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A brand new story by Rod Cayenne. This story is currently exclusive to The Canery and is only suitable for adults!
Car Wash by Rod Cayenne
A yellow weather warning was in force, with a danger of gales and flash flooding. Twigs and branches littered the roads like the aftermath of a sound birching. The wipers on my car were working overtime, as the heavens opened and torrents and rivers of the wet stuff gushed everywhere. I was worried that the old Saab’s sunroof would start leaking. I paused at the roundabout and noticed a youngster hurrying along the footpath. Even through the filthy weather, I recognised the pert little bottom straight away. It was Pawel from the car wash round the corner from my workplace. Many was the time I’d lusted after this youthful specimen! There was something very tempting about him, and of course seeing him spraying cars my mind had often strayed to thoughts of ejaculations and even watersports. I stopped and asked him if he wanted a lift home.
“OK, thanks! Although in general I don’t worry too much about a little rain, Sir,” he said, “After all I get wet all day long. Especially when the others are fooling around.”
“Do you enjoy it there?”
“Yes, it’s a friendly place. Good atmosphere.”
“Do they treat you well? You get paid?”
“Yes, minimum wage. But sometimes we get tips. Sometimes big ones.”
“I bet. They don’t beat you then?”
“No of course not! They actually treat us quite well, although I probably do deserve a sound smacking now and then! Ouch! Yes, a good leathering like I used to get back home in Poland.”
“Yes. I kind of miss it,” said Pawel shaking a few drips from his long, curly hair, “To be honest, I sometimes need it.”
“Don’t be silly,” I chided, while being amazed at the candid revelations by my Polish passenger pal.
“No, really. Really. A good spanking keeps me in line. I crave it now and then.”
“I expect you do!” I laughed and glanced at him. He couldn’t mean it for real, could he? I thought about the many times I’d lusted after his deliciously pert peachy arse, and how I’d like to fuck and spank him. And then I thought about it some more.
I was about to say something daring, when he beat me to it. “I don’t suppose…I know I shouldn’t ask. Could you do it for me, give me a spanking now and then, as a favour? I could clean your car for you, for free, in return.”
“Maybe!” I replied, resting my left hand briefly on his knee.
“That’s nice!” Pawel said.
What a tart! I threw caution to the wind and smacked my hand down on his thigh instead.
“Ouch! Oho, I can see you mean business, Sir!”
“Indeed I do, boy! Back to mine?”
“Errrrrrr, yes Sir. Yes please.”
“I noticed some hesitation there, boy, why was that?”
“It’s just that I’m not prepared. You know, showered. Clean underwear. That sort of thing. I also have a leather spanking strap at my home.”
This was sounding better by the minute to me. I’d found an experienced spankee. Musky and unwashed! I reassured him, “Not a problem my boy. I do have a shower, you know.” Although I had no intention of letting him use it. Not straight away, anyway. “I also have a leather strap or two.”
“Really, Sir? Wow!”
“Yes, really. And some fine British canes.”
“Oh gosh! I’ve hit the jackpot! I’ve always wondered about the cane.”
I smiled. The one hitting the jackpot was me, really. At the risk of mixing metaphors, this lad was just like putty in my hands.
“How old are you?” I asked him.
“Nineteen, Sir. I can prove it. Show you my passport. If you want.”
“Passport? You haven’t got that with you, have you?”
“No. Just as well really. It would have got soaked in this weather.”
“Yes indeed. So, I’ll just have to trust you then?”
“Yes, Sir. But it’s only a spanking, no age restrictions there, surely?”
“No. True. But I do like to entertain a guest in my bed afterwards. Many disciplinarians do.”
“Oh, I see.”
“No, not really Sir. I’m not very experienced. With men. At all.”
This was sounding better and better. A cane virgin and a willing virgin to the pleasures of man on man fun! I felt my penis stirring, but decided I’d better concentrate on driving. The weather seemed to deteriorate even further, and then we were home. At my place. Pawel followed me to the door. I let him go in first, and smacked his bum as he passed by. He turned and grinned at me. Somehow his laddish charms brought out a sadistic urge in me. I promised myself that I’d soon wipe that grin off his face!
Straight away I had him over my lap, spanking first his rigger trousers, then lowering them before I assaulted his navy blue briefs. Then I pulled the briefs down, and then I pulled them right off. In true old perv style, I held them to my face. They were warm. I examined them further. There was clearly evidence of pre-cum, despite the fact that he didn’t seem to have an erection. The pants were a bit musky, but not what you or I would call dirty. I tossed them aside and resumed my onslaught, spanking hard and relentlessly.
Eventually we stopped for a coffee break. I produced a strap and a cane and checked that he really did want to proceed further. I need not have worried as truly he was gagging for it. I raised the black leather strap and crashed it down purposefully. What a terrific sound it made! A satisfying crack of black-stained hide on willing teenage hide! I did it again. And again and again and again. It was heaven. My cock was straining and aching as I enjoyed him squirming and bucking around on my lap. Nonetheless, I issued a quick rebuke for him to keep still, backed up by some extra-hard strokes. By this time he was gasping. A few more strokes and he was begging and pleading for respite. Eventually I gave in and pushed him off my lap.
“Stand in the corner!” I ordered, “Nose to the wall!”
He obeyed meekly. I gazed lovingly at his pert red rump. I’d transformed it from milky white to an erotic crimson. I then picked up his musky pants and inspected them further. After a few minutes I started to rub my cock through the thin material of my suit trousers. I squeezed and massaged it gently, getting stiffer all the time. I wanted him to see my erection tenting in my trousers when I made him turn around.
“We’ll do this the traditional British way. I think six of the best for you. Pull that chair over here,” I commanded.
Dutifully he obeyed, bending over when instructed. I walked up to him, cane tucked away under my arm. I felt his arse, resting my hands to absorb some of the raging heat. It was a thrill; a pervy thrill. I slapped his arse hard.
“First you must kiss the cane. To welcome it to your bottom.”
He stood up and took the cane from me.
“Hey, it’s light, isn’t it?” he said.
“Quiet boy!” I warned him. He kissed the rattan shaft of the cane. I was minded to the tell him to kiss me as well. But I wasn’t sure that I’d be able to stop myself from indulging in a longer passionate snog. There would be plenty of time for my tongue to explore his mouth, cock, arsehole, tits and pits later on. Instead, I made him give me the cane back.
“Bend back over the chair,” I said, “Quickly boy!”
I lashed the first stroke down. I watched intently as he initially seemed cocky, but a second or two later the pain overwhelmed him, as he gasped for air. I laughed out loud. I was going to enjoy this. I’d savour every moment of his misery and discomfort. I swished a warning stroke throught the air. I laughed again and asked him, “Ready boy?”
He just grunted, but as I was enjoying the role play, I demanded an answer, “I asked whether you were ready?”
“Sorry Sir, I was kilometres away!” he replied somewhat cheekily, “Yes, I’m ready. Sir!”
I made the second stroke harder. And the third stroke. He was taking it quietly, which was kind of annoying. I upped the ante again, slashing the cane down hard on his rump.
“Aaargh! It hurts! It hurts, Sir!” I was gratified to get a meaningful response. My cock was fit to burst. I stopped and felt the scarred flesh. I felt guilty for a fleeting moment and then it passed!
“It’s meant to hurt, boy! Here comes number five!”
The cane cracked dowm, leaving an immediate imprint. He grunted, but for the first time I wondered if I detected some pleasure among his discomfort. It was kind of a sixth sense I had. I felt he was close to getting off on this as much as I was.
“Last one,” I informed him, “Let’s make it special!”
I sliced the cane down, diagonally this time. The weal raised rapidly, crossing the others I’d inflicted on him. My hands soon wandered for a feel of the bottom still so submissively on display. That had been a hell of a caning and he was certainly a tough kid.
“You may get up now, boy!” I informed him, as I reflected on minor disappointment that he had done nothing to incur extra strokes. A bit of stamping, clenching or standing up might have added to the entertainment, after all.
He rose slowly, and the he took the initiative, kissing me passionatley. I dropped the cane on the floor. I was about to tell him to release my cock from my trousers, but he had read my mind and got there first. I took him gently at first. But after it was all over, I wasn’t covinced he had been anything like a gay virgin. Not that it really mattered, as the sex had been great, but I felt a wee bit manipulated. Like you sometimes do.
We are meeting again in a fortnight. In the meantime, it’s safe to say that the old Saab has never shined and gleamed and glinted like it does now. I feel the same, in a way.
D I S C L A I M E R
All characters appearing in this story are over 18 and are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons or businesses, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Story © MMXX by Rod Cayenne. All rights reserved.
Comments welcome, please use the link at the top of the story.