Summer With The Relatives (F/m)

[goodgulf]

Summer With The Relatives (F/m)

Simon Brown limped from the car and waved goodbye. He had sprained his ankle just over two weeks ago, badly sprained it, and that gave him the excuse he needed for this plan. It was a crazy idea, a totally insane idea, and having an excuse to beg off from a family outing a badly needed "step one" if the plan was to have any chance of working. Admittedly the idea had been rattling around in his mind since last fall but back then he had been thinking about a stomach complaint. Only that would have kept him at the hotel, not here at the Yates house.

And being here without most of his family, that was the point.

Every summer Simon spent a week, sometimes two, five hundred miles from home, visiting relatives. He had a couple of sets of relatives here, but the Yates stood out. His Uncle Leo Yates, his Aunt Sophie Yates, and their family held a special place in his memory. At one point he had nightmares about this house, but for the past few years the dreams had changed.

He had a tote bag with him. It carried a book and few other things. His parents thought that he brought it with him for the pain pills it carried, but the most important part of the plan was concealed at the bottom of the bag.

Simon hobbled to the rear of the house, to besides some rose bushes. The cigarettes he took from the bag were a big part of the plan. He'd stolen them from a friend's house. Earl Graddy's dad bought cigarettes by the cartoon and smoked them by the pack; Simon was sure that no one would notice one pack missing in that house. About a quarter of the smokes were already gone, tossed in a mall's dumpster. The plan revolved around a partly empty pack of smokes but there was no way that Simon could smoke that many cigarettes.

Or any of them. Simon choked as he lit one, inhaling just enough to get it going. After that he let the smoke burn in his mouth, not inhaling. He'd seen cigarettes burn down before and was sure that no one would be able to tell that he hadn't smoked it.

No, Simon wasn't a smoker, not like Gordon Banks.


Gordon Banks was another relative, one that had stayed at the Yates last Thanksgiving. When Aunt Sophie caught the college boy smoking she had come down on him like a ton of bricks. Come down on him in a way that Gordon should have been far too old for. In a way that Simon was too old for, except, possibly, if he was caught smoking.

Holding the cigarette to his mouth, Simon stood there and tried to look like he was smoking.


'That's the tree that Clive fell out of.' Simon mentally noted, trying to distract himself from the plan. 'And there's where Luke slipped on wet grass and got that scar on his leg. And that's Stephanie's favour tree.'

Other cousins might come and go, but the three Yates kids were the constants; which made sense seeing that they lived there. Sometimes Simon thought he knew this backyard better than he knew his own. He even knew which stone was the fake rock hiding the spare key to the backdoor, not that he would use it. No, the plan called on him being spotted in the backyard. No one would ever think he was stupid enough to try to smoke inside the house, but the backyard was another matter.

Standing there, memories came to him. Some more haunting than others. He'd even been crouching just on the other side of these bushes a few years ago when Olivia Terris (one of Clive's cousin on the other side) had showed him her boobies, letting him take a good long look as long as he didn't try to touch. Three days later, after a couple of stolen wine coolers, she had been more generous and Simon had touched his first boobie ever.

But that was a relatively recent memory and this backyard contained one of his early memories - watching Aunt Sophie smack a bum. Simon was no longer sure whose bum had been; Aunt Sophie had smacked a lot of them over the years.

Practically every summer he visited, Simon saw her smacking someone. Sometimes several someones at once, sometimes several at different times, or maybe the same someone a couple of time, but always at least one person once.

Someone, but never Simon. The Browns didn't believe in spanking and the Yates respected that opinion. It didn't matter if Simon was the oldest one there or the one who had caused the trouble, he was never so much as swatted. He did corner time (without a red bum), timed out, sent to a room, restricted, grounded, or otherwise handled without spanking.

Sometimes he was practically surrounded by spanking, but was never on the receiving end of one. Not ever. Except in his dreams. When he was younger he had nightmares about a mistake happening and him being included in some sort of mass spanking, but when he was older... then those dreams weren't nightmares.


Seeing his cigarette fading, Simon forced himself to take a drag. Choking, he scattered ash in a wide area. Some of it landed on his clothes; Simon quickly brushed it off.

"Here's hoping I don't smell." Simon muttered.

Stinking like a smoker wasn't part of the plan. It might be a side effect but if he could keep his parents from knowing about every part of the plan he would.

'Maybe I should shower before I go home?' Simon wondered.

But showering wasn't part of the plan and the plan was what mattered. At least Plan B was. Plan A was to simply ask to be included in a spanking. He'd tried tired Plan A couple of times, back when spankings had been a source of nightmares, but it hadn't worked. His aunt thought that he was trying to show that he was brave and even if he meant it his wishes meant less than his parents' views. Then Aunt Sophie said something that crushed Plan A forever.

"You might not know it, but even if your parents weren't dead set against it you're practically too old to spank. Even if you act like you have the maturity of a five year old you're just about too old to spank for anything." Aunt Sophie told him. She meant her words to be reassuring, but Aunt Sophie had crushed one of Simon's dreams with those words of kindness.

But Gordon Banks was even older than Simon. If he could get spanked for smoking then maybe Simon could too.


Glancing towards the house, Simon's eyes were drawn to a room on the second floor. To where Clive and Luke slept. It was usually called "the boy's room" and Simon had spent countless night on a cot there. Sometimes the Brown kids were dropped of at the Yates while his parents stayed alone at the hotel. Simon knew that room almost as well as his own room.

Hanging on the wall, halfway between the beds, was piece of leather. There was no calling it a belt; it had a loop at one end but no prong. No holes marred its surface. Not a belt, its sole purpose was to smack naughty backsides. Naughty male backsides at that; there was paddle in Stephanie's bedroom for the female ones. And it wasn't just for Clive and Luke; Simon had heard it (and occasionally seen it) being used on other bottoms too.

He would never forget one time. He remembered it like it was yesterday. There had been a sleepover that summer with seven boys pushing Aunt Sophie's buttons all night and they had finally gone too far.


Memories....


Simon stood in the living room, listening to the sound of that strap landing on a bum. A bare bum, Simon saw that Aunt Sophie was taking down Clive's PJs when she ordered him out of the room. Ordered them out. This time Simon wasn't the only one ordered out of the room. One of Luke's friends, a boy named Donny, was in the living room with him and that boy was grinning like a maniac.

"Think she's going to strap all of them?" Donny asked, giggling.

'All of them' included two cousins on Uncle Leo's family. It also included a friend's whose name was Greg something and who hadn't been ordered from the room. Greg something whose PJs were probably going to be coming down for a spanking.

"My folks don't believe in spanking either." Donny smirked, still giggling. "But the rest of them - pow!"

Donny kept grinning and giggling, but all Simon could was listen to five boys getting it. Five, and one of them not even a relative. Not just not a blood relative, someone that wasn't any kind of relative. Just someone who happened to be in the house. That kid was getting strapped, but Simon (who was related by blood to Aunt Sophie) was standing in the living room with a grinning jackass who kept on giggling. Worse, Donny was a couple of years younger and the two of them were being treated equally, which couldn't be fair.

Simon couldn't see it, but he could hear. He could picture it in his mind's eye. The fall of the strap, the reddening of the boys' bottoms. He had only seen the strap used on the bare a couple of time, but those times were fixed in Simon's memory.

The sound of the impact, the howls of the boys, Donny's giggles - all of those sounds combined in Simon's mind. That sound would haunt Simon's nightmares for months to come. Later it would haunt his dreams.

What happened later - Simon and Donny being banished to the basement for a lone time out - was a pathetic anticlimax compared to what happened to the other five boys.


The Present...


Thinking back. Simon realised that (in his aunt's eyes) he almost been at the 'too old to spank' phase then - to be spared the strap even if his parents weren't against spanking. But only almost. He was sure that if his parent had felt differently then Donny would have been the only one sent out of the room. It hadn't been until the next summer that Aunt Sophie dropped an offhanded comment that drove Simon's age home. It was a little thing, about how another boy (one Simon's age) was banished from the house for two weeks over something, with Sophie adding that the boy was banished because he gotten too old for her to spank.

At the time Simon almost didn't mind hearing that. In fact he had been kind of relieved to know that his backside was protected by more than just than his parents' wishes.


But times change. People change.

Simon's change had come on a bit late, but when it did come Simon's thoughts on spankings had changed.

Sometimes he had dreams of giving them but most of his journeys to Morpheus' realm ended with his underwear around his ankles. Early on he had wondered if that was because he saw more (many more) boys getting spanked than girls. He'd only seen Stephanie getting her bare butt smacked once. Other than that, Simon had hung around more with the boys so rarely saw Stephanie getting it in any way. He might have seen Stephanie's paddle used a handful of times and heard it maybe a score more, which was nothing to all the times he had been around when the boys got it.

During that early confusion, Simon took comfort that in his dreams it was always him spanking the girl or a woman (or sometimes one of the girls from his school) spanking him. Sometimes more than one boy was spanked at a time but there was never any male to male action, spanking or otherwise. Later, when there was less confusion, Simon bemoaned all the times that he had missed a spanking from his aunt.

And that he was too old for spanking now. He'd only even seen one since last fall. He'd been picking up his little sister Daphne at her friend Chloe Ashbrook's place when Chloe's younger brother Keith pushed a babysitter's buttons once too often. The girl had let Keith have it with a wooden spoon, dishing out about a dozen whacks. Years ago, if he'd seen his aunt doing that, Simon would have been nervous, but the babysitter had been close to Simon's own age and she had shared a smile with. Practically saying "it's us against the kids" with Simon finding himself on the wrong side of the spanking equation.

After that, Simon had made a few half-hearted attempts at whacking a wooden spoon against his backside, but Simon knew that it wasn't close to anything that his cousins had gone through. As those attempts failed, Simon resigned himself to never knowing what a good spanking felt like. At least not one from a parent or other adult authority figure who was dealing with a naughty young behind.

But that was before Thanksgiving and Gordon Banks' strapping.


The sounds of an approaching car brought Simon back from his thoughts. He quickly flicked the ash from his cigarette to disguise the fact that it had burnt down rather than been smoked. The tip was glowing red when his aunt's car pulled in the driveway and around the house.

Aunt Sophie got out of the car and stared at her nephew, glaring at him in a way that she hadn't glared at him in years. Simon had to mentally remind himself to look guilty.

"Um, hi Aunt Sophie." Simon began. "I couldn't go with... Because of my ankle, everyone felt that it would be best..."

"Is that a cigarette?" Sophie demanded.

Simon wondered if that was meant as rhetorical, then decided to answer.

"Um, well..." Simon began.

"Is that a fucking cigarette?" Sophie repeated, almost yelling.

Simon swallowed hard. He had heard his aunt yell before and he had heard her curse a bit, but he had never heard her drop a F-bomb before.

"Um, well..."

"Put it out!" Sophie ordered. "It's filthy. Smoking is filthy."

Simon dropped the smoke and toed it out, the way he had seen Earl Graddy's dad do a million times.

"Don't you... The family history! Haven't you seen the photos? The photos of relatives that aren't around any more? Some of them you never met - have you seen their photos on the wall?" Sophie fumed.

"Um, well..." Simon was repeating the same words, but his voice shrank as he tried to find the words.

"Your great uncle... Your... How could you be so stupid? So idiotic?" Sophie demanded.

"Um..."

This time Simon didn't get to the word 'well'.

"Lung cancer practically gallops in this family." Sophie said, half shrieking. "Do you know how many relatives yours have died of mesothelioma?"

Simon wanted to say something about how mesothelioma wasn't linked to genetics, but he didn't for two reasons. Firstly, he didn't want to calm his aunt down and secondly, she didn't give him a chance to say anything. She just walked over and took his arm, clamping down with iron like fingers. This was what Simon wanted, but to have it actually happen - he was trying not to shiver with excitement.

"Smoking!" Sophie fumed, jerking his nephew towards the backdoor. "How could you smoke?"

"Um..." Simon said, trying to look as if he was stumbling as she dragged him forward.

His stumbling wasn't completely an act. He had wanted to seem to reluctant, but with his ankle giving him trouble he was kind of stumbling along.

"Smoking!" Sophie fumed, unlocking the backdoor. "How could you?"

"Um, well..."

Sophie wasn't even pretending to listen to him. It struck Simon that she wasn't listening to him in the same way she never listened as she dragged one of his cousins away for a spanking. The kid could be (and often was) offering all sorts of explanations of why they had done whatever they were going to get spanked for but Aunt Sophie never listened to them. Not after she decided that a spanking was going to happen. Before she made the decision she often had an open mind, but once the decision was made no amount of explaining would change the outcome. From what he had seen, Aunt Sophie was more likely to apologise for something after the fact than to call off a spanking that she had decided on just because it wasn't deserved.

And Simon was practically sure that she had decided to spank him!

"Come on." Sophie said, pulling him along. "We'll settle this in the boy's room."

"Um, well..."

"Shut up!" Sophie snapped.

Simon practically recoiled. He had never heard his aunt say 'fuck' before and he had never heard her snap like that. He had heard her being firm, strict, and parental, but usually she was fair and understanding. Simon was used to her acting like the adult in the situation, not reacting like someone at the same level of the child about to be disciplined.

Which, in this case for the very first time, was Simon himself.

"I know what you've going to say." Sophie said loudly. "But while your parents feel strongly about one thing I'm sure that they feel just as strongly about smoking. After all those funerals they've been to - no, I don't care what you have to say. When it comes to smoking they'll understand."

Struggling up the stairs, Simon was biting his tongue. He had never worked with asbestos or lived around asbestos so there was no way he could get mesothelioma.

"How could you? It's practically burning money? You got money to burn? Do you? Well something else is going to burn. That I fucking guarantee." Sophie thundered.

Simon couldn't help wondering what he gotten himself into. He had seen her mad before but he had never seen her this mad that. The woman who rarely sworn was routinely dropping F-bombs. She might be mad enough to spank him but was she too mad to spank him fairly? Was there actually a fair way to spank? Simon's head was swimming as his nightmare dreams were coming close to reality than the more pleasant ones.

Simon knew, knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he didn't have to go through with this. His aunt was a figure of respect but there was no way that she could physical dominate him. He had an inch or two on her and if you compared their weights he had a lot of muscle on her. If Simon decided that he wasn't going to walk up those stairs then he wasn't going up those stairs and his aunt couldn't make him. He hadn't been in many fights, but Simon knew that if push came to shove he could take his aunt. Even if he didn't get physical with her he could just stop walking and she wouldn't be able to budge him. That in many ways he was in control.

But he didn't want to be control or to stop this so he kept walking as she drug him upstairs.


Then they were in the boy's room. The room with that piece of leather hanging on the wall. That piece of leather that wouldn't be hanging there for long.

"You know where it is." Sophie snapped. "It's your turn to take it off the wall. Now! Because if I have to take it off the wall..."

Sophie released her nephew's arm and half pushed him in the direction of the strap. Simon found himself taking the strap off the wall. Feeling its weight in his hand. He had touched it before - even taken it down a few times when he was alone in the room, but to take it down to hand it to his aunt... The idea was almost surreal.

But now, in the moment, it seemed too real to be real but it was real which meant... Simon felt the only word he could use for realer than real reality was surreal.

Then he was turning. Aunt Sophie was sitting on Clive's bed. Sitting and waiting for him, the way she had waited for her son (and others) countless times.

"Bring it here!" Sophie barked.

Maybe it was his ankle or maybe it the situation, but Simon could barely stumble towards his aunt. The weight of the strap seemed incredibly heavy.

Then he was handing his aunt the strap.

"Now get your jeans undone." Sophie snapped. "I don't have all day. You don't want to still be doing this when Stephanie get home, do you?"

That snapped Simon back to reality. No, he didn't want his girl cousin to know about this. He found himself turning away from his aunt, undoing his belt and snapping, then unzipping his jean. Then he had a problem. He was so excited at being in this room, at handing his aunt the strap, that he couldn't turn to face her.

Sophie wasn't tolerating any delays. She spun her nephew around, yanking down his jeans as she did so. Ignoring something that she didn't want to acknowledge (and had never acknowledged with her sons or their friends) she forced Simon over her lap, yanking down his underwear as she did.

'Um, are you sure um..."

As Simon searched for words to finish that sentence, his mind was racing.

'This is it this is it this is it oh god this is it.' Simon thought as his aunt positioned him over her lap. 'But how can she not notice?'

She didn't seem to notice, and Sophie wasn't listening either. The woman ignored things that she wanted to ignore and got on with the job at hand.

'Boys will be boys, and that's all there is to it.' Sophie thought to herself.

"Simon, I hate to say this, but this is long overdue." Sophie announced.

Simon was searching for a reply his aunt brought the strap down on his bottom

SPLAT!

Simon jerked, trying to process the feeling of the strap. It was nothing, absolutely nothing like those times that Simon had tried to land a wooden spoon on his backside. There wasn't that hesitation as it came down - his aunt brought it down cleanly with long practised skill. That hesitation had blunted most of the spoon's momentum, but with his aunt there was

SPLAT!

Simon was jerked back to reality. He hadn't finished processing the first lick of the strap before the second blow came crashing down. Sensation - pain - exploded in his backside.

Then came the next stroke, then the next, then the next as Sophie built up a steady rhythm. His excitement, his fascination about being spanked, soon faded as the reality overtook the fantasy. His dreams, erotic as they were, paled next to the reality of how the strap actually felt as it crashed down on his backside in the waking world. It hurt far worse than he had imagined. All of his excitement was gone by the fourth time the strap connected.

Of course Sophie didn't stop at four.

Simon couldn't help thinking back on the few times that he had been in the room when the strap was used. He had heard the strap landing more than he had seen it, and seen it connecting more on jeans than on a bare bottom, but he couldn't help picturing the effect that the strap had had on others and imagining the same colours appearing on his own bottom.

Then his mental image was gone, the mental picture vanishing under the experience of the real. The strap landed off target, on his thighs, but its miss barely registered. His bottom, his thighs, the difference between them didn't matter any more. All he knew was the throbbing pain produced by that strap, a strap designed for no purpose but to crash down on boys' backsides.

Tears, racking sobs, they didn't matter. Not to his aunt. She welded the strap as mercilessly as if she was dealing with one of her sons or another loved one. Sophie was used to having to deal with loved ones who needed correction and since she loved Simon like he was a third son she harden her heart with love to the point where she could strap the urge to smoke out of his backside. To save his lungs by strapping his bum red - or black or blue if needed. In her mind it wasn't a simple matter of bad grades or naughty behaviour - in a very real sense she was fighting for Simon's life. To save his lungs from cancer even if it cost him all his feelings in his backside.


Simon was sobbing his heart out when something unexpected happened - the strap failed to crash down. His backside was throbbing and his tears and snot were flowing but somehow the strapping had ended.

"That should cure your filthy habit." Sophie declared. "Now clean yourself up. You don't want Stephanie to see you this way, do you? Your buns burning and your face covered with tears? Now you head to the bathroom and clean your face. I said now!"

Somehow Simon pealed himself off her lap and staggered (his pants still down around his ankles) towards the bathroom. His hands were rubbing at his backside, trying to deal with the throbbing sting in his bum.

Minutes later, he was in the bathroom with some control over his actions. Simon grabbed a palmful of moisturiser. Standing in front of the toilet he focused on his aunt's take charge attitude and the sensation of the throbbing, of his first parental type spanking (first ever spanking, and at his age!). His excitement returned and shortly later left, leaving him shuddering and gasping and smelling of moisturiser.

Then Simon forced himself to clean his face (and wash clean another part of his body) and calmed himself down.


When Simon returned to the main floor, he found his aunt drinking a wine cooler. Somehow he didn't think that it was her first.

"So you've dried your tears?" Sophie half said, half challenged. "Well that was a few years, more than a few years, late, but nothing that you didn't deserve. Smoking! I can't believe I caught you smoking."

"Um, I don't really, um, I don't... Not much." Simon babbled.

"Maybe this will cure you." Sophie suggested. "Maybe that will be your last smoke."

"Maybe." Simon agreed.

"And while your parents might not like this, but smoking is smoking and that's plain nasty." Sophie told him.

"Um, well..."

"And I better not catch you smoking again, because if I do... Even if your parents are here you'll get another dose of the strap." Sophie declared.

"Um, really?" Simon squeaked, his dreams of the strap having been destroyed by the reality of the pain.

"Really." Sophie told him. "And it's nothing that couldn't have happened when you were younger. It's not like you would be the first boy to go over my lap. But you know that, don't you?"

"Um, I guess." Simon agreed.

"It's nothing that you didn't earn every single day you've spent here." Sophie continued.

"Um, every ..."

Sophie knocked back her drink and opened another, which was Simon knew was odd for this early in the day. She rarely drank before the evening hours, but today was different.

"Maybe if I had spanked you on the first day of your vacation here then maybe you wouldn't have needed it on the second day, but no one spanked you on the first day so you needed on the second day and everyday after that." Sophie informed him.

Listening to his aunt, Simon could only wonder at how many drinks his aunts had downed since spanking him. Her words weren't slurred, not quite but they weren't as logical as they could be. She wasn't babbling, not really, but she wasn't completely on track either.

"Seriously, you came that close to getting it countless times." Sophie told him, holding her thumb and forefinger so they were almost touching.

Hearing the start of the slur in her voice, Simon felt brave. Brave or foolhardy, but somehow he found those words.

"I remember one time, when Clive and Luke had a sleepover with their cousins on the other side, and a couple of other friends. Um, I think that one of them was named Donny..."

"If it's the one that I'm thinking of, Don Packard and Greg Taylor were there." Sophie nodded.

"Um, yeah, and Donny and I got sent out of the room while you, um..."

"Yeah, that's what happened." Sophie agreed, finishing off her drink and opening another one. "And if it had just been you or Don Packard then I might not have sent anyone out of the room. Five boys, six boys, a mistake might have happened and an extra bottom turned red. But since both of your parents didn't want you spanked then I sent both of you out."

"Um, really?" Simon said, wondering if he would be different in some fundamental way if he had been spanked that night.

"Really." Sophie said, gulping at her fresh drink. "And five weeks later, something happened and I'd talked to Don's parents and the Parkards had changed their minds by then so he didn't get sent out of the room. I wiped that smirk off his face and he never giggled like that again over my sons getting spanked. Not where I could hear." Sophie confided.

"Um, well..."

"As for you, in some ways you're too old to spank." Sophie said, ignoring Simon's attempt to speak. "In most ways you're too old to spank, but now that I've started we might as well make up for lost time."

"What?" Simon squealed.

"What I said is what I said and that's what I said uh-huh." Sophie replied.

Her words reminded Simon slightly of an old song he half remembered, but they didn't make much sense. Was his aunt just drunk or did she really plan on spanking him?

"Huh?" Simon asked.

"I already answered that bit. Weren't you listening? So anyway, you might want to head back to your motel. If the schedule hasn't changed then your parents will be gone longer than Stephanie will be getting home here." Sophie told him. "And if she notices the red around your eyes or puffiness in your cheeks or something else then maybe she'll conclude that you've been spanked. At your age. No, I'll give you cab money back to your motel."

Left unsaid was the fact that Stephanie probably, make that almost certainly, would be taking the paddle off her wall. Sophie planned to listen to her daughter's side of the story before deciding, but it didn't look good for the girl. Not bad enough to lower her daughter's panties or even raise her skirt, but Sophie didn't want Simon in the house listening to his cousin's paddling. He might almost be like another brother, but he wasn't, and him being here would needlessly embarrass the girl.


Travelling back to his motel, Simon wasn't sure what was and what wasn't real. He focused on the pain in his backside as a touchstone, knowing that it was real.

And that his aunt had put it there.

On purpose.

With a strap.

The strap that had haunted his dreams for years.


One back his room, Simon lost no time in photographing the damage. Seeing the photos on his phone made things realer for him, sending Simon once more into the bathroom. The shower that rinsed off the smell of the cigarette served another purpose as a handful of the hotel's shampoo went to a place far lower than it was designed for.

That evening, Simon ended up at his Aunt Sophie's, trying to conceal the state of his bottom from any onlookers. Nor did Sophie seem eager to announce the new arrangement with her nephew. Standing there, in that house, with the first (and possibly last) well smacked bottom that he'd ever had, Simon fought to find a way to put things into words.


Two days later he was still searching for just the right thing to say, but he had realised that he should have started with "Aunt Sophie, please don't spank me again" and worked his way from there. Then again, she hadn't gone as hard as she had when she caught him with smokes and it was over his jean and there were no witnesses and maybe he didn't want anyone to know about his new problem with his aunt.

Or was it really a problem? Simon wasn't sure that it was, or that it wasn't. Confusion was back in his life and Simon revelled in it. He hated spankings when they were happening, but afterwards, when the pain was becoming a memory, things were different. Then he was there taking pictures with his phone and locking the bathroom door.


Heading home after the vacation, Simon tried to think things through. His aunt had only spanked him those two times, both of which were fixed forever in his mind. Both of which had been awful while they were happening but in retrospect...

Confusion.

Simon knew that it would be a year before he saw his aunt again. A year in which she might decide that he was now too old to spank. A year for Simon to come up with another pack of smokes and...

'She'd never believe I accidentally smoked in front of her again.' Simon realised. 'But maybe if I got some fake chewing tobacco... There's got to be a gum that looks like chaw. But only if I want her to do it again.'

Thinking things over his mind, Simon quickly bypassed that last question to focus on where to get fake chewing tobacco.

Goodgulf
Edited April 13, 2013

[Often123]

Simon might have been long overdue, but Aunt Sophie made up for it. A spanko is born.

[johncook]

All that work just so he could get spanked and jerk off? He should have been smoking weed. That would have taken the edge off.

[goodgulf]

Thanks to all who took the time to comment.

Simon might have been long overdue, but Aunt Sophie made up for it. A spanko is born.

I'm thinking that he was a spanko long before he was ever spanked. What I was going for was the "I'm into spankings but I've never been spanked" mindset.

All that work just so he could get spanked and jerk off? He should have been smoking weed. That would have taken the edge off.

Actually, I did think about that - but as something that would replace chew for the "spank me, I've been bad" reason for next summer.

Goodgulf

[imreadonly]

I particularly liked that he got it over the bare, and his embarassment over his "condition." However she might have taken advantage of it by gripping it between her thighs, making escape impossible....

Great story!!

[goodgulf]

I'm glad you liked it.

But in a way he was right. The form of lung cancer stalking their family has nothing to do with smoking.

Goodgulf

[goodgulf]

Edited, with a few new things added, on April 13, 2013.

Goodgulf
(Who has to allow stories to age before he can spot the typos)