Real Life 3

It was 1980 when I fucked John at Thommo's Bay in Sydney's eastern suburbs. It was one of my favourite rooting grounds until people starting falling off cliffs or chucking rocks at anyone below. You see a fair bit of nude sunbaking there, and as yougo further toward the southern point where there are lots of sandstone enclosures and caves you find the boys and men.

I always lie in the sun until I crack a hard, then pull off my togs and see who expresses interest. John turned out to be 24, but only about 5 feet 6 inches tall, slender but good build, with a small but very appealing untanned behind. He wanted it. We found a place where we were unlikely to be disturbed, my favourite mounting yard, where there is a rock table pitched just low enough so that when the person you're fucking bends over it they can make themselves reasonably comfortable but it gets their bums higher than their chests. I hurt him too much when I first tried to enter so I was just brushing his arse with the tip of my prick and making idle conversation. Something like "Cute arse, has it ever been spanked?" His answer made me harder. "It got the stick a bit at school." Not too many schools use the cane on bottoms, so more question were asked. Where? In the Nambour high school, in Queensland's Sunshine Coast hinterland about 1972, when he was 16. (Damn it, he still looked 16....) "Oh yeah, but pity it wasn't on the bare," I said. "No it was. We had this teacher who would do it pants down after school." My excitement over this revelation was too much to allow further interrogation except by my cock, and I felt his tiny arsehole stretch open like a thick rubber band, and I shhliiid it right in, making him scream out. It was a good fucking despite his small stature, and instead of the usual feeling there was nothing beyond the anus I rotated my cock around a lot so I could feel him inside. He responded well and actually spurted all over the towel which he grabbed to plug his arse as he dashed off to relieve himself.

Anyhow we resumed our chat. His teacher must have been fairly cunning. John said he knew nothing about his disciplinary excesses until one afternoon he was kept in. "He told me he was sick of giving me the stick and started asking what he should do to make my punishments hurt more. I said he could make me do playground clean ups after school, that wasn't good enough, or he could give me more cuts of the cane. Nope, that wasn't really the answer. So I blurted out, well, it would hurt more on my legs or underpants. And he said I was getting the idea.

"He made me take my shorts down. I had underpants on. He was always particular in class about how to bend over and seemed to take a real delight in making kids bend over so their pants were so tight it must have hurt, so I did the same, sticking my arse up. "And then I felt his hand go for the top of the elastic band, and that was it. My bum was bare. He jostled my feet out of my underpants, picked up his cane and slashed a beauty right around me. Holy shit it hurt so bad. The second stroke was so painful I thought I couldn't cop any more and then he said I'd better get up and piss off. I realised then that someone was coming. I had heard a car pulling up beside the gym and a door slam. So clearly he didn't want to be surprised. I was fucking grateful. We talked more about the teacher. I wanted to know what he looked like because of something I remembered when I had been up at Noosa with my woman. (I'm a sexual carnivore, I'll fuck anything consenting and of legal age). It turned out he was in his late 50s and pretty solid and quite tall, with a moustache. John said that it was much later into his last school year before his second bare arse caning from this teacher, and said three boys including himself all got it at the same time, all of them agreeing to a special caning of six to eight strokes, each doing a double knees bend with their heads wedged between the legs of one other kid. John said that when it was his turn to pin down one of his mates when they all copped it for a day of truancy in Brisbane he had a great view of the cane wrapping itself around the buttocks in front of him. He told me that he though these special canings were comparatively infrequent and was unaware of anyone actually complaining about them, although he knew of a few kids who seemed very ashamed about the whole process. He had also heard of one instance where the student was hand spanked not caned.

The clincher in terms of this account came from something I had observed at the beach at Alex Headland about two years earlier. I had been walking back toward the start of the track to Noosa when I spotted a bloke who seemed to fit the description of the teacher. He actually had a long willowy branch in his hand and was giving it a bit of flex in front of a surfer who had stopped to talk to him. I found the scene repellent for some reason despite my interest in corporal punishment, but read it as a negotiation or prelude to some consensual punishment. My interest is in the real life receiving or imposing of discipline, not role playing arranged encounters like that, and I had walked on.