house.
Nicky went to high school just like all of us older boys during the school year, but I hardly ever saw him. Everyone said he was always in trouble and in detention or in the principal's office which always meant you were going to get a pants and underwear down bare butt paddling. I could imagine a lot of guys including me getting their butt's blasted to tears by Mr. Mercer, but I could not imagine it happening to Nicky.
When Nicky was not in school or it was summer, he could sometimes be seen working with his old man at Booker's Auto Repair, but mostly Nicky just hung out, either around McPherson's Liquor store or outside on the sidewalk at Betty's Diner or just anywhere. We boys who dared might try to find Nicky, just to be near him, those of us like me who thought Nicky was incredibly cool and especially so when he had a Lucky Strike cigarette dangling out of the corner of his mouth.
My parents smoked cigarettes, filtered menthol Salems. Everybody's parents smoked in those days. It was OK for adults, but if a kid did it, especially a kid like Nicky, then that branded him a juvenile delinquent who was bound to live an ignominious and dead-end existence.
I was fifteen at the time, the oldest neighborhood guy besides Nicky in a sea of primarily eight to thirteen year olds. Only Ben and twin brother Tommy at fourteen and a half years came close to me. That summer, Ben and Tommy had been sent to YMCA summer camp which was fine with me. Both of them were awful tattle tale goody-goodies and were the cause of me getting my tail roasted the summer before. I nicknamed them the "Tattle-Twins" after that.
There was a rapidly running irrigation ditch full of water near to the high school that had lots of frogs and stuff on the steep banks. Our parents forbade us to go near it for fear of drowning. Get caught, get spanked.
Naturally, we boys thought the possibility of danger ridiculous but that didn't change the rules. I strayed too near the ditch water one day after school and both Ben and Tommy saw me and then rode their bikes like a furry ahead of me to tell my Dad.
Dad wasn't happy with Ben and Tommy for tattling, but he was furious with me. I was too respectful of my father to lie to him in my own defence, so after he threatened Ben and Tommy with their hides if they didn't leave our property "on the double," I was sent to my room where I waited for Dad come and lecture me and then I had to pull my pants down for an over-the-knee hairbrush paddling.I bawled away every ounce of teen dignity that I thought I had through that ordeal and never went near the damn irrigation ditch again.
I was out and about riding my bike alone and headed around the corner ending up near Betty's Diner. I stopped in my tracks, there was Nicky Barrows talking to some scantily clad high school girls right at the corner of the building. The sun was high and my eyes had to briefly squint because of the small but bright reflection of light off of that heart shape locket that adorned the top of Nicky's wife-beater.
I looked down, Nicky was wearing an old pair of biker boots. I thought those boots where about the coolest things ever and imagined myself wearing them. The Lucky Strike cigarette was there in the corner of Nicky's mouth and everything. The girls walked away and Nicky took a long drag on that cigarette and then saw me.
I prepared to ride off the other direction. Nicky Barrows would never want to be seen with a small fry like me. I was not cool, at least not cool enough for him. He motioned to me to come over to him. I looked around myself to make sure it wasn't some other guy. I recalled my parents' warnings not to be seen near Nicky but that only served to make me want to do it, so I did and rode over to him.
"Hey kid, what's your name?" he asked me as he leaned up against the building.
"Gary," I said, "Gary Foster"
"Hold old are you Gary Foster," he asked. Funny, he didn't sound like any sixteen year old I knew at school. He sounded eighteen or nineteen.
"Fifteen," I replied. He nodded, took a drag off of his cigarette and held it out to me, "Hey kid, want to smoke?"
Did I? Hell yes I did. I wanted to smoke with Nicky Barrows so badly I thought I could puke over it. I shook my head,
"I'll get in trouble, I can't" I replied instead.
"What'll happen if you get caught?" he asked. I gulped. I didn't want to tell him but I was too afraid not too as well.
"I'll get a spanking"
"Oh yea? Bare butt?" he asked. I blushed and nodded.
"Nobody is going to see, come on," and he walked around the corner into the alley way and disappeared to the back of the Diner.
I hesitated and then rode about halfway down the alley way with my heart pounding in my chest and then stopped. He stood out from the corner of the back of the building and looked at me,
"You coming or not Foster?"
I gulped. The temptation was awful, the very idea of hanging out alone with Nicky Barrows like a slice of forbidden chocolate cake reserved for anyone but you. I hesitated again, my heart pounding.
"If you don't get your little ass back here, maybe I'll take your pants down and give you a spanking!"
I had never heard such a threat from a boy like that before and panicked, blushed, turned and took off towards home, Nicky's laughter "spanking" my ears and my psyche with images of him doing just that as I made a beeline for home and my bedroom. When I got home, I rushed to my bedroom, closed the door and sat on the floor against it, my heart pounding, the image of Nicky Barrows pulling my pants down and carrying out his threat pouring through my mind's eye again and again.
In those days, when a guy like me got nervous or anxious and worried about nearly anything, the only way to get relief was to masturbate. I masturbated over borderline school grades, chores that were overdue, threats of trips to Mr. Mercer's office at school and now this, Nicky Barrows threatening to spank me if I didn't do as he said.
I tried not too, I really did, but the idea of the coolest boy in town pulling me across his blue jean clad lap, that Lucky Strike dangling out the corner of his mouth and his hand or maybe even that black leather belt of his raising up to give me the first lick on my bare ass drove me nuts and I couldn't help it, I jacked off three times into a white tube sock in bed that night just to get the damn image to go away!
* * * * * * * * * *
I'll never forget it. I was standing next to my bike about halfway down the block next to all of our neighbors as we all watched the sheriff and his deputy bring Nicky Barrows' father out of their house in handcuffs and put him into the back of the patrol car, head first. There was a woman standing stiffly next to Nicky who looked distraught and like he'd been crying, at least his face seemed red and wet from a distance.
All of the adults around me were nodding with self-satisfied smiles and mumbling things like "serves him right, it's about time," and otherwise enjoying that fact that maybe, just maybe the neighborhood eyesore would finally be cleaned up. Nobody said a thing about Nicky and what would happen to him.
Nicky wiped his eyes and then even from a distance he saw me. We made eye contact of a sorts and instead of his usual cool kid bravado, all I could see was sadness and fear.
When I got home, I asked my Dad what was going on and what would happen to Nicky.
"Foster home I suspect, probably for the best for that delinquent."
I respected my father and thought he was unfairly judging Nicky wrongly but said nothing.
It was hardly a week later that I dared to ride my bike near to Nicky's place. The dog was now gone so that it wasn't nearly so scary. I had not seen Nicky Barrows since the sheriff took his Dad away and still felt very sorry for him. I even missed Nicky and wondered what had happened to him.
It was getting dark and I almost just turned around when I heard a loud voice come from the front room of the house. I rode quickly as closely as I dared and there in the very public and open front room windows, I saw a man, much younger than my Dad and he had his fist clutching Nicky's shoulder, only Nicky wasn't wearing a wife-beater. He was clad only in a pair of pretty ordinary white underwear and that was all!
"I told you what would happen if you got in trouble with Mr. Parsons, didn't I Nicky?" the man said very sternly.
"I'm sorry Bill, it was just a small candy bar. I was gonna pay for it outta my next paycheck, I swear!!"
Mr. Parsons? Mr. Parsons owned the small grocery at the other end of Main Street, the one that my parents never went to any more on account of the Super Mart that opened up near the highway. By the sounds of it, Nicky was nowhere to be found anymore because he was working at the small grocery.
"You are a thief Nicky and I promised Mr. Parsons that you would get a good hard whipping for your crime. You should be thankful that he didn't fire you mister, now over my knee!"
I had seen boys spanked with a Dad's hand, even a hairbrush once. I had gotten plenty of sore bottoms of my own at home and that was not to mention the numerous paddle swats witnessed by us boys in P.E. at school from Coach Haney, but I had never seen the likes of Nick Barrows, the coolest boy in town have to have his underwear pulled down, then angled over a man's knee much less in my full view.
Nicky's head turned and he saw me! The look on his face was that of abject humiliation and regret. Then the man pulled Nicky over his knee and swung the belt across Nicky's bared bottom again and again. I was transfixed. I wanted to run and hide. I wanted to spare Nicky knowing that I was still there watching his agony and humiliation, but I couldn't move a muscle.
Nicky screamed, bawled and kicked like a ten year old as his butt got redder and redder but it did no good. The man whipped Nicky's bottom to a bright, even purplish red color before he stood him up. The man then saw me and made Nicky stand in front of the window, his red bottom facing me.
"You just stand there Nicky and let the world see what happens to naughty boys in this house!"
"Yessssir!" Nicky sobbed, but he wasn't the only one who was upset. I was upset. My hero, the boy I thought the coolest in the world had been treated like any of us ordinary boys and it wasn't fair!
What else wasn't fair in my mind was the way I treated the images I had just witnessed later in my bed that night. Three masturbations barely was enough to dissipate the nervous energy generated by the images of Nicky Barrows' bare red bottom, getting a whipping and then having to stand in front of the window. I was the only person to see him, but if I were Nicky, it still would have about killed me to know he had been seen by anyone he knew.
I don't know what makes a boy do what he does sometimes, but I just had to ride my bike to Mr. Parsons' small grocery and see if it was true that Nicky worked there. At least I waited a few days, but I couldn't wait any longer and rode down, parked my bike and walked in.
Sure enough, Nick was there sweeping the floor wearing a very dorky green apron. I cold see that he had to wear ordinary trousers underneath with a button down white long sleeve shirt, hardly fitting for a boy that looked best to me in his blue jeans and black leather jacket.
He looked up and his head fell down. I got a lump in my throat and nearly turned around to leave him alone when he looked back up,
"Hey Gary Foster, fancy seeing you here."
I swallowed, "I … I wanted … I mean … I … "
He looked around, Mr. Parsons was in the back room and we were alone.
"It's OK. I know you wanted to find me. I know … well, you saw me a couple nights ago and all."
"It's … I get it all the time too. I was worried about you. I missed you. I saw them take your Dad away and I felt awful for you!" I blurted and just then, Mr. Parsons came out from the back.
"Everything all right out here Nicky? I heard somebody and … oh, you've a customer, aren't you Ned Foster's son?"
"Yes sir, Gary, my parents used to shop here before … well, you know," I said feeling like a jerk.
"Oh, it's OK. Even I shop there now, this old place isn't going to be here for very much longer, so what can we do for you?"
"Nothing Mr. Parsons, he came here to find me. He's … well, Gary is a good friend, we used to hang out a lot together."
"Oh, well, that's fine. The Fosters are good people. I'm sure your step-dad would approve, carry on boys, I'll be in back if you need anything Nicky," and he disappeared.
Nicky blushed, "I hope you don't mind what I said. I know how I treated you Gary. I'm sorry. He reports to Bill, my step-dad. I'm not allowed to do a lot anymore or I get belt whippings."
Now my masturbatory behavior of the last few nights concerning Nicky's whipping came to roost on very tender guilty ground.
"Not even wear your cool jeans and leather jacket?"
Nicky shook his head,
"Those have been in the closet since they took Dad away. He was arrested for writing too many bad checks. I live with my step-mom and her husband, Bill. He's pretty strict but he works hard and we're thinking about cleaning up the property and all so folks don't talk bad about it anymore."
I swallowed hard. Obviously, Nicky was trying like hell to behave and get used to new adults in charge. Just then, I took a chance,
"If you like and want, maybe you could come over my house and we can hang out … or not."
Suddenly, Nick's face brightened, "I'd love to do that Gary. I know Bill will let me 'cause your folks are strict too."
My trip home was effortless and more carefree than I had ever known. Nicky Barrows was going to come over to my house after work that very day! I cleaned up my room and made some lemonade for us and generally felt like I owned the world.
I made sure and called my Dad at work and told him what had happened to Nicky and that he was clean cut now and working and his step-dad was strict and all and could he come over? I held my breath but Dad approved and I could breath again. Only a few hours later there was a knock on the front door. It was Nicky and I invited him in and took him to the kitchen for glasses of cold lemonade and then took him to my room.
"So like, your new step-dad is really strict with you?" I asked.
"Yea, well you saw. I screwed up and got a whipping. I've gotten a couple spankings too for swear words and not doing my chores and stuff. Does your Dad spank you … oh, yea … I know he does, you told me that one day … I remember … I'm sorry for what I said in the alley way Gary."
"It's OK. I deserved what you said. I wanted to do it, but I was chicken. I wanted so bad to smoke with you."
"I miss that more than anything. Can you keep a secret?"
"Sure!" I said excitedly.
"I still smoke. Bill and Marla smoke so they can't notice, but if I ever get caught, I'll get bad whipping for it."
My heart started to pound and I said it, "I want to smoke with you Nicky, please? I know where my folks cigarettes are, I want to do it!"
"If we get caught, we'll get spankings!" he said excitedly.
"I know, but I don't care and I wish you were wearing your leather jacket and jeans and everything!"
Nicky thought a moment, "Come on, I've an idea, but we have to go to my house!"
I knew it was wrong and deceitful and I had better not get caught not being home when Mom and Dad got home from work but I followed Nicky down the block to his place. His folks were working as well and we rushed to his bedroom. He went to the closet and got out his mothballed clothing. He was grounded from wearing it for at least a year, but quickly changed. He got one of Bill's cigarettes, I don't remember the name, it doesn't matter.
We closed the door to his bedroom and he lit up, took a drag and gave it to me, instructing me how to be careful and not inhale. He stood there, the former Adonis bad-boy that I had adored for so long, restored to life and I was smoking an illicit cigarette with him at long last! Just then, the bedroom door flew open and there stood Nicky's step-mom …
The only thing that would have or could have been worse was being grounded from seeing Nicky again that summer. That did not happen, but there was a hard price to pay for that privilege and yet, we paid it together and very painfully so. Nicky's step-mom scolded the both of us, confiscated Nick's leather jacket and jeans and made us stay in his room until our Dad's came home from work.
My Dad and Bill's step-dad came to the room fully apprised of our "despicable" behavior. I stood up and told (passionately begged) the Dads that it was my idea and my fault and to please not blame Nicky or keep us from being friends. I sounded like some kind of pint-sized statesman in front of a parole board.
Bill was not displeased that Nicky had chosen me for a friend and my father was unusually impressed that I was trying to take the blame on behalf of Nicky. The only difference that all made was that very soon thereafter, we were both naked and laying bare bottoms high up on pillows as two Dads took turns burning our bared bottoms to a hot red crisp with Bill's belt, us bawling our eyes out, our arms draped over each other like bosom comrades of some kind of awful world war.
Afterwards, our Dads pronounced us "cured" and there would be no further punishments and Bill even invited me to stay over with Nicky and my Dad let me. I had never done a sleep over and neither had Nicky. I had to admit that my Dad and Nicky's step-dad were pretty cool for letting us do that, but a short while later, I was skeptical of my enthusiasm.
You see, Nicky had this habit of hanging around dressed only in his underwear when alone in his bedroom and so did I. My ass had stopped burning and now was sending signals to my penis that I needed to burn off the tension and now it showed.
"I see you have the same problem I get" and I looked down. Sure enough, Nicky Barrows was as boned up as I was.
He sighed, "Come on, whip it out and let's get it over with before somebody walks in on us!" and I laughed. I loved Nicky's easy ways and we actually did masturbate ourselves in front of the other as if it wasn't any big deal.
Nicky and I became fast friends and later that summer, he came over my house for a sleep over. We got pretty physical in our underwear that night and started to wrestle. I reminded Nicky of the time he threatened to spank me for not smoking with him in that back alley months before.
That was the cue and Nicky took it. He pulled me across his knees and pulled my underwear down and spanked me, pretty hard too! We masturbated again that night and repeated our little ritual several more times that summer before fall and school started again.
Nicky Barrows became a "normal" kid in high school but every once in a awhile he kicked up his heels and got in trouble, but I was right there with him in Coach's office getting paddle swats or sitting on the bench outside of the principal's office waiting for paddle swats on our bare bottoms. Thankfully, we didn't catch too much grief from our Dads, but not because we didn't take some risks.
* * * * * * * * * *
Two years later during my seventeenth birthday party, Nicky Barrows presented me with a large wrapped box that he gave me after my other friends and relatives had left. It was his old leather jacket with the beautiful sewn yellow-jacket decal, tattered wife beater, black belt, biker boots and worn, torn blue jeans. He wanted me to have them. I accepted them with a huge lump in my throat and kept them but refused to wear them.
Years later I would take out the box and look at the clothing and even found an old cigarette in one of the several zippered pockets in the jacket that I had not known was there. I took the old black leather jacket with me and put the cigarette in the corner of my mouth and walked across the street to knock on the door. Nicky answered it and roared with laughter as I walked in.
"What's that Dad?" Nathan Barrows asked his father.
"Nothing son, Uncle Gary is just acting like a clown as usual."
"It used to be your Dad's," I told Nathan and gave the jacket and cigarette to Nicky. He put it on and put the cigarette at the corner of his mouth. Nathan shook his head and went back to his bedroom leaving us alone.
Nicky got an impish grin and said to me, "Hey kid, want to smoke?"
The End
© Copyright PJ Franklin June 25, 2010
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Main Story PageLast updated: August 31, 2010