Clifton Springs a Boner Written Sometime n Somewhere in 2006 by Jack N. Nov.
In my teens, I was considerably shorter than today's six feet, and as thin about the waist as any teen boy you might notice today... what am I saying! --boys stay home playing video games these days, and one never sees them slouching about in public anymore--hence the obesity epidemic.
In the early 1980s, I owned no computer nor even an Atari or Activision or Colecovision. My parents did not spoil me in that respect though they often claimed I was spoiled for having enough food to eat, a bike to ride, and a dog; and not being beaten nor, since turning eleven, spanked. Unlike the poor white trash kids next door, or the starving children in Ethiopia. I bicycled, walked, did chores and had a rather good body.
At any rate, one day in the Fall, my parents took me to the mall, along the way arguing as usual among themselves or at me for any number of reasons, my slipping grades being a good one, or their personal differences in philosophy and personality which represented a vast gulf, or their suspicion, correct, that I was smoking the dreaded marijuana due to my older brother's nefarious influence.
After agreeing to meet two hours later, we separated, me making a beeline to the bookstore where I might peruse the Artist books about nude anatomy depiction. I was twenty feet away from my destination when I was stopped in my tracks by a grab and feel of my behind. I had no idea who it came from, and turned in surprise, expecting a girl my age. In the seventh grade, a black girl had grabbed my ass in the cafeteria. It had caught me unawares and I did not know what to do, but didn't really mind so much, so I just laughed. The mind builds expectations based upon past experiences, so you can imagine my alarm when I encountered a giant who towered over me, twice as big as I was.
He was well over six feet, white, and well-built, and seemed to be in his thirties, all of which, to me, gave him the air of authority from my experience with older males at school--the principal and assistant principal and teachers. I turned white with fear, trembled involuntarily briefly, and stared up at him with wide eyes, speechless. He looked at me questioningly. We stared at each other for a long moment without saying anything at all.
He came up close to me and whispered in my ear, and I could feel his breath hot on my skin, and feel his mustache, "You're a good-looking boy." It was a soft voice, not at all threatening or menacing, and his face seemed to relax and invite confidence. He put his hand on my shoulder and continued, "I hope you don't mind me saying this, but you are really cute." I was still quiet but he could tell I was processing the information and not panicking, just stunned. I felt there might be a trap somewhere, that he was playing a practical joke and that his confederates would soon emerge laughing and pointing their fingers at me.
"What's your name?" he said. "Clifton," I answered, high-pitched. "Mine's Jack. Let's walk together for a while."
I don't know why I trusted Jack, but I was used to doing what older men told me, and it wasn't every day that someone, particularly an adult, said nice things or took such an interest in me. As I followed, he continued the patter.
"Where'd you get those shorts you're wearing?" "Oh, I picked them out at Sears. My Dad thinks they're too short." "They make you look really hot." I laughed. "But I'm a boy! How can I be hot?" "Trust me, you're a stud." I noticed we were walking towards a mall exit and pointed that out. Jack nodded and said, "You want to go for a drive?" "Sorry, I got to meet my folks in a little while." "Oh. You want to see me later?" "Well, I don't know." "Give me your number."
Again I don't know why I trusted him, but I did give him our phone number and told him he could call sometime after school when I would be home alone, but only until 5 p.m., because my parents were liable to be back anytime between 5 and 6.
The next day, presto the phone was ringing about ten minutes after I came home from school. Jack said, "Hey hot stuff, how's about we get together this afternoon?" He was the type to go straight to the point and not beat around the bush.
I hemmed and hawed, and made an excuse about needing to do my homework, but eventually he persuaded me to meet him at the nearby 7-11 convenience store where I would be hanging out playing Pac-Man or the like.
Jack drove a really cool car, a 1960s model Mustang that was really masculine and high-powered though not, as I later learned, the most reliable transportation in the world. It was easy to persuade me to get in that baby, and we drove around town shooting the shit, mostly me telling him about my school day and the petty politics that compose the life of kids, like what the popular kids are doing or what the teachers say, and boring shit like that, except he appeared very interested in whatever I had to say, to my surprise.
He had a six-pack of Schlitz Malt Liquor Bull, the tall boys, and when I asked, it was like sure, I could have one too. I just thought this was all so cool and I was far advanced above all my classmates who didn't know anything.
Jack put his hand on my knee and caressed my leg, which I didn't really mind, as we talked, and after a while I started catching a bone, as any healthy teenage boy would.
"So, Clifton, you got any sexual fantasies?" "What, you mean like with girls?" "Nah, I don't want to hear about that, I was talking about with a man, like me."
I turned red. This was too much! I started laughing nervously. He was so forward and I didn't really know how to deal with it, but I did like it too. If he could be bold, then so could I.
"I sometimes have fantasies about being spanked!"
It was his turn to be shocked. "No shit?" "Well, it's like this. Some teacher sends me to the vice-principal's office, for some stupid shit like not doing my homework. OK, and he says I got to be punished. So I have to take my pants and underwear down. Then, you know, umm, I get over his knee. And uh, he spanks me." I laughed. "Is that weird? I know it sounds stupid." Jack took a long swig of his beer, smiling. "I could get into that." "You could?" "Yeah, want to try it?" "Shit!"
He pulled into a dingy-looking apartment complex and I realized this was where he lived. Boy, things were progressing rapidly. He parked the car and got out without asking me if I wanted to come in or anything--he just assumed. I considered what to do for a minute, but in the end decided he was safe enough, and I was rather turned-on at the prospect. I left my beer in the car lest anyone see the illicit, for me, alcoholic beverage, and followed him inside his domicile, which was about as dingy as the exterior of this little slum. He wasn't a rich man, for sure, but he did keep the place reasonably clean, just that everything was rather plain white, brown or gray and on the cheap side.
He sat down on a long white sofa composed of the cheapest materials and probably second- or third- hand at that, and beckoned me to join him, which I did. He caressed my face, looking at me fondly, then cast his eyes to my blue jeans, which he had intentions for: "Clifton, take your pants and underwear down."
I didn't really need to ask why in the context of our conversation that afternoon, and I didn't want to spoil things by running my mouth either, even though I was filled with questions and curiosity and even a certain amount of fear. Standing up with my back to him, I nervously unbuttoned my jeans, pulled them down, and followed that with my conservative Fruit-of-the-Loom underwear, picked out by Momma of course, which had immediately provoked a grin from Jack. I was planning to turn around to face him, but he grabbed my hips and guided me with gentle firmness over his lap, allowing me to position myself comfortably across the sofa and rest my head on a pillow. The highest point of my body became my buttocks, which I arched slightly in expectation. I heard him chuckle and then he went to business.
Jack didn't start out easy or any such thing, he went to town and really laid the slaps into the target at hand, and it wasn't long before I was gripping the sofa with both hands, and kicking at his arms ineffectually. Whenever I did kick, he would spank harder, and after four such attempts I stopped. My ass was really on fire after a minute or two, and I was wondering how much more I could take. "Think you've had enough, Clifton?" he said, continuing spanking. "Yes!" I cried, "Please stop!"
He did just that, and caressed me enflamed posterior softly, which didn't actually feel good to me though it probably interested him. I heard a small pop and turned to see him squirting ointment out of a tube, which he rubbed onto his index finger then inserted it into my ass. I gasped at the sudden invasion which felt weird and uncomfortable. "Hey! What are you doing?"
"Just relax," he said, "it will feel good in a minute," and his finger continued probing and then began a massage, with the ointment making me slick deep inside there. His finger left with a strange "Plop!"
I felt him getting up and wriggled out of his way, then laid back down on the sofa, red ass up. His arousal was not exactly a secret anymore and pre-cum drooled from his seven inch cock. He fumbled around on the coffee table and extracted a condom, which he then unwrapped. "What's that for?" I asked innocently, even though I was getting a fairly good idea. He slapped my already sore ass and I yelped.
When he got on top of me, he was considerate enough to apply most of his weight to his hands which gripped the sofa, not me as I was compliant with his desires despite my nervousness. His cock felt like a stick at my back door, and he kept pressing more and more, as I cursed, "oh fuck, goddam shit motherfucker, you fucking asshole, damn it, owww, owww!!" Gradually he began getting entry, then it became easier and he was all the way in, though it was very tight. I got hard really quick and came within ten seconds, no lie. He felt me doing so, and said "What the fuck! Goddamn you're hot!" Then I felt him really fucking me as my dick got softer and I sort of just gave in to the experience, giving him his pleasure. He wasn't long in cumming and when he did, he shouted out in ecstasy.
I didn't even ask but Jack gave me a twenty dollar bill like I was a cheap whore, and said we could do it again tomorrow. He drove me home and told me I was the hottest boy ever, but I already knew that from the hot feeling in my ass, which throbbed for hours afterward. I laid in bed that night jacking off thinking about what had happened and what would also happen tomorrow. Whatever, my ass was his to do with just like he pleased.