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Three Stroppings At The Edge Of An Illinois Summer Thunder Storm
Summer thunder storms in the mid-western United States hit quickly and decisively starting with buckets of pebble sized hail, followed by sheets of sideways-blown rain and peppered with blinding bolts of bluish white lightening accompanied by deafening cracks of thunder. Mother Nature gets pretty angry sometimes, but absent a tornado warning, farm life and farm work mostly just goes on.
It was 85 degrees and 90% humidity outdoors at about two P.M when the newest storm's edge was slowly beginning to pass over my Uncle Dave's farm just outside of Brocton, Illinois in Edgar County. Hail as big as the end of your little finger was starting to pummel the barn roof in modest amounts, low rumbles of delayed thunder in the distance. Evidence of lightning flashes could be seen outside of the open barn doors or leaking through the wood-slatted vents just under edge of the tall arched rafter eves.
Indoors, inside of Uncle Dave Kerns' big red barn, those 85 degrees felt more like 90, and the 90% humidity more like 100%. Five lit down-pointed 200W light bulbs, just made it all the worse. But then again, it was about to get a lot hotter and wetter yet for me and my two cousins.
Uncle Dave's rule was simple. You play, you pay, especially when your play messes around with important work time the next morning and especially so when you oversleep with hangovers because of all that beer you shared and each drank to great excess the night before. So there we were standing in a row, side by side, three strapping mid-west cousins, one from Chicago, 23, me, Will Kerns, and my cousins, Steve, 19 and Mike, 20, the Kerns farm boys.
Our heads were held high, bodies tall and upright, just over six foot two inches each, our broad shoulders nearly touching, each confidently buck-ass naked. Our farm clothes were very neatly folded up into three identical piles in back of us on top of large blonde bales of hay. But there was not that much there in terms of amounts of clothing.
We each had been wearing only a pair of somewhat oversized blue denim Wranglers, waist sizes 33 inches each to match our 31 ½ to 32 inch wasp waists, the tops of our young finely fuzzed blonde butt-cracks usually showing pretty well in the back no matter if we were standing, walking or bent over .
We wore no underwear to protect our tender hides from the rough denim, but did cover our high arched feet with cotton socks and steel-toed work boots. It was too hot and humid for shirts and nobody wore a hat over our blonde shaggy mops of unruly cut just-below-the-ear hair, mine quite a bit shorter than my cousins at the moment.
Our hands were firmly and submissively clasped behind our backs, more or less resting on top of the center of our nearly identical white Kerns jutting-shelf buttock tops, so that Uncle Dave could visually inspect each of our body developments and all of our stuff out front, nothing not to be proud of there. We're talking three young men with six soft inches each of tube beef, the kind of pride no boy minds showing off to men or women folk, each accompanied by low hangers, big balls that any boy would be doubly proud of.
So, that is the way any Kerns family boy or visiting cousin begins a long, hard and arduous corporal punishment of any type from the man of authority, the man in charge, Dave Kerns, my Uncle, the owner of the dirt barn flooring us three now all stood barefoot on.
I had just finished up my first year of medical school training at the University of Chicago just a few weeks earlier and had arrived virtually just the day before. The beer bust was a welcoming party present from my cousins to me to start out our new summer together. It was how we had started out the previous year of my summer break from my pre-medical university course work, a kind of new tradition between just the three of us now, the beer that is.
Yes, the beer was new. The three of us getting all of our bare Kerns behinds good long and hard spankings together at the same time was a long time tradition since we were kids. Uncle Dave's definition of a "spanking" by the way meant any position or implement and at any age.
A good hard hand slapping of our bare buttocks over Uncle's lap was a spanking of course, but so was a long and very painful hairbrushing in the same position or a rapid fire tortuous Hickory switching bent way over Uncle's wide barn saw horse, ankles and wrists lashed to the legs. That was a spanking as well, and so was a bare bottom paddling with Uncle's big fraternity-sized paddle as well as a blistering belting or as now, a full on rapid fire razor stropping, any of which was bound to make each boy howl and yell with great gusto.
I had grown up in Naperville, just outside of Chicago where my father had his large ophthalmologic and surgical medical practice. My cousins had grown up in Brocton, Illinois on my Uncle's farm. I had been spending summers in Brocton with my cousins since I was thirteen, actually before that, but not on my own. Starting at age eight, my parents would be out there with me and that's when the spankings and hairbrushings had started.
I was always a relatively good boy in Naperville, not a single amount of trouble. But, put me with my cousins and I went nuts, wild in fact. From the beginning, it was a play and pay system, even way back then. Dad didn't have to do a thing. He would just relax, my Mom too, and his trustworthy disciplinarian brother, my Uncle Dave, would give all three of us beet red hidings whenever he caught us in mischief or not obeying him for farm work and chores.
Well, besides mandatory farm work and chores, my cousins saw to it that my summers were spent fishing and skinny dipping in slow moving cooling creek water, wading in ankle deep muck and algae choked ponds looking for bull frogs and tadpoles. Or, we might be found slobbering down red, green or purple dipped snow cones of freshly shaven ice or laughing our asses off as each other's melting soft ice cream mounds fell off their cones and onto the dirt or cement sidewalks in front of a Brocton ice cream shop should we get treated there.
But that was not all we did. Past about when I was fourteen and on up to present times, we would sleep in the nude at nights on top of sleeping bags in the far back rumpus and game room every night during the summer. My aunt and uncle never bothered us there. The rumpus room was "off limits" to all adults and was called "boy country," and in boy country, any boy could be himself with his cousins, free to explore things that you're supposed to explore together as boys or later as young men if you've a mind.
That's when I learned how to masturbate, "properly" that is. That is where I learned about the birds and the bees, not that I didn't talk with my Dad about those things, I did. But it was my country cousins that passed onto me the finer points of sexuality, from their points of view anyway. It was when I learned that no matter your interest in girls later, it was OK to learn how to pleasure another boy with your mouth or be pleasured in the same way. It was when you learned that another boy's finger, strategically placed onto your butthole or gently slid inside, at first with just spit, but then later with a glob of K-Y jelly could be the best thing ever to "get your rocks off," and we three did those things together and thought nothing of it.
But it was also when we played Cowboys and Indians and tied each other up and "punished" the loser of any game with our own corporal punishment penalties, including imitating some of Uncle Dave's punishments of us. Some of those tie-up games got pretty painful at times, but it was a test of boyhood mettle and courage and it was fun to just be able to brag that you took more swats of the paddle, or more stripes from a painful Hickory switching or cuts of the belt or strop. Yes, we worked hard for Uncle Dave, but we played hard too at our special games and there was nobody there to tell us that what we were doing was wrong, certainly not our parents, and especially not our Dads.
"You're looking very fit this summer nephew, " Uncle said to me with a small smile and nod as we stood, waiting for our spankings to begin.
"Thank you Uncle, been working out pretty regularly," I said and managed a small smile of pride.
I had been working out my body, but not my tender bottom cheeks. The trouble with living in Chicago and going to school all year long, my already tender bare bottom was not used to the kind of punishment I had just earned. I didn't get anything like that in Chicago, I was too busy and stayed out of trouble, but now I was out of shape for the blistering hard and long spanking I was about to get. Well, that was OK. It was high time anyway and I was anxious to get the first one of the summer out of the way.
"You boys had your welcoming fun last night, but you got carried away, just like last summer, not to mention this storm caught us up short for work as it was! So, you've each earned a long and hard spanking, razor strop this time, unless you three care for a good blistering switching each? How about you three agree to what it's going to be for all of you this year, switching or stropping, no matter to me."
Wow, Uncle Dave had never given us a choice. Last year we got switchings. Everyone thinks a stropping is harder to take than a switching, well they never got one from my Uncle. He uses a switch like a baker uses a mixer, whips on your ass in a rapid fire that builds up to a sting of unimaginable proportions. That's what we each got last year for the same offence and we each were howling and screaming at the top of our lungs and begging "Dad" or "Uncle" for the horrible sting and pain to stop. And yet, we were each so proud, looking and rubbing on each other's blotchy red masses of welts afterwards.
So what would it be? I didn't care, I would do whatever my cousins wanted, I was just so glad to be with them instead of at school. Mike leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Say strop and we'll challenge each other with hard switchings later, pass it on."
I smiled. When I masturbated myself back in Chicago on a daily basis, it was most often over reliving times past, listening to and watching Steve or Mike get a good over-the-saw-horse Hickory switching or a trussed up stropping or paddling that really got my balls to explode really well. I leaned over to Steve, "Mike says strop now, switch later," and then we told Uncle our choice.
Uncle Dave nodded and motioned Mike to stand below the block and tackle, "Steve, loosen the rope please, "he asked my cousin and I watched the ritual begin. A good stropping has to be taken standing, but with your wrists shackled with Uncle Dave's hangman's noose fastened around your wrists and your arms trussed up to towards the ceiling by pulling on the other end of that rope that lay over the block and tackle pulley above.
Mike held his strong arms straight out horizontally with his wrists crossed for his father who then looped the noose over Mike's wrists and then nodded to Steve who pulled the rope over the block's wheel, involuntarily pulling Mike's arms up high towards the barn roof. Steve then made three loops of that end rope around the old rusted iron wall fixture.
Steve then returned to my side as my eyes were now riveted on Uncle Dave taking off his sweat soaked long sleeve button down shirt, revealing his heavily muscled chest and arms. My stomach grew weak, the reality of the sheer pain that his awesome body build was guaranteed to deliver hard to each of us settling into my anxious, but focused mind.
Then, as Uncle strode over to pluck the very familiar old and well oiled razor strop from its barn post hook, my eyes focused on my trussed up cousin's physique. His wrists were high above his head, stretching his chest muscles up, flattening them, but bunching up his shoulder muscles to an extent, he looked like a powerful wrestler.
That reminded me too of our nasty-fun naked wrestling games with each other over the years, three sweat-musky males doing some really torturous things to each others' bodies to try and win our epic cutthroat matches, every man for himself. We had revived that tradition last year, oh boy did we! I was looking forward to this year's three-way battle for the Kerns family "Championship Wrestling Belt."
My ear then heard Uncle Dave shuddering that razor strop through the thick dead barn air to warm up his shoulder, the distant storm's thunder sounds shuddering the outside air in a much bigger way, getting louder as heavy rain droplets started to pelt the barn roof. It was kind of an eerie combination of both the strop's and Mother Nature's sounds causing my penis, Steve's too, to involuntarily thicken and straighten out. Mike's did so some, as would also be expected.
My eye was instead focused on Mike's strong upper back muscles that tapered down into his waist just above his jutting buttock shelves, roundish ovals with two deep elliptical clefts between ass mounds and the tops of his strong thighs. Like Steve and I, Mike's softish buttock skin was covered by a nearly invisible blondish fuzz, but that's not what caught my eye now. I spied a rivulet of sweat, moving slowly over Mike's small tattoo of a red rose that sat just above his right buttock, up out of the way of the path of the strop however.
There was so much boy left in Mike, Steve too, in body age and even attitude. I guess I felt like I was kind of losing that over the few more years that I had on my body and overall maturity, but that was OK. No Kerns boy or man, even Uncle Dave or my Dad would really look or act very old anytime soon.
Uncle Dave slowly approached his eldest son now, the strop's wooden handle well set into Uncle's right fist. No matter how wet the air or how much sweat was already pouring right off of all four of us, I still swallowed through a dry throat, my eyes flitting between Uncle Dave's solemn manly expression, the strop proper and of course, Mike.
Mike's face stared, eyes wide, his whole body anticipating and frankly fearing his Dad's first "lightning bolt" lashing him hard and dead-square across the middle of his sweat-moistened buttock skin. That first one would be followed by lots more that would eventually cover most of his ass cheeks up and down with its usual wide crimson swatches of deep red purplish-tinged welts.
I could just feel its future power over me now even though it would be my turn last. A boy could never be quite ready to feel that first painful cut, nor the second, nor the thirty-second cut. Fact was, numbers were useless. This was not a numbers game. Uncle Dave's way was to punish until he knew it was time to stop, no matter what a boy said or did. It was our jobs to take that pain, learn from it or not, react to it with silence or fill the air with our high pitched shrieks, primordial throaty sounds that were as assured as the sun setting into the horizon each day.
Steve leaned over to me just then, his left hand lightly landing at the top of my left buttock causing my dick to jump some. I never had anyone touch me in my Chicago-based school life. My life there was pure cold professional pragmatism, whereas my life with Uncle Dave and my cousins over my summers was a pure rural intimacy that went beyond mere words. A simple touch, my Uncle's hand up on my shoulder out by a steer pen or like now, Steve's at the top of my ass, meant nothing really, just a boy touching another boy of his keen acquaintance really. He quickly whispered into my ear,
"Fact is, I'm keen for a hard long spanking aside you Will. Missed you bad, been too long over a year."
Fact was, his words sent a shudder through my whole body, the kind not even a strop could provoke, the kind that comes from a deep down family need and blood yearning, a knowing that it was the sharing of these moments together between us three boys that was the important thing, more important than the touches or the hard wrestling or other genital moments in the dead of night in the rumpus room. Nonetheless, Mike's fingers absentmindedly patted and dug at the top of my right cheek. I appreciated that a lot.
I silently nodded, quickly glancing at him with an appreciative smile. You dare not be caught speaking a word or Uncle Dave would take you aside and give you the benefit of a little pre-spanking, spanking. That had happened to me two years before. I said something to Mike that time at this very moment, a bit too loud. We were getting switchings that particular day. Damn, those hurt the way Uncle did them.
Uncle Dave looked at me back then even as Steve was already bent over, wrists and ankles roped up over the saw horse, pointed to a barn post and I knew that meant to go to that post, spread my legs and put my hands up as high as I could up onto that post. What followed was twenty fast and hard switching cuts that made me yell so loud so fast, I think it startled Uncle Dave a little, as well as myself.
That's about when the strop struck Mike the first time back in the present moment. The sound hit my ears, a sound so familiar, so strong that I immediately focused on Mike, Uncle Dave and the strop once again. It was like Steve was not there with me now. Mike tried, he always did, we all always did try to put off the screaming and shrieks of pain. Maybe other boys who got similar stroppings and switchings were stoic and manfully kept their voices out of it, not us.
For all of our big strong farm boy bodies above and below, our buttock cheeks still maintained that soft babyish kind of tenderness that was made for a boy to be sternly spanked on them and for that boy's vocal cords to let any nearby wild coyotes to know that there was some good pain going on in that barn on the Kerns property.
It was now that my erection started to get a bit ambivalent, about ten fast hard strokes into Mike's punishment. Mike started to yelp, his face showing it real good now, teeth clenching, eyes more wild now and his buttocks quivering above thighs that were starting to sway side to side in rhythm to the strops rapid action, the redness in his ass just getting started.
Funny, I glanced down beside me and Steve's hands, both of his whole palms, were now slowly rubbing the tops of his white buttock cheeks, then I looked up at Steve's face. His eyes were glassy, kind of spooky, face too, but that was because he and his brother were exceptionally close and I knew he was way into Mike's pain in his mind. I admired that, but could not participate that closely and didn't need to either.
I looked down in front and saw the true ambivalence there. Steve's erection head was a big red-purplish moist mushroom knob and starting to leak pre-cum already and Uncle Dave was just getting started on his brother, Mike now working quickly up to a nice loud howling with each strike.
Seeing Steve's red angry cockhead, make my cock stiffen fully back up, not wanting to be left behind. The questions were, might Steve spontaneously ejaculate his semen onto the barn floor in front of him just watching his brother's buttocks get redder and more swollen by the moment? Wouldn't that be rude? Wouldn't that be gross or unacceptable to Uncle Dave? The answers were maybe, no and never.
Most summers we each got about three barn-based spankings together. Since that started when I was age thirteen, that was ten years of spankings now, a full decade and about thirty barn-based spankings each. It was about when I was nineteen, Steve was sixteen and Mike fifteen years old that we got the third of that summer's spankings. Uncle Dave had indirectly caught us, all three, joy riding one of the family cars one night. Uncle was not supposed to know, but when the Sheriff pulled us over, Steve driving, and ticketed Steve for excessive speed, Uncle was furious upon finding out.
He took us inside the barn that same night, innovated a new overhead block and tackle set-up and trussed us all up at the same time, naked as jay birds of course, into a tight triangular circle, nose to nose! Our dicks were hard as nails even though we were so shook up and afraid that Uncle Dave would start tanning our hides and not stop for hours.
He was holding each boy rightfully and equally accountable. At any rate, our erections were long and hard and "comically" sword fighting in that tight circle as we were howling our heads off, Uncle Dave circling us first clockwise for a few rounds of not single, but double cuts each of the strop across our bared outturned buttocks; then he double backed counter-clockwise and double stropped us in the other direction slowly walking, taking his time.
Oh that hurt, but my God, the sword fighting was impossible to not get all worked up about and first Steve, then me, followed by Mike each shot off a huge load, sending shots of sticky white semen onto both other boys and onto the barn floor as well. Uncle Dave stopped the punishment, paused that is and waited, then shook his head and lit into us again.
Oh my goodness, the hurt after we had shot off was a lot worse than before it. We tried to emulate that again one night later on our own. Could not do it, no sir, and nobody was about to ask Uncle Dave to strop us all again like that for kicks. He didn't do that kind of thing and there was no other man or boy on the planet that we would ask. Oh well!
Well, poor Mike was leaning forward, his body shaking, his arms straining against his shackled wrists, his widely and deep scarlet striped buttocks quivering hard, clenching under the painful duress of Uncle Dave's mechanical-like whipping machine. His face was grimacing with a pure regretful hard pout, his howls filled my ears, but I wanted more of them. Hearing the other boy howl into the dead barn air somehow was needed and wanted by each of us and we each would have paid good money to hear the other boy do it.
I looked down beside me, Steve was dripping pre-cum now in a thick silvery unbroken and continuous strand from his piss slit all the way to the barn floor! How did he do that for God's sake!? But now, even I was starting my own more globular ooze of ball juices, but that is how my body usually handled such things.
I tried to feel badly for my cousin as he was now screaming, "Stop Daddy! Stop! Please!" and I did on one level, but on another, I wanted to hear more of that too and knew I would be feeding my cousins' hungry ears when my time came. Uncle did very briefly stop to comment,
"I'll stop when I'm good and ready boy!" and then started in again with more painful rapid cuts until whenever it was that Uncle decided that it was enough.
But just then, I had the most devilish thought and as I said, when I was with my cousins in Brocton, my mild and good nature back in Chicago often went totally to hell as it now did. I quickly coated my right middle finger with spit, then reached over and goosed Steven, thrust my finger into his deep Kerns ass crack and right up his butt-shoot, all the way in one big push and finger-fucked him right on the spot.
Funny thing, he just stood there, did not move an inch, his eyes kind of rolled back into his head and his piss slit started to shoot white thick bullets out about a good couple foot in front of him and he just kind of finely trembled his way through the orgasm, keeping his voice down to a really low growling sound.
Uncle was busy and didn't see, but wouldn't have minded really. Steve minded however. We three were constantly in competition to outdo the other all summer long and that was not about to stop. He looked over at me after his spewing with an evil grin. What I had done was basically to make his stropping about twice as painful now that I had forced him to shoot off just before a major spanking and I knew I was going to pay for it later on that night.
Maybe that was why I did it too. Likely as not, Uncle Dave's stropping was not the only bare bottom spanking I would now get and I would not complain, I would just lay across Steve's knees however and wherever he wanted me and take another good hard spanking from my younger cousin as my extra punishment pain for causing him even more with his Dad. That would hurt over a still very sore rump, believe you me, but fair is fair. That's the kind of hard play we three boys still went at all summer long in Brocton.
Finally, Uncle Dave was satisfied and stopped the spanking and nodded to Mike. Steve ignored his still erect and wet-messed cock tip, walked over to the wall and unloosed Mike from the taut rope, letting his arms down. Uncle Dave said nothing, Mike said nothing, but after being released, slowly walked over to the rope end and helped Uncle Dave truss up Steve before limping back over to me. He was soaked of sweat and looked like a lobster all over, but his buttocks were swollen and looked totally barbecued to the max.
He sighed and I looked over at him and nodded and we smiled a little at each other, but Mike waited until Uncle started in on Steve before he leaned over and whispered, "Did you make Steve shoot a load?"
I had to answer quickly and quietly, "Yes I did and I'm gonna get it!"
"You sure are, welcome home cous'!" he replied, then we maintained silence as Uncle Dave's strop was starting to get to Steve.
Mike's penis had calmed to limpness during his ordeal, but now was at full attention as was mine still. Now I checked out Cousin Steve's body as the brown leather lashed quickly and hard across his ample cheeks. Mike and Steve sure did look a lot alike despite their age differences and my eye caught the familiar sight of Steve's body art, a little yin-yang symbol just above the outside part of his left buttock cheek.
But just then, Mike's hand stealthily reached in back of me and pulled my right hand's wrist over to his swollen throbbing left cheek, a freely offered invitation. My ears were starting to need to hear Steve's verbal yells and he was starting to provide them as was his strained body language, his buttocks already tired of the pain, clenching in and out, his pelvis jutting forward, trying in vain to lessen Uncle's hard strop cuts.
I let my hand softly rub over Mike's swollen cheeks which provoked my dick to start to do more than just ooze early jism for all the stimulation of ear, eye and now touch. My globs of pre-cum were starting to drop off my swollen cockhead and I was in mortal danger of my own unwise spontaneous ejaculation.
"No more! Daddy please! Stop!" Steve blurted with the boyish sincerity of a ten year old, music to my ears and an instantaneous trigger for even more small pre-cum spurts; but I was not the only cousin to be evil that session, and with Uncle's back to both of us at the moment, Mike took full advantage of my total distraction.
Suddenly, I felt a finger thrust fast and decisively up and into my own asshole and expertly tickle my boy gland. Oh fuck!! I hastily lost complete control as a huge orgasmic wave spread out from my rectum into my balls and dick, up my back to my neck and down to my toes. Mike had ambushed me, but all I could do was enjoy the rapturous release and keep as still as I could with contained tremors and my own low growling moan, my seed shooting a steady stream of semen that finally calmed into reducing spurts before settling back to a generous ooze right at the slit.
"Sorry, couldn't help it, punish me later," Mike whispered into my ear, no doubt a wide shit eating grin gracing his handsome face. I was still processing the last of that mindboggling delight and knew Uncle's strop would be making me scream more than usual. That's life on the farm with my cousins, but I was partially compensated already with the knowledge that Mike would take any penalty from me later, no holds barred, just as I would take Steve's revenge.
As Steve was now getting the last of his stropping indoors, the weather outdoors was fast deteriorating. There were more lightening flashes with louder, more proximate thunder responses pounding our ears as the hail had given way to winds and rain that was starting to sheet and really come down hard. Heavy overflow from the barn's old rusty rain gutters onto the hard-pan dirt below was already indicating that they were in poor repair. We would be tasked after the storm to later to climb up and relieve the gutters of the debris that had collected since the last time we cleaned them a year or so ago.
Finally, Uncle was done with Steve. My stomach lurched and my chest clenched up hard and I knew I was next. Mike went over and undid the rope from the wall, lowering Steve's aching arms, his ass like Mike's now, a complete mass of painful throbbing red welts that were already gathering flecks of deep blue at the edges.
As soon as Steve turned and came back to where I was, I walked out to my place under the block and tackle, my eyes looking blankly down and to my left, my personal hell just getting started. My dick was already starting to limp downward. You cannot imagine what your mind thinks and does at these first moments. It was like the weather outside was there, but not in my immediate caring or even hearing.
I saw, but did not feel my arms come up and thrust straight out, my wrists automatically crossing and I saw and felt Uncle Dave's rough rope loop back to my wrists then firmly tense and secure me. I closed my eyes and did not wait long to feel the rope tension build and build until my arms started to truss upwards, stretching me out, helpless and vulnerable.
This was always the moment that my heart started to pound, I mean go to town. My medical intellect told me that I was experiencing an adrenalin rush, a type of physiologic "flight or flight" response. My boyish feelings told me that I was really experiencing a hard solemn respect and fear, mixed together.
At the final stretch of my wrists and arms upwards, I felt myself sink into a submission, that feeling of inevitability, a reconciliation if you will with the fact that punishment was meant to punish and not be pleasant and that it was my turn to suffer and provide my cousins with grist for pleasure of both sight and sound at my easy expense.
Then, there is that strange pause, the moment between painlessness and then fiery torture. It was kind of gross, but at that rare moment, I sometimes tried to imagine what it must have been like for a man who instead of being on the verge of a very arduous and painful spanking, to instead be helplessly at the end of the hangman's noose around his neck, at the verge of his own death up on a gallows in the street of some old western town.
I had never shared that with anyone, not even with my cousins, but oddly enough, I used that awful feeling to remind myself that I would shortly be in an amazing world of mind numbing pain for just a short season, but my mortal life was safe and sound from real harm in my Uncle's loving care. Make no mistake, Uncle Dave spanked us like the Devil, but loved all three of us like a cuddly big bear does his cubs.
I saw the strop's movement out of the corner of my eye. It struck my ass hard and I was in a second of time, reminded that Mike's little trick on me had worked better than either of us thought. I screamed, I did. It hurt like hell, oh my god, this was going to be bad! And it was. Uncle's strop kept flying at me with a purpose, a vengeance, but one that I had secretly craved every day that I was in school the past year.
I confess, I had snuck into the barn alone sometimes in past years, including the prior year, and plucking that same strop down from its honored place had my own little ritual with it. I would kneel down, hold it gently in both hands, kiss its center and with a respectful small smile, I verbally and out loud said to it,
"Thank you for being here, for helping my Uncle to teach me the lessons of life and proper behavior," then kissing it gently twice more, stood up and placed it back up on its hook.
Well, that strop was now doing its job and doing it well, the relentless pain of it finally forcing me to freely scream, screech really. I was the oldest male of us three but quite frankly, the least equipped for this. I sounded like a girl to myself, a real wuss, but not a loser and there's a big difference. I was a man, but not the kind to suffer this kind of awful sting on my ass silently. I never cried, none of us did, but by golly, sometimes we had to scream as I was doing so very briskly after each fiery cut.
My feet were flat on the floor, I was trying to point my ass back, take my cuts full on, but after awhile, it was too much and I just let the strop have all of me, my ass cheeks clenching involuntarily, my knees trembling and I was thrown forward each time into a feeble swaying motion now, keeping a hard tension on my arms and shoulders from my shackled wrists above. It was a good thing I worked out, I would need all of that endurance now.
"Please Uncle, I'm sorry!" I screamed from the awful sting from the last cut, it was finally too much! Why did I say "sorry"? I never said that before! I never apologized and Uncle never needed apologies from any of us, it was pay to play, no apologies needed! He paused and I almost panicked.
"Will, sorry is for wusses and you're no wuss!" and then he started in again.
He said I was "no wuss" and that energy penetrated my mind and right into my male pride. I stopped swaying, I planted my feet and pointed my ass back and took every god damn one of the rest of my punishment cuts full on and yelled like a banshee on each one. My teeth were clenching and my eyes staring into space like a wild man, but I did it and took it and finally, Uncle stopped. My ass was throbbing away in a fury of pounding punishment pain, just like that weather outside was pounding and punishing the barn roof.
Mike rushed to the rope end on the wall and let my arms down. I had to stand in place, bend over and put my hands onto my knees, my chest still heaving to breathe the barn's heavy air, in and out. Steve came right up to me, "You OK bro?" he said softly, one hand gently on my lower back, the other on my near upper arm.
It was a little embarrassing at first, a little disconcerting. First the "sorry" thing and now me acting like I had just been assaulted or had just run a marathon and neither was true, I was just out of game-shape as guys sometimes say. It was just how I felt at the moment, but make no mistake, we cousins could just as easily be soft and gentle with each other's feelings and bodies as hard and rough when it was called for.
I quickly recalled the summer I was eighteen, Mike fifteen and Steve, fourteen. Mike had suddenly come up with a fever and hard gut ache that would eventually be a burst appendix. He was terrified of doctors, something I respected a great deal more now than even then. Uncle was going to take him to the doctor alone without me and Steve.
Mike would have none of it, but Uncle was worried to get him to the doctor fast, so he insisted. But despite Mike being sick, he verbally bitched out my Uncle up one side and down the other in a verbal display that nobody had ever heard from him before or since. He was rude about it too, that in no uncertain terms was he going to the doctor without me and Steve.
Uncle Dave, finally realizing what was going on, just quietly nodded and urged Steve and I into the car and we rode with him and visited the doctor. It was the only time I ever recall Mike bawling like a baby when the doctor told us we had to take Mike to the hospital for a surgery, an operation to take the offending tissue out of his body. He went, but barely allowed that he could leave us as he lay helplessly on the gurney when they wheeled him to the operating room alone without us.
After the successful operation, Mike had to stay in the hospital overnight for about three days. He would not let me or Steve go home. The nurses were so sweet to us seeing how close we all were and made sure we had food and big comfortable chairs to sleep in. Uncle Dave was missing three hard workers, but said not a word and just made sure we had everything we needed. When we all three finally got home, Mike was not allowed any hard work of any kind for six weeks. That was the hardest on Mike and he nearly got a spanking for cheating on that need, but didn't and the work got done, albeit later than expected.
I finally sighed and stood up tall and felt my thick, throbbing, still stinging ass cheeks lightly with my fingers. Wow, Uncle had done me proud! We looked over at him, the three of us standing together again and Uncle nodded. He had already put his shirt and cowboy hat back on and walked out of the barn and into the harsh weather with no words exchanged between us. There were no "well dones" or "thank yous" needed or expected.
We three stood and nodded at each other face to face now. Steve looked at my ass, "Looks bitchin' cous'!" he said and lightly drew his fingers across my torched surfaces.
"Feels bitchin'! Nothing has changed around here, that's for sure!" I grinned, we all did at each other, our dicks starting to rapidly rise up now.
"I made Will shoot a good hard load off!" Mike bragged to Steve.
Steve grinned, "Serves him right, he did that to me, gonna get a good spankin' over my knee later Will!" he bragged at me.
I just nodded, "Yup, but I'm getting Mike good too, right cous'?"
"Sure am, gonna be a hot time tonight, that's for sure!"
Just then, a huge near-blinding flash of Mother Nature's displeasure interrupted our chatter, almost instantly followed by a thunderous roar ripping harsh ringing sounds into our ears. We all jumped, but instead of hiding, we headed outside on the run to daringly meet her on her own terms.
This had happened not a few times past years, a hard rain and just after spankings, we would run outside in back of the barn, naked, and soothe our scorched bottoms under the cooling hard showers, walking deeply into the rows of tall maturing cornstalks to enjoy each other's company for a bit.
We did the same now though perhaps foolishly as the lightning bolts were still filling the sky, the air pinched with that acrid odor that only fresh nearby lightening strikes can impart. The thunder's increased delay now indicated that the storm was likely passing safely to the other side of Uncle's property, however; so once again, it was one of those hallowed boy to boy moments to share with each other, not to be missed.
It made me feel alive, even more than the spanking I had just received to be naked and barefoot with my equally freshly spanked and naked cousins like this, under the roof of a very angry sky walking deeply back between the dense cornstalk rows. I was home, really home I mean. I loved my parents and home in Chicago, I loved my school, but given a choice, my place was with my cousins, all of us well spanked and still naked in and among those tall green cornstalk rows under sheets of cooling rain. There could be no place better.
I followed behind Steve, his ass a deep scarlet mirror of my own, my bare feet splashing through mud that was spattering up about halfway to my knees, Steve's and Mike's too, the cascading rains already starting to cool down my body's angst. Finally, a good fifty yards into the rows, Mike stopped and turned and we were nose to nose again, the three of us, but everyone looking up, eyes closed, the rains generously bathing our heads and bodies clean of the sweat and clinging, matted hay dust layers that always coated our sweaty bodies during our punishments in the humid barn air. My fingers found my ass cheeks then and carefully pulling my sore mounds apart, I felt a tiny river of rainwater wash down over my butthole for a good few moments of time before letting go.
"I don't want to wait cousin, I want to spank you right now, right here in the rows!" Steve grinned to me with a daring look.
I looked back at him, his longish blonde locks soppy wet and laying flat on his head, mine and Steve's too. It was a dare, a painful one. A spanking right now from cousin Steve would hurt doubly so on account of Uncle having just turned my butt to hamburger, but a boy never refused what he owed no matter when it came due, ever. I nodded, glad for his attention, no matter how it would sting on my already well punished cheeks.
"Yes Sir!" I said proudly and then he got this funny look in his eye, "But you have to spank me too, after. Don't want to be left out!"
That was predictable. In the end, nobody lorded over the other boy, it was all equal, no matter how it started.
"You spank me too Will, "Mike grinned. I nodded, my double duty a glad one. But just then another huge bright bolt of lightning shot up somewhere unexpectedly close-by, it's thunderous riposte ripping our senses yet again and we all jumped and grimaced a bit for the proximity.
"Jesus fuck that was close!" Steve yelped and grabbed his asscheeks, "Makes me want to either cornhole somebody or get the hell out of here!!" but he wasn't the only one to feel that way.
Butt-fucking or cornholing as we called it in farm country, was something we all had shared from time to time since the youngest of us, Steve, had turned sixteen. In fact, it was that summer that we had all lost our virginities to each other for the first time. I was twenty and Mike, seventeen.
It had been on everyone's mind for a couple years since before we first started to give each other blowjobs and tried oral stuff and finger poking into each other's buttholes when Steve was fourteen. It was just kind of an unwritten law or understanding between us that when the "big event" finally happened, it would be all of us participating, equally and Steve had to be sixteen.
So, one night early that summer, in the safety and comfort of boy country in the rumpus room, we decided to take the plunge. I was the oldest and given the first shot at Steve's butthole. He bent over on all fours on top of our sleeping bags as Mike watched and I got down on all fours in back of Steve, my mouth and tongue approaching his tight virgin hole.
Until my cousins had introduced me months before to the joys of nestling their tongues into my hind orifice would I ever have believed it to be as hot and satisfying as I now expected each time. The first time I did it this way to Steve, I closed my eyes and winced, dreading what his body, especially that part of his body would taste like.
But his fast and easy moans of pleasure at my light tongue flicks woke me up and the taste of his private area proved not to be unpleasant at all, it was just him, just the taste of a boy, that's all. After that, my spit ran and drooled and I did my own moaning in concert with his, just as I was now, patiently teasing his tight sphincter to relax and open up.
Then, when I had satisfied that urge, Mike passed me the K-Y jelly and I finger fucked him patiently from one finger to two fingers using the lubrication on my fingers and some in his anus. He helped and pushed back and moaned and enjoyed what I was doing as Mike just sat up on one elbow and stroked his erection with a warm smile on his face.
Finally, Steve sighed, "Gonna hurt one way or other cousin, just do it!" and I nodded, coated my raging hard erection with the jelly and holding on tightly to his slender hips with my hands, firmly touched my cockhead spear-tip right to the center of his jelly smeared rosebud.
Steve was resting on his elbows, head down. He felt that pressure and then looked back up at me, "Don't be kind or gentle Will, gonna hurt like Daddy's spankings, do me a favor and make a man out of me, hard and strong!"
I looked at Mike. That warm smile of his turned solemn and he sat up and stopped playing with himself and looked at Steve, his brother, then at me, and just nodded. I realized that I had never penetrated another human with my penis like this before, but it wasn't rocket science or brain surgery either. So I honored Steve's request and pushed in, partially, but very hard and decisively. It was a strangely staged feeling as Steve's sphincter rebelled at first then released, but when it did, Steve covered his mouth and screamed.
I paused, but not for long and pushed in a little more. Steve screamed into his hand again and I felt his ass muscles bitch and groan, complaining loud and clear to me as they twitched and spasmed. I waited and Steve finally came up from his elbows and looked back at me, his face red and a bit startled,
"Man! Makes me want to change my mind, but I won't! It really hurts, but not like Daddy's spankings. Come on Will, fuck me hard now ,I know it will start feeling good in a bit!" and so I did.
I quickly learned how to pound Steve's ass so it felt good for him as well as for me, but didn't empty my load inside of him. We had decided to wait to do that together after we all had taken a dick or two up our butts. After I was done pounding inside Steve for a bit, I pulled out and went right down on my elbows and knees, "Both of you, take your turns please!" I said from need and lust and got ready to cover my mouth knowing it would hurt like hell.
This was my first time now; my virginity was on its way to obliteration. Steve got behind me and did what I did with him and used his tongue first. I don't know how any boy could not enjoy another boy's warm wet snail muscle first flicking and teasing, then lapping and licking, then finally penetrating, parting my tight boy pussy lips and slurping inside, forcing my pleasure from me.
It drove me crazy, how both of my cousins' tongues were longishly tapered and nearly able to reach my boy gland and drive me wild for more. Then Steve lubed his fingers and slid first one, then two up my relaxed butt-hole and finger-fucked me for awhile before he finally went at me with is dick.
Steven was as patient as a guy could be, but it still hurt like the devil and I still screamed into my hand through the first part of it, his erection feeling like a huge steel cylinder piston. It took some doing, but I made it to the good feeling part however, where you help the other guy pound in and out of your own ass. It was pretty nice at the end, but it felt like somebody was trying to stuff a whole ear of ripe corn up my ass!
Mike fucked me next, it was much easier the second go around, then took a turn back on his own younger brother. Then it was Mike's turn. Steve went first, the younger brother pounding his meat into the older as I watched. Talk about hot! Wow. But Mike was a trooper and after Steve got the first round in, I took my turn with Mike for a bit and my dick was treated to another nice tight boy cousin ass.
We decided that was enough for one night, cleaned ourselves up some, then lay back down on our backs side by side on our rumpus room sleeping bags. I had two cousins to give hand-jobs to and they had but one, me. That was always fun. I would always try to get them to ejaculate at the same time and often did.
I did that this time actually and got them both to shoot off two a big load each up onto their bellies and chests. Then it was my turn. One cousin's hand was on my dick, the other rolling my balls in his hand, a couple fingers teasing me down near my hole and me relaxing with my hands behind my head, eyes closed, my butthole still feeling the effects of two big country-boy dicks having freshly taken my young cherry. My climax was so hard that I had to bring my knees up and my stuff hit my chin that night!
Just then, another rip-roaring bolt of simultaneous lightning and thunder shook our bodies, the sound loud enough to cause my ears to start ringing and the rainfall intensified.
"Oh boy! I'd love to do it out here guys, but that shit is too close, come on, let's head back to the barn!" I insisted and there were no arguments from my cousins. We sloshed back up the cornstalk rows as a new wind whipped on those stalks, waving them in our paths, but we made it back to the barn just in time for Uncle Dave to intercept us. He always tried to give us our space after a good spanking, never insisting that we go right back to work.
"Sorry to interrupt boys, but this storm is causing problems with some of the animal pens, gonna need your help!" and that's what happened. We got dressed fast in the barn, then went out and assisted Uncle Dave for the rest of the daylight hours to muck it past the storm front and fix some of the minor damage before night fall. Any other fun later would have to wait …
© Copyright PJ Franklin June 18, 2009
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Main Story PageLast updated: June 18, 2009