I got to James flat at ten, knocked and waited. No reply. Knocked again and after a while heard someone coming to the door. James opened the door still wearing pyjama trousers over white boxers and with t shirt tucked in. He was disheveled and apologised telling me he had been doing some studying for his Open University course till three in the morning. I believed him because there were books scattered over the table in his kitchen. As he stood filling the kettle my eyes homed in on the poo stain in the back of his pyjamas. It was large and I wondered how long it had been there. I found myself getting hard and saw him looking. We both grinned. He left me making the coffee and went for shower leaving me his pyjama trousers and asking me to put them in the washing machine. He did the same with his T shirt and boxers. One by one I held the items to my nose and took in his smell. He must have been wearing his pyjama trousers all week because they were dirty and smelly front and back. If he had put clean boxers on the previous evening they were no longer clean and were heavily smeared with poop almost to his waistband. It was much, much more than skid marks. I followed him to his bedroom as he came out of the shower and saw his disgusting bottom sheet laying over a rubber sheet though there were no obvious signs of bed wetting. I threw him his boxers and told him to wear them and instructed him to wear a smart button shirt, and shorts if he had them. Somehow I knew he would have them and he dug out a pair of clean and ironed flannels. I found him a striped tie and watched he pulled his foul boxers over his shirt tail and pull up his clean grey shorts. He was ready to be spanked and we would start after coffee.
We had both been regularly beaten with a slipper over our underpants at school, so often we had come to enjoy it and got pleasure from dropping our trousers and bending over in front of the class. As he said to me we were not the only boys to enjoy the ritual. Lots of hands used to be concealed under desks whilst it was going on.
I told him to stand in the corner of his living room with his hands on his head. He asked me if he could visit the lavatory first but I refused him. I was surprised he had not been in the shower but I could see he was in some need of relief. I was as well!
After an hour I turned and saw he was standing in a puddle, shorts soaked. Oddly I felt he was actually scared of what I might do to him.
I called him to me, and sitting on a wooden chair I told him to drop his shorts and I dropped my own trousers down to prevent them from getting wet, for the time being at least.
He laid over my knees and I positioned him with his dick pointing down into my crotch and meeting with my own erection. I stroked his bum and felt him unable to help responding by humping me gently but firmly. Suddenly I gave him a series of hand spanks alternately on each cheek. They hurt my hand and they hurt his bum. Then I felt behind me for my old tennis shoe and gave him half a dozen spanks on each cheek which made him call out and ask me to stop. I stopped and wet my own pants, told him to get off me and kneel in front of me. Without asking for permission he started to suck me through my underpants. I held his head gently and when I ejaculated he enjoyed all I had to offer. He stood up infant of me, farted and crapped himself holding both hands over his bum as he did. He turned and sat on my lap giggling like a stupid child.
We showered, changed, set the washing machine and went to the pub for lunch. He looked sore as he sat down looking even more like a naughty boy than I had seen before. And we still had the afternoon to come.