A bit of background. I was a very shy and respectful boy. Like most boys bought up in the 1950s and 1960s, I behaved and was treated as a child well in to my teens. My Father was a good man, an accountant by trade who had spent much of his early life in the army. This accounted for his high standards and his attitude to nudity (mine) in front of other men and boys; he never saw it as an issue although I wasn’t spanked in front of women past puberty.

My Mother left my Father when I was about three and so it was very much a male household. Finally I should say that I inherited from my Grandfather and Father a good sized penis. Athough I never understood this at the time I think this is what accounted for glances from women when I was a boy, and laughter and exchanged looks from other boys when I was naked in my teens.

To illustrate the attitude to spanking, or smacking as we called in the 1950s and 1960s, I can think of an occasion that burnt in my memory. My Father had been invited to lunch by a man from his office and I, of course, went along. I would have been about 14, certainly no younger. In the room were the man and his wife, their sons, who were about 20, and a woman who I think was the girlfriend of one of the sons.

Shortly after we arrived, the man’s wife said: “You are very quiet, Graham.”

Before I could say anything, my Father said: “Because he has been causing trouble and had his bottom smacked.”

I went bright red. Everyone laughed and looked at me.

The man said: “Oh dear, had the seat of your trousers dusted, did you?”

My Father then said: “No, he had his trousers and pants taken down, didn’t you?”

I felt very ashamed and whispered: “Yes.”

There was laughter, and then my Father said: “That’s the only way you understand, isn’t it?”

I whispered: “Yes,” again.

Everyone laughed again as if my shame and embarrassment was amusing. The man smiled and ruffled my hair and said: “You better keep standing up, in that case. Come with your Daddy and see my garden.”

From a grown up perspective, there was no reason not to know a child had been naughty and had been smacked. But from my perspective I was deeply ashamed that everyone now knew what had happened, particularly that as a teenager I had been bare below the waist to receive my spanking. The lowering of my trousers and pants during a punishment like a child caused me very deep embarrassment all though my teens.

The following occurred when I was 11 or 12. I had gone with my Father to a church holiday hostel for a week in the summer. He liked these establishments as he didn’t have to cook and I could play with other boys and girls that came from church going families. We had gone to the beach straight after breakfast with two other families with much younger children, aged between 4 and 7 or 8 I would think. When we got there the youngest children went in the water naked and the older boys and girls, including me, changed into trunks and swim suits.

When we were in the water I was acting big and grown up and in the process hit a girl and she ran to her parents crying. My Father summoned me to the beach and the other boys and girls followed. The mother of the girl was also looking. Without a pause my Father pulled down my trunks and spanked my bottom hard. I was jumping up and down displaying my private parts to everyone who cared to look. It wasn’t a short spanking and my bottom was very red and I was close to tears.

My Father then bent down, unhooked my trunks and said: “You won’t be needing these,” and walked off up the beach.

All the boys and girls were looking at me, the boys were saying things and I ran in to the water to cover myself. Even though it was summer the water was cold and after about 10 minutes I had to get out run up the beach to my Father and ask him for my trunks back. He said he was very angry with me and if I behaved like a child I would be treated like one. I should go and play with a boy called Simon who was making sandcastles. I ran over to him and he seemed happy I had joined him and unphased by my nakedness. He was much younger than me but treated me like he was older telling me what to do.

The beach was certainly not at all busy but there were parents walking by and they weren’t at all interested in a naked boy playing on the beach, but the boys and girls all looked with interest and I was very aware they were looking between my legs at my penis and at my very red bottom, and they would know I had been spanked. People have said why didn’t I cover myself but it didn’t occur to me to do so. I had been spanked bare on many occasions and I understood part of the shame was that grown ups and other boys and girls would look at my private parts and spanked bottom and that was part of being smacked. After all, I did exactly the same when I saw others spanked and no one every told me or anyone else not to do it.

In the end I was called up the beach by my Father who put my shorts on and we went off for a ride in the car. I think we had only been there an hour but it seemed like an eternity and it’s an hour of my life I have lived and relived many, many times. This would have been in about 1965.