| Subject: When I was 13 |
Author:
Dave
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Date Posted: 14:18:54 01/07/26 Wed
Long time lurker here, nearly lifetime spanko. What I am about to tell is based on a true story - everything up to the actually spanking part is true - names have been changed. After reading Adam K’s story, I decided to share a “I wish this would have played out…” story.
Part 1:
Pete and I were friends but rivals, as is common at that age. We were similarly sized - shorter than normal for our age, thin but fit - and of a similar social standing in school - certainly not outcasts but not fully part of the “popular” crowd either.
In a small town in a rural area in the early 1990s, spanking certainly wasn’t uncommon but by this time more progressive forms of parenting were beginning to take hold. As an educated guess, I would wager about 1/3 of kids were spanked at home during these middle school years. I, personally, had only been spanked twice in my life and both times, each occurring before age 5, they were the grab and give a half dozen or so swats to the seat of the pants.
Pete, on the other hand, was the product of an extraordinarily strict home where spanking was frequent and severe. A sleep over I had at his house was, I found out much later, only allowed after he had demonstrated great behavior for a prolonged period. There I discovered the strictness, a number of channels (MTV among them) were blocked at his home, we were required to be in bed lights out at 9pm.
As I began to learn early in our friendship, and learned a great deal more as the years went by, Pete’s mom was the household disciplinarian. After meeting Pete’s mom for the first time after which I commented something along the lines of “your mom seems nice” to which he replied “she spanks hard” and, already fascinated by spanking at that age, casually asked more.
Pete and his younger brother were regular recipients of spankings. Their sister, one year older, was not. “Does your mom spank your sister too?” I once asked (she was cute and thinking of her spanked really got me excited), “no she would never spank my sister, my sister is perfect,” Pete told me, clearly resentful. Pete also told me around this time, “my mom thinks you’re a brat and said if you were her son you’d be over her knee.”
One day in the early spring on the way home from school, Pete and I got into a minor fist fight on the school bus. Over what or why I don’t remember, but a little wrestling around and a punch thrown at me, which I dogged, and responded with a swing that grazed his chin as we were separated. We each were given “no no” slips or whatever they were to take home. I told my mom what happened, of course passing blame to Pete, and my mom signed the slip a said “I don’t want this to happen again.”
As I settled in, probably playing Nintendo or watching TV, the doorbell rang. It was Pete and his mom. His mom really chewed me out “hitting will not be tolerated” but also made Pete apologize to me for his role. I had a bit of a tough guy attitude. They left and my mom told me that I did not handle that well, Pete was my friend, etc. and told me to ride my bike over to his house to apologize. I did as I was told.
I got to his house and rang the doorbell. Pete’s sister Laura, looking quite nervous, answered by barely cracking open the door and told me she didn’t think Pete could come to the door now, I said something about my mom making me come over and apologize and Laura turned around and called for her mom. As the door opened further, I noticed, on the floor on the edge of the tile in their entry way was Pete’s shoes, socks, jeans, shirt and turquoise cotton briefs in a neat pile. Pete’s mom, clearly annoyed emerged from the kitchen and asked what I wanted, I said I came to say sorry and his mom said that I could tell him at school tomorrow as they were handling some family business right now, she added “I know there are two guilty parties here but you really need to clean up your attitude young man.” I was not used to adults talking to me like that and gave an eye roll and shoulder shrug and left to get on my bike and return home.
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