Tales From Camp Red Tails Past

Where Men Become boys

My friend from Camp Red Tails, tommy, is a pretty notorious boy. He is so much fun that we both got into a lot of trouble at Camp back in the day. Since I couldn’t make Camp this year, but he could, I asked him to tell me what he did on his summer vacation last time he was at Camp…and even though school was back in session and the report was due, tommy got his report turned in. Hmmmm…

After you take a read about his time at Camp, help us with some ideas about how to deal with his report being turned in so late!

Hotel room spanking Daddy Ray
Cornertime for tommy  (But my bottom!)

What I Did on My Summer Vacation

by tommy

All I did was write a newsy note to our blog master, and he gave the ASSIGNMENT to expand it to report on my experiences at camp. So, I had no choice, you know, but to turn it in LATE. I mean that’s what you do with assignments, right? Know I did, unless I turned them in within a minute of the deadline. Wonder what might have cured that?

Anyway, this summer I went to camp…maybe it’s been decades since you did. There were always guys who loved camp…went every year and postponed getting real jobs by becoming counselors at those very same camps when they got too old to be campers. The camp I have attended since the 90’s is Camp Red Tails.

Like I was saying, there were always guys who loved camp…but some hated it. Bunks, hot days, shared baths, scarce AC. They were just all part of the package for camp-lovers. Because we got off on the bonding with friends, the natural setting, the total break from regular day-to-day hassles, we didn’t look on the rustic milieu as a negative. And it was totally key to find the RIGHT camp. I mean, I’d have been miserable at art camp, happy at band camp, so-so at equestrian camp, lost at space camp…but at SPANKING camp??! Well, I’ve been back a few times! I believe Red Tails has been going for 23 years (The staff made a cake shaped like a heinie for year 20 a few years back). Only two guys have made every camp, and one of them runs it. But the majority of campers have been to more than 10.

Lots of us have to scrimp all year to afford to go. This year there were just over 55 campers. About half are from California and drive as many as 8-12 hours to get there (even though many see each other through the year at Moonburn in L.A.).


That’s good for us all because they bring lots of implements and some useful apparatuses. It’s a good idea to carpool wherever you start your journey. There is a nearby large, often-criticized retailer out of Arkansas that will sell you the needed pillow, sleeping bag, and towels to use as disposables if you don’t have a car to take them home. In figuring costs, you have to remember the first price you hear includes 5 nights lodging (though it is less for fewer nights), 12+ meals, and all the beer (and some wine) you need to drink. Most show up Thursday but a few come Friday; a large group leaves Sunday, but a big group of the old crew hang out until Tuesday morning for the whole experience.

This year I counted people from 5 countries outside the US and 11 states. Many who travel the farthest come nearly every year. We have had present or former college professors, teachers, military, accountants, lawyers, social activists, blue collar guys, guys in tech industries, a DJ, a guy in a goth rock band, nurses, cops, guys in various information industries and current college students. To my knowledge, no butchers, bakers, or candle-stick makers. (If I sound vague, it is intentional, The first rule of Fight Club: You do not talk about Fight Club”…sorry, just always wanted to use that line.) Most campers are single. Some have partners at home who do not share interest in this fetish. Some couples at camp live together at home, and some come to camp as a time to be together.

red tail ale

Every year Man’s Hand makes a film at camp. Everyone is invited to stay the “F” out of the way. One of the impressive things to note is that many guys who have been in a film often come back to camp for years because they are really into Spanking. By my count that includes 11 of this year’s bunch. In addition, several guys have worked on their own films.

The old crew I started with is becoming…well, the “old” crew. I cringe hoping we don’t look like Terry Bradshaw, George Foreman, William Shatner, and Henry Winkler on Better Late Than Never. We have tended, though…to get “wider.” I mean, except me. I find that each day in the mirror, you are so very little older than yesterday, that you always look about the same.

No, actually, every year someone has lost a huge chunk of weight and is justly celebrated. Nearly all the “old” crew has kicked cigarettes…some now vape. The smoking areas near the playroom and at the pool are now largely populated by much younger guys, too young to be much worried about their health. It is still nothing for guys to spend a steady hour with the cohort that hangs out in these venues. Oh, the days of smoking on the sly. But I digress.

Those of us who have been returning here for over a decade to share one intense interest in common have often become close. We have gone through decline/death of parents, loss of jobs, health crises, great successes…and the converse. At least four of us are now deceased. We, the living, have decided that—even if we used to use the phrase “swimmer’s build” in our contact profiles–that it would be foolish to attempt to incorporate “but look 50” in hopes that it would provoke anything but laughter. And every so often…a couple of the “old crew” will be getting Spanked quite intensely and hear a younger person (who can see only the “target” view) say enthusiastically, “Who is THAT?” Fortunately, for some of us, the butt is the last to go.

Red Russian River Bottoms.jpg

Ah, the young people. We had a nice new bunch this year. 21 is mostly the minimum age now. This year the 20 and 30-somethings, besides being lovely, were a charming, bright, and confident bunch. One Texan had a model’s face and the kind of bubble butt usually reserved for cartoon representations. An extremely tall Chinese student who had been on swim and basketball teams was quite popular staying in character as a total brat, and the guy who was filmed this year had an Irish punk look. One of my favorite guys in his mid 30’s now has a boyfriend in his 20’s who has the deepest black eyes and a shy friendliness.

…I should stop!

The Gen X’ers and Millinenials seek out what they want and don’t seem at a loss as how to entertain themselves. One big hit was a small young Asian guy who insisted he was a very good top. He wanted to use a cane on me, and when I demurred, he suggested The Hairbrush. I let him have at me and was amazed. Not yet 25 and he knew exactly how to crisply make me squirm around leaving nary a lasting problem. Later, I took him up on getting caned and, now not surprisingly, he was excellent with that also. He has spent time in London, don’t you know. Some of our better tops came to camp their first years as bottoms and now are even more in demand as tops.

People always wonder how you can play for so many days without wearing out the limited surface area in question. It takes strategy:

straightladsspanked aftercare
Preparing for Camp
  1. First, pretreat. Exfoliate and moisturize before camp and during (bottoms have their own “magic” products they swear by).
  2. Second, find tops who understand what will work in an extended setting. The best tops know how to avoid wrap, hit at 75% or less intensity, never revisit an area for another lick too soon, use all the available target…etc.
  3. Third, do different things. I topped three guys with a martinet just as a feature for myself that did not mess them up, though I was laying on the soft lashes with gusto…and of course, it didn’t hurt me at all! When bottoms need a break, several guys give massages. A few hang men from the rafters (a friend calls it “playing marionettes”) and lash backs. Many take advantage of the total privacy of the camp to conduct scenes outdoors on hill-tops, in various seldom-used outbuildings, etc…

And most of us seek out that “special” session or two or three or more, where we accept that we want to be pushed and feel like we were REALLY bad. The guy who finally made role play click for me was missing this year. Ever since I discovered his talents, my peak session has been to put on a t-shirt, gym shorts or cut-offs, stripe-topped athletic socks, and Converses. I go to his cabin (or am sent in a public spectacle) to wait on him to come in, lecture/yell at me, tell me to strip, and bend me over the side of the bed to give me every bit of what my friends’ fathers gave them with their belts when they had been defiant or really naughty.

Red Cap Red Bottom

I have to stand in The Corner and wait to see if there will be more (there always is). Before being sent to apologize to someone, I have to answer questions which have no answers:

“How do I know you won’t do this again?” 

I am so far from who I really was growing up. I am the naughty son brought up short. I fantasize about talking back, but I can’t make myself do it.

So…THAT guy wasn’t at camp this year. Bummer. But Copper knew it and knows what I am really after…and he used my small paddle to cause me to make some rather unplanned and pitiful noises over his knee. Another day I got just 7 school paddle licks…not bare…and was just stunned.

Good paddling technique


No damage.

That would make me avoid play entirely.

Class act.

And the last night of camp, one of this blog master’s old friends from New York who is good at everything a top can do was entrusted with giving me a prolonged switching. It didn’t LOOK dramatic, but it was super stingy and went on for a long time. I had wanted that for…like, years. And after, I watched one of my best friends get the same treatment and marveled at how hard the licks he was getting really were.

Most of the time campers are encouraged to keep the main playroom conducive to trace-like altered-consciousness type play. Some campers come from a leather club background and respect the need of men to go into themselves as they ride out and embrace the sensations they are experiencing. You will see a guy sitting on a cushion against the wall with a pantless fellow across his lap whom he has slowly and methodically been gently Spanking for most of an hour. And two naked men tied to each other with arms suspended being lashed rhythmically as the top dances on his toes in a circle around them.

But usually there is a night (often Saturday) when most everyone is around, when the playroom just comes alive. The heavy razor strop people have-at and that can be like watching fireworks. I used to bottom for some of the best of them. Long sessions at full force. Good technique and there is little bruising, but the resulting leathery bottom can be kind of amazing. You would be surprised at how few people get in really bad shape. There are more who get sunburned at the pool than who have to have band aids.

Blood sport is not really a feature at Red Tails. We’ve seen some artful use of single-tails, but only once do I remember someone getting torn up. There is light bondage at times, but any of the gooey things possible off of SM are not encouraged. Each year people get interested in something a bit different. A veritable Jedi-master from San Francisco didn’t get to come this year, but he likes to play with sensations…warm rocks, intense vibration, etc… I have seen an electric cock ring. No puppy play that I am aware of (though Bad Ass Weekend had some). This year I saw my first “furry” at camp.

And then, there was the “Bondage Frame That Threatened to Eat Camp Red Tails.” You see, there was this handsome new guy…every inch of 6’5” chiseled…always doing pushups (I kid you not). He began construction of this saw horse from hell the first night. But every time you walked back by…he had added to it. Unless it was growing on its own. I don’t know if he had planned it carefully or was adding bits as creative inspiration hit him, but the thing was (you could see this coming, but I can’t help myself after listening to Trump for so many months….) Yuuuuugggge.)!

Well, Saturday night, when things get real at camp, and I had consumed as many beers as was, strictly speaking, wise, I walked in the playroom and found what he had been after. The big, gorgeous man was tied at full spread to his device…all 6 and a half feet of him…ankles as far apart as practical. Two of the newer young tops had moved into position behind him, one on either side. They each addressed their target…the nearer of his two ass cheeks. At that point they simultaneously began the attack, delivering rapid-fire slaps to his bottom with…hockey sticks.

“…wearing 1980’s gym shorts and striped socks…”

My first reaction was to be…stunned, but now and I am properly ashamed.  Why would my filling out a “discipline” slip from school to take to my belt “Daddy” wearing 1980’s gym shorts and striped socks strike me as less odd than seeing someone realize an amazingly creative and elaborate fantasy?  In a jolly mood,  I know I went over to the lodge where some of my oldest friends were finishing up “liar’s dice” and somehow found it appropriate to tell them why in the South the best time to drink beer is in a jon boat while frog-gigging (probably the most bizarre thing I ever did growing up…you’d kinda have had to have been there).

I seldom turn into Jeff Foxworthy, but it was working, so I rose to the challenge.  And then Copper neatly topped me with his next story and so the evening went.

That may tell you something about why camp is so appealing to many of us. We let down our guards for that one long weekend. Oh, and I am properly ashamed. Why would my filling out a “discipline slip” to take to my belt “Daddy” wearing 1980’s gym shorts and striped socks strike me as less amusing than seeing someone realize an amazingly creative and elaborate fantasy?

Discipline forms

Maybe I was a little lubricated, also. I know I went over to the lodge where some of my oldest friends were finishing up “liar’s dice” and somehow found it appropriate to tell them why the best time to drink beer was in a jon boat while frog-gigging. I seldom turn into Jeff Foxworthy, but it was working, so I rose to the challenge. And then Copper neatly topped me with his next story and so the evening went.

I have, of course, let this composition go more than the page limit for the assignment. That, too, is not unusual for me…and what were they going to do? Spank me for writing MORE than required?

But I’ll make it quick.

Food features this year (for me): a quinoa, black bean, and corn salad; a tri-tip roast, blueberry pancakes, and cake made with freshly-grated ginger (yes, the obligatory jokes about figging were made…and, yes, that has been done at camp.)

Best unexpected surprise: swimming pool mix by real DJ that was so upbeat and beguiling that no one complained. (The pool is a great place to be naughty, BTW, though one MUST NOT SHOOT WATER CANNONS towards people reading Kindles.)

Always a pleasure: the hot tub at night was popular this year with our cool evenings, but the full moon cut off the Milky Way quality of the stars in the high desert. But there were still late night cookies with other night owls to recap the day. I will note, though, that in OUR day, you could still hear late night Spankings until at least 2:00 or 3:00 most mornings.

Not unexpected, but always a surprise: does and fawns wandering around at all hours…and no one bothering them trying to be cute. The deer are quite useful, though, to people needing an acceptable photo to show at home. Campers have to tell people back in the real world that they have been “camping” or “at retreats” (essentially true). I do not know if the story is apocryphal or not…one teacher swears he explained that his absence from work was to attend a seminar on “classroom management techniques.”

Well, I’ve written so much that it’s almost time to start sniping prices on my flight for next year.

yours, tommy


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