© 1999 Max Tory
part 1 -----------------------------------------------------------------------
It was a typical Saturday night for me, I was home alone watching TV and pretty bored with the movie that was playing. I had already surfed through all the channels on the cable several times in the last hour or so, and even with 94 choices there still wasn't a god _d_a_m_n_ thing worth watching. I was just about ready to call it a night when I heard a car pull up in the driveway. I decided to wait and say hi to my dad. I knew it would be him because It was almost 2:30 AM and he seldom stayed out much later when he was out with his buddies.
I guess I should tell you about my dad and I first, before I tell you about the most unbelievable experience of my 17 year old life.
Dad and I have been living together, just the two of us, for the last 7 years, ever since I was 10.
You see I was born when my dad was still in high school. He was only 16 at the time and my mother was only 14. Too young to take on the responsibilities of a baby when she was only a kid herself.
Well anyhow her folks were very anti-abortion and would not allow any options. Period. She had to have the baby and the plan was for them to raise me. Of course I don't remember any of this but I've heard the story quite a few times during the past 17 years.
Everything went pretty well for three years. My mother finished high school, and so did my dad, but they had not gotten married, and actually they didn't even like each other much. My dad's parents paid for my support though and were always trying to get my mother's family to let me come and live with them. That didn't happen though until my mother ran off with some hippie guy she had met her first year of college. They just wanted to hang out and get stoned I guess cause I never saw her again. I've probably got a few half brothers and sisters somewhere in the country, I don't really know, or care.
Anyhow, shortly after the hippies ran off, my grandparents finally decided that they could live without me too, cause they packed up my few things and dropped me off at my dads parents farm, which is about four miles outside of the town where they lived.
I actually can remember quite a few things from as early as when I was 3 years old and on. Probably not too accurately, but very vivid impressions never the less. I have very good feelings about that time in my life because I knew that at last some people really wanted me. I loved being around all the animals, and having so much space to play in. But most of all I very quickly grew to love my dad.
He was about 19 or maybe 20 by then and was always playing with me and taking me places with him all the time. I got to have a bed in his room, but most of the time I crawled into his bed and snuggled up in a little ball with him laying on his side cradling me. Thats one of the most vivid memories I have of that time, and the one that gives me the warmest and most comforting feelings. Even still. My grand parents were good to me too, and as the years went by I began to think of myself as being very lucky. I knew that most of my friends at school had mothers, and they really loved them, but I didn't miss mine or even want another one. My gram was enough for me. She almost seemed like my mother anyway, and thats what I called her, just like my dad did. Grandpa was always grandpa though, since I had a real dad.
I started helping gramps and dad with the farm chores when I was about 8. Even though there was a lot of hard work involved, I didn't mind, in fact I loved it because it meant I got to spend so much more time with the two men in my life that I loved so much.
One of the most prominent incidents in my memory took place when I was still 8 or possible 9 years old. I was in the granary on the main floor of the barn, shoveling oats into large muslin sacks so that it could be hauled to the grain elevator where it would be ground and made into chicken mash. I was filling the sacks at an easy but steady pace when I started to hear shouting outside and to the rear of the barn.
The yelling kept getting louder and louder and I heard some cussing too. I new it must be my dad and grandfather arguing about something, but it was very unusual for either of them to be that angry sounding.
At first I was curious but then started to become really frightened. I thought about going to get "mom" but decided to go see what was going on first. Maybe it was not as big a deal as it sounded. I hurried out of the granary and went to the back wall of the barn. There are four hinged, window sized holes in the wall for ventilation that were open since it was summer. I ran up to one of them and stood on a bale of hay beneath it and looked out just in time to see gramps grab my father by the upper arm and jerk him around and shake him a couple of times.
My grandfather was a tall and husky man in his forties at the time, and had several inches and quite a few pounds on my father, so it was not really a very equal match physically. But the thing that stunned me was I had never, ever seen them in a confrontational situation like this before. They always seemed like the best of buddies, and I know they loved and respected one another, but something was going on here that was unusual and I was glued to the scene.
On the back side of the barn the ground level is lower so the cows and other animals can get in and out in the winter months, so I had a very good view of the action taking place outside.
All at once I saw my grandfather jerk my dads right arm behind his back and forced him over a few feet where there was a big rock. He sat down quickly and pulled my dad over his lap. This was unbelievable to me and I couldn't take my eyes away from the scene.
I Had only been spanked a few times by either of them myself, and now I was witnessing my own father about to get spanked over his dads knees.
I remember my heart pounding as I continued to watch what was taking place only about 20 feet from my position at the window. By then my gramps was smacking away on the seat of my dads blue jean covered butt. Dad was really yelling and screaming at him by then and kicking his legs like mad. I heard him swearing at my grandfather and then, as I watched, gramps pulled a short piece of baling twine out of his overalls and with amazing speed had bound my dads hands together behind his back. Then he really went to town on his butt. Smack....Smack....smack....smack over and over he kept hitting him. Then, finally, he stood up quickly and pulled my dad up with him. Dads face was red as a beet with frustration and rage, but there was now nothing he could do to defend himself.
Grandpa started fiddling with the front of his sons pants, and the next thing I knew they were yanked down below his knees. Without missing a beat gramps then jerked down my dads boxer shorts in one swift movement. My dad was standing there naked to my eyes for one brief moment. He happened to glance up and caught me staring at him out that window. He stopped yelling and still had his gaze fixed on me as grandpa jerked him back across his knees and resumed spanking him on his now bare bottom.
I could hear him trying to tell grandpa something about me, but I could tell gramps was not paying any attention to whatever he said. He just kept pounding away. Smack....smack....smack....with my dad beginning to yell and scream again.
By now I was crying and starting to freak, but at the same time I was aware that my little boy dick had become hard, and I didn't understand what was happening. Then I jumped off the hay bale and started running toward the big open barn door. I flew out the front of the barn and all the way around and down the hill to the back barnyard as fast as my little legs would carry me. I was bawling loudly when I got there and by then my dad was crying too.
He was still trying to beg my grandfather to stop, but he was now crying too hard to get too many words out.
I grabbed my grandpa's sleeve and started pulling on it begging him to stop and crying and bawling at the same time. He only paused a brief second to tell me to get up to the house and stay there, but I ignored that and kept on tugging at him trying to make him stop hitting my dad.
I was like a gnat on a horse as much good as I did restraining him, and so finally he just ignored me and continued to spank my father. I could see how red his bottom was by then and I think I quit tugging at my grandfather. I just stood there within inches of them watching my father get one hell of a spanking. Dad was resigned to the painful and humiliating situation he was in by that time and had stopped yelling and swearing. He was only laying there kicking and crying. Bawling almost as childlike as I was by that time.
Thinking back on it now, I realize that my father had to have been about 25 years old at the time, so I can understand why he was so humiliated. To be spanked bare assed, and at that age, especially with his own kid watching at close range, must have been mortifying beyond endurance for him.
But while it was happening I finally became so engrossed watching my dads buns clench tightly in anticipation of each stroke of my grandfathers hand, that I stopped bawling and became almost hypnotized by the scene. I could see his balls and even his penis hanging there between his kicking legs, and when his muscles unclenched I could clearly see his butt hole too, surrounded by a small amount of soft looking black hair. This magnificent view was framed by almost glowing, red buttocks and upper thighs. I didn't know it then, but I was, at that moment, fixated for the rest of my life. I guess that must be how fetishes are born.
Anyway, I continued to watch and my little hard dick continued to press firmly against my jeans. Then my grandfather stopped. He just became motionless sitting on that big rock with his adult son laying across his lap in a now limp but still trembling heap.
Then, as he stood up pulling dad with him, he spun him around to face him. As my dad stood there with his genitals still exposed and his head down still sobbing, I heard my grandfather say that If he EVER talked to him that way again, no matter how old he got to be, he would get more of the same, only worse.
I still didn't know the cause of it all but my main concern at the time was my fascination with the sight of my beloved fathers naked crotch, no more than two feet in front of my face.
Dad was sobbing and sniffling still as gramps turned away and started walking up the hill beside the barn. I stood there a minute or so still staring and then I heard...
"Untie....my hands.....Billy." punctuated by sniffs.
That kind of broke my spell I guess because I immediately moved around behind his back and began fumbling with the twine that had subdued him through out the ordeal.
I couldn't help still watching his firm red buns continue to flex and clench as I tried to loosen the tight knot. I knelt down to get a closer look at the knot but with my face six inches away from his butt, I couldn't concentrate on the twine knot. I wanted to put my face against his bottom and lick it. Cover it with kisses. Soothe away the hurt and put my arms around him.
"Use...sniff....your jack-knife....Billy." " Just cut the _d_a_m_n_ thing."
After I got my knife out of my pocket and had cut the twine, I got one more good look at the back door view as he bent over in front of my face to pull his shorts and jeans back up. It was a "Hallmark Moment" in my life that will remain fixed as clear as a photograph for a long, long time. I'm sure of that.
When his clothes were back in place he put his arm around my shoulder and as we slowly started walking up toward the house, I wrapped my arm around his back, just at the top of his butt. No words were spoken.
The back of the farm house had a two story veranda, and that had an outside stair to the second floor level. We climbed up those stairs together still arm in arm and quietly slipped in the french doors that opened into our room. Neither one of us said a word as dad undressed down to his shorts and crawled under the covers. I followed suit and crawled in beside him. He was laying with his back to me so I slid over right up against him and wrapped my arm over him resting my hand against his chest. I was intoxicated by his scent and pasted myself against him like another layer of clothing. He lifted his hand and laid it over mine clasping it lightly.
My mind was spinning and he must have felt my erection pressing against him, but he didn't move, and neither of us said a word. We fell asleep like that.
to be continued...................