Date: Tue, 21 Sep 2010 10:35:41 -0700 (PDT)
From: McCain <humble41011@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Handy Man

Craig and I are sitting in the shade outside my back door smoking cigars.
It's the middle of the summer.  He is telling me about the time some
policemen gave him a beating for talking back to them.  That's when his
nose got broken.  Craig gestures with his cigar and uses the F word a lot.
I lean forward in my chair.  The muscles in my back are tight and my skin
is red.  A few minutes ago Craig strapped my back with a belt.  I pay him
to do this every few weeks.

I met Craig after I placed an online ad offering to pay someone to give me
a bare back strapping.  I'm gay, but I wasn't looking for sex or a kinky
S&M scene.  I just wanted to see how much I could take from a man using a
belt on my back.  For me this is an extreme sport.  I am one of those guys
who are into taking a whipping.  I can't say why and don't care.  My back
makes a good target for the belt because I do a lot of pushups and
chin-ups.  Although I carry a little extra weight around my waist, my back,
shoulders and arms are muscular.  I'm 55, the age when you want to try the
things you may not be able to do in a few years.  Most of the people who
replied to my ad were not serious.  Craig was.  He said he had never done
this but had been laid off work and was interested in giving it a try.  We
agreed to meet at my house on a Saturday afternoon and set the pay at forty
bucks.

That first meeting was a little awkward.  Craig was cautious about what he
was getting himself into, and I wanted to make sure he was not a weirdo or
out to rip me off.  The first thing he wanted to do when he got to my place
was smoke a cigarette.  While he smoked, I showed him around my yard and
garage before we went into the house.  Craig is a handy man, so I figured
he would relax a little scoping out my garage and house.  When I suggested
we head to the basement and get started, Craig asked for a glass of water
and admitted he was nervous.  He said I would have to tell him what to do.

Craig is 50, straight, divorced, probably an alcoholic and a bit of a pot
head.  He used to drive big trucks, but his bad habits mean he can't pass
the urine test they give drivers, so he makes a living picking up odd jobs.
Once we got comfortable with each other, he told me about his jobs, his
ex-wife and his daughter.  Hell, he told me about his whole family, crazy
father, blind brother, the whole works.  Craig is part American Indian,
which gives him a dark complexion and chiseled face.  I could see why women
would like him.  He comes across as what they call a bad boy, not really
good looking but sexy.

When we got to the basement, I handed Craig the leather belt I had hanging
on a hook and pulled off my shirt.  Giving a whipping comes naturally to
most men once they get started.  I knew Craig was not sure how to start, so
I suggested he take off his work shirt so I could place my hand on the part
of his back where the belt should land.  He obliged by stripping off the
shirt and the wife-beater underneath.  I saw Craig had a lean build, a flat
belly, and a real hairy chest.  I'd nailed a three foot piece of two by
four to the floor beams of the high ceiling.  Grabbing the ends of the
board stretched my arms and back and kept me in place.  Craig landed the
belt on my upper back.  It took him a few strokes before he put some muscle
into his swing.  He gave me four sets of twenty that first time.

When we were finished, I could tell Craig still didn't understand why
anyone would want to do something like this but he admitted he was
impressed by my tolerance for pain and how my muscles flex under the belt.
I gave him his forty bucks.  He said he was willing to come back.  I told
him that was fine by me as long as he was comfortable with the job.  His
reply was that we were both old enough to know our own minds.  A wise man.

Once he understood I could take a real strapping, Craig got pretty good
with the belt.  He wasn't sadistic and certainly not sexually aroused by
what we were doing.  He just took pride in his work, whatever it was.  He'd
change positions from left to right so my back was evenly striped.  If the
belt didn't land with enough force, he wouldn't let me count the stroke.
Craig had done too many wild things in his life to be bothered by a guy who
liked to have his back strapped.  He even managed to find a little side
benefit in this job.  Craig said whipping me helped work off some of the
frustrations that drive him to drink and smoke pot.

Our first session lasted only about twenty minutes.  I enjoyed it but I
needed to figure out a way to slow things down so I could take more
punishment.  I'm fairly tough, but you need a break in the action if you're
going to receive 120 lashes with a belt in one afternoon.  Then I thought
of the solution.  Cigars.  I knew Craig smoked cigarettes.  I don't, but I
like to smoke cigars every now and then and always have a supply on hand.
My preference is to smoke with a buddy so we can shoot the bull and take
our time enjoying the cigars.  There is nothing like a good stogie to make
men comfortable with each other.  The next Saturday I suggested to Craig we
stop and smoke a cigar after he gave me my first forty.  That did the
trick.  We headed outside to smoke stogies for fifteen or twenty minutes
and then back to the basement for another strapping.  During our smoke
breaks, Craig loves to tell stories about his life.  I draw on my cigar,
listen to his funny stories, and enjoy that great tightness you feel in
your back after it's been nicely strapped with a leather belt.  Craig is
crafty.  After we're done with the strapping and finishing up our stogies,
he tells me he could use a beer.  So, even though I am paying him forty
bucks to whip me and providing him with a good cigar, I get the man a beer.

Craig doesn't have his own phone.  Every three weeks or so, I leave a
message with his brother that I have a job for him on Saturday afternoon at
3:00.  For the rest of the week I think about taking the belt and smoking
cigars.  The two go together for me now.  Craig shows up, usually late.  We
head to the basement and strip off our shirts.  I give his flat belly a few
playful jabs and pump myself up by slamming my fist into the palm of my
hand.  Craig snaps the belt.  I get into position.  After the first forty,
we're both sweating.  I pass him a cigar and light mine.  The first taste
of the smoke always makes my dick get hard.  Once we're sitting down
outside, Craig starts talking.  I listen and watch him exhale big clouds of
smoke.  He's a great cigar smoker.  My back feels good.  I'm enjoying my
cigar.  I'm getting ready for another round with the belt.