An event that I want to talk about happened to me shortly after my 16th birthday. I and my two schoolmates, asking for help from my parents and, having lied that the elder brother of one of my comrades would go with us, went fishing with an overnight stay. Actually, no fishing was planned. We were just going to spend time together, swimming and sunbathing. And, of course, not without beer. We should have felt independent and grown up. Already in the evening we were on the bank of a small river. It took us a little more time to find a place suitable for an overnight stay, to set up a tent, a fire. And then we chatted for a long time, drank beer and fell asleep already in the middle of the night. In the morning I woke up first, my friends were still sleeping quietly. I felt unimportant, having overestimated my ability to use beer the day before. To be honest, it was just a chore and I decided to walk a little along the shore, swim, and then wake up my friends.
About 100 meters upstream the river curved. Looking for a place in the evening, we went from the bottom against the current, and I decided to walk to the bend of the river and see what kind of view was opened there. Judging by the location of the sun, there was already quite a lot of time, 10 or even 11 hours. Almost going up to the bend, I suddenly decided not to go around the ledge of the shore, but to go up and look at the panorama from there.
Climbing up on a low coastal slope and looking down, I saw that there was a motorboat right around the corner of the bow, and a bright blue tent was set up near the water, about which there were two. A man of about 40 and a boy about my age.
Realizing that we are not alone here, and not wanting to interfere with these people to rest, I was about to leave back to my own, but something stopped me. I lay down between the bushes on the grass at the edge of this small clipper, still not realizing what interested me and why I decided to watch these people.
The boy and the man, apparently the son and the father, or the nephew with the uncle, were wearing swimming trunks and unbuttoned shirts so as not to burn, tied with knots on the stomachs. The man was sitting at the tent on an upturned bucket and was talking quite loudly, while the guy, listening, stood in front of him, with his head down and his hands behind his back. Although the distance between us was small, but because of the wind, I did not hear what the man was saying. Only by loud statements and desperate gesticulations, as well as by the depressed kind of boy, I realized that there was a scolding for some antics. A few minutes later the man got up and said something to the guy very quietly, pointing his hand somewhere in the direction of the cliff. He, dropping his head even lower, without objection, walked slowly in the indicated direction and disappeared from view, going under the hill, at the top of which I was. The man pulled an air mattress from the boat and threw it on the sand.
I already knew what was about to happen and it became incredibly interesting to me how a man would smack this guy. As a child, I had the opportunity to receive from my father for offenses myself, although I had no interest in my own upbringing. And then I felt some kind of longing from waiting and, putting my hand into the smelting, shifted my straining member more comfortably.
I again saw the boy, who returned carrying in his hand a few long and straight rods, which he extended to the man. He took them, inspected and chose one, carefully putting the rest on the bow of the boat. Then he pointed the boy to the mattress. Wow, flashed through my head. Not just a whipping, but a whipping. Before that, I only had to read about it. I understood that striking a rod was much more painful than striking a regular belt, although I did not consider my teen whipping easy.
It seems that the boy knew what to do and did not even try to either object or ask for mercy.He just walked over to the mattress, dropped his knees on its edge, standing with his back to me, then doomedly pulled his swimming trunks to his knees and lay down on his stomach, clutching his hands on the edges of the mattress.
The man stood up at the side and, having slightly touched the tip of the twig to the body of the boy, he suddenly abruptly waved his hand and pulled it out with a rod on the exposed buttocks. I don’t know if the boy cried out, but he even arched when he received this blow. Although the distance was great, I saw a bright strip appear on my body, and goosebumps ran down my back. I knew about how I should feel the boy now. The man methodically and slowly rushes the guy. In the pauses between the blows, he said something, however, all my attention was riveted on the boy's trembling and wriggling bare buttocks and a moving rod. Approximately every 8–10 strokes, the man threw away the rod, which became noticeably shorter, or it seemed to me. Slowly chose the next one and the whipping continued. There were already 3 or 4 rods on the sand, when with side vision I suddenly saw that the bushes to the right of me were waving.
It was clearly not from the wind. I, being simultaneously frightened and angry that I could not calmly watch the end, began to crawl back. From excitement myself, I was also close to the end, but what was happening nearby, puzzled me greatly, taking my own fantasies out of the world.
When I, having rounded the swinging bushes, looked under the branches, to my surprise I saw my comrade, who was kneeling with his back to me with lowered swimming trunks and compressed buttocks, in a frenzy onan. At that very moment his moan was heard and he fell exhausted on all fours, breathing heavily.
I did not have time to do anything, even to think, he turned around and saw me. In the look was surprise, and shame, and anger and something else. Imagine yourself in his place if you can. Actually in his place I could well be. But then someone more fortunate. And I was able to navigate the situation very quickly.
The spanking was already over by this time, the limp was putting the belongings into the boat, and the man stood by and smoked. My friend and I crawled away. I was silent. The first, of course, he began to speak. Rather, something inconsistent to mumble that something seemed to me there, but everything was completely wrong. Then, realizing that he said absolute nonsense, my comrade fell silent. He stood red, looking down. Just like that kid when I just saw him.
A reckless thought occurred to me to repay my friend for spoiled pleasure. In addition, suddenly I wanted to experience what a person feels when he is quilting the red stripes on defenseless bare buttocks. But that's another story.