Friday Afternoons


by Alec Bath <gargoyle16@hotmail.com>

I'm twenty six years old, lean in the right places with solid muscles where they count, especially between my legs. I work construction with my Dad, mostly private homes. My mom died when I was 16; after four years of college which proved to be a waste of time, I returned home and went to work for my Dad. I am well tanned from working in the Florida sun, sandy haired with pale blue eyes. Girls go for me, and I've had my share, but I've always had a hard-on for well built construction workers; muscles straining, sweat dripping down their naked backs and chests as they work. Anyway, I've had my share of them too. But not on Friday, or Saturday, or sometimes even Sunday. I spend my weekends recovering from Friday afternoons, the time my Dad chooses to tally up all the mistakes I've made during the previous week: a wisecrack he didn't like, losing my temper when something goes wrong, a mistake on the job; there's a long list of possible _f_u_c_k_-ups. When I collect my paycheck I also know it's time for me to pay for those mistakes, because even though I'm twenty six, and in every way a man, my Dad still disciplines me regularly.

This Friday is no different. I'm just wearing a pair of cutoff shorts and my work boots so there's not much to take off when Dad calls quitin' time. The rest of the construction crew always hangs around, shooting the _s_h_i_t_. They take off like bats out of hell on every other day of the week, but now they're hanging around to watch me get my bare ass whipped. Dad doesn't waste much time. As I stand before him naked with my hands behind my back, he reminds me of various mistakes I have made during the past week since the last session with his wide, thick, leather belt. When he's finished, I walk to a nearby wall, stand about three feet from it with my legs spread apart. I place my hands against the wall as far apart and as high as I can. My ass sticks out in this position, putting it at the right height for a beltin'; my _c_o_c_k_ and balls hang down, away from my body. Dad tells me to stay in position until he's through and to look straight ahead; no lookin' back. As I look at the wall and wait for the first stoke of the belt, I realize that he's gonna beat my ass till it's black and blue, and bruised for days. I'll be lucky if the marks are gone on Monday when I put on another pair of cutoffs and head out the door with dad for another week on the construction site. Sometimes I think maybe I can manage to go a whole week without doing something to piss him off, but I'm just kidding myself. Even if I were able to "behave myself" he just make up some excuse. One way or another, I'm gonna get the belt come Friday afternoon.

Twack! The belt comes whippin down on my ass. My _c_o_c_k_ jiggles as I jerk forward involuntarily; he hit me full strength! Dad orders me back in position and says he gonna add five to the end.

Twack! I get it again, right across the center of my ass! _d_a_m_n_, it hurts!

Twack! Twack! Across both cheeks. I manage to stay in position, but I jerk and twist in a futile effort to lessen the pain, my _c_o_c_k_ swings wildly. I quickly stick my ass back out for the next stroke.

Twack! I cry out as a stroke lands right across an earlier stroke.

Twack! Twack! Twack!! My ass tries to stay in position and get out of the way at the same time. My _c_o_c_k_ is bouncing so much it starts to swell. _f_u_c_k_!

Twack! Twack!! Ow, it hurts so bad. Dad is using his full strength on each storke.

I wait for the next stroke, but it doesn't come. I don't dare look back, Dad once gave me double strokes for not following orders. He can't be finished, ten strokes isn't even half what I usually get. If I could look back I'd see him taking off his sweaty shirt. One of the construction crew hands him the doubled up belt and suddenly:

Twack! I get the next stroke, it feels like my butt's on fire.

Twack! Twack! I cry out and tears run down my face, both from the pain and the humiliation. My _c_o_c_k_ is fully erect and bouncing back and forth and up and down with each stroke; my balls draw up tight in their sac for fear they might catch a misplaced stroke. My mind flashes to the times Dad has whipped my _c_o_c_k_, first making me get it hard and then tying me down so I can't stop him. He raises the short, thin strip of leather and brings it crashing down, first on one side, then the other, then on the tip. Stroke after stroke as I scream into a gag. Though it hurts worse than anything he does to me, my _c_o_c_k_ stays stiff through the whole ordeal. It's afterwards, sometimes for a week, that just touching it hurts. There's no way I can jerk off for a long while after Dad whips my _c_o_c_k_..

Twack! Twack!! Two more; it hurts so bad, my leg muscles spasm and it takes all my effort to stay in position. I cry out as:

Twack! Twack! Twack! Twack! Twack!

Stroke after stroke. I manage to stick it out through the thirty strokes. Finally he says he done and that I can turn around. I push slowly away from the wall and turn around, tears still streaking down my face; my _c_o_c_k_ is still rock hard. Dad tells me to go get in the truck. I know better than to try and put my shorts back on, even if I wanted to, my ass is so sore. I walk slowly to the truck and get in, sitting as gently as I can. Dad puts his belt back on and somebody hands him a beer. As he drinks and carouses with his buddies, I know this is only the first session this Friday afternoon. The real whippin comes when he gets me home. My _c_o_c_k_ sticks up, begging for relief but I know better. If he catches me playing with it, I'll get a _c_o_c_k_ whippin' for sure, on top of whatever else he has planned for me.

He strolls over as if nothing unusual has happened and gets in the truck. He asks me if my ass is sore. I reply: "Yes sir!"

"Well", he says,"it's nothing compared to what your gonna get when we get home."

"Yes sir." I reply.


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