Naughty Boy by fantaseeboy©

 https://www.deviantart.com/sunbuns99/journal/Naughty-Boy-813085626

Naughty Boy

by 

fantaseeboy©

Not only did my mother have to accept the fact that her only son was gay, that was hard enough in itself! She'd always dreamed of having grandchildren and now that would never happen. No, in addition to that, my mother had to accept the fact that I'd fallen totally, head-over-heels in love with a man nearly her age! The first few times she met Sam, she looked at him as if he were a child molester! But she got over that, eventually. After she'd known about Sam and me for about 6 months, mom then had to accept the fact that her 19 year old son was leaving home.

Sam and I had lived together for around 3 months when my twentieth birthday arrived. Looking back on it now, I think that was the day that would eventually change my life!

On that special day, Sam did something I never expected. He first told me to undress completely, which wasn't unusual, this actually happened quite often. He then grabbed my wrist and forcefully pulled me over his lap. With one big warm hand on my naked back, he raised the other and gave me a playful smack on my right cheek. I giggled. The next swat was harder, but still didn't even sting.

After 4 or 5 of his playful spanks, I asked for them harder. He hit me the next time, and it almost stung. So I asked for it harder again. We went back and forth until the last 5. Those last five left my butt warm and rosy red with his palm prints all over it. I don't think I'd realized how turned on I'd gotten until the spanking was over with! My smallish penis was rock hard! And I could feel Sam's giant cock throbbing against my hip.

I slid off his lap onto my knees and proceeded to give him the best blowjob I'd ever given. I even showed him his cream on my tongue before swallowing it, I know he loves that. As soon as I'd swallowed, I looked up into his eyes and felt my lower lip quiver. The next thing I knew I was sobbing uncontrollably. Sam reached down and pulled me onto his lap, holding me close and letting me cry my eyes out. It took me quite a while to get a hold of myself. The emotions rushing through me were so powerful. I had feelings I'd never experienced before and couldn't explain if tried.

When I'd finally calmed down, Sam whispered in my ear, "Are you okay?" After meeting his eyes, I began to giggle. With it all over with, it was embarrassing that I'd broken down like that. I tried to tell him it was nothing. But he wouldn't buy it. He kept me there naked on his lap and we talked about it.

After he'd asked me a multitude of questions about the spanking and my emotional meltdown, all of which were completely humiliating to answer. He began asking me about my childhood. Through that conversation, we both learned a something about me. While growing up, I looked for ways to get punished. It was like I needed my mother making the decisions and enforcing rules. My mother had never abused me, not even close. If I used any of the big swear words or got caught in a lie, I'd be sure to find myself standing in the bathroom with a bar of soap in my mouth. For most other mistakes, I'd wind up over her lap getting a spanking. Most of the spankings I could remember were on my bare bottom.

Another thing we'd learned from that long conversation was that even now, I felt I needed to be punished from time to time. And I confessed that I loved the idea of Sam deciding when and how I would receive that punishment. That statement led to the tangent of what I thought a punishment should be. I didn't know exactly, other than a spanking, but told him I thought a punishment should hurt. It shouldn't be playful or restrained. After all, it was supposed to be a punishment.

Sam held me close against him then. As I cuddled up against him on his lap,  he whispered in my ear, "Baby, I'd be happy to punish you, I think I might enjoy it. But I need to hear you tell me that you'll accept the punishments without your feelings changing toward me. I can't imagine you falling out of love with me because of this. I know you can't make that promise, but I need to hear you say it. I need you to look me in the eye and ask me to punish you when you need it. I need you to tell me that you want it, that you need it. Can you do that?"

Without saying a word, I slid off his lap and stood up before him. While still completely naked, I took his hands as he stood up. Looking up into his eyes, I said, "Sam, I love you. And I would really appreciate it if you would punish me. I'll let you decide how, when, where and for what reason I should be punished, I trust you. I don't really know why I think I need this, but I do. And Sam, I want you to be the one to do it."

I stood there blushing and feeling pretty foolish for what seemed like hours. I was still naked and he was completely dressed. I don't think I could have felt sillier if I tried. Finally, a loving smile spread across his face when he pulled me into his arms and hugged me. He told me that he loved me too and from now on, I should be on my best behavior because he would be watching. We both giggled a little and held each other close.

Weeks passed without a single punishment. I was beginning to think Sam forgot about that conversation we had. On several occasions I almost hinted about it, but decided not to. I didn't want to push Sam into something he wasn't completely comfortable doing. Maybe he loved me so much that he couldn't hurt me? I was still hoping he loved me so much he would.

On the drive home from visiting my mom on Friday evening, Sam kept his hands on the wheel and his eyes on the road when he told me that I'd disappointed him. He told me that I hadn't given my mom a "hello hug or kiss" nor did I bother to give her the same affection before we left. For that matter, I hadn't even told her that I loved her. In a very business-like tone, Sam went on to tell me he found this behavior unacceptable and I would be punished when we arrived home.

I almost said something about being unable to remember the last time I hugged or kissed my mom, but I caught myself at the last moment. This was going to be my very first official punishment from Sam and I could hardly wait! I looked over at the man I loved and he showed no emotion other than disappointment. For a split second, I found myself feeling terrible that I'd let him down. But my excitement chased that thought from my mind. This is what I'd asked for. It was what I thought I needed. And the drive couldn't have gone by faster.

When the garage door had closed behind us, Sam spoke for the first time since announcing the punishment. He told me to wait right where I was. The tone of voice he used actually frightened me. He sounded really mad, I'd never heard him use that tone with me before.

He slammed the car door and then slammed the garage door. I was scared shitless waiting there for him to return. And I didn't dare move from the passenger's seat. He had me wait in the car for 5 very long minutes. I actually jumped when the door to the house flew open and he stood there with the light behind him, looking so powerful. He stared at me while opening my door. I cautiously stood up and he immediately and firmly slid his hand into my right armpit. 

After slamming my door shut he quickly walked into the house while still gripping my arm tightly. He quickly drug me straight into the living room when he stopped suddenly. I looked up to see a lone, wooden chair sitting in the middle of the room. It as a chair from the dining room. It had no arms and would be perfect for a spanking, I'd actually thought about going over his lap in those chairs before.

Without further hesitation, he propelled me into the room. After sitting down, he looked into my eyes and with gritted teeth he said, "Get your clothes off and get over my lap, NOW!" The emphasis he put on that last word made me jump. I was really scared when I quickly stripped off every shred I was wearing. Sam kept his eyes fixed on my shaking form the entire time. There was something tremendously embarrassing about undressing in front of him that time.

When I'd dropped my underpants, he grabbed my wrist so tightly it actually hurt. In the same motion, he yanked me over his lap with more force than I imagined he had. I had to stop myself from crashing into the floor with my hands. He laid one hand firmly on my lower back to hold me still, he pressed the other open palm into my cheeks. That open palm then left my cheeks and I knew it was coming. My body was trembling. I had goose-bumps all over me. This was it. This was what I'd always wanted.

Like an explosion his open hand struck my bottom with enough force to make me feel like my eyes popped out of my head. There was no hesitation, his hand bounced off my butt and slammed back into me. By that second blow, I felt tears begin to roll down my face. By the third or fourth I was begging him to stop and screaming each time he hit me. 

At some point during that spanking, I reached back to try and protect my poor butt from any more pain. That turned out to be a huge mistake. With his free hand, he pinned both my wrists behind my back and began beating my poor cheeks with even more vengeance. I was crying wildly, screaming and whining and begging him to stop. My legs were kicking around and I tried with everything I was worth to wiggle off of his lap, but I never could. He was way too strong.

I have no idea how many times he struck me, I lost count. But when my first punishment had finally ended, he practically pushed me off his lap as if he were disgusted by me. I wound up crouching on floor, looking up at him with my tear streaked face. In that same frightening, disappointed tone, Sam told me to stand in the corner with my hands behind my head until he told me otherwise. He raised his arm and pointed to the corner next to our large picture window. Thankfully, the drapes were drawn on that window.

I picked myself up and scurried to that corner. With my nose nearly touching the wall, I laced my fingers behind my head. After several moments, I still hadn't heard a sound from Sam, all I could hear were my own fading sobs. I imagined him staring at my freshly punished bottom. I tried to picture what my butt must look like in my mind. All that made me do was focus on how badly it hurt. From then on, I couldn't stop my hips from wiggling around. I needed to rub my cheeks badly!

Sam's voice had almost returned to its normal sound when he spoke again. "From now on, when you see your mother, you will greet her with a nice hug and kiss and I want to hear you tell her how much you love her. She'll get the same respect from you before we leave. Do you understand me?"

I quickly nodded my head up and down and squeaked, "Yes."

He went on, "She is your mother and she deserves to be treated as such. If I find you disrespecting her again, you'll find yourself being punished right in front of her. I won't wait until we get home again." He paused there to let that thought sink into my head. "Now, you just stay right there. A little corner time will be good for you."

With that, I heard him stand up and leave the room with the chair he had sat in. I stood with my nose in the corner for quite a while. My sobbing eventually stopped and tried to hear what he was doing, but there wasn't a sound. I stayed as quiet as possible, listening, trying to figure out where he was. My arms and legs were beginning to get stiff when I heard footsteps. I guessed he was walking from our bedroom to the bathroom. He then turned on the water, he was washing his hands. Then the water came back on. It took me a little bit to figure out he was running a bath. When he stopped the water, I heard him walking through the house toward the living room where I stood.

From right behind me, he said, "Come here Sweetie. Your punishment is over." 

I spun around and found myself in his arms. He hadn't changed, he was still dressed as he had been when we were at my mom's house. He didn't say a word when I broke down into tears again. He gently rubbed my back, holding my head against his chest. When I managed to speak, I tried to tell him how sorry I was. I went on to babble about disappointing him and mistreating my mom. He lovingly shh'ed and told me everything was alright. He told me he loved me more than anything else. But that he would punish me if I needed it.

The ease he had slipped into the role of my punisher was a little frightening. That was the first time I'd ever REALLY been punished by anyone other than my mother. I was new to this! But Sam seemed to be completely comfortable beating my butt if needed. He was a lot better at it than my mom ever was too.

While just beginning to get control of myself again, Sam reached down and picked me up off the floor into his arms. He carried me down the hall and across the threshold of the bathroom as if I were his bride. Without even straining himself, he slowly lowered me into the rather warm bubbly bathwater. He knelt down beside the tub, grabbed a clean washcloth and began to wash every square inch of my body.

When asked to get on my hands and knees, I didn't hesitate. Sam was so gentle with that washcloth against my poor cheeks. He used his hands to splash water on my butt to rinse it off. He then slid a single finger between my cheeks and gently poked at my wrinkled hole. I think I moaned a little because I felt that 

finger keep pressing until it popped inside me. I know my back arched a little then, it always does when I get penetrated. 

Sam knelt there beside the tub slowly and gently fingering me. I began pushing back into his finger, wanting it to go a little deeper. But Sam kept pulling back, not letting any other part of his hand touch me. In no time at all, I was stiff and horny. Before I could make a move toward him, Sam used his free hand to reach under me and loop his first finger and thumb around my penis. I moaned out loud. I know I did because I heard the echo. He held both his hands perfectly still. I began to slowly hump myself into his loving hand. 

In a very soft, loving voice he said, "You have never looked more adorable than you do right now. Dripping wet, still in the tub. A freshly spanked, bright red bottom, a stiff weenie and so horny. Yes, you are very cute."

He'd barely stopped talking when I gasped, my back arched even deeper and I squeaked in a strange high pitch. My cheeks flexed around his finger as I squirted my juices into the bathtub.

.

He let me calm down before helping me out of the tub. He sat on the lid of the toilet and held a large soft towel open for me. He wrapped it around my body and with the same gentle care, he dried me off. We finished in the bathroom with Sam brushing my hair. 

Before leaving the room, Sam picked me back up into his arms and carried me our bedroom. The covers were already pulled back on my side of the bed. Sam leaned down and laid me on the bed. I winced when my tender cheeks first touched the sheets, but eventually got comfortable. He held eye contact with me as he pulled up the covers and tucked me in. He kissed me softly and whispered good night before clicking off the light. I heard him stand and saw his silhouette in the doorway. He told me I'd had a rough day and that I should get some sleep. With that, he closed the door almost all the way and walked down the hall. I doubt I was awake for more than a few minutes before drifting off to sleep.   

The End

Naughty Boy

 by

fantaseeboy

Clothing that invites CMNM situations

 Clothing that invites CMNM situations

 Some types of clothing and certain social situations seem to invite CMNM (clothed male / naked male) and probably just as often CFNM (clothed female / naked male) behavior. It's not too surprising that one of those types of clothing is the kilt. Still, there are several other kinds of male attire that sometimes offer the opportunity for spontaneous partially nudity, at time under the guise of freeballing, such include boardshorts, ethnic or traditional clothing (the 'kilt' is a Western invention for covering male anatomy), but there are other forms of masculine clothes from Asian, the Middle East, Africa, and Oceania that perform similar functions and which offer similar glimpses. 

                

Here are some recent photos from social events where guys were wearing kilts. 
   It always seems that whenever some guy is wearing a kilt -- whether formal or informal, he seems to get a lot of attention directed toward what's under the kilt. By the way, it appears that his male buddies are just as fascinated by what he's wearing and what he's not as his women friends are.

 

  

Cross-cultural Perspective on Freeballing 

I wonder how many other national costumes or traditional clothes allow for freeballing? I've spent a lot of time in Japan and a few other countries where the national costume -- kimono or yukata (light summer informal kimono with fundoshi (loin cloth)) (at least it remains one of the traditional ways that some people dress --especialy for festivals or typical Japanese cultural events) does make freeballing sort of accepted. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As I said in an earlier post (Scottish singer in a kilt), I wonder how many national / native or traditional costumes make it easy (or not) to freeball and perhaps to catch a glimpse. We've seen that many guys wearing kilts do not have anything on underneath. I have lived at times in Japan and still have strong connections to it. I find the kimono and in particular the yukata give a great opportunity to freeball. The traditional kimono, which is really as formal nowadays as a tuxedo and not worn very often at all, does not work out very well for freeballing -- mainly because it is worn for ceremonial events and people are not likely to move around much. The kimono is also worn tightly bound and can have several undergarments and belts (obi) so that it is not likely to come open. Damn, it must even be difficult to take a leak or squat to use the bathroom. 

 

However, the yukata is quite a bit different. It is a casual summer kimono-like one piece outfit -- typically worn for festivals and as night wear / indoor wear at hotsprings resorts and fine hotels. Traditionally, Japanese men (and there are some people who do still) wear the yukata and its shorter version (the happi coat) as casual wear -- although mostly it is only during the summer and fall festivals, but a few for daily wear especially during the hot humid summer season. Under the yukata -- and sometimes ONLY without even the yukata-- is worn the traditional Japanese loincloth called the "fundoshi." It is not exactly underwear because it can be worn as swimwear or beach wear, as festival gear, and as an undergarment for a yukata (or kimono). 

Normally, only men wear a fundoshi, but some guys think it is very sexy for women to wear them .. so you sometimes see women in porno wearing a fundoshi. Fundoshi is not really about freeballing -- it is a wrap that curls up from behind and under and can even tightly bind your balls, but it certainly does not leave much to the imagination once in place. There are a couple of styles - -the one for festivals is often twisted into a knotty rope like a thong and rides up the crack of your ass. Other style leave a hanging cover of the front so it's a bit hard to see the guy's encased mound of cock and balls, but this flying droop moves and floats around so you do get a view sometimes. 

 

 I'm not Japanese and don't have much chance to wear a yukata or fundoshi, but I have an acquaintance in Japan who has been after me to try them. He is a Buddhist priest who is about 35, married with two small children. 

 

The place I stay is just next door to the temple so he invariably invites me over when he knows I am in Japan. Perhaps he is just trying to be nice by introducing me to traditional Japanese culture -- Japanese are not very big on evangelical Buddhism (although I hear it does exist). On a recent trip to Tokyo, he insisted on measuring me for a yukata and told me he would have one made for me and then show me how to wear it and then we would go to a fireworks festival wearing a yukata. 

While he was measuring me, he got down on his knees in front of me (apparently in total innocence) but it sure made me wonder. He first had me pull off my trousers and then he measured about my waist and hips while I standing there in a bare of almost mesh semi see-thru boxers. I had to pull my t-shirt down over the front to conceal what could have been a eyeful of my semi-freeballing.

 

 The next day he came running up to me again and wanted to measure me again -- he thought he might have made a mistake so it surely did get me to questioning his motives. For now, I will assume he has only my "cross-cultural" education at heart and nothing else. I do have to say that it will be interesting if he wants to teach me how to wear a fundoshi next! There are a few different types of 'fundoshi' style (Japanese loincloths). I guess you might say they are more like "freebutting" instead of freeballing, but what the hell, I think they look pretty cool. 

This photo above shows a guy's full body tatoo (irezumi) -- still quite popular with a certain segment of the Japanese -- it was strongly associated with gangsters (yakuza) but less so nowadays. Notice the twisted rope effect in the crack of his fundoshi -- wonder what that feels like -- maybe it helps keeps his semi-hard so that the spectators can enjoy the festival "show" even more. You can see different lengths of "happi" coats in this pic-- so the fundoshi is not really meant to be covered up -- although it can serve as underwear -- it is more like a 400 year old Japanese Speedo bikini or gym shorts.