tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20443674169499600842024-03-13T03:33:02.751-07:00Randy's RamblingsAll Stories are Copyright - 2011-2015Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger22125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044367416949960084.post-13193114692985089632013-01-16T09:44:00.002-08:002014-09-25T09:15:22.208-07:00Sick<div style="text-align: left;">
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<span id="yui_3_16_0_1_1411660672467_5319"><span id="yui_3_16_0_1_1411660672467_5318" style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">by Randy Williams</span></span></div>
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<span id="yui_3_16_0_1_1411660672467_5294"><span id="yui_3_16_0_1_1411660672467_5293" style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Tony always did think that Flame was a smart horse. Today, she clearly thought he was plum out of his mind.</span></span></div>
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<span id="yui_3_16_0_1_1411660672467_5298"><span id="yui_3_16_0_1_1411660672467_5297" style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The cold wind of the west Texas plain slammed into them. This was not the Marlboro Man's winterscape; this was blowing a half gale. Tony pushed his hat down firmly on his head and pulled his muffler around his lower face. Flame sidestepped again, wincing as the wind blew right at them, head-on. Nothing to stop this damn wind from Canada but a few dadburn cows. Still, chores had to be done and he had to be out here.</span></span></div>
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<span id="yui_3_16_0_1_1411660672467_5322"><span id="yui_3_16_0_1_1411660672467_5321" style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Thankfully, there was not much to do around this part of the ranch. It was in the small valleys where the cows stayed. Still, they had to get there. Pack tethered behind, Flame snorted and Tony was sure the horses were thinking they needed someone smart to come to his senses. There was a warm barn back at home. Still, Tony stood in his stirrups. There was the valley, he marked in his mind. Once they were down the side, the wind calmed down and both the horses perked right up. Here, there was snow – not the blowing grit of the plains. Tony started to hunt.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>~ * ~</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Mark was in a foul mood. He slammed the barn door and latched it as he sneezed, twice. Bess, their milk cow, snorted and the two cows there that were barbed wire cut started at the sudden sound. Mark had been under the weather for two days now and he was frankly sick of it. He mopped his streaming eyes and blew his nose again. He knew he should be in bed with a warm whiskey and water at his elbow and the fire stoked high, but there was work to do. He kicked at the bale of straw.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">He was in charge. This was their ranch. He knew ranchin' and so did Tony, but that was no reason for that man to tell him – TELL HIM – to stay in bed. That man is getting above himself, thought Mark. Yet, he knew the LOOK Tony aimed at him when he'd tried to get out from under the covers that morning...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">"You get that hot butt under the covers and stay in bed!” Tony barked.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Mark tried to give him that LOOK back. He was a man and there were chores. Then Tony, moving like lightning, gave him a series of smacks on his ass until he sat down. Damn, he was strong. Then very calmly, Tony went to the dresser and picked up the huge wooden-backed hairbrush and pointedly set it on his nightstand. Then snapped his fingers.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">"Bed, or bed with a sore butt! Your choice,” he snapped. "I am not nursing you through the damn flu. If you rest now, we can stop it. You get sicker by trying to do chores, you are going to be over my knee, my boy!” he said, in a near perfect mimic of Mark's Top growl.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>~ ~ ~</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Mark rubbed at his still warm butt with his hand. He sneezed again and pulled out the milking stool and went to Bess's stall. Leaning his fevered head against the warm flank of the cow, he began to milk her. Once that was done, he cleaned out her stall and then the stalls of the horses and the two injured cows. Horse nickered at him and bumped his head against Mark's chest. The bump was a friendly greeting but Mark, feeling ill, was almost knocked off his feet. They spent a few minutes together, Mark rubbing and brushing his horse then feeding the stock. He grabbed the full wheelbarrow of dirty straw and stable dirt and made it to the door. He turned around pulling the barrow, using his back and butt to open the door. That damn Texas wind grabbed the door and it slammed into the wall. Even here in the shelter of the ranch yard it was still blowin' hard. His gloves were in his pocket since he took them off to milk. Bess didn't like cold fingers anymore than he did. His hands were numb and he was panting by the time he emptied the waste and headed back. Then he scattered the chicken feed in the chicken house, finding a few missed eggs from early morning.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">He checked the woodpile and then setting the eggs down, he took the ax and started to chop some more wood. This took a lot longer than he usually took. He had to stop quite a few times, breathing hard and wiping at his eyes and blowing his nose. Still, he had a good cord done. He filled the woodbox and stoke up the fire. Then brought in more wood to refill the woodbox and brought more up to the porch.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The outside chores done, he went back inside the house and went to the small door at the side of the fireplace. He grinned at this. When they'd added this little room, they'd taken a lot of time in the summer to lay clay pipes under the floor of the cabin. And in this little room, they arranged a damper that could be opened and closed to let more heat from the fire in to warm the small place and to keep it comfortable. This was where they and built the bathing room. The warmth from the fireplace warmed the one solid wall and the clay pipes channeled the heated air under the huge galvanized tub. Tony had read about this from one of his books. This made the room warm and even kept the water tanks warm, with an added fire under the copper so they could have hot baths and the water stayed warmer than a small tub sitting in front of the fireplace. Mark lit the fire and started to carry water. Once the copper was full, he carried two more to the sink to do the morning dishes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Taking a wicker basket, he thought for a minute about putting on his coat and gloves, but he just made a dash to the barn. Damn, it was even colder, he thought as he entered the barn and then to the storeroom. He wasn't feeling hungry but Tony would be. He chose a hunk of the cold, raw bison meat. And then he added some potatoes and carrots from the garden, still fresh and sound. He grabbed an onion from the string hanging over his head, then backed out of the storeroom.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br />As he pulled the door shut, he stepped back right into the arms of Tony. With a yelp, he dropped the basket as Tony's arms tightened around his waist.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">"Just what part of 'stay in bed' didn't you understand, boy? Where in hell is your coat?" Tony said, steadying his lover in his arms.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">"Damn, I didn't hear you... you scared the sick right out of me!" Mark gasped.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">"I thought I'd get some dinner started is all, Tony. That's all. I just dashed out here to get the meat and the vegetables!" Then he sneezed three times running.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Tony sighed, cocking his hat on his head and said, "The clean barn? Santa's elves?" He growled as he removed his leather duster and began to roll up his shirt sleeves. Then Tony's hand dropped to his waist and began to pull his belt out of its keepers. "Mark, you need to listen. I am not gonna have you work yourself into the flu. I don't care if you are a Top or not, you are behavin' like a brat and it is time for you to get that message!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">His strong arm pulled Mark over to the two bales and pushed him over them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">"Tony! I'm sick. You can't do this when I'm sick," Mark complained as he felt his lover loosen his belt and open his jeans.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Tony folded the belt double and held Mark down over the bales. "Well I am doing it, boy !" he barked as he brought the leather down hard across Mark's bared butt with a solid crack. "I will whup you as needed, boy!" The belt cracked again and again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Tony went to work and landed a good even dozen licks across his lover's bare butt. Each one carried his displeasure at Mark's failing to care for his health and making Tony worry</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Mark's fine male ass went from its natural state to a glowing red!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">"Now, get that butt in the house, boy, before I find a switch!” he barked, rethreading his now warm belt in his pant loops and helping Mark to his feet. "March!" he commanded as his hand cracked across the firm jean clad butt.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Mark marched.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Tony rubbed down and took care of Flame and Pack. He had set the Christmas tree on the porch. Then he entered the warm cabin</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Mark was waiting, and then they both went into the bathing room. Stripping off their clothing, they were able to both get into the huge tub of hot water. Mark, for what might have been the first time, experienced what a well-strapped butt feels like when it encounters hot water. They lay together, soaking up the heat and each other, for a time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Later, they both climbed out and Mark bent to pull the plug in the tub. As he did that, Tony's hand ghosted up and down his spanked butt, and then Tony began to dry Mark's body. Mark pulled Tony and they both finished drying by the fire in the cabin.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Mark was drying his hair and the towel was over his head as he began to grump. "I think you are getting way too good at that," he said, as his hand rubbed his still stinging bare butt. "I am the Top around here, boy. You are getting just a little too full of yourself."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">His grumbling was cut off suddenly when, with a crack, that hairbrush landed on his left cheek. Mark jerked and roared but that was just the time Tony needed. And in a second, Mark was bent naked over Tony's naked body as the hairbrush spanked his damp, bare butt, driving home the messages of Tony's displeasure.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">"I will warm this butt anytime you are going to ignore taking care of your health, Mark and don't you forget it. I told you you had a choice," he added as the hairbrush cracked down across those muscular butt cheeks. "Stay in bed or deal with this hairbrush, and I am going to drive home that point!" Tony said as he landed the hairbrush across the bent over cheeks of his Top and his lover. "You are mine, and you are not going to be doing silly things, if I have to reteach you just who is the Top around here. Now get in that bed and stay there!" Tony punctuated the last sentence with a lick for every word.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Mark was shocked at the sheer sting of that brush. He had used it before on Tony, and they both liked to play with leather and spanking, but the brush was for correction.</span></div>
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<span id="yui_3_16_0_1_1411660672467_5350"><span id="yui_3_16_0_1_1411660672467_5349" style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Trying hard to keep some sort of Topness, he barely restrained a flop on the bed. He hugged the pillow and he felt the bed sink as Tony got on the bed. Tony held a small clay pot of salve and he slowly began rubbing it over Mark's strong, wide shoulders and down to his lower back, avoiding the glowing red-hot butt. Tony continued to massage Mark's legs and feet, then rolled him over. Manfully, Mark suppressed a yelp when his well-spanked butt came in contact with the mattress. Then Tony began on his chest and lower down; his strong hands were firm but gentle. The salve had a fresh scent and there was a slight warming feeling.</span></span></div>
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<span id="yui_3_16_0_1_1411660672467_5346"><span id="yui_3_16_0_1_1411660672467_5345" style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Once that was done, Tony got back up and washed his hands well. Then he held out a clean, warm nightshirt, put the nightshirt on Mark, and pulled back the sheets. The bath and the massage with the relaxing salve was working and Mark was beginning to doze. Tony snuggled up against his back. He chuckled as his groin pressed up against Mark's still hot butt. He nibbled at Marks ear, grinding his hips into the heated butt.</span></span></div>
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<span id="yui_3_16_0_1_1411660672467_5342"><span id="yui_3_16_0_1_1411660672467_5341" style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">"I could get to like going to bed like this," Tony said in a low voice.</span></span></div>
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<span id="yui_3_16_0_1_1411660672467_5338"><span id="yui_3_16_0_1_1411660672467_5337" style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Holding his partner/Top/lover in his arms, they both drifted off to sleep as the cold winter wind continued to sweep across the Texas countryside.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The End</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044367416949960084.post-21860698522451943802012-11-15T18:46:00.002-08:002012-11-15T18:46:09.736-08:00The Accident<pre>
"Peter Jackson speaking."
"Mr. Jackson? Are you the Peter Jackson that lives at 3405 Maple St.?"
"Yes, what is this about?"
"Are you a contact of Mr. Russell Jackson of the same address?"
"Yes, what has happened?" Peter snapped, holding the phone tight to his ear.
"Mr. Jackson, this is Gladys from Safety Net. We've filed an accident report:
with air bags deployed, at a site in the city. Mr. Russell Jackson has you as a
source of contact. Paramedics were sent when no contact could be made for Mr.
Jackson. They are on scene and are transferring him by medevac helicopter to St.
Michaelmas Hospital. You should go there as soon as you safely can. Can I call
you a taxi?"
Peter sat down hard; he had come to his feet when the second question was asked.
Now he held the phone and stared out the window of his office. He could not seem
to get air into his chest. The phone was a bother like a buzzing – he absently
hung it up without saying a word. He couldn't seem to breathe. Russell, he
thought... Russell's been in an accident.
He didn't notice his office door opening. Robert came in, and with one look at
Peter; he pressed his friend's head down between his knees. Peter, feeling the
hand, started to fight the movement when Robert's voice cut though the fog in
his brain.
"Breath, Peter. Breath. Stay still."
Robert played rugby, and Peter had no choice but to stay where he was. Slowly,
the fog began to clear. Peter was breathing and he was suddenly covered in a
cold clammy sweat. He started to shiver as his body temperature dropped... due
to the shock.
He heard a muttered 'bloody hell' and Peter was on his office floor with his
legs up on his couch cushions, a warm cloth was being wiped over his face, and
he could hear Robert's voice.
"Peter, Peter... come on, mate, stay with me here, Peter." And felt a sharp slap
to his face. With his legs up, and his blood pressure returning to normal, he
raised his hand and caught Robert's before it could slap him again.
"I'm all right," he muttered.
"Like hell! You damn near passed right out. Just lay there and breathe before
Rose calls 911 would ya, please? Just lay there and breath. You want me to call
Russ, Alan? Lay down, mate, or so help me I'll keep you down. What is it?"
"Accident. Russell. Safety Net called he's at St. Michaelmas Hospital. I have to
get there... they couldn't talk to Russ. I have to go."
Peter tried to get up. Robert pushed him back down to the floor.
"You're not going anywhere, mate, just lay still for a second. Rose, get some
water or something... he's as white as a sheet. No, don't call 911, just get
some water."
Robert kept his hand on Peter chest. The roaring in Peter's ears faded away.
"There, you're getting better. Let's keep you down, and I'll find out what's
happening."
At that, the intercom buzzed. Robert picked the phone up.
"Yes Lacy, what's up? No, they called Peter too... he is in a state — almost
passed out. Yes, Michaelmas Hospital. No, I don't know... they didn't say. You
do? God, you're a treasure. OK. He should be on his feet when you get here. Can
you go with him? I'll get Alan. Great! OK, see you in a few."
Rose set the water on the desk, and together they helped Peter into his chair.
He was breathing better and his color was returning — and he felt like a fool.
Rose handed him the water and kept her hand on the glass as she helped him take
a sip. He glared at her.
"Don't you be glaring at me, young man. You do as your are told. I have you now,
relax. You don't know anything, so just breathe and take a few more sips...
we'll get this sorted. You just sit there and don't cause me any more trouble.
Lacy will be here in a minute and you will go with her to the hospital. You just
sit still. We secretaries have it under control — Administrative Professionals
to you, young man."
Her soft hand wiped his face with the cloth again. Her gentle movements at odds
with her stern voice. She was the go-to person on his floor. She had been at the
company for ages and did not suffer fools well. However, if she felt you were
good at your job, she was a godsend of help on how to get things done. She
stepped back as Lacy entered the office, carrying a leather portfolio and her
purse and coat.
"Come on, Peter, the cab is waiting. We'll get your car to you at the hospital,
but I don't want you driving now."
She ushered all of them out of the office, hugged Rose, and told her to mind the
fort. Then told Robert to go collect Alan from his office and take him to the
hospital, but to come inside because she might need wheels. She waited for
Robert to get his cell phone from his desk and gave him Alan's office address,
and they descended in the elevator. The cab was waiting at the main door, and
they were off.
Peter was just staring out the window as the cab moved though the heavy
mid-morning traffic. He was feeling lost. He wanted Russ – he wanted this to all
be a bad dream.
"Let me wake up," he muttered.
Lacy looked at him, and gave him a quick tight hug.
"Peter honey, you are awake. We don't know what has happened, but he's in a good
hospital. I have all the medical stuff here," she said, pointing at the
portfolio. "Yours, Alan's, and Russell's so we have that covered. Now listen to
me and listen carefully. You are going to have to be strong for Alan and for
Russell. I know it's hard and I know you don't want to. However, you don't have
a choice. Alan is going to be a mess just as you are, but we are going to need
at least one of you together. So pull it together young man. You can do this.
Just think of how Russell would handle it and you'll be fine!"
She brushed her fingers though his hair and kissed him on the cheek.
"We need strength right now," she added. "If you want to wail and scream and
break down you can, but not now. I promise you I will find a place for you to
vent but for now you have to be that tower of strength for your partners. You
may have to be harsh with Alan. You might have to be very hard just to get him
through the next few hours. That is OK; he'll understand when he calms down.
However, for now you have to be the rock. Can you hold your family together? Can
you do this for Russell? Can you be strong for him and for Alan?"
Her words were hammering at him. He was a man and he was a grown up. Sure he was
also a brat but that was private. Russell was the Top, and he was the man in
charge. Peter had Topped Alan many times and had been Topped by Russell for
years. Still, he knew that wasn't just for the bedroom; it was where he felt
safe. Russ always handled the big stuff. They all wanted that. Russell was a
Top; it was stamped on him — through him – and it felt so good when Peter saw
him take charge. He blushed slightly, knowing that many times that included him
being placed over Russ' knee for a hard spanking, but that too made him feel
safe. Now, there was no safety net. He had to man up; he hated the thought of
it. He knew how. Hell, he had lived it for years.
Lacy watch him as he held this internal discussion. She didn't know everything
about the relationship between the three men. She worked closely with Russell,
and was overjoyed when first Peter entered his life, then a bit shocked and lost
when Alan joined them a few years later. Still, she didn't pry. She had had a
great deal of respect for Russell and she knew him to be a good man. She was his
Administrative Assistant and she knew Russell very well and watched and helped
the company grow. She was pleased each time she met 'the boys' as Russell called
them. They were well behaved and polite. She grinned at the thought of the night
Russell asked her if Peter could be put to work at the company. Russell was so
worried about showing any favoritism that she had to talk him down a few times
when Peter had made the few mistakes that he made.
She saw Peter straighten in the seat, and his head came up and his shoulders
went back. He scrubbed his face with his hands for a second. Then he nodded at
her.
"Yes, Mrs. Wilson, I will. I can do this as long as I have you here to help."
The cab stopped at the emergency entrance and they went into the emergency room.
Peter seemed to grow as he walked across to the emergency room front desk. Lacy
Wilson saw him take charge, in his head, as he gave the nurse his name and
Russell's. He got a curt nod and the obsequious clipboard full of forms. Lacy
Wilson opened the portfolio and looked at the forms. She quickly replaced each
one with one already filled out. She had done this each year, updating as she
went. She had a set for each of the men. Russell's was finished the second week
of the year and Alan's had been updated just recently.
The nurse looked with suspicion at the completed paperwork, but accepted it
along with the verification of Russell's personal doctor and his insurance card.
No, she didn't know what had happened, and she didn't have any information as of
yet. She just knew that he had been brought in by the paramedics and the doctors
were working on him. She would get the information as soon as they knew
anything. Please have a seat, she would call them when she knew something.
Robert entered the lobby of Alan's office building; he had called the
supervisor's phone number. She was waiting for him, and took him through to the
call center. Alan was at his cubicle working on a call when Robert touched Alan
on the shoulder. Alan looked up in confusion.
"Alan? I'm Robert. I work with Peter. Peter wanted me to come and get you. There
has been an accident."
Alan's face went pale, and he disconnected his call. His supervisor told him it
was OK, and he should go with Robert. Sara looked over her cubicle, with a
question on her face, as Alan gathered his jacket and his messenger bag. She
reached out to touch his arm as he stood.
Robert swiftly told Alan what he knew — that Russell had been in an accident,
and he was to take Alan to the hospital. They would sort out cars later. Peter
said he didn't want Alan to drive. It was a long silent drive as Robert drove;
he glanced over to see the pale face of Alan as he sat hunched in the car seat.
Alan flew out of the car as they pulled into the ER driveway, and dashed though
the door. Alan threw himself into Peter's arms and hugged him; his breath
hitching . Peter held him tight, whispering: "I've got you, babe. I have you
now... deep breathes. I need you to keep it together till we know something, can
you do that? Huh, Babe? Just maintain until we find out, OK?"
Alan could hear the worry and pain in Peter's voice; he stayed locked in his
arms drawing on Peter's warmth and strength. With a nod, he wiped his eyes with
the back of his hand and straighten. Peter could see the gesture. It made Alan
look so young and so vulnerable with the tears streaking down his face. Lacy
handed him a Kleenex and he blew his nose, and then threw himself onto a seat.
Lacy took Robert aside. Swiftly she gave him instructions – he was to go back to
the office and get Peter and Alan's keys first, then get their cars and drive
them to their house, taking one of the people in the pool to help. Lacy had
gotten ahold of one of the company's drivers and rented a car. He was to arrive
at the hospital, and he would take care of getting all of them where they needed
to be. Once done, Robert was to fill in for Peter but he was to keep his cell
on. She didn't think she would need him but something might come up. Then she
joined the boys to wait.
***
Russell had been running a bit late. He had seen his boys off to work, spending
a bit more time today with Alan since he didn't need to be in until 10 am. They
all had breakfast and then Peter left for work. Alan and Russ had spent a few
minutes, after kissing Peter goodbye, discussing dinner and the plans to go food
shopping. Alan was slowly taking over that chore for all of them as his cooking
abilities improved. Still, Russ was more than happy to go shopping with him
since he was more interested in food than Peter — who would eat anything, they
both chuckled. Alan rolled his eyes. They might be able to go after work when
Alan got home about 8 pm. Or if that was too late they might go the next day,
which was Friday, and Alan had that day off this week.
Russ was pointing out that pork chops were great but there was nothing wrong
with a leg of lamb either. Alan had never even thought of lamb. So they were
looking though cookbooks and thinking about lamb when Alan glanced at the clock
and let out a curse, it was 9:30 he best get a move on or he would be late and
that old bitch would have things to say. Russ swatted him on the jeans for the
old bitch remark, and kissed him thoroughly. They walked out to Alan's car and
he kissed Alan again as Alan slid into the driver's seat.
Then pulling out his cell, Russ called Lacy Wilson and asked if anything new was
happening and he would be in about 10 or so.
Russ got into his Lexus and started down the drive. He was mentally reviewing
his day – the contracts had been signed so that was off the burner, however the
Morrison account needed looking into. Maybe he should call Lacy to set up a
lunch date with Morrison. Thinking of the lunch date, he wondered to himself if
he should look into having Alan take some lessons at the cooking school or to
see if they offered courses at the local community college. Maybe he would want
to become a chef. The call center wasn't going to do much for him; he found it a
boring job but the pay was OK and he did have benefits. Still, Russ thought; as
he drove down the street, he isn't enjoying work. It's just some place he goes.
Maybe he should talk to Peter about it—get his opinion—when out of the corner of
his eye he saw the front-end of a pickup coming right at him. A split second
before impact he wondered: where was that stop sign?
The front-end of the pickup slammed into the passenger's side front panel and
the passenger's side door. The Lexus' safety systems took over, locking the seat
belt. Russ was hurled toward the passenger's side, then stopped as the seat belt
locked. The kinetic energy caused the side air curtains to deploy. The seat belt
stopped his side movement and the force pulled him back hard against the
driver's side air curtain. His briefcase, on the passenger's seat, became a
missile; its hard handle cracked him on the temple, opening up a laceration
before rocketing back toward the floor well. The force of the accident pushed
the Lexus sideways, and Russ' hands were not in control. He was pushed into the
other lane and another car plowed into his on the drivers side, causing the
front air bags to deploy, trapping him between two cars. The sensor alerted the
Safety Net System to send out an alert, and the paramedics were called. The
force of the accident, and the restrains of the seat belt, caused a rip in Russ'
liver and he began to bleed internally. Paramedics were on the scene in less
than three minutes. The driver of the truck had not been using his seat belt and
the steering wheel crushed his chest, causing a rib bone to punctured his heart
and caused him to die at the scene. The other driver was unhurt, so the
paramedics only had to worry about Russ. They noted loss of consciousness and
possible liver damage. Due to the seriousness of the injury, the Safe Flight was
called. The paramedics reported no evidence of period of lucidity they landed in
less than four minutes at the hospital. Russ was rushed in for a CAT scan and
emergency operation. Both showed a slight midline shift, and a tear to the
liver. The internal bleeding was stopped, and the scalp laceration was sewn up.
He did not regain consciousness. The hope clearly was that since his body and
mind were quiet and focused on internal function, the liver would have it's best
environment to heal.
The ER doctor talked to the surgeon and the neurosurgeon. The neurosurgeon was
worried about a subdural hematoma. The surgeon was worried about the liver
laceration — but at the moment the patient was stable, and was transferred to
the ICU. Dr. Kurt Ward, the surgeon , rubbed his hand over his face as he walked
to the consulting room, hearing the page for Peter Jackson.
Kurt Ward was there, and waiting, when the three people entered the small room.
The older guy looked about 23, the younger guy looked about 20 – his eyes were
red, and his hand was clutched in the other guy's hand. Following them was a
woman with a leather portfolio and a no-nonsense air.
He was tired; he was just finishing up his 10 hour shift. He tried to look
hopeful but after 10 hours in the ER he knew it didn't work.
Alan leaned against the desk and demanded to be taken to Russell. Dr. Ward was
used to the way people handled stress; he wasn't offended. He saw Peter pull
Alan down onto a chair, putting both his hand on Alan's arms, keeping him there
with a stern look.
"I've got this, Babe!" he commanded.
It was a tone that made Alan look away and then down to his feet, Kurt grinned
seeing the younger man being brought up so short and so calmly. He did know
about brats, and Alan reeked of one. Peter looked like he was in charge, but he
looked very unsure when he wasn't looking at Alan, and he looked more toward the
woman as she cleared her voice.
"Doctor, I'm Lacy Wilson, Mr. Jackson's Administrative Assistant. This is Peter
Jackson, his partner, and Alan Jordan his other partner." She made the
introductions. "What can you tell us?"
Dr. Ward cleared his throat and answered her. "So far, Mr. Jackson has had a
serious accident. He suffered a tear in his liver, and the neurosurgeon is
concerned about a possible subdural hematoma. Due to the liver tear, he has lost
a great deal of blood. He was bleeding internally when they brought him in. We
were able to stop that, but the liver is very fragile right now. He has not
regained consciousness and was unconscious at the scene. We have done a CAT scan
and we are concerned about a midline shift. So in effect; he's in a coma. The
machines are helping him breathe and the automatic body functions are working at
this time. Due to the strain on the liver we have left the head injury alone at
this time. He is in the ICU right now and being monitored continuously."
Kurt was speaking slowly as Lacy Wilson was writing all this down. He noticed
Alan get even whiter, and Kurt reached for an ampule of smelling salts should
the kid pass out. He heard Peter gasp, and then wasn't sure which guy might need
the attentions of a doctor first. Alan turned toward Peter, and said with a
quiver, "Pete?" As Alan stood, Peter engulfed him in his arms and clung to him.
Alan was clinging to Peter and he was softly crying on his shoulder. Kurt saw
Peter hold him closely but kept his eyes on Lacy. She smiled at him and he
nodded.
***
The salt sea breeze and the roll of the waves were making Russell very drowsy.
He drained his beer and put the empty back into the cooler. As he dropped the
empty in the cooler, his hand touched the melting ice. He grinned and picked up
a small melted piece. He glanced over to Art who appeared to be asleep on his
blanket; his eyes covered by his sunglasses and his hand relaxed by his sides.
"Don't even think it, boy!"
Russ heard, but it was too late and the chip of ice was in the air and landed on
Art's chest. With a whoop, Russ was up and running from the blankets toward the
surf.
"Why, you little brat. I am gonna tan me some tail, boy." Art roared, and was
after him in a flash.
Art heard Russ' laughter as he ran into the surf. He tried to dive in and swim
away but he didn't take into account the training Art had as a younger man. Art
easily caught him and threw him over his shoulder, slapping his hand down on the
wet speedos, inches from his head. Art carried him out of the surf. Russ was
giggling and laughing as Art's hand continued to spank his upturned bottom. Then
he heard Art grunt. He was carried across the sand to a palm tree; which was
growing first up about three feet, then it made a graceful turn to grow up
higher and higher, making a seat just high enough for a man to sit on. Art sat
down and draped Russ across his speedoed lap and then started to spank his
upturned bum — the licks landing with a sharp sting and burn. Russ was kicking
and begging and promising to be good, all the while, giggling and laughing as
Art spanked his butt.
"I can see these have to come down, boy." Art growled as his hand hooked inside
the scant material of the skimpy swimsuit, peeling the tight material down and
away from Russ' naked butt.
"Now I have me a bare butt to work on!"
Art grunted as his hand spanked that bare upturned butt.
Russ could feel Art's cock swell inside his swimsuit, and his own cock was
responding to the spanking as it always did when they were playing. The stinging
took on an erotic heat. Soon, he was moaning and humping his butt up into the
air to meet that hand.
"Now I have you where I want you, boy."
He heard Art chuckle as he was lifted and carried to the blankets. His swimsuit
was removed. Looking up he could see his man — powerful, strong, and naked — his
cock hard and proud. Russ rolled onto his belly, and smiled as Art straddled
him. Leaning forward, Art kissed the back of his neck; his tongue tasting the
salt spray of the ocean. Then he ran his tongue into Russ' ear. Russ' butt was
hot and stinging, making his cock react as he pressed it into the blanket. He
heard the sound of the lube opening, and the feeling of the cool gel, then with
a gasp; he felt Art's hard cock at his opening — probing, sliding up and down,
then demanding entrance. With a moan of lust, Russ relaxed and Art's hard cock
entered his lover's body. They were moving as one — back and forth — their
pleasure rising and climbing, raw male and powerful, until they both reached
climax... at the same time. With a hoarse shout, Art held him tight as his hard
cock shot, and then Russ' shot underneath him. Art started to move off .
"Don't!" Russ whined. "Just stay there on top of me a bit longer. I love it when
you Top me — totally all warm and sexy."
Art lay back down on his lover, feeling his heated butt and the sigh of
contentment, as he gathered the boy in his arms.
"This is the best vacation, Sir." Russ muttered into his arm.
"Just you and me alone on this island, what could be better?"
Russ flexed his butt just to let Art know he was still there, and he felt the
kiss on his shoulder blade.
"Not much, my boy, not much," Art whispered.
That night Art cooked steaks on the grill, and they made love on the huge wide
hammock on the wide porch — all night — laying and making love. Hearing their
moans of pleasure and the roll of the surf, each man took his fill of the other.
***
Russ was alone. It was cold, and his head hurt. He didn't know where he was, but
he knew he was looking for something. He heard strange beeps from machines. One
of them kept getting louder and louder. He looked around for Art... for the
beach... for anything, but there was nothing but a white place. The beeping kept
getting louder, and his head hurt worse. He cried out. To his surprise, he heard
his voice — deeper and in pain; crying out not for Art, but for Peter and Alan.
Just before he passed out, he wondered: who the hell were Peter and Alan, and
where was Art? Then he felt alone and cold again. Empty. He was drifting. He
didn't know were he was. Everything hurt. He was cold and naked. Art... he had
to find Art. Art would help. He called, and he seemed to walk forever, but he
didn't seem to be moving. Tears were running down his cheeks. He needed to find
Art . He was so alone and so cold.
"Art!" he screamed. "Where are you?"
Then he was warm and in a dark room. He had the ghost of that terrible headache
and he still felt chilled. He looked over and he knew this room, and he grinned
at the form in the bed beside him. With a trembling hand he reached out. He was
so frightened that his hand would past though Art's body. Yet is was warm and
solid. He could feel his heartbeat and could smell the Old Spice aftershave he
used. Russ has teased him about that for years. Now, it was the most comforting
scent he could think of. He moaned softly, and lay his head on Art's chest. His
arm reaching around Art in an embrace. There was a sleepy response as Art's arm
went around his waist. He heard a sleepy query.
"Bad dream?"
"The worst!" he replied, and then felt the weight of sleep pull at him, pulling
tightly. He clung to Art's warm strong body as he fell asleep.
***
Kurt Ward's beeper went off for the tenth time. He tried to explain to Alan, the
younger, why he just could not see Russ. He sighed, and pulled out the beeper.
He said he had a emergency and he had to go. He rushed out of the consulting
room and down to the ICU in time to see Russ' bed being pushed down to the
emergency operating room. The interns were reading off the readings from the
machines. He opened the door to the scrub room where the neurosurgeon was
scrubbing at the sink. It was the damned subdural hematoma; they would have to
go in and drain it. Did he want to assist? Kurt started to scrub in — his mind
blocking out the vision of the two young scared-looking men and the lady in the
waiting room as he started to do his job for the 12th hour of the day.
The ER nurse came into the room looking at the two young men with worry written
all over their faces. She briskly ordered them out, then kindly mentioned that
the added surgery would take hours to complete and perhaps they should go home
get something to eat and get some sleep. She said she had their phone number and
would call. Peter's face took on the totally stubborn look, and Alan just shook
his head. The nurse looked at Lacy and sighed. Then suggested they should at
least get something to eat and directed them to the cafeteria.
Lacy led them to the cafeteria. She tried to avoid the coffee and anything high
in caffeine. Alan got some chocolate milk; Peter grabbed a coffee. Lacy could
see they were both a mess. Alan kept saying he just wanted to see Russ — what
the hell was wrong with that? Peter was getting fed up, and when Alan said he
was going to find Russ and Russ' room, Peter's hand slammed down on the table
and he started to inform Alan what he could and what he could not do. Both young
men were stressing out — worry and the lack of any knowledge was driving them
all a bit spare. Lacy was as worried as the boys were.
Finally she stood up.
"This is what we are going to do!" she said, in a forceful tone. "There's a car
from the motor pool outside. Robert has it, and he is going to take you two
home." She held up her hand like a traffic cop. "I don't what to hear it, I
don't, you are going home! We are not going to live in this drafty hospital.
Robert's taking us to your home and then I am going back to the office. The
doctors and the nurses have all numbers. You two are going home. NOW."
With that she began walking to the exit. Peter looked shocked but got up. Alan
cursed and followed as well. Soon they were in the car and headed home. Robert
pulled into the driveway and Lacy got out with Peter and Alan.
"Are you two going to be fine here? I can stay, but frankly I think you both
need some time to relax a bit. Grab a shower and get some sleep; this is going
to be a very very long day and a very bad one. We can do this... we can... and
we will get though it all in one piece — just stay put." She glared at Alan, and
repeated, "STAY PUT."
For the first time, Peter grinned at the look on Alan's face.
"We'll be fine, Ms. Wilson, and we'll both stay put. They'll call here, or your
office, and we're better off here than haunting the hallways and waiting rooms
of the hospital.
Thank you for everything."
Lacy Wilson hugged Peter and then Alan.
"It's Lacy to both of you. Now, get inside and try to relax. You need to lean on
each other now... Russ would demand it," she said, and kissed them both and went
back to the car in the drive.
Peter was enveloped in a tight hug from Alan. Alan began to cry softly as Peter
moved them both upstairs.
Peter quickly stripped them both, and pushed Alan into the huge shower in the
bathroom. Both men washed each other gently. After they dried, Peter took Alan
into his arms; holding him tight as they lay on the huge bed — now so empty
without their Top.
Robert pulled in front of the building and dropped Lacy off at the entrance. She
hurried though the door up to the offices of the company. Entering her own
office she then walked though to Russ' office. The late afternoon sun was
streaming though the windows as she sat down, hard, on the couch. She was
exhausted trying to keep things in check, and trying to keep Alan and Peter on
track had taken a lot of effort. Still, it had kept her own fears in the
background. Now with nothing to hold them back, they came rushing forward and
with a sob she began to cry. Suddenly, she felt a warm hand on her shoulder and
Rose was there, holding out a glass dark with whiskey.
"Here, Love, take a sip... you need it"
Rose sat down next to her, picked up her own drink, and put her arm around
Lacy's shoulders. Lacy sighed, and relaxed into the one-armed hug as she took a
healthy pull of her drink and let the warmth run though her. Then they sat in
the late afternoon sunlight waiting for a call.
***
Russ wanted to go out to the bars and Art had said: not tonight. Russ argued and
argued. He wanted to go out, damn it. With a bang, he slammed the bedroom door
and started to get dressed. He was NOT going to stay in this house, he was going
out. Suddenly, his arms were trapped at his sides as Art grabbed him in a hug.
Russ was struggling and yelling. He was going to do what he wanted to do. He
yelled. He wasn't going stay home and be here with this old FART!
Art marched him to a corner of the bedroom and pushed Russ into the corner. With
a curse, Russ bounced out and turned. Art's large hand swatted his butt. Clad in
just his briefs it stung. The force of the swat pushed him back into the corner.
"Stay put, brat," Art said, his voice was calm. Russ reared out of the corner
only to meet Art's large descending hand. The hand spanked hard across Russell's
butt with a loud crack.
"Corner," Art said again.
"No!" Again the hand landed. "Stop that!" Russ yelled.
"Corner. NOW!"
With a yank, Russ was pulled against Art's hip, bending his brat over. Art began
to land hard stinging swats across the thin cotton briefs. Above the sound of
the spanking came the yelping and gasping as Art administered the first real
spanking Russ had ever received.
"I want to go OUT!" Russ yelled, stamping in frustration.
Art's voice was calm.
"You have made that very clear, brat. However, I said: no you are not going out,
you are staying here. You have been out every night this week, and you still
have chores and work to do. You can have a night here getting your chores and
your work done or you can do the work and the chores with a hot sore butt — it
is your choice. Now are we going to continue this discussion with the paddle, or
are you going to behave? You don't scare me, brat, I can handle you, and I know
you are upset but this is what we decided. Your temper might have scared off
other men that didn't care as much for you as I do, but I know you. I won't
leave... I won't allow you to push me around or away. You are mine as much as I
am yours!"
Art's hand was just resting on the heated butt of his brat as he spoke in a
calm, measured tone. Art had seen this building — he knew there was going to be
a show down and he was determined to win. They had discussed their relationship
several times. He knew that Russ had never had anyone who would take the time
and the effort to stand up to his temper. Each time his temper won, Russ was
left alone and in a worse space than when he had started. Art had seen it before
and he knew it might look, to an outsider, like he was forcing himself on Russ.
However, Art knew this was a façade. He needed to get though it, and he needed
Russ to understand he was not afraid of him or his temper. It hurt him to see
his brat struggle, but he also knew that it was basically acting out. Russ was a
man-boy and he did not have the knowledge to understand the full force of what
this type of relationship was.
Russ had never been so angry; he was raging both inside and out. His butt was
smoking, and this bastard wasn't letting him go. He was grown up; he wasn't a
child. He didn't need to be told what to do. He was a man and he could do what
he wanted. Art didn't own him. The frustration was choking him; he could not
understand he just knew he was raging. His temper had always been very close to
the surface. He learned early that he could get his way by letting it out. That
scared him because somewhere inside he knew he wasn't in control of it. It was
like a wild thing: if he let it, that temper would take over. This was the first
man he met that didn't seem to be frightened by it. The temper scared Russ, but
Art didn't seem to be scared — not of Russ, not of the temper, not of anything.
No, his mind roared, he was going to do what he wanted to do. He reared up and
was ready to fight. No one was going to do this to him; he was in charge. The
thing was: he could not move a inch. Art's arm felt like it had become an iron
bar holding him down. He cursed and yelled, he tried to kick, and once, he even
tried to bite that hated force that was holding him down. All the time, Art's
other hand kept spanking and spanking. The sounds were of a titanic struggle.
Russ, however, could not move a inch. The frustration was so great that he
thought he could shoot beams of hate out of his eyes and destroy everything.
Still, the hand kept spanking.
Suddenly, the frustration bent just a little. A hard lick landed across his butt
and he howled. His face was wet. Tears were dripping down his face with that
slight — ever so slight — bend in that frustration. He felt like the entire
universe shifted. Then he was sobbing, crying, like a little boy. He was being
held by a man — and this man stayed, he didn't leave, he stayed. The hard licks
had stopped, but that arm — that arm of iron will — was still holding him in
place. The other hand was resting on his burning butt. He was safe. He knew it
like a huge blinding light engulfing the room. He was safe. This man loved him —
he stood by him, he spanked him, he cared for him... and he wasn't afraid. The
tone and the strength of the crying changed like great bouts of broken glass
were being expelled from his body. Russ sobbed and sobbed. The fear — the terror
of being alone — wasn't there. He could relax.
Art had seen it coming as well. Russ had been stiff, and the fear and the temper
were very much in control at the same time. Russ felt the frustration crack his
whole body flushed . It was an opening. Art saw it, and he continued to spank
that bared butt. He was not going to lose this man-boy he had grown to love...
he was not. His hand landed harder as he felt the break. He felt it. Though his
hand, and though his arm held Russ, he felt that frustration break.
That once hated hand began to rub up and down his back. A warm voice was above
him telling Russ: it was okay... let it go... you are loved... you are safe...
I've got you... over and over again. The words were like a benediction — warm,
not harsh and cold — full of warmth and caring. Russ cried and cried. It seemed
like hours went by... his face hurt, his eyes hurt, his chest hurt so bad yet
tears kept coming, slipping out of his eyes. He was lifted and laid down on his
side. Those arms, those hard strong arms, held him. The warm smell of Art was
everywere. He closed his eyes, and let sleep and healing take him.
Art felt like he had been coshed and run over by a raging bull. Once he was sure
that Russ was out like a light, he staggered into the living room, and collapsed
on a chair. With a quivering hand, he reached for the phone. Then the phone on
the other end picked up; he could not talk. All he could do was gasp.
"Phillip!"
"Art? What happened? Are you at home?" Came the concerned answer.
"Phillip!" It was all he could say as his own tears burst out of him.
"Hold on, Art, we're on the way." Came the calm reply.
Phillip entered the apartment, and took one look at Art slumped in the chair. He
went to the bar and poured a generous shot of brandy into a glass and held it to
Art. Robert, his partner, quietly went though the apartment, and found the
sleeping brat in the bedroom. The emotional toll was so great that Russ didn't
move as the light came on.
Robert looked at the sleeping brat. His butt had a reddened pattern of hand
prints and bruises. Looking carefully, and touching lightly, Robert determined
that the brat had gotten a serious spanking. He would be sore, and very very
tender for quite a few days, but there was no serious damage. Of course, he
grinned, the brat would feel like he had been skinned alive and dipped in acid.
Robert shut off the light and left the room. He made his way down the hall, and
he could hear that Phillip, his Top and partner, was helping Art. Well, right
now, he was just listening to the guilt and pain in Art's voice as he berated
himself for being too hard on his boy. Phillip looked sharply at Robert, and
caught his nod that things were OK before he sat back down on the chair across
from the suffering Top.
Art's words of self-castration were running down, and the silence was filling
the room. It was not a comfortable silence. Robert busied himself at the bar,
and returned to the chairs with a drink for Phillip and another brandy for Art.
He did not take either the couch or another chair, but knelt beside Phillip.
"I have always found this excessive breast-beating to be rather nauseating ."
Phillip said, in a cold authoritarian tone.
"You are a Top for God's sake, and for the sake of your brat act like one!" He
continued, his voice sharpening.
"I assume you held it together enough to call me after he fell asleep." He
drawled, in a faint scornful tone.
Robert had seen the evidence, and he thought the brat got nothing more than he
deserved. He continued gathering steam.
"You have been harping on us for weeks that he has been pushing and pushing. You
stepped up. This is what we do, and you know it, so stop it. I prepared you and
I know my skills, and you should have more faith in yours. I would not even let
you play if I didn't think you knew what you were doing. Now stop this, you
diminish both of us." Phillip's words hit home. Art flushed then looking at the
glass, he took a pull of the brandy. He sighed, and fell back into the chair.
"Sir?" Robert said. At Phillip's nod he continued. "Art, listen to me, I am a
brat. I know what a well-spanked butt looks and feels like," he said, grinning
at the man, then smiling at his Top. "You do too. Yes, he got a good spanking,
and from what we gather it was well-deserved. Everyone knows about the emotional
outpouring from the brat. We make it clear and are very vocal. There isn't much
said about the emotional beating the Top takes. Yes, you feel like you damn near
killed him, but I can tell you were in control, You had a fight and you won. I
don't think he will be broken or cowed. Sore? Sure. Thoughtful? We can but hope,
but then you know us brats... we can be very very fickle," he finished, grinning
up at his Top.
Phillip's hand cupped the side of his brat's face, in a gesture that was full of
love and caring, and answered his partners grin.
Phillip bullied Art into the shower and then into clean clothing. Robert checked
again on the sleeping brat then Phillip put Art to bed. As Art laid down, his
arm went around his brat. With a mummer of something, Russ' head found Art's
chest and Russ slipped deeper into sleep. As Art was drifting, he realized he
was now holding his prize – his brat and his love. With a deep sigh, Art fell
deeply asleep.
***
Alan woke up for just a brief second. He didn't know why he was in bed. Then it
all came rushing back. He gasped and then he began to tremble. He looked over at
Peter who was sharing the pillow. Alan grinned at the sight of Peter asleep.
Then the fact that Russ was not there – and was in a hospital without him, made
him slowly and very careful begin to ease his way out of the bed. He knew Peter
would say 'no' and he didn't care. Russell was HIS and he wanted to be with him.
He got out of the bed leaving Peter asleep. He didn't know where his keys were,
or Peter's keys, or actually how to get back to the hospital, but he was on his
way. He made his way downstairs, into the kitchen, and he opened the
refrigerator. He pulled out the container of chocolate milk and took a huge
pull. It looked like it was early evening to him, and he was sure he could just
walk into the hospital and act as if he was visiting. However, he wasn't sure
where Russ was. Taking another sip of milk he thought about that for a second.
He poured a glass of the milk, and walked into the downstairs family room.
Sitting down at the computer he turned it on and waited a short time for
everything to come online. There was an email from Lacy Wilson. 'Ahh... she will
know,' he thought, as he read the email.
Peter and Alan:
I have not heard anything as to Russ' condition since we left the Hospital. He
was still in surgery the last time I called . The surgical wing phone number is
555-7562
- Lacy
Alan looked at the clock, hmm, about twenty minutes ago. Alan called the number
and got the same answer: no, they didn't know, and no, they would not allow
visitors — not in ICU anyway, and certainly not until the patient was out of any
danger. The voice on the end of the phone lost, for just a moment, that
professional voice.
"You all are better off where you are than here, so stay put. Believe me, we
have all the numbers, and here you would be uncomfortable and under foot. Just
relax and let us do our jobs, please. Calling every five minutes is not
helping."
"Well, shit!" snapped Alan, as the call was disconnected. "Now what am I going
to do?"
"Well, I would suggest you come here and give me a hug." Came Peter's voice. "I
see you have experienced the joys of the hospital services as well as I did
about ten minutes ago."
Alan went to Peter, and once his partner's warm strong arms went around him, he
started to cry.
"Peter, I want Russell," he sobbed into Peter's neck.
Peter's hand rubbed up and down his partner back, soothingly, feeling the chill.
"Yeah, babe, I know. I do to."
Peter walked Alan back to the bedroom; his hand on the back of Alan's neck. Alan
went where he was taken. He was surprised when Peter slipped back into bed and
feel a sleep. Alan looked down at his former savior, friend and lover. As sleep
took Peter, Alan could see his face relax. Alan saw Peter the man — the man that
had saved him in the alley all that time ago; the man he didn't know, but the
man that taught him how to live rough. The hot dude that shared the secrets of
life on the edge, and even slept with him. Alan had seen that man again today.
At the hospital, Peter had taken charge... he was not a brat, he was a Man. Alan
wasn't. He was a mess, and looking down at his sleeping partner/lover/fellow
brat, he saw the strain Peter had been under drift away as he sank deeper into
sleep.
Alan remembered that night when they met at the bar — the hug, the joy in
Peter's voice; they had sat next to each other after Alan changed out of his
dancing clothes and had another beer. When he came back from the back room, he
saw Peter as a man — young, hot, and buff as hell. He was also giving off that
'I'm in charge' vibe. Alan had remembered that vibe, and just looking at Peter
sitting at the bar waiting for him; he could sense it. It made Alan feel younger
and unsure of himself. Yet, at the same time, he liked the feeling because it
seemed to include him; like Peter was in charge of him as well.
He remembered those feelings — when he and Peter had stayed together in that old
rattrap. He remembered how Peter would steer him around sometimes with his hand
on the back of his neck. It made Alan feel so safe and cared for. Now Peter was
back.
Alan didn't try to hide his grin as he slipped onto the bar stool next to Peter.
This was great. He didn't know where he came from, and right now Alan didn't
care. Peter was next to him again and he felt safe.
Peter held up his beer bottle, and Alan crossed it with a clink.
"Alan, can we get out of here?" Peter said, nodding at Carl; who was behind the
bar giving Peter a look, and trying to get Alan's attention, to see if Alan was
OK.
Alan grinned, and nodded to Carl; they had a signal. Alan grinned, and both he
and Peter got up, and Alan went to Carl and said goodnight. Pulling Peter along
with him, he introduced Carl to Peter. With a wry grin, he introduced Peter as
his brother — his much older brother, he said with a quip. Carl grinned, and
answered him. "Yeah," he said, as he polished a glass. "There is a lot of that
going around, but if you say he is OK then that is fine, and be safe, OK?"
***
"Peter? This is Phillip. I have just been contacted by a Mrs. Lacy Wilson. I
understand that you and that youngster are stressed right now. However young
man, this is not how you treat family. Robert and I are on our way."
Peter replied: "Yes, Sir" and the call was disconnected.
Alan was looking at Peter.
Peter sighed. "Well, that was Phillip, and he and Robert are coming here."
"Oh shit," Alan said. "The Top's top and his sidekick... we are doomed."
***
Russ came to in the middle of the living room. He didn't feel very well but he
was happy to have the dreams stop. He looked around the comfortable room and
sighed, feeling safe and at home. It was very quiet. Where were the boys? he
wondered. Still, it was home and for some reason he felt that he had been very,
very far away and gone for a very long time. He sat in his chair, letting the
peace of his home fill him.
"Feeling a bit better, boy?" Art asked in a strangely gentle tone.
Russ started. Art was sitting on the couch and he had the strangest look on his
face. If a ghost could look weary he did.
"You look like shit... if I may be so bold, Sir." Russ said with a slight
chuckle.
"Well, I have been rushing about a bit, brat, and I have to say it's all your
fault." Art sighed, and relaxed deeper into the couch. "What say you come over
here for a second?"
Russ sighed and got up. He loved Art and he enjoyed seeing his former Top...
even in ghost form. But sitting next to him was hard because he wanted to hold
him and he tried several times, and each time his arms passed right through his
former lover and Top... it freaked him out. Still he got up, surprised at how
tired he felt and all, and fell on the couch. Russ got the shock of his life
when Art's arm came up to steady him.
"I felt that, Art!"
And his hand reached out and touched Art's sinewy arm. He could feel Art's
warmth, and a wide grin broke over his face. His arms reached around Art and
held him tightly against his body; he could feel the hard warm body against his.
Art's arms returned the hard hug and then, hoping against hope, Russ leaned
forward and kissed his former lover. His lips were warm, he smelled of Old Spice
and he tasted of Art. Russ felt his tears begin to flow down his cheeks.
"I never got to say goodbye," he cried, his arms rubbing Art's body, kissing him
again.
"I know, boy, I know," Art said, returning the kiss and holding Russ as tight as
Russ was holding him.
"I have wanted to hold you for so long, Sir."
Art chuckled. "Almost as long as I have wanted to, brat."
Russ didn't care why. Right now he was safe in the arms of his Top and lover. He
felt so warm and safe. He sighed as his fingers traced Art's cheek and lips,
reveling in the feel of his lover and Top.
"Why now?" Russ asked, lazily.
He didn't much care right now. He was safe, he was being held... and he could
feel Art.
"Well," Art replied, in a very careful tone. "What's the last thing you remember
about today, brat?"
"Nothing much," Russ replied, thinking back and feeling even more tired. "I was
thinking about lamb, and Alan and I were talking about that and laughing about
the way Peter will eat anything. Then I was thinking he best get to work, and we
kissed goodbye. I was driving to work thinking about the Morrison account,
and..."
"And...?" prompted Art.
A sharp pain lanced into Russ... and then it faded slightly.
"I was thinking about getting Alan to take some cooking courses and..." The pain
returned.
"And?" Art repeated.
"A truck... a truck ran that stop sign. All I could see was the truck." Suddenly
Russ felt a pain balloon in his head. "Art!"
"Hush, boy. Hush now... I've got you." Art said in a very calming voice.
Russ moaned slightly. Then the pain was gone and he was in his home on the couch
wrapped in Art's arms.
"Art?" Russ asked in a quavering voice. "What's happened? Where are the boys?
Why is it so quiet in here? I should be able to hear them in the house. Where
are they? Why can I touch you, Art? Tell me. OH God, Art, I'm scared. What has
happened?" He struggled to get up to look around. Art's arms were as strong as
he remembered. He couldn't move – he was so very tired, and his head hurt.
"It's OK, boy, just settle down. Settle down, young man. Now!" Art said, in the
'I will be obeyed' voice Russ had not heard in years. He settled and was quiet.
"Yes, sir."
The pain was fading. He could think again, and felt Art still there holding him
like he did when they were first getting established and he needed to settle.
Art's arms were holding him against Art's chest, his head next to Russ' ear, and
he was repeating over and over again: "I've got you... I've got you..."
The old training kicked in and he could feel himself relax.
"OK?" Art asked. "Now listen up... this is important. There has been a serious –
possibly critical – accident. You were hit – and hit hard. The car is toast. You
are in – or have been in, or might still be in – a coma. I am not sure how it
all works. You have been dragging me back though time and space with your
walkabout, without your body, remembering the times we were together. Let me
tell you, that's not easy for this old ghost. So, yeah... I am pretty tired.
Still," he chuckled softly, "I hadn't realized how horny we were back them."
Art's arms tightened as he nipped Russ' ear.
"Now there is a choice you have to make, boy. I'm here kinda in the middle.
Peter and Alan are in the real world, and you are kinda in between right now.
Soon, if I don't miss my guess, you are going to see a light. That is your
choice son, I can't help you there. You might want to go into it. You might be
better off. I might be able to find you there. Peter and Alan sure won't, and
you'll be gone to them and to Lacy and the rest of the real world. I don't know,
boy, if you have the strength to fight it and return. You've been pretty banged
up and I don't know if you'll recover. I know the light. I know you won't feel
any pain and you might be really happy... you might not. Not many people get
this choice. So you have to think, boy, think.
"Remember how you felt when I had to leave? Do you want your boys to go through
that? I know you don't, but you may not have that choice. You might be too far
gone. I just don't know.
"I do know that I am thrilled I was able to be here with you and hold you once
more to kiss you goodbye. Whether or not you will still be able to see me in the
real world, well... I don't have an answer for that either. I don't feel like
I'm moving on anywhere but, then again, I'm not sure how it works.
"So Russell, you have a decision to make. I can't help you, I just don't know.
I'm just happy I am able to feel you and hold you and tell you that you are a
good man. You were a good boy and a great bottom, but you were always meant to
be a Top. I was the luckiest Top in the world to have loved you."
Tears were streaming down Russ' face as he turned and clung to Art.
"I am so scared Art... so scared, Sir."
Art's arms were still around him as he kissed Art. Their lips met, and Russ put
all the longing and missing he could find into that last kiss.
"I love you, Art."
"I love you, brat, but I can't do this for you. Can I count on you to think,
boy, not to goof off... to do the right thing? You are a Top now... you have two
boys to look after."
Russ felt Art's lips kiss his again – warm and living – and yet they were
fading. He tried to tighten his arms but he could feel Art leaving. Then he was
alone. Not in his house but in an empty white place.
He was feeling light-headed, and the dizziness was making standing up hard. This
time it was not cold, just empty and everything was white. He sat down. He
looked at his hand; warm flesh, colored and alive. This hand that had just been
around Art. He raised it to his face and he could smell the faint scent of Old
Spice. The movement and the smell steadied him. He felt very tired but he didn't
seem to have that terrible hollow headache. He kept his hand to his face. The
warm hand and the smell of Art calmed him a bit.
Then he felt a warm glow start to build. The white was all the same and he
couldn't tell if he was in a room or in a huge white place. He sat, leaning on
his knees. The warmth was growing, filling wherever he was. It felt so good and
so welcoming. He could relax. He could let go. He was so tired but the warm glow
seemed to fill him. He wanted to just let go. It kept filling the area. It was a
warm feeling... a welcoming feeling. A promise of healing and love entered his
mind, and his whole body felt like it was blossoming with health. He was feeling
strong, feeling young yet virile at the same time. He couldn't tell if it was
external or internal. It just felt so good.
He wasn't sure, but his body knew he had been in pain for a time, and the warmth
and the strength kept flowing into him, or coming from him. It was so good. He
wanted to dance. He wanted to run and enjoy his body again. He knew somehow,
that he had been immobile for a longer period of time than usual. Russ laughed,
then took a deep breath and he could feel his lungs like they were new,
expanding and filling. He got to his feet. He was still in a white place but
this was different: he was loved here, cared for. Not only that – he was wanted
here. It was like coming home after a long trip seeing his loved ones. Loved
ones like Peter and Alan. He glanced around seeing only the white place but he
seemed to be able to feel they were very close. He pressed his hand to his face
and he could almost feel Art as well. It was like they were all here. He just
couldn't see them, but it was a feeling like he couldn't see them... yet he knew
he would. Nothing could feel this good. Nothing this good would leave his boys
and his former Top out of his life.
He tilted his head. Yes, he could smell Lacy's perfume, faint but there. And,
and was that...? Yes. It was his mother's perfume. He laughed in joy; tears of
happiness had begun to run down his face. He was feeling them. He could taste
the salt of these tears. He raised his hand again to wipe his face, and the
scent of Old Spice filled his nose. Wait! Wait a minute, what did Art say? The
light. Naw, Art had to be wrong. This was wonderful... this was heaven, this was
peace. Russ had never felt like this before.
Through the joy and the warmth he heard, in his head, Art's voice. But it wasn't
the happy tone. He heard Art with the 'What did you do, boy?' tone. Russ sat
back down. He slowed his breathing and tried to think. Peter. Alan. Why should
they not be here. Where were his boys? No, this wasn't right. He was flying on
this feeling; they should be here to share it. Everyone he loved should be here.
He look around and all he could see was white.
Then it hit him. It hit him hard – that terrible night so long ago. The pain of
losing Art, the terror and numbness. Those tears... they were not tears of joy
then. Then he remembered that awful empty feeling: Phillip, who Russ had been
more than a little scared of, was holding him like a baby; he could feel
Phillip's tears wet his shirt. Robert was gray. Oh, that night. That terrible
night in the harsh, unforgiving light of the ER room. The flashing lights of an
ambulance, people talking, and the police standing there.
He was cold again.
Was he doing that to Peter? To Alan? Was he leaving them alone? "No." He heard
his voice hoarse and weak. No, he would not leave his boys. They needed him. He
needed them. He needed that quirky grin of Alan's when he knew he was in trouble
and trying to get out of it. He needed to see Peter's bull-headed expression
when he disagreed with Russ. He needed to hear them laugh, he wanted to hold
them; to feel their warm skin against his. He wanted to see that wondering,
warm, loving expression of Peter's when they made love. The look of wonder,
after all Peter had been through. He was always so full of wonder when he was in
bed with Russ and Alan. He remembered the gasp of Alan's when he first saw Russ
– naked and hard. His mind flashed back to the first time he spanked Alan... the
tears and frightened yelling, the kicking as Alan's butt got red and sore. His
mind flashed back to the first time he held Peter after he spanked him. The
heavy weight, holding his brat. Feeling the release and feeling the trust of
Peter. Peter, the wounded man-boy, trusting him to make it better. Alan the
boy-man. That worried expression; his eyes would jump like he expected Russ to
kick him to the street.
No, he wasn't finished. They needed him. He needed them. No, this was great,
this warmth, but without his boys he could feel it dim. The sharpness of the
feeling of wellness faded. "No." He heard his voice but it didn't shout, it
croaked. No! Not without his family. Not now, he wasn't done.
"Peter," he cried. "Alan, I won't leave... I won't."
Then there was a terrible crash of total pain – and he knew nothing.
***
Peter slammed the weight bar to the length of his arms – he was going to kill
him. He slammed the bar up again – he was going to paddle him. He slammed the
bar up again sweat was running off his face – he was going to lock him in the
bedroom.
Peter felt his hands slip. He grunted and locked the bar back into place.
Grabbing a towel, he sat on the weight bench; his arms trembling. He wiped his
face and he started to cry. He wasn't good at being in charge... he needed Russ.
Alan was being a total brat, and Peter knew that Alan trusted him to pull him
back. Russ would. Russ would be pulling both of them back, but Peter had no out.
He had to be in charge.
So far today, he had stopped Alan from going to the hospital, once, by car... so
Peter took his keys. Then he looked and saw Alan unlocking Peter's car. He got
there just in time and locked the door each time Alan had tried to use the
remote, by using his remote.
Alan was going to do what Peter told him to if he had to spank his butt into
next week. They were staying in the house and waiting for the call. Until Peter
said so, Alan could just stay in the bedroom .
It was wrong. Peter knew it the second he'd turned Alan over his knee. He felt
such a rush of anger. He wasn't spanking; he was hitting. Russ would never do
this in anger. Peter was revolted. Shaken to the core, he pushed Alan off his
lap.
With a curt stay in their room, he'd fled to the small gym off the kitchen.
Peter walked to the bedroom suite to check on his lover and fellow brat. Alan
was sobbing into his pillow – sobbing and getting louder and louder. He was
working himself into a state, and Peter was hit with a wall of guilt.
"Babe... Hey, Babe?" Peter said in a quiet tone, sitting down on the bed. Alan's
entire body tensed and he moved away.
"Go away, I hate you!" Alan sobbed into his pillow. "You didn't even hug me, you
just whaled on my ass. You were mean!" His crying increased. Peter lay down next
to his lover, pulling him into a hug.
"Oh, Babe, I'm sorry. I was just getting so angry and I had to get away. I
didn't want to hurt you. Warm that butt... sure, but you were out of line. But I
kept getting madder and madder so I left. I'm not Russ. I'm a brat too, you
know. You get to rant and run around, and I have to be this strong man holding
us all together. I just kinda lost it a bit. Aww... Babe, come on. Please? I
feel terrible. I was spanking in anger. I am so sorry."
Alan saw Peter's face. He saw the shame and the guilt. He wasn't hurt – Peter
didn't really get into spanking him – but it was a shock; it had scared him.
"Well, I guess I forgive you, even though you are a jerk, I was pretty nasty
too."
Peter held out his hand. Alan threw himself into his arms and they fell back on
the bed in a hug. Both of them saying they were sorry. They lay together for a
long time, Peter hugging and kissing Alan. After a time, Alan pushed Peter away.
"Does this me I can get outta here?" he said with something of his old twinkle
in his eye.
"Nope. You're grounded, brat."
Alan snapped. "Yeah... well, you stink. You need a shower, big mean old Top."
Peter got up and stripped off his tee and shorts, getting a low wolf-whistle
from Alan.
He went into the bathroom and started the shower running. It seemed like the
water was washing away his guilt, as well as the sweat and dirt. He could
breathe again. Peter leaned against the shower, letting the hot water run over
his body. Even in the hot shower, the chill of what he had done in anger cut
through him. God, Russ will kill me, he thought as he soaped his body.
Alan heard the water start. He rolled over and hissed, as his bare butt rubbed
across the sheets. He listened for a second, then he threw on a shirt and
carefully pulled up his jeans. Walking to Russ' dresser, he opened the top
drawer and there he saw what he was looking for: his spare key.
All right, hospital, here I come. Peter will forgive me when I find Russell, he
thought as he silently let himself out of the bedroom and dashed down the
stairs. He was out the door and into his car. He started the engine and turning
his car around, he stepped a bit too hard on the gas, causing his tires to
squeal. Peter heard the engine from the bathroom where he was drying off.
"That little monster... I am going to murder him!" he shouted, dashing for the
stairs in just his briefs. He threw the door open and was shouting Alan's name
and saw that brat wave as Alan started down the driveway.
He is pissed, Alan thought as he turned to look, and then he slammed on his
brakes just in time to avoid running headlong into a huge, black Lincoln Town
Car pulling up the drive. Alan put his car in reverse and backed up the drive.
Phillip and Robert came forward, and Phillip was out of his door and to Alan's
in a flash, opening the door. His hand grabbed Alan's arm, firmly pulling him
from the drivers seat and marching Alan up to Peter.
"Yours, I believe," he said in his stern tone of voice. "I am sure you boys will
have a credible explanation for Peter to be running around in his underwear. I
cannot wait to hear it."
Peter just stood there. He looked behind Phillip and saw Robert with a wide grin
on his face as he began to get the luggage from the car. Alan went to Peter and
hugged him. His face was white and Peter could feel him shaking
"I've got you, Babe," Peter said, hugging the younger man tightly. "Why don't
you get upstairs to the bedroom and wait for me. I'll be up as soon as I get
them settled. K?"
Peter swatted Alan on his jeans, heading him toward the stairs. Peter turned to
look at the two men as they all entered the hallway.
"Coffee?" Robert said.
Peter lead them both to the the kitchen. He was still a bit nervous around
Phillip but Robert's warm grin was helping. He reached for the coffee and
noticed his hand was trembling. He felt a warm, heavy arm go around his
shoulders.
"Peter, I'm a Top, I am not an ogre. Russell is one of our oldest and best
friends. We came as soon as we could get here. Just relax." Peter sagged at the
kind, gruff voice. Phillip steered him to one of the captain's chairs at the
kitchen island. "Let Robert make the coffee. Just settle down for a minute."
Peter sat at the island, his head going down onto his arms. Phillip kept rubbing
the almost naked man's shoulders.
"Let us help, son."
Robert was apparently very skilled at finding things, and the coffee was being
made. The warm smell filled the room. Peter lifted his head, remembering he was
the host and he knew what Russ would want him to do. Phillip had a mug of coffee
and Robert was making another one. Peter's shoulders went back and he looked at
the two older men.
"Would you like something to eat? I can fix you some lunch. I want to check out
the guest bedroom. It's down here on the first floor down the hall. I am sure
it's made up and ready. Shall I take your bags?" he asked, trying to be the
host.
Robert's warm hand cupped his face and said in his warm voice: "Honey, we've
been here several times before... we know the lay out. Just chill out and sit.
I'm waiting for the Chief of Surgery to clear my privileges at the hospital. I
might get more information. We have things in hand."
"Besides that, young man," Phillip said. "You have a brat waiting upstairs. That
is best to be dealt with quickly. It does no good to keep a brat waiting too
long, as I am sure you know. Buck up and deal with that and we will stay down
here and out of the way."
Peter walked into the master suite and closed the door. The drapes were closed
and the room was darkened. He saw his lover/fellow brat standing in the corner;
his jeans already down and his briefs at half-mast. His beautiful bottom was
exposed and he was leaning against the wall. Peter sat down on the bed.
"Alan," he said and held out his hand.
Alan turned and shuffled across the room until he was standing in front of
Peter. Alan was looking at the floor and when he started to speak, Peter almost
had to strain to hear what he said.
"Pete, I'm so sorry I took advantage of you and then tried to book out to see if
I could find Russ. I know you're in charge and I've been pretty awful lately. I
didn't mean to make you feel so bad this morning. I was just scared 'cause you
were so mad. I know I was wrong." Then, as if his nerve left him, he glanced at
the closed door.
"They won't hear, will they?" he asked in a little boy voice.
"They're downstairs," Peter said as he settled Alan over his knee – his hand
resting on that bare butt, his other arm across Alan's hip to steady him. Then
Peter started. He may have spent most of his time play-spanking Alan but he knew
how to give a good spanking. Soon the sounds were loud in the room and Alan's
bare butt was turned from a pale ghost of pink to bright red. Alan tried to be
cooperative; however, as the hand landed over and over again he jerked and
twisted, his voice was rising and he was yelping, and then the tears began.
Peter heard the tears start and then, with a few harder licks, he stopped his
spanking, and the room was loud in its silence – the only sounds being of Alan's
crying and Peter's breathing.
Peter's hand was now rubbing Alan's back, murmuring soothing sounds.
"I've got you, Babe, I've got you... it's all over now. It's OK... I know, I
know Little Dude, I know. But you have got to listen to me. I want you safe.
Please, Alan I need you to listen. We'll get it all figured out, but you need to
chill. I want him too. I hate this not knowing but all we can do right now is
hang in and hold on to each other. I love you so much, Little Dude!"
Alan sobbed, and Peter pulled him up and into a hug, half holding and half
rocking his partner, and wiped away the tears and the snot. Holding a Kleenex
for Alan to blow his nose, Peter continued to hold and to comfort his young
partner.
Alan heard the tone and heard some of the words, but he was crying out his guilt
and his shame at pulling a fast one on Peter. When he heard the 'Little Dude',
he broke down and sobbed again – it was their special term.
Peter picked him up, laying Alan down on his stomach, and got a warm, damp
washcloth. He gently wiped Alan's face. "You rest here little man. I'll come and
get you, OK?"
Alan nodded, sniffing a bit more and begged, "Don't go... just stay for a few
minutes, please?" Peter gave in and lay back down, snuggling into a lying-down
hug against his almost naked partner, holding on to his little man; his hands
slowly sliding up and down Alan's back.
As was usual with Alan, the emotional toll of a real spanking knocked him almost
to sleep. It was only a few minutes before Peter felt him slip away. Gently
moving off the bed, Peter got dressed and then covered his sleeping partner with
a light blanket and let himself out of the room.
Peter entered the kitchen seeing both men sitting there. He was a bit unsure of
his place. Still, it was his house. Robert got up and motioned for Peter to take
a seat. Then he turned to the stove and began to cook. It looked to Peter like
he was making a grilled cheese sandwich. Phillip was still sitting there
drinking coffee. When Robert was through, he put the sandwich and a large glass
of chocolate milk on a tray and went out of the kitchen. Phillip nodded to his
coffee and looked up into Peter's worried eyes.
"Everything back under control for now?" he asked, in his kind tone of voice.
"Come, we should have a chat. Peter, I have known you for a few years now."
Phillip said slowly as if organizing his thoughts. "Russell and I have been
friends for a very long time. We, both Robert and myself, knew Art and we were
thrilled when Russ came into Art's life. We were there when he lost Art and we
did what we could do to help Russell pull through that horror.
"I have to say, I am proud of that man. Art taught him well. What you might not
know is Russ had as many troubles getting on this pathway as you and Alan have
had. So this is really a continuation of a family. It is as close as we can
manage to family right now. So WE are here to help."
Peter looked surprised at this man. Peter had always been a little scared of
this strong and powerful older Top. He had seemed so stern and foreboding. When
Russ was around, he felt more protected from this man, and now he was hearing
things said to him that Russ would say.
"If I don't miss my guess, you are having a very hard time right now. You are
who you are Peter. You are Russell's brat, and partner to him and Alan. Right
now I am sure you are all over the place, and I am proud of you that you are
keeping it together. I imagine that it's very hard to spank or deal with Alan,
when he is doing the things you want to do. That is the problem. You want to
retreat into brat mode. Your personal strength and your training under Russell
are making you understand that you HAVE to be, well... for lack of a better
term, a Top for now. After all, someone has to keep the world running in some
semblance of order for you and for Alan. You were elected and it just plain
sucks for you right now."
Peter's eyes widened as Phillip placed his arm around the younger man. Suddenly
he was against this man... a man he had always been a bit afraid of. Yet the
tender tone of voice and the laying out of his fears was so comforting that he
was able to relax.
"Now Peter, we don't yet know how things are going. Russell may be fine. He
might wake up and heal, he might not... we might lose him too. You have to be
aware of that. You have to think long and hard about doing what you want to do,
and what is best for you and Alan. Any way it happens, Russell is going to be
laid up for a time. You are going to have to shoulder the burden of running this
family. It isn't fair but fair is not the way this old world works. Can you do
it? Is what you have now worth the pain and the sadness of not having a Top to
look to, and being the Top that Alan will need. Do you love him enough to do so?
Can you do that?
"I know, son, that this is a lot and you don't need to answer right now. What
Robert and I are here for is to help. If you want, I can be a Top Emeritus of
sorts. I am not your Top nor am I Russell but I might be able to help. I won't
spank or punish you or Alan, but I might be able to help you find your footing.
I am not your Top but I do know how it works." He added with a grin. "That is
what I'm offering to you both at this time."
When Peter saw the grin, it was like he saw under the stern exterior of this
man. Russ had always told him that Phillip and Robert were his oldest and
closest friends. Russell trusted them – totally.
Peter was taken aback slightly by the gift being offered, and he knew it was
important... and he was grateful it was being offered. Peter nodded slowly,
working his mind around everything that was said.
"Can we just play it by ear for a bit?"
Phillip grinned that surprisingly warm grin and hugged the younger man.
***
Robert entered the darkened bedroom. It was hard to see, just dimmed by the
drapes across the windows. Setting the tray on the low table, he went and opened
the drapes, letting in the bright early afternoon sun. Alan stirred and woke. He
started to roll over and his butt hit the sheets and he winced. He jumped from
the bed when he heard a man's voice chuckling.
Robert sat back on the loveseat in the bedroom and looked at the sleepy
well-spanked brat fumbling for something to put on. Finally, he wrapped the
light blanket around himself and huffed at the man while rubbing his
tear-stained eyes.
"What do you want?" Sounding closer to a whine than a question. Alan was awake
and he was feeling the very good job Peter had done to his backside, which was
making him sad and irritable at the same time. He wanted Russell. He wanted
Peter. Hell, he wanted them both. Not this man.
"I come bearing gifts... a wonderful grilled cheese and a large glass of
chocolate milk. Russell told me once that it was your sovereign cure-all."
Alan walked carefully over to the tray, and grinned as the smell of the grilled
cheese hit him and he was suddenly starving.
"The Top and the baby Top are downstairs plotting, so I thought we might have
this time to talk," Robert said kindly, as he placed a pillow on the loveseat,
patting it for Alan to come and sit down.
Robert did all this with such a feeling of normality and with a warm grin. Alan
slowly and carefully sat down and reached for the sandwich.
***
He was hot. He hurt – everything hurt – and his throat hurt and was so dry. He
lay there for a few minutes, almost panting with just the effort of waking up.
Then he heard a noise and he cracked open his eyes. It was a vision of pure
loviness... a glass of water. The straw was placed against his lips and it hurt
just to suck on that tube. The water seemed to evaporate in his mouth. The dry
tissues were demanding more and more fluid. He sucked again and it tasted better
than anything he had tasted before.
"So you decided to stay with us, Mr. Jackson?" Said a kind voice with a
Caribbean lilt.
It was coming from above the arm holding the glass. He tried to raise his head
but it seemed to weigh too much and he just closed his eyes again. He sipped the
straw again, and the universe spun. He decided to open his eyes this time, but
that was totally weird because it was dark. He thought it was morning when he
took his drink... he had remembered the brightness of the room. Now it was dim,
dark. It had the feeling of nighttime – and well-advanced nighttime as well.
Russ' first thought was how long? He tried to figure that out... he was up to
the conversation with Art...
Then the universe turned over again, and he was opening his eyes and the room
was bright.
He turned his head. His mind told him his hand was being held by Peter. Alan had
the other hand. He opened his eyes, feeling their presence and strength.
Hey, he wanted to say, but all that came out was a kinda murmur. He could see
Peter's head on the bed next to his hand and he felt the breathing as Peter
slept. Russ turned and looked for Alan and saw the shining tear-filled eyes .
Tears un-noticed dropped on the blanket as Alan leaned over and kissed him. At
the slight movement, Peter's head shot up. Russ looked into the eyes of the two
men he loved – and his own tears began.
END</pre>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044367416949960084.post-57984643820028034632012-10-22T18:09:00.003-07:002012-10-22T18:09:31.611-07:00The Clothes Make The Man<div>
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;">In honor of the Halloween season. </span></div>
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div>
<br /><span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;">"Ohhh My God," came a groan somewhere south of Peter's head. He cracked
his eyes open and suddenly thought better of it. It would be much better in the
dark. However, it wasn't dark at all, rather it was far far too bright. Way too
bright and way way too painful. The bedroom door crashed open and two sets of
eyes snapped open, igniting a hangover headache with a vengeance.<br /><br />"Aww,
my boys breakfast is here!" boomed Russ, with a truly wicked grin on his face.
Revenge was sweet.<br /><br />"Ohhhhh Godddddd," groaned the voice next to Peter as
Alan suddenly bolted for the bathroom.<br /><br />"You're a mean old Top and you are
definitely abusing your boys," Peter snarled clutching his head. "You know that
don't you?" Russ set the tray down on the table and then sat down next to Peter.
He shook the bed as, without any effort, he flipped Peter over and began to
spank his bare butt.<br /><br />"Watch your mouth Peter," Russ snapped, with his
hand resting on Peter's blazing butt. "You know, a good sound padding cures
hangovers."<br /><br />"Russ!" Peter whined. "My head hurts and I am hung over. I
told you that it was the only costume they had available. Now my butt is on
fire. It wasn't our fault. Yab Daba DO" Peter moaned theatrically.<br /><br />"My
heart bleeds" Russ scoffed, as he landed another hard swat on Peter's butt. "You
were in leather and tight jeans and Alan was there as a young Zorro and I got
stuck in that THING!" Russ landed a final brisk swat. "I looked like a idiot."
He handed a cup of coffee to Peter and placed a glass of chocolate milk on the
bedside table for Alan, before he disappeared into the bathroom. Peter grimaced
as the hot coffee and his now hot bum combined to make sitting up a bit dodgy.
He sipped at the hot coffee listening to the muted sounds of Alan and Russ in
the bathroom... a calming voice, a slight whine all followed by a sharp smack.
Then the taps running as the shower started.<br /><br />An hour later, Alan had
returned to bed after drinking his chocolate milk and Peter had also showered,
but the bed continued to look better than any other alternative. He was holding
his suffering partner loosely as Alan moaned and complained that his head hurt
and his stomach was still upset. Peter, not too well himself, considered Russ'
theory of a spanking as a hangover cure if Alan didn't start suffering in
silence. Alan grumped, but he snuggled deeper into Peter's chest and soon fell
a sleep. </span></div>
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /><span style="color: #f9cb9c;"></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div>
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;">At work, Russ entered his office carrying the costumes and hung them on the
inside of his office door as Lacy Wilson entered the room from her
office. <br /><br />"Lace, could you have these returned today? The party is over
and I feel like a prime idiot." Lacy nodded and went to the plastic covered
costumes. She looked though them and stopped dead.<br /></span></div>
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div>
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;">"Well," she said and Russ could hear the laughter in her voice. "I can see
that the Zorro one would never fit and the Leather looks like Peter's bomber
jacket will be needing a good cleaning, right? Oh, oh... Russ you wore
that?" Her control broke and a giggle quickly was covered by a cough as he
glared at her, but she continued to smile.<br /><br />"Yes, I had to. It was the
only thing they had in my size, because a certain two young men procrastinated
until it was all the shop had left. I am going to kill them... slowly and
painfully." Lacy finally broke and chuckled again.</span></div>
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div>
<br /><span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;">"Several painful deaths would be fair, I would think." She was still
laughing openly as she carried the costumes back to her office. Russ huffed
loudly as the door shut and he tried to get back into work mode.<br /><br />It was a
damn costume party and it was for a good cause, but having to wear THAT had been
just too much. Peter and Alan had enjoyed it all immensely and, of course, had
been no help whatsoever as they couldn't stop laughing and giggling. Easy
for them, they looked like 'Hot' and 'Hotter'. Peter, in his leather jacket and
chaps and a soft leather cap on his head made the perfect motorcycle leather
man. Alan in his black cape and mask was a perfectly sexy young Zorro. Both
young men had, had a wonderful time at the charity event and Russ had enjoyed
seeing them dressed like that. Of course later, he had enjoyed seeing them
undressed as well. But to have to wear THAT thing was just a bridge too far and
he had almost refused to go. Peter tried to tell him that they had gone to
several shops but that one was the only option... </span><span class="yiv31056364Apple-style-span"><span style="color: black;"><br /><span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;">With a thought and a chuckle Russ buzzed
</span></span><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><span style="color: black;">Lacy.</span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><br /><span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;">"Lacy has the messenger left for the costume shop
yet?"</span></span><br style="color: black;" /><br style="color: black;" /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><span style="color: black;">"He was planing to do it after lunch Russ is there a
hurry?" Lacy said in a voice loaded with unasked questions.</span><br style="color: black;" /><br style="color: black;" /><span style="color: black;">"Could you do some err research for me Lacy before he
returns them he might need to pick something up."</span><br style="color: black;" /><br style="color: black;" /><span style="color: black;">"Russell, just what do you have in that mind of
yours?" She asked in a suspicious tone of voice.</span><br style="color: black;" /><br style="color: black;" /><span style="color: black;">"Nothing!" he chuckled. "I'm just thinking the
punishment should fit the crime is all!" he said.</span><br style="color: black;" /><br style="color: black;" /><span style="color: black;">He really liked it when Lacy got all defensive about
his boys as she called them. Lacy entered his office and he explained what he
was thinking Lacy started to grin, then to chuckle. as she used her smartphone
to to a search and call a few costumes shops.</span><br style="color: black;" /><br style="color: black;" /><span style="color: black;">"Here is one Russ." she said after a hour research "He
has one that will fit. He said he didn't rent it last night because it had a
problem with the internal chip it was replaced last night. We can have the
messenger pick it up as he returns the other ones. Beside I want that orange
spotted monstrosity with that ugly blue tie out of my office! Clients do come in
there you know she said." with a huge grin. </span><br style="color: black;" /><br style="color: black;" /><span style="color: black;">"A chip?" Russ asked.</span><br style="color: black;" /><br style="color: black;" /><span style="color: black;">"Yes." replied Lacy. "Apparently this is one of the
newer ones with a micro chip so you can record a few phases and it comes out
sounding like him or close enough, then again there is the breathing. I hope you
aren't planing to scare them too much." She said with a twinkle in her
eye.</span><br style="color: black;" /><br style="color: black;" /><span style="color: black;">"Oh, I think they will recover Lace I really do." Russ
grinned back shaking his head. "A chip huh even better."</span><br /></span></span><span style="color: black;"><br /><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;">After the
messenger returned Russ spent a very enjoyable 30 minutes working with his
computer and the chip finally set as he wanted it he told Lacy he was leaving
for the day.</span></span></span><span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"> <span style="color: black;"></span></span><span style="color: black;"><br /><span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;">He parked his car in the driveway so the garage
door didn't go up and alert the guys who he hoped were still in recovery mode.
They had had quite a lot to drink last night each of them enjoying the party and
them they were each getting off at winding up the other one and Russ about his
costume. <br /><br />Russ killed the house alarm as he entered though the side door
into the kitchen. He listened carefully and was greeted with silence. He
quickly changed into his costume. Carefully he walked up the stairs to the
master suite and listened at the door. Slowly he opened it. The drapes were
closed and the room was dim. He could make out two forms asleep on the bed .
Glad the helmet hid his face he clicked on the small speaker in the helmet
Standing at the door he spoke. As the breathing sounds filled the
room.<br /><br />"I am your father Alan, surrender to the Dark side of the Force!"
<br /><br />The chip worked well and the voice was that of James Earl Jones,
sounding all the world like Darth Vader. as the voice bounced off the walls. The
yelp was very satisfying as Alan and Peter jumped up and out of the
bed.<br /><br />With his black cape flying He headed for Alan, Peter was on the
other side of the bed. <br /><br />Alan giggled and crawled across the bed as Russ
came near to blocking him against the wall. He sleep shorts were falling and
his cute butt exposed.<br /><br />Peter looked wearily at the advancing caped and
masked man.<br /><br />Alan yelled! Peter Peter the Pillow sabers Alan grabbed one
of the pillows and held it by the case and Peter grabbed another one. We are
Jedi!! We are knights!! We live the good side of the Force. With that Alan
dashed forward and smacked the soft pillow at the Lord of Sith's chest. Peter
followed with a throw, the pillow of light landed in the mask of Darth Vader
and they made a break for the door.<br /><br />Alan kicked off his sleep short as
they dashed down the stairs.<br /><br />Weapons we need our light sabers. Alan said
in his Star War's element<br />Peter lead him to the kitchen<br />Keep him busy I'll
get the water guns <br />Alan nodded giggling as Peter in just his white briefs
dashed for the pools toys on the patio.<br /><br /><br />As the deep breathing sounds
were getting closer and closer<br /><br />Surrender to the Dark Side intoned the
well known voice and the caped figure dashed into the kitchen.<br /><br />I have the
hard hand of Sith, resistance is futile!! which came out in Russ's voice
<br />Alan grabbed for the kitchen sink sprayer holding it in front of
him<br /> Mixing Star Wars and Star Trek so not good he yelled as he aimed the
sprayer.<br /><br />Yelling over his shoulder.<br /><br />"Chewy get the Falcon
ready!"<br /><br />Just who are you calling a Wookie came Peter disgusted
reply<br /><br />As he burst into the kitchen with his super soaker at the
ready.<br /><br />Well you are hotter than Princess Leia Laughed Alan as he turned
the water on continuing to track the costumed figure getting closer and
closer.<br />At Peter's entrance Alan turned and that the the opening Russ was
hoping for with in a flash he grabbed his partner. Holding the naked Alan in
front of him he used him as a shield As the cold water from the super soaker hit
Alan"s back and butt. <br /><br />The water was cold and Alan
yelped!!<br /><br />Surrender to the Dark Side boomed the voice of Darth
Vader<br /><br />Before I use the wooden spoon of death on my prisoner Jedi Knight
don't let their partners get caught. You have much to learn peetwan Russ said
with a playful swat on Alan exposed bum.<br /><br />Peter stepped back but could
find no opening.<br /><br />Russ was laughing and the chips sounds of the breathing
were filling the kitchen <br />Lay down you weapon young Jedi knight.<br />Then I
will not use the wooden spoon of death here!<br /> Peter laid down the super
soaker.<br /> Russ hung on to Alan and clicked off the chip sounds removing the
helmet he kissed his lover soundly.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="yiv31056364Apple-style-span" style="color: #3600fc;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;">" And the Jedi Knight buys dinner
tonight!"<br /><br />He intoned in a not bad intimation of Darth Vader
<br /><br />The End</span> </span></span></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044367416949960084.post-51599095628257074782012-10-22T17:51:00.003-07:002012-10-22T17:56:26.392-07:00Virginity<div align="LEFT" class="ms__id923" lang="en-US" style="color: black; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
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<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">No, I didn’t lose it: even I’m not that careless. I gave it away to an older man – twenty-nine – in a cowboy hat, with great arms and large hands. I knew what I wanted when I saw those hands. I would say that a few hours later I found I was right. The size of a man’s hand is the size of each ass cheek. He was proving that to me – as well as how much cowboys dislike bratty attitudes and whining in a brat tone. He was very busy correcting me. Did I tell you about his thighs? (Must be something with horses.) They were hard and warm, and in between was well… does the word 'uncut' ring any bells? I won't tell you anything more except he had a hand-tooled leather belt that was just right. That was the weekend – yes, I said weekend – that I learned what bending over the bed’s foot board meant.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" id="yui_3_7_2_17_1350952975533_60" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">*</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I believe it was Sunday, mid-morning, and we were lying on the bed after another session of pleasurable correction. We were both fresh from a shower – which included more fun than just getting clean; my head on his chest and his hand cupping a still very warm bottom –when he mentioned that he thought my lifestyle needed some work, and if I wanted, I could come home with him; at which time he would give me what every brat always wanted. Grinding my groin against his hip I giggled.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c;">“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">I have that already.” That's when I learned that Tops don’t generally take kindly to smart-ass answers. His hand went from cupping to a hard smack in less time than it takes to write this. I yelped, and I could tell he was about to pull me over his lap – to drive home this lesson, when I squeaked I was sorry and I would be good.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I heard him rumble, in his chest, that he thought that was a stretch. Still, his hand went back to cupping, and I snuggled deeper into his chest; smelling his scent and sighing contentedly. I was thinking, vaguely, about whether or not breakfast in bed was a good idea, when his stomach growled. This, of course, broke the lounging spell. He lightly slapped my bare bottom and demanded breakfast. Now, being a former short-order cook, that part was a breeze. Soon I was flipping eggs in the pan, draining the bacon, and browning the hash browns. I guess we had been in bed all the time so he didn't know about all my talents – except a few that aren't for public knowledge. Well, knowing how to cook is a talent and a joy to me. So, after the coffee was finished and the eggs were laid in front of him at the table, I joined him a few minutes later with my plate. Then we ate like two men that had been up for quite awhile, and really hadn't had anything decent to eat for a few days and nights. Yes, we did eat. I remember him dragging me out of bed and swatting my bare butt enough to get dressed for a meal or two at the local diner.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I cleared the table after we had eaten. He helped with cleaning up by loading the dishwasher. Soon, we were in the living room drinking our second cup of coffee; him sitting on the couch, and me in between his legs, leaning against him and the couch.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">He brought up the conversation we'd had in the bedroom again. I knew he didn't like me working in a sex club (it's not at all what you're thinking). He said it was a dead end job – high paying with tips, but still a dead end job. Thank God, I hadn't met him there; I met him at a club I go to on the rare occasion when I have a day off.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I cocked my head up toward him – as a 21-year-old man-boy that is driven by the age and the confidence of youth, and I told him –rather sharply – that I get by just fine; I did notice the thundercloud that played over his face. His eyes seemed to go flat, and he had this stare. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I remember that stare from childhood schoolteachers. It was the LOOK, conveying in a very professional way, that said they would cheerfully yank down your pants and blister your bare butt if you didn't do what they wanted – right then and there – without backtalk. I was surprised that it appeared on his face. Then suddenly my bottom was tingling, and the light sting from the playing about was intensified... strongly. I was even more surprised when my mouth just stopped working, and I heard my voice trail away to silence.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I heard his quiet deep voice calmly asking me if I had not learned my lesson about smart-ass answers in the bedroom, and if not, he was more than competent – and very willing – to revisit that lesson. I was stung into action by the sheer superiority of his calm voice.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I leapt to my feet, and asked just who the hell he thought he was. Continuing that, yes, we'd had a great time, but he was not my mother.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">All right. I was angry.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I didn't expect him to move so fast. One second he was sitting there with that Look, and the next heartbeat he had me by the ear, marching me back to the bedroom. I swear, I wanted to fight and punch him. I do have to say that ears are very sensitive – by the way he got a hold of it. I was pretty shocked!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">He then marched me into the empty corner of the bedroom and shoved me into it – with a very hard swat on my butt and a growled command to stay there until I calmed down. I bounced out of that corner like a SuperBall, only to be bounced back in with another hard swat. I was getting very angry, my butt was hurting, and my pride was trashed. I turned the other way, quickly, and faked him out enough to throw a punch.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I have enough knowledge to know you don’t fight with a stronger man, especially a very angry man who outweighs you by a fair bit, and that fair bit was muscle – a man who'd spent the weekend spanking me, as I spent the weekend encouraging the behavior, making sure he knew how much I wanted, had that kind of attention, and needed it.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Well, the punch hit home against his shoulder. I felt like I'd punched a wall. God, my hand hurt.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">They never tell you that part on TV.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I felt like I had broken every bone in my hand. He spun me back around and, with a harder swat, bounced me right back into the corner. I, of course, bounced right back out. I remember that it wasn’t silent; I remember my choice of words making the air blue. Mostly, I remember the burning sting on my ass and that LOOK the last time I saw his face.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Now, let me stop here during the most humiliating few minutes of my life.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Let’s speak for a just a second about sweatpants. They are great to hang around in. They are nice and toasty on a winter nights. They stay up due to elastic waistbands. True as they get older, that elastic gets a bit limp... such was the pair I was wearing at the time.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">It wasn't a problem for him to yank them down before he grabbed me by the waist and held me against his hip, exposing my bare pink, going to red, ass to his hard punishing hand. I thought we had spent the weekend spanking. We had not! Those were erotic taps as far as this went. This was a spanking. His arm held me in place and his other hand landed with terrible accuracy from the crown of my butt, to just below the cheeks where the thighs meet the butt. I couldn't get away. I was held there. He held me firmly in place to receive every lick. I remember I was still in fine voice, and the yelps turned from yells and gasps, to yells and curses. All the while I heard that calm voice over my head saying over and over again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c;">“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">We do not hit – ever. We talk calmly.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">After one particularly painful swat, I yelped.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c;">“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">You’re hitting me!”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Another solid swat landed across the center of my butt.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c;">“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">No, I am spanking. Spanking is to teach a lesson. That is not hitting, that is spanking.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">With one final hard swat, he pulled me up and firmly pushed my face back into the corner.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Now, I may not be the sharpest card in the deck, but I figured that out quick enough. I stayed put. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">My hands flew to my battered – sure to be bleeding – ass cheeks. I gently explored... no blood... nothing except a monstrous amount of heat and pain. Then my hands were gently removed from my burning ass and placed on my head. I got that one too, and I left them there.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">My legs were shaking; I locked my knees... waiting. I wasn't sure what was happening to me. I could hardly stand the still growing heat from my backside. I was sweating and almost hyperventilating. I couldn't get my breath – which scared me even more.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I heard that damnable calm voice ask me to turn around, which I did. Looking through my tears, I saw him standing there looking at me. I saw something in his eyes and, at once, I tried to throw myself into his arms. When the sweats, puddled around my feet, caught me I stumbled and would have fallen if he hadn't scooped me up and held me in those strong arms. Suddenly, I was crying – sobbing really, my head pressed to his upper chest. He held me close, murmuring words of comfort. His hand was rubbing my back, rubbing my neck, and up and down my back to just above the burning area. The words he was using made no sense, but the tone was calm and strong – telling me I was a good brat, I had been spanked for losing my temper, and it was all over. I just hung on him and sobbed. He backed up, with me still locked in an embrace, until he was sitting on the bed – my face still pressed into him. Then he pulled away, and with his hand, he wiped the tears and snot off my face using the Kleenex from the bedside. He pulled me into a reclining embrace and turned me so I was resting against him on my hip. I was slowly trying to get my act together. I stiffened at the thought of what he was seeing. His hand started to rub my back and shoulders again, and his soft voice was soothing. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I was slowing down on the waterworks by now. He leaned away from me and left the bed. I gasped at being alone. Then he was back with a cool washcloth, placing it against my neck and then wiping my face. I was shattered but I was breathing. He placed the pillows around me to keep my well-spanked butt from touching anything, and left the room again. Retuning, he had a bottle of water and a bottle of sports drink. Opening them both, he held one then the other to my mouth, until they were gone. Suddenly, a wave of exhaustion swept over me and I could hardly keep my eyes open. I turned my face to his chest; his one arm going across my waist, pulling me into a deeper embrace. That was the last thing I remembered.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I know what happened; it was entirety from the experience. I was content, well fed, then soundly spanked; the surprise and the reality of the spanking put me into a cathartic response. The emotional part was exhausting my entire body. The shame and the humiliation, along with the pain and heat on my butt, added to the feeling. Then a warm large person to hold me and tell me everything would be all right. I may not have been born yesterday, but I do know enough to know that this is not how the game is played in reality. Sure, in all the one-handed reading I did, yeah; riding off into the sunset with the man of your dreams. Still, this was real life – I had bills to pay, I had to work to live. Besides, I didn’t look like a porn star.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">So after all the emotional outpouring, my mind and my body just decided to shut down completely and I fell asleep...</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I woke up later – a lot later – and felt a bit muddled; I don’t take naps. I have a hard time not being totally muzzy and confused when I wake up. I didn’t understand why I was sleeping on my belly, so I rolled over, and the weight of me and the spanking, both, made me remember just what had happened, and I squawked. I felt like I'd just put my ass into a steam table. I sprang out of the bed and clapped my hands to my backside. I yelped again – that was way too hard.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">At the sound of a chuckle, I whipped around to see the author of this leaning on the doorframe with a cup of coffee in one hand, and a grin; which was shifting into a leer. He handed me the cup of coffee, then eyed me up and down slowly saying things like “nice!” He put his hand on my shoulder and turned me around. He pushed me toward the bathroom and showed me my burning butt in the mirror. He still had the grin plastered all over his face. I gasped in shock at the sight of my poor burning butt; it just looked red – no blood, no cuts, no massive back and blue marks.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I picked up the coffee and took a sip. Gad, it was awful. I almost spat it into the sink.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" id="yui_3_7_2_17_1350952975533_96" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c;">“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">What did you do to that coffee?” I gasped, setting the cup down very carefully.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" id="yui_3_7_2_17_1350952975533_97" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Turning on the water, I cupped my hand to get a drink before all the fillings in my mouth dissolved. This may not have been a smart choice because as soon as I spat out the water, and was ready to take a drink, his hand landed on my bent over butt; with a loud crack. I whipped around to see a pious look on his face, eyes looking toward heaven</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" id="yui_3_7_2_17_1350952975533_98" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c;">“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Brats never learn, Goddess, thank you for that. Now,” he said with a growl, “I suggest that we continue this discussion about my cooking abilities in the kitchen or the living room. The bathroom may be OK for you brat; however, just to remind you there are things in here that can be used to tame any wild brat,” he said, nodding at the bath brush.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" id="yui_3_7_2_17_1350952975533_99" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c;">“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Brute!”I said in that tone that all brats have – a kind of mix between a“coy smirk” and a whine – as I batted my eyelashes.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" id="yui_3_7_2_17_1350952975533_100" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c;">“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Brat!”he replied, and hugged me.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" id="yui_3_7_2_17_1350952975533_101" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Listen. He put me to bed naked, so I was that way when he hugged me, and I can recommend hugging... fully. He seemed to have too many hands. They were touching and rubbing (OH, there. Oh, do that again!). My mind was shutting down... only this time it was because my other parts were clamoring for attention. Not only were we on the way to the living room, I'd just provided him with a long thick handle –about halfway down my body.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" id="yui_3_7_2_17_1350952975533_102" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I still had two hands... they being very busy at shirt buttons and jean zippers. He persuaded me into the living room and to the couch. He sat down first and took me on his lap, opening his legs so my sore butt wasn’t really touching anything. I wrapped my hands around his neck and kissed it, giggling.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" id="yui_3_7_2_17_1350952975533_103" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c;">“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Listen brat,” he said in that deep voiced rumble that he has,“I have two younger brothers and a younger sister, I know all about bratty behavior – and I have one older brother and an older sister so I know a fair bit about being a brat. Not as an adult brat but the principle is the same. Those puppy dog eyes are NOT working, I can still see that mind of yours figuring out how to get your way. I know all the tricks.”</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" id="yui_3_7_2_17_1350952975533_104" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">He might know all the kid’s tricks, I thought, grabbing at places kids don’t grab and touching other places that are... not for kids, anyway. Not an adult brat, I betted to myself; as I returned the favor of touching and pulling and kissing parts that were exposed and some that were not… yet. He was gasping and chuckling as I turned to kiss him. God, he knows how to kiss too, I thought. This is just getting better as things were growing – and the feelings were also growing. Then I felt a sharp smack on my thigh.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" id="yui_3_7_2_17_1350952975533_105" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c;">“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Behave,”he growled.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" id="yui_3_7_2_17_1350952975533_106" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">He sat me on the couch with no regard for my sorer parts. I hissed as my butt touched the cushion.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" id="yui_3_7_2_17_1350952975533_107" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c;">“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">You sit there and I’ll sit here. We need to talk,” he commanded.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" id="yui_3_7_2_17_1350952975533_108" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I was thinking, at this minute, that talking was vastly overrated. I had about set my mind to go for it anyway, when I saw the Look. It said, in a no-nonsense way, that he was being very Toppish and I'd better listen up.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" id="yui_3_7_2_17_1350952975533_109" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">OK. So touching and kissing were out of the question. I got up and went to the bedroom returning with my comfortable well broken in floor pillow that had ended up in the bedroom, and grabbed a new pair of sweats too. Then came into the living room pulling them on, tossed the pillow on the floor, carefully pulled up the sweats, and sat very carefully on the pillow.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" id="yui_3_7_2_17_1350952975533_110" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Well, all the brats reading this missive will know exactly what I was doing. He doesn’t want to cuddle, FINE I won’t. There was just a suggestion of a tongue sticking out as I sat gently in front of him on the floor. Then I looked up with my face angelic.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" id="yui_3_7_2_17_1350952975533_111" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c;">“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Then let’s talk,” I said in a normal tone of voice.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" id="yui_3_7_2_17_1350952975533_112" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I knew he saw through that in just one glance, and with a raised eyebrow and a modified</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Look, he said, “I know just what you're trying to pull brat; it is not going to work. OK, here's the deal... I am a Top and you are a brat –a real brat – that I know needs a real Top to deal with, which means spanking and other punishments as I see fit. I won’t beat you, but we will have rules and you will obey them or get a warmed bottom.” </span></div>
<div align="LEFT" id="yui_3_7_2_17_1350952975533_113" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Well, I was about to tackle him and tell him yes, when he stood up. Walking over to me, he dropped a ticket on my lap. It was an airline ticket and it was open dated. Now I was getting the picture, and a knot of fear roiled in my gut. Trying to, but failing to be brave, I quipped,“Not from these here parts are ya', mister?”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" id="yui_3_7_2_17_1350952975533_114" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Then the sadness started. Damn Florida. Damn myself for jumping in head –or in this case – bottom in first.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" id="yui_3_7_2_17_1350952975533_115" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I just stared, and spat, “You’re a bloody tourist! Have a nice time at our beaches and in the warm Florida sunshine!”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" id="yui_3_7_2_17_1350952975533_116" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I was so hurt – mostly at me, but also at him because he could have said something. He looked at me, and I stood up and stalked past him to the bedroom.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" id="yui_3_7_2_17_1350952975533_117" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">His arm grabbed me as I went past and, with a twist, I was falling over the arm of the couch to his lap. Somehow, the sweats were down again.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" id="yui_3_7_2_17_1350952975533_118" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c;">“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">I said, (CRACK) we were going to talk. Now behave and get back over there, or do you want to talk here? Where do you need to have the talk, brat?” His hand CRACKED down again, re-igniting the sear on my butt. He just held me there for a bit waiting for an answer.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" id="yui_3_7_2_17_1350952975533_119" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c;">“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">I should not have to hold you down while you hear about my idea, brat. But, hey, you get that attitude back and that's where you're going to be!”</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" id="yui_3_7_2_17_1350952975533_120" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">He stood me up and made me stand in front. Then he walked me over to one of the kitchen chairs, and he carried that and me. With his foot, he kicked the floor pillow and sat me down hard on that hard wooden chair. He then picked up the ticket and told me to look at it then I would read it aloud to him so he could explain any of the big words, in the drawl Tops use.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" id="yui_3_7_2_17_1350952975533_121" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">That's when I saw it. I cleared my throat.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" id="yui_3_7_2_17_1350952975533_122" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c;">“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Passenger name: Randy Williams. Time of flight: Open to current schedule. Just three days notice must be given.” </span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" id="yui_3_7_2_17_1350952975533_123" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Then a receipt fell out of the ticket holder. I picked it up, wincing as the movement made my butt slide forward. Now, with a slower sound and tone – all brats and Tops know that one; the sound of a brat’s voice realizing he has made a huge error.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" id="yui_3_7_2_17_1350952975533_124" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c;">“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Receipt for Apt 212. Paid in full for one year from month of Oct to Oct of the next year.”</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" id="yui_3_7_2_17_1350952975533_125" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Someone had been a busy beaver while I was napping. Then I saw his luggage behind the chair. I looked up; my hopes and dreams rising. His arms were open, and I flew into his lap. His strong warm scent was in my face as I pressed against his neck; his other arm cupping my still sore butt. </span></div>
<div align="LEFT" id="yui_3_7_2_17_1350952975533_126" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">He chuckled, and said, “With you as a brat, I think we need to live together. Now, I am on vacation – I live in Montana. We, the family and I, own a horse ranch. I live there in my own home, but we are a close family and we all work together. My brothers and my dad and mom all live on the ranch as well. Make no mistake, we'll try to be discreet when family is around but don’t be surprised to see one, or more than one, seeing you get what you have coming. Now the other parts (and his hand stroked a very wonderful part of me firmly and positively) will be for the bedroom only.” </span></div>
<div align="LEFT" id="yui_3_7_2_17_1350952975533_127" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">He kissed the back of my neck and hugged me tighter, whispering,“Of course I’ll work your cute ass off. We work outside mostly but, hell, think of the learning that will be. So what I have done; while I was watching you sleep – with that well spanked look on your face, all cute and adorable; however, knowing you are a perfect brat when you wake up – made me make a few changes to my plan. So I called our banker and had some money wired to here, and I paid your rent for a year and bought you an open ended ticket so you can come home if it doesn’t work. I don’t want you to feel you have to come, but I’d love to live with you. This way, we have a few outs that we, hopefully, will learn to talk over. And hopefully, we can tear them all up. How does that sound to you?”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" id="yui_3_7_2_17_1350952975533_128" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Look, I’m not a dummy but... well, there was the kissing on my back of my neck, and his other hand was cupping and touching places, so I said: the hell with my dead end job, and I’d go home with a cowboy. So I nodded, and started to return the touches and sliding of hands on chest hair and nips, and kissed him seriously, and said, “Yes, Sir."</span></div>
<div style="color: white; height: 0px;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;">__._,_.___</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044367416949960084.post-57476214849609473012012-09-26T10:57:00.005-07:002012-09-26T11:04:57.221-07:00Blue Inspiration<div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"><em><strong>This is in response to a WL Challenge.</strong></em></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;">You're in bed dead to the world you butt is glowing, the paddle and your
briefs litter the room.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;">You have relief!!</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;">I
am torn. Did I do too much? Was I too angry?. Will you hate
me?</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;">I
am the Top, out here it sounds so hollow so empty. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div style="font-style: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;">You need my control.
You need my support. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div dir="ltr">
<div style="font-style: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;">I need, I
need, I feel the tears.</span></span></div>
</div>
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div style="font-style: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;">Like I felt
yours.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div style="font-style: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;">I hear your voice.
Mark? Tentative questioning worried.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div style="font-style: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;">Wiping the tears away,
hiding my face.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div dir="ltr">
<div style="font-style: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;">Your warm
arms engulfs me, your head on my shoulder. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="color: #f9cb9c;"> </span></div>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;">'I'm so sorry,' you
whisper. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div dir="ltr">
<div style="font-style: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;">I feel my
relief. </span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 13pt; font-style: normal;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044367416949960084.post-43693369900364857322012-09-23T11:10:00.002-07:002012-09-23T11:10:35.946-07:00Home On The Range<br /><br />Tony crested the hill, and
leaned forward on the saddle. Below him lay a valley.<br />There was a river
running though it, and Tony grinned – it was about time. The<br />last three days
had been dry camps, and he was getting very tired of his own<br />stink. But there
was river water for washing and maybe some fresh fish. He heard<br />Mark ride up
next to him and heard him sigh.<br /><br />"Isn't that about the nicest thing you
have seen?"<br /><br />Mark took the lead as they made their way down into the
valley. Tony kept<br />looking at Mark, his back straight, and Tony could just
catch a glimpse of his<br />jean-covered butt in the saddle.<br /><br />A camp. A real
camp. It had been used before. A fire ring was in front of a huge<br />boulder.
That boulder would help reflect the heat of the fire. Mark had his<br />horse
hobbled, and took off his jean jacket and his shirt. His broad chest
was<br />dusted with hair. Tony loved Mark's hairy chest; it was wide across the
pecs and<br />then it narrowed down to that wonderful treasure trail. He heeled
off his boots,<br />and his dusty dirty jeans came down with his briefs. With a
whoop, he splashed<br />into the river. Tony hobbled his horse, and was just as
quick to strip down.<br />Three days of dry camps – the sweat and the dirt – was
too much he almost tore<br />off his own clothing, and then followed Mark into the
cold water of the river.<br /><br />"Oh, to be clean," he thought. Mark's arm hugged
him; his body slick with water.<br />Mark's hand cracked across Tony's
butt.<br /><br />"Did you bring the soap?"<br /><br />Tony leaned into the hug and shook
his head. He was in too much of a rush to<br />just get clean. Already he felt
better. Mark slapped Tony's butt hard, and<br />climbed out and walked to the
horses. Tony had his hand resting on the burning<br />handprint as he watched Mark
unload the saddles and the packhorse; watched his<br />lover – his strong body
moving with grace and strength. When Mark bent over, his<br />male ass was a
delight to see. Mark rummaged though their packs, and brought out<br />the soap
and the bag where they put their clothing and the liquid soap. With a<br />feral
grin, Mark tossed the soap to Tony and left the pile of clothing and<br />liquid
soap on the bank. Mark entered the water and enfolded Tony into a hug.<br />Mark's
hand rested on Tony's butt, and he said in that calm everyday voice.<br /><br />"I'm
gonna take a belt to your butt tonight, boy. You have the laundry duty,
and<br />after we bathe I'll get some fish for supper. Afterward, I think it might
be<br />time for you to be over the saddle, boy, waiting for my belt."<br /><br />It
was the way he said it – just normal, calm. Like: "I am going to take out
the<br />trash and then whup Tony's butt." It sent a chill though Tony's body, and
the<br />heat of his cock made it jerk upright. Mark grinned at Tony and then
said.<br /><br />"Wash my back, babe, and I'll wash yours."<br /><br />The river had a
good swift current here. Tony soaped Mark's broad back, washing<br />all the
places he wanted to kiss and lick and enjoy. After three days of dry<br />camps,
he was going to enjoy licking and kissing Mark's body. The threatened<br />belting
was just an added thrill. Soon both were covered in soap – the dirt of<br />the
last three days was flowing down the current.<br /><br />Taking the horses down to
the river farther down the steam, Tony watered them<br />and then grinned as his
horse, Flame, slowly lowered himself into the shallow<br />stream. With an almost
human groan, he began to roll back and forth; his legs in<br />the air. Flame was
the only horse Tony had ever known that did that in the<br />water. Mark's horse,
Horse, snorted and looked almost offended as Flame made his<br />wallow, and the
pack horse, Pack, nickered and drank deeply.<br /><br />Tony started to use the
curry comb on Horse; he was dusty and he leaned against<br />the cowboy as the
brush groomed him. Flame rolled and then stood up, water<br />running down his
sides, and then he shook. Pack snorted and backed out of the<br />way. Horse
greeted Flame on the bank, with a nuzzle. Each horse had its own<br />personality.
They bonded with each other as well as, with their riders. Each man<br />learned
to understand his mount and to know his personality. Like Flame and
the<br />water, and Horse not wanting to get wet... like that. However at home, he
loved<br />the hose as it ran water down his large body.<br /><br />Tony led Horse to
the new picket line. Mark had set it so the horses had fresh<br />grass to graze.
Then he went back to lead Pack. By that time – he had hoped –<br />the sun would
begin to dry out Flames' coat and it would be a less messy brush<br />job. As he
snapped the clips on the lower line that let the horse graze and<br />still move
freely, he heard a low wolf-whistle. Slowly he stood and stretched<br />his arms
over his head; the light of the sun shining on his body, as he modeled<br />for
his partner. Then with a rolling hip gait he began to strut toward
the<br />campfire – He thought maybe Flame could dry out a bit longer.<br /><br />Mark
squatted by the fire, and reached to pour two more cups of coffee, with<br />that
silly grin he always had. Then Tony heard Flame; he was coming toward
him<br />clearly wanting his brushing. Dirty horse, hot clean cowboy, hmmm... he
almost<br />laughed – no contest.<br /><br />Then Flame's scream filled the air, and
Tony was knocked down and away. He<br />landed a few feet away, and was stunned at
the blow and at the attack. Mark was<br />on his feet, rushing to the scene, as
Flame reared up and slammed his weight<br />down again and again on the same spot
of ground<br /><br />Mark reached Tony and pulled him to his chest, feeling for
broken bones or<br />broken skin. There were none. Tony was shaken and he winced
in pain as Mark<br />stood him up. Mark supported him as they watched the horse
rear and scream. Then<br />it was over, and the camp was filled with the sounds of
the horse panting.<br /><br />Mark saw it then: a slash of red and gray and brown.
It was a rattler. Tony<br />hadn't seen it but Flame had, and pushed his rider out
of the way then took care<br />of it. The smashed snake was in several
pieces<br /><br />Mark grabbed Flame's halter in one hand, his other around his
dazed lover.<br /><br />"Hush, baby. Hush, I've got you."<br /><br />Flame nickered and
his head pressed into Mark's chest. Tony sat down, still<br />dazed, as Mark's arm
went around the horse's neck; his face pressed against the<br />muddy skin, and
Mark whispered, "Thank You."<br /><br />*<br /><br />Tony squatted by the fire and
lifted the small pot of boiling water. He added<br />the potatoes and a small
onion, letting them cook. He moved the blue coffee pot<br />away from the direct
heat.<br /><br />Mark had been firm that he was to rest and to recover after the
fall and the<br />being hit by Flame. So after Mark had checked him and Flame from
tip to toe, he<br />was told to rest until Mark had got the fish for
dinner.<br /><br /><br />*<br /><br />They lay there after eating, Tony against Mark's
body almost inside Mark's jean<br />jacket. His face against Marks neck, smelling
the clean fresh scent of his man.<br />Mark's hand rubbed against his leg. The
trout were gone and dinner was over.<br />Warm coffee was near each man as they
lay in the growing darkness. Tony had not<br />gotten dressed; he had a blanket
over his legs, keeping them covered as the<br />chill of the evening crept across
the camp. Tony's hand ghosted at Mark's fly as<br />Mark's hand slipped under the
blanket and cupped Tony's brief-covered cheek.<br /><br />"We have an appointment,
now, don't we boy?" Mark's hand groped Tony's<br />brief-covered cock. The touch
and hearing the words, were all Tony needed. His<br />cock slammed up against his
stomach.<br /><br />"Get ready, boy. I'm gonna check the
horses."<br /><br />*<br /><br />Once again, just calmly – with that sexy undertone.
Tony shuddered, as Mark left<br />the firelight.<br /><br />Tony looked over his
shoulder. He felt a jolt of sexual rush as he saw Mark<br />standing over him.
Mark's hand was holding his wide leather belt. Mark looked so<br />hot in a white
tee and nothing else save his boots – legs planted firmly on the<br />ground, his
belt dangling down his leg.<br /><br />"Yes, boy. You and this belt have an
appointment, don't you? Then we have an<br />appointment!" Mark growled, as his
other hand stroked his cock. "Yeah, lay (?)<br />that butt up across the saddle.
Damn, those white briefs make it stand out. I'm<br />gonna love warming it up...
nice and hot!"<br /><br />Tony shuddered, and ground his growing cock against the
saddle's well-worn<br />leather. He moaned his assent, flexing his ass. The belt
cracked down, leaving a<br />hot burn across the dead center of his butt. He
gasped. Damn, it hurt but it<br />felt so good.<br /><br />Mark dropped to his knees,
straddling his lover's body; positioned so that his<br />upper arm could still
swing that leather. It landed hard and loud in the night.<br /><br />Tony was
gasping as the belt hit; hot against his ass. He humped his ass up as<br />it
landed; the crack louder as he leaned into the lick. He loved the power
Mark<br />was showing. He loved the burn of the leather and the hot sting of it as
it<br />landed across his ass. The briefs were not any protection but more of an
accent,<br />making him feel like a bad boy. They played like this often – at home
over the<br />bed, or in the barn over the sawhorse or across the bales of hay.
Mark knew how<br />to use the well-worn belt and Tony loved the
feeling.<br /><br />Mark's hand pulled down the briefs, trapping Tony's legs,
exposing his now hot<br />red ass. Mark's hand spanked his butt.<br /><br />"Yeah, I
am gonna ride me a cowboy," he growled as he spread the burning cheeks<br />apart.
His lube-coated finger covering his man's hole.<br /><br />As hard as the spanking
had been – as hard as the belt had landed – that burn<br />was quickly melting
into Tony's front, as he felt the cool finger slide up his<br />hot sweaty ass.
God, he loved this man. Mark's hand spanked down again. The hard<br />hand's sting
so different from the leather – more personal, more intimate.<br />Mark's hand
spanking Tony's bare butt was so real and so damn hot.<br /><br />Then Mark moved in
front of his man; his hard cock jutting out proud. Tony<br />opened his mouth and
his tongue lapped at the stretching foreskin, tasting the<br />slight saltiness.
He took the hard cock down his throat.<br /><br />Another lick landed and Tony's
hand ached to stroke his own tackle. Tony got to<br />work. He loved sucking this
cock – the feel of it, the girth and the swell of<br />it. He loved this position;
his butt exposed to Mark's hard hand and Mark's cock<br />in his mouth. He felt
Mark's breath blow air on his burning butt.<br /><br />*<br /><br />Later, Mark's body
covered Tony. His heat and lust wrapped around Tony like the<br />belt had wrapped
across his bare ass. He could smell the sweat of them both, the<br />warm leather
of the saddle, the smoke of the camp fire, and the warmth of Mark's<br />breath as
he kissed Tony's neck.<br /><br />The fire was dying now – night was fully set and
there was just the dim glow as<br />they lay against each other in the double
sleeping bag. Mark cuddling Tony, as<br />the heat from Tony's ass warmed his
groin inside the covering. Tony was, as<br />usual, almost boneless after a hot
session.<br /><br />Mark's hand was rubbing and stroking his man. Tony was all but
purring, when<br />they both heard the sound of a pair of jeans fall off a
branch.<br /><br />"Babe, you know those pants are going to be too cold to put on in
the morning.<br />You ass is nice and hot, but I don't think it'll be enough to
warm them up."<br />Mark muttered into Tony's neck<br /><br />"The sun will warm them
up, and if you think this cowboy is going riding on this<br />butt in the morning
you have another think coming! We ain't going anywhere."<br />Tony retorted,
grinding his butt against his partner's midsection.<br /><br />"So, you mean we're
stayin' for a time?" Mark asked with a ghost of a chuckle.<br />"In that case..."
Mark's body began to move again; against the still heated butt<br />of his
lover.<br /><br />End.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044367416949960084.post-63866016198930096772012-04-16T10:14:00.000-07:002012-04-16T10:14:59.691-07:00Peter and Alan's Backstory"Peter, you come out from there right now so we can talk about this!"<br />
<br />
"No! I don't care, you are not going to change your mind. So what is the fucking<br />
point!" That was yelled even louder through the locked door of the bathroom,<br />
followed by a sound kick to the door.<br />
<br />
"I will have that door open young man! You will open this door or I will. If I<br />
have to open this door, Peter, you will not be able to sit down until I come<br />
back. Do you understand me? I have had enough of your sulking and your pouting.<br />
I didn't make these plans, but I have to go to this conference and the meeting.<br />
I'm sorry that it's going to take me away from you and our home. I will be home<br />
on Christmas. I can't change time or distance. I wanted to be here with you all<br />
week but I have to go."<br />
<br />
Russ shook his head. He was screaming at a door! A locked door in his own house!<br />
He wanted to kick the door as hard as Peter had but he was not going to lose<br />
control. The issues that he and Peter had been working on were clearly bearing<br />
fruit. The usually tough looking and tough acting younger man was as stoic as a<br />
rock. Russ thumped his head against the door with a sigh. Well Peter was<br />
learning how to trust and how to state he wants and needs. Break though. He ran<br />
his hands though his hair. `Some break through', he thought, `now I just want to<br />
strangle him.'<br />
<br />
"Last chance, young man, before I get the tool box. Once I do that I will<br />
blister that butt of yours! Now, you can either open the door and take your<br />
spanking or I will open this door and get out the strap!"<br />
<br />
He heard the bolt being drawn back and the lock snick. Then the door opened.<br />
Peter was framed against the door, his hair a mess, his eyes wet and tears were<br />
running down his face. Russ drew him into his arms and hugged him. Peter started<br />
to sob as his arm wrapped around Russell's neck. Russ walked Peter back into the<br />
bedroom and sat down in the large chair, pulling him on to his lap.<br />
<br />
"I don't want you to go!" sobbed Peter into Russ' neck.<br />
<br />
With his arms full of a young man Russ wasn't all that interested in going<br />
either. Still it had to happen and Russ knew he had to give this young man the<br />
grounding he needed. So much of Peter's young life had been groundless.<br />
Struggling on the streets, slowly working up and out of that. The apparently a<br />
terrible crash and burn in Florida which drove Peter back here. To home, where<br />
Russ found him going though the company dumpster one night, thin half- starved<br />
and burning with fever. Russ shook his head to dispel that look of Peter eyes<br />
that night over a year and a half ago. Bright with fever but so lost, untrusting<br />
and so scared. Russ thought he fell in love that night. When Peter collapsed in<br />
his arm after trying to run away.<br />
<br />
"Honey", Russ said in a calm soothing tone, "I am not your parents; I will come<br />
back. I am not a trick promising you something and then standing you up. I am<br />
your lover, your partner, your Top. I will come back like I said I will. I don't<br />
lie. I didn't want to leave you here alone for a week especially this week of<br />
Christmas. However I can't change the plans."<br />
<br />
Peter was sniffling while listening to Russ's deep warm voice. He knew all this<br />
he really did and he trusted Russ. He didn't quite understand where his head was<br />
at. For some reason this leaving was very hard to take. He was fine really fine<br />
they had talked about it. He and Russ talked it over with Peter's therapist. He<br />
knew that Russ wasn't running out on him. He knew the meeting was very<br />
important. He sniffed and tried to wipe his eyes. Russ handed him his<br />
handkerchief. Peter blew his nose and Russ took the handkerchief and wiped his<br />
eyes and face.<br />
<br />
Peter woke up this morning and he saw the suitcase he flew out of bed dressed<br />
only in his briefs and started yet another fight. He knew Russ didn't want to<br />
go. But the mean-spirited words were flying out of his mouth before he could<br />
even think. Then he just let it take him. Before he was really aware of it he<br />
was in the bathroom and had locked the door.<br />
<br />
Peter blushed and tried to bury his face in Russ's neck. He whispered in<br />
Russell's ear, "I am so screwed aren't I?"<br />
<br />
"Pretty much, yeah," whispered Russ.<br />
<br />
"So much for anger issues getting settled soon," moaned Peter.<br />
<br />
He hugged Russ hard and then got up walked to the bathroom and came back out<br />
holding the wooden paddle. Russ sighed inside, took the wooden paddle in his<br />
hand, set it on the table next to the chair and stood Peter up then he slowly<br />
slid down that briefs Peter was wearing. Sometimes, he thought, is it a bitch<br />
being a mean old Top. His mind flashed back to the many times he had been<br />
standing in front of Art, butt bare, knowing this was going to hurt and feeling<br />
like if he could just rewind he would not be getting his ass roasted. He wished<br />
he could ask Peter if he felt that way too at these times. However there was a<br />
time and a place for everything and right now he had to enforce the house rules.<br />
He brought the paddle down firmly and he gripped Peter as his body jerked. He<br />
knew this was needed he had to get past the feeling of let's forget it and<br />
cuddle. He was in charge and his guy needed the firm boundaries they had worked<br />
on. Steeling himself he continued spanking that bare butt over his knee. Peter<br />
butt went from pale white to blushing pink to hot red. Peter's legs were kicking<br />
and he was bucking. This wasn't the playful spanking they both enjoyed. This was<br />
a punishment. Russ continued and let the paddle work down the cheeks to the<br />
upper legs, painting them scarlet. He wasn't sure Peter heard him as the paddle<br />
fell. He stopped, resting the paddle on the hot red bare but of the man he<br />
loved.<br />
<br />
"Do we lock door around here, love?" Peter shook his head.<br />
<br />
"You know we don't, right?"<br />
<br />
Peter shook his head again and gulped out a yes, then Russ landed five very firm<br />
swats to the center of Peter's upturned bottom. Peter howled as the last five<br />
licks landed hard on his bare butt. Then he lay boneless across his lover's<br />
knee, tears and snot dripping down his face. His butt felt like it was going up<br />
in a nuclear heat explosion. He hated this he could never figure it out. It was<br />
so simple and so very direct. He had stood up in fights. He was a man yet the<br />
sight of that paddle and the look in Russ' face was so very settling. When he<br />
and Russ played he loved the feeling a nice warm butt, the mock growl in his<br />
lover's voice would make his cock stand right up. He wasn't thinking about<br />
anything right now except the painful burning. Yet under that under the pain and<br />
the snot and the tears he felt calmer, in control. He felt cared for and safe.<br />
He felt Russ' hand rubbing his back and his shoulders. The same hands that swung<br />
that paddle felt so warm and loving. So safe. He sniffed. The familiar smell of<br />
the laundry as a handkerchief was held for him to blow is nose. The warm feeling<br />
as it wiped his face then those same strong arms that stood him up and then<br />
moved him to the bed. Peter was laid beside Russ and Russ' hands continued to<br />
rub and sooth. Peter was at the point where breathing was easier but his butt<br />
felt like it was still flaming hot. Still, he felt connected and safe.<br />
<br />
"Peter, it will get better!" Russ said in his low growl.<br />
<br />
~ ~ ~ ~ ~<br />
<br />
They had been on their huge bed for an hour re- connecting and just holding.<br />
Peter's butt was still well spanked. He lay on top of Russ.<br />
<br />
"I will be home in a week and I want you to behave, I hope I have made that<br />
clear to you." Peter buried his face in Russ' neck, inhaling the aftershave and<br />
the scent that was Russ and nodded.<br />
<br />
"Clear, crystal clear," Peter said as he ghosted one of his hands over the<br />
charred remnants of his ass. Russ captured that hand and replaced it with his<br />
own hand cupping the burning butt.<br />
<br />
"No parties. No late night drinking. No drinking and driving. Keep your nose<br />
clean, young man, or this poor abused butt will be spanked again."<br />
<br />
Peter was recovered enough to quip, "I blow my nose often, Sir, it is very<br />
clean." Russ landed a slight slap to the butt in his hand.<br />
<br />
"You know what I mean Brat! I will be calling at least once a day at about 7:00<br />
pm your time, okay? And you can always reach me if you need to. Lacy will know<br />
where I am. And you have my cell in case of an emergency." After a few more<br />
minutes of cuddling and canoodling, Russ pulled Peter up and they went to the<br />
bathroom where Peter took a shower and Russ finished dressing. Then, dressed,<br />
together they went downstairs. The car Lacy Wilson had arranged was at the door.<br />
Russ enfolded his man in his arms and kissed him seriously.<br />
<br />
"I love you, Peter. I will be here in seven days."<br />
<br />
Peter hugged Russ back and whispered, "I know. I love you, too, Big Man. Come<br />
home and call often." Then picking up his case and his briefcase, Russ walked<br />
down to the car and was gone. Peter watched the car disappear down the street,<br />
then sat on the pouch wanting to cry. His phone rang and the caller ID alerted<br />
him to a text from Russ.<br />
<br />
:::Get your butt in the house and have breakfast young man! I love you brat, I<br />
do!:::<br />
<br />
Peter grinned and went into the house.<br />
<br />
~ ~ ~ ~ ~<br />
<br />
ALAN -- EARLIER THAT MORNING IN THE SAME CITY<br />
<br />
Alan stepped off his box as the music stopped, last call was given and the<br />
lights were about to come on. It was a bitter transformation. Bars of any kind<br />
should never be seen under the harshness of the cleaning lights and the harsher<br />
light of reality. He had just enough time to escape to the back, before the<br />
drunks and the losers decided that since he was there he was going to go home<br />
with them. Carl, the bartender, shot him a grin and nodded. Alan got the key and<br />
went through the locked door. Many bars are in buildings that were not actually<br />
built for bars and this was no exception. This place had a shower and a kitchen.<br />
True, the kitchen was in the planning stages because Carl wanted to do food<br />
someday. However, the shower was working right now and it had blessed hot water.<br />
There was a serious lock on the metal door so Alan was safe. He had one key and<br />
Carl had the other.<br />
<br />
He had gotten the job with Carl. Alan knew there was a mysterious owner<br />
somewhere, but Carl ran the show. Alan wasn't sure how he got the job as a<br />
dancer here, given that his fake ID was terrible. However, it worked and the<br />
tips gave him critical income. Not a lot, but some. Alan had been living on the<br />
fringes for a while. He was a good looking man in his 17th year. Pretty fit for<br />
guy who had been living on the outside society, ever since he ran away from<br />
home, three years ago.<br />
<br />
He shook that thought off and got his shampoo and body wash from his little<br />
locker. Carl was good about letting him keep some stuff here but Alan didn't<br />
want to push his luck, since he didn't have a shower of his own. Three hard<br />
years had shown Alan just how bad it could be. This was the high point of his<br />
day. He let the hot water wash away the sweat and grime. Carl let him shower<br />
once a day and there was even a washing machine so he could wash his clothes.<br />
This was the best gig he had had since he ran though his money. He showered, put<br />
on his clean washed clothes, and let himself out the service door into the<br />
alley. The alley was a place he always wanted to get out of quickly, since he<br />
had more than had enough of alleys.<br />
<br />
His mind flashed back to the night about three years ago, when he got coerced<br />
into trying to turn tricks and it was a total disaster. He tried to avoid it,<br />
but he was hungry and the guy seemed nice. Alan had not expected `Pretty Woman'<br />
but he thought the back of that alley was far worse than he'd imagined. When the<br />
man pressed himself into him, he smelled the same aftershave his father used and<br />
it freaked him out. He tried, he knew the pimp had taken the money and he was<br />
promised to get some, but that aftershave flipped him out and he tried to run.<br />
The man was quicker and he clearly wanted his money's worth.<br />
<br />
Suddenly there was a third person who snarled for the man to get lost. When Alan<br />
opened his eyes he saw a guy who was choke-holding the man and pulling him off.<br />
With a punch, the guy sent the man reeling down the alley. Then the guy grabbed<br />
Alan's arm and hissed that they better make tracks or they would get beaten.<br />
They ran and ran and ran. Alan was in pretty fair shape, so was the guy that<br />
saved him. Soon they were out of the area and slowed to a walk.<br />
<br />
The adrenalin and the fear as well as being hungry crashed down on Alan. He<br />
collapsed against a wall. It was another alley. Just another alley in the same<br />
city. Alan felt he was going nowhere. He wanted to cry. He wanted to die. The<br />
guy helping him gave him a look and then asked if he had been hurt. Alan, trying<br />
to be tough, wiped the tears out of his eyes and shook his head. Then the guy<br />
pulled him to his feet and urged him on and up a flight of stairs to a rattle<br />
trap apartment. It wasn't a crash pad, it was an apartment. With a door and a<br />
lock. Not much else but it was private.<br />
<br />
The guy looked at Alan and then plugged in an old hot plate. He boiled water and<br />
he made tea. Then he went to a foam cooler and got some milk and some sugar. He<br />
handed Alan an old cup with the handle broken off and told him to drink it down<br />
and it would help with the shakes and the hunger.<br />
<br />
Alan felt the warmth of the liquid go down his throat, then he paled. The guy<br />
grabbed him and held him over the toilet as he was violently sick. It hurt. He<br />
retched and heaved but he was empty and just bile came up. The guy held him.<br />
Alan leaned against the clean but old porcelain toilet. The guy was back with a<br />
warm wet cloth and he wiped Alan's face and then held out the cup, now filled<br />
with cool water.<br />
<br />
"Just sip, go slow. He didn't hurt you. You are just scared. I'm glad I came<br />
along when I did. How old are you?" the guy asked.<br />
<br />
Alan tried to deepen his voice. "Twenty", he said. The guy cocked his eyebrow.<br />
<br />
"Want to try again?" he said with a grin. "If you're twenty then I'm forty five,<br />
and I know I'm twenty. So how old are YOU? I ain't the police, I just wanted to<br />
know how young you are to be trying to turn tricks in an alley. What fifteen?"<br />
Alan nodded and leaned back against the wall.<br />
<br />
"Runaway?" asked the guy. Alan nodded again "It had to be really bad to run. How<br />
long?"<br />
<br />
"A few months now. I can't, I just can't go back to HIM." The guy just nodded.<br />
<br />
"Yeah, I know how that is. Suburbia sucks, terror inside the pretty houses. Step<br />
dad? Uncle? Father? Which? Maybe older brother?"<br />
<br />
"Father!" The title came out like an epithet.<br />
<br />
"That sucks big time kiddo, but YOU didn't cause it... did you. You didn't do<br />
anything but be there, right?"<br />
<br />
"Yeah... right," Alan said tiredly, leaning his head back. "I didn't do a thing<br />
but he kept doing it and doing it, then Mom left and it got really bad so I<br />
checked out too. But what can I do? Mom's gone; I can't go back there. I thought<br />
I could hang in suburbia, but you stick out. So I came to the Big City. It just<br />
sucks! Then that trick, well, he was my first. Lewis said it would get better,<br />
so he set it up and said he would hold the money and we would split it."<br />
<br />
The guy handed back the cooling cup of tea and just shook his head.<br />
<br />
"Hey!" Alan said "I'm not a fool but I was hungry. I knew what Lewis was doing.<br />
He has boys everywhere but he fed me, okay! I scored food. I thought… shit, it's<br />
just a dick, but the asshole had the same aftershave as my Father." The<br />
bitterness poured out in his voice. "It freaked me out."<br />
<br />
"Hey, hey, slow down Tiger!" the guy said with a ghost of a chuckle. "You'll do<br />
fine, you won't need to do that. You hungry? I can spot you some food... And,<br />
no, I don't want anything for it." The guy pulled Alan to his feet and they<br />
walked out of the apartment.<br />
<br />
Alan was amazed. He thought they were going to bounce or dive to eat, but the<br />
guy steered him into a pizza place and took a seat. Well he did look okay,<br />
clean, and he didn't look like he lived on the streets. That street look was the<br />
first thing to show up. Most shop owners would have demanded money first or just<br />
told Alan to beat it. This guy sat in the pizza joint as if he had the right to<br />
be a customer. He ordered an entire pie and they ate it right there. God it was<br />
so good. Alan had not had any real hot food for a while and it was as good as he<br />
remembered. The guy had to remind him to slow down a few times. Once, he took<br />
the second slice away from Alan, telling him to chew and to swallow first. The<br />
guy did it all with a grin so Alan couldn't be mad at him. Alan couldn't<br />
believe it and kept trying to figure out the guy's damage or his angle. The guy<br />
just smiled at him.<br />
<br />
"Appearances count, so rule one: you eat like you might be a bit hungry and you<br />
are always polite and look like you belong. If you start looking street that is<br />
where you will be, on the street", he said all this as he finished his beer and<br />
closed the box. They walked out of the pizza place. "Now, second rule: be clean<br />
or as clean as you can. We'll take care of that in the morning. Let's get some<br />
shut eye, ` K?"<br />
<br />
As they went back to the one room, it started getting cold. Alan was shivering<br />
by the time they got back and the room was as cold and dark as when they'd left.<br />
The guy pulled out a small flashlight and they sat on the bed. He handed Alan<br />
another soda and got a beer for himself from the foam cooler.<br />
<br />
"Now introductions need to be made," the guy said. "I like to know who is<br />
sharing my bed." Alan sighed and nodded as that sad hopeless feeling came over<br />
him.<br />
<br />
"Yeah feed me and fuck me," he said in a bitter voice. "Well you did buy me a<br />
pizza..." Alan said resignedly, looking at the door.<br />
<br />
"Aww Dude, that isn't what I meant", the guy said. "Look, so far I know that you<br />
are a kid, I am a guy and sure I like guys, but I don't want kids. I don't need<br />
a mercy fuck. I said sharing my bed and I meant just that. It gets very cold in<br />
here. There is only one plug and you can't really use for anything else other<br />
than that old plate or the fuse gets blown. So I thought we would bundle. But<br />
what the hell dude, if you want to be that way, you can leave or you can try the<br />
floor. There ain't no TV or cable, so when the sun goes down it is the best time<br />
to sleep. I have to get up and work in the morning, but in order to do that I<br />
need my shut eye. There's nothing else to do here, but there is the door if you<br />
want some more of the night life!"<br />
<br />
"Sorry!" Alan mumbled.<br />
<br />
"It's okay, kid, you've had a time of it, I know. Sorry I blew my stack. I've<br />
been there, only I was older and I got better at it. I'm not that far from where<br />
you are, but now I have a job and this place. It's a rat trap, but it is clean.<br />
I can't keep much here. Body heat works under the blankets. If you want you can<br />
wear your clothes. I don't, because I only have two changes, so I sleep in<br />
these." The guy pulled off his jeans, wearing a pair of long johns. "Well these<br />
and socks, but I got one pair so far. Your jeans and your shirt might be okay if<br />
you want to be safe, but trust me – I don't go for boys, I go for men."<br />
<br />
He took the chair and the table and slid them in front of the door. He folded<br />
his jeans and placed them under the bed, then he crawled under the pile of<br />
covers. Alan looked at the door, then he too shucked out of his jeans and slid<br />
under the covers. In the dark the guy's voice was low and warm next to Alan.<br />
<br />
"By the way, I'm Peter."<br />
<br />
"Alan."<br />
<br />
The warmth of the man did heat up the bed and Alan began to relax. He felt safe<br />
and he was fed and he was warm; not bad for the street. He fell asleep.<br />
<br />
The room was dark and cold when Peter's alarm went off. It was on his watch and<br />
it woke both of them up. Alan was deeply asleep. After sleeping in various crash<br />
pads in the city, he had learned to sleep with one eye open. This place was dark<br />
and peaceful and for the first time, Alan had slept deeply and well.<br />
<br />
Peter got up and they both went out into the predawn of the just waking city.<br />
Alan didn't know where they were going, he did hope that maybe he could get<br />
warmer. When Peter pushed him on a bus, he paid for the fare and they sat in the<br />
back. Alan was almost dozing when Peter pulled the cord and got up. Pulling Alan<br />
along, Peter headed over to a Gym. He opened the door and went in. Alan followed<br />
cautiously behind him. Peter went to the door and looked in.<br />
<br />
"Scott!" he called. A moment later a tall well-built man appeared.<br />
<br />
"Hey Pete, what's happening and who is this?" Scott asked.<br />
<br />
"Well, I'll say he is my brother if that would help but he is another lost boy<br />
and I am hoping to show him were he might be able to shower and... you know,<br />
like I do."<br />
<br />
Scott looked at Alan and then stuck out his hand.<br />
<br />
"I'm Scott. I run this place. I'll let Pete here fill you in. But we have to be<br />
careful. Not too many people at one time, okay? You two are fine because it is<br />
so early and most of these people aren't up yet. So you follow Pete and he'll<br />
explain everything."<br />
<br />
Peter pulled Alan though the double doors and there was a mop and bucket along<br />
with some other cleaning materials. Peter nodded to the cleaning stuff.<br />
<br />
"You take that and get the ladies bathroom clean and all shiny. Then come back<br />
here, okay? We do some cleaning around here. It saves Scott from hiring a guy to<br />
do it. Scott can't pay much, but he gets me a membership and a locker. Before we<br />
do that, however, let's get those clothes off you and get them washed. Down to<br />
the skin, Dude." Peter opened a locker in the far corner. He handed Alan a pair<br />
of shorts, which were on the large size but would keep Alan covered while they<br />
worked. Peter took the clothing and added them to the large washer that was<br />
there for the towels. He started the washer and Alan went off to clean the<br />
ladies bathroom.<br />
<br />
"Do a good job Alan. After we can swim or work out or just shower. I have been<br />
working on Scott and I know what I can do and I want to share it with you. I<br />
have two lockers here and they are safer than anything I can keep in the rat<br />
trap, including my work clothes and tools."<br />
<br />
Alan took the cleaning supplies and started his work. Soon the bathroom was<br />
gleaming and he was back helping Peter finishing up the last of the mopping. The<br />
floor and the halls were done and the dressing room was drying when Peter handed<br />
Alan his clothes, still warm from the dryer. They hung them up in Peter's locker<br />
and then they took a long wonderfully hot shower. Alan just let the water wash<br />
over his body. It had been so long since he was able to really shower. The Pimp<br />
had hinted that he could take a shower if the trick took him to a motel room,<br />
but this was so much better. He was getting clean, really clean and his clothes<br />
were clean and dry as well.<br />
<br />
Alan felt like a new person he was clean, his clothes were clean his hair was<br />
combed and he didn't look as if he lived on the street. He was amazed at what<br />
that little bit did to make him feel so much better about himself and his<br />
outlook. He felt in control for the first time since he arrived in this city. He<br />
was gathering up the towels when he looked up as Peter came into the laundry<br />
room. He had on a pair of jeans and a blue work-shirt. Around his waist he had a<br />
tool belt and he was carrying a hard hat.<br />
<br />
Peter grinned.<br />
<br />
"Let's go kiddo, you are going to be my little brother today and we will see if<br />
the foreman will put you on as a gopher at the job site. Be polite and, for<br />
God's sake, be willing. If this works out, and it might, we can do this for a<br />
bit and you will begin to get some money. Not a lot, but some which can go a<br />
long way to get you going up instead of sinking down. Got it?" Alan nodded.<br />
<br />
They stopped at a McDonald's and had breakfast and coffee to go and then jumped<br />
on another bus. They arrived on this job site at 7:00 am. Peter introduced Alan<br />
as his little brother to the foreman. He was a gruff man but he had learned to<br />
trust Peter. Peter was there on time, did his job and did it well. He had been<br />
the gopher until he took over for one of the guys that didn't show on day and he<br />
got that job. So the site was a gopher short. The work was hard and long. But<br />
Alan was doing something. He was working and he was really getting to like<br />
Peter. He spent the day running errands and getting tools and the like. He was<br />
finishing up the sweeping when Peter found him. The foreman gave him his day's<br />
pay. He told Alan that he was being carried off the books because of his age, so<br />
he would be paid cash each day he showed up. If he missed a day he was out.<br />
<br />
Peter led him to a thrift store and he was able to score two more pairs of jeans<br />
that fit and some tee's, even some socks and underwear. Alan made a note of the<br />
address. The jeans were $3. 50. He walked out of the store with three shirts and<br />
two more jeans and a pair of tights for sleeping for just under 15 bucks of his<br />
first day's pay.<br />
<br />
It was about 7:00 pm when they got off the bus in front of the health club. This<br />
time Peter knocked on the back security door. Scott apparently was close by and<br />
he opened the door and led them though the back to the men's locker room. This<br />
time of day the place was not busy but there were paying members. So they<br />
blended in, took another shower. Alan's clothes were dirty, as were Peter's, so<br />
they did three loads of towels and then took a swim.<br />
<br />
With the hard physical work Alan had done that day he was bushed and fading fast<br />
when they got back to the rat trap. It was a quick coke for him and then into<br />
his new sleep tights. He was asleep as soon as his head hit the bed. Peter sat<br />
on the chair and drank his beer. It had been a hard day for the kid. Peter<br />
grinned. The kid, well he was a kid, but he was a nice one.<br />
<br />
~ ~ ~ ~ ~<br />
<br />
Peter had not got any help, he figured things out as they came. Living rough in<br />
the north was not easy with winter always breathing down your neck. He<br />
discovered this rat trap and he paid the rent. Each week Scott cashed his pay<br />
check and added a little to it for the work Peter did around the gym. Peter had<br />
met Scott when he was out looking for somewhere to be clean. Scott was not<br />
willing at first, but Peter had made a point of being there and saying hello<br />
each morning and at night. Besides, Scott was easy on the eyes. The Gym hadn't<br />
been eaten up by one of the huge chains. It had been Scott's dream. Then, one<br />
day, Peter was walking by when he came upon some guys in the alley. They were<br />
standing as if they were waiting for someone. Peter saw Scott coming to his car,<br />
and he realized they might be out to rob him. So he greeted Scott like he always<br />
did, then told him about the two guys. Scott listened and they both went back<br />
into the Gym. Scott figured that Peter had done him a good turn, so he let him<br />
come and go as needed. Then the day boy left or didn't show up and Scott found<br />
Peter cleaning up and doing the laundry. So Scott didn't replace the day boy. He<br />
gave Peter a membership and two lockers.<br />
<br />
~ ~ ~ ~ ~<br />
<br />
Peter stripped down to his long johns and quickly got into bed with Alan. The<br />
kid was so tired he didn't even budge.<br />
<br />
The days went by fast and each day was pretty much the same. The better food and<br />
the hard physical work was changing Alan from a weedy looking kid to a<br />
well-built young man.<br />
<br />
Not being any stranger to the facts of life Alan began to work at trying to get<br />
Peter to notice him. Peter said he liked men not boys; Alan was quickly passing<br />
that boy stage. Alan didn't know that Peter was noticing and looking but stayed<br />
in the background. It was natural for Alan to have lost his heart to the man<br />
that showed him the ropes but Peter wanted a man. Still Alan was getting very<br />
hot looking. It was getting harder for Peter as the winter months ended and the<br />
spring days began to warm up. Still keeping to the routine, the weather was<br />
warming up and fewer and fewer blankets were needed. Fewer clothes were needed<br />
for them as well. Peter woke up often with Alan's body curled next to his, which<br />
taxed his determination to leave the kid alone. The problem was Alan was getting<br />
to be a man and not a kid.<br />
<br />
~ ~ ~ ~ ~<br />
<br />
It was early in the spring when the job site was filled with the news of a bad<br />
hurricane in Florida. The radios had been on all over the site and everyone knew<br />
it had happened. Still the talk was all about guys being hired at twice and<br />
sometime three times the amount they were being paid here. The foreman got short<br />
tempered as the amount of workers melted away. Still Peter and Alan came to work<br />
and did the jobs. Then one day Jose had words with the foreman. He hung around<br />
outside the site and waited for Peter to get off. Jose and Peter had become good<br />
friends. Not anything like Alan. Jose was a full grown man and he was working to<br />
support his family. He and Peter talked many times about the Florida situation.<br />
This fight with the foreman was the last straw. Jose called Peter over to the<br />
bar, near the site. Alan waited outside, but once it became clear the Peter was<br />
going to be there for a while he went to the Gym to work and to work out. Scott<br />
asked, and Alan told him that Peter would be by later. By this time, Alan knew<br />
what to do and he did all the work and all the laundry. Then he went to the<br />
workout room and began to work out. Scott had been giving him pointers and he<br />
was showing a buff build. Peter didn't show up. Now worried, Alan headed for<br />
their room. It was empty. There was no sign of Peter. Alan knew Peter had been<br />
drinking and Alan also knew that Peter sometimes needed to go find a 'man'.<br />
Usually though, Peter told Alan and then would leave and come back either,<br />
looking drunk and happy, or just sad. This time were was nothing.<br />
<br />
As the money had improved, they were both supplying what was needed to live<br />
there. They had made a few changes to the place. It was still a dump, but they<br />
had gotten a battery powered lantern. They still had to be careful about the<br />
power so they only had the hotplate. During the spring, they used it less and<br />
less eating street or at pizza places. It had been a while since either one of<br />
them had gone hungry, or looked like they lived on the streets. They were<br />
hanging on and the favorite talk was they would get an apartment, a real one,<br />
soon. Alan knew they were not brothers but he also knew that Peter would come<br />
home sooner or later. That night he finally went to bed, the little room seemed<br />
to be as cold and cheerless as when he had first met Peter. It was a long time<br />
before he fell asleep.<br />
<br />
Morning came and he was up and the room was still empty. He dressed and headed<br />
to the Gym where once again he made an excuse to Scott and did the work they had<br />
both been doing, then he caught the bus to the job site. The foreman was on site<br />
that day and yelled at Alan to get over to him. The foreman demanded to be told<br />
where Peter was. Alan of course had no idea and the upshot of that very loud and<br />
very short discussion was he was out. Alan didn't know what was happening. He<br />
just knew that the foreman was pissed off that Peter had not come to work.<br />
Without anything else to do, Alan went to the Gym. As soon as he arrived, Scott<br />
called him over and handed him a letter. Scott took him to his small cramped<br />
office and told him that Peter had dropped the letter by about an hour ago.<br />
Scott's eyes were sad as he left the office, leaving Alan with the letter.<br />
<br />
*****<br />
<br />
Alan,<br />
<br />
Jose and I are off to Florida. That foreman fired Jose. Jose said his cousin was<br />
working on a site down in Miami. He was pretty sure he could get us work, but<br />
just us. I wanted to take you with us, but Jose had the car and he didn't want<br />
to mess with a kid. I know you're are not a kid, but it is going to be pretty<br />
crowded with his wife and their children. It is his car and he did say something<br />
about being under age and the people down there apparently check the sites<br />
carefully so you could not be working with us. Don't come down here. I don't<br />
know where we will end up. I got the address for the Gym from Scott.<br />
<br />
Dude I hate to do this to you but you still have your job at the site and Scott<br />
will keep you on. I left the address for the rent with Scott. Guy, this is bad,<br />
I know and I feel like a shit. But if the money works out, I can make enough and<br />
then send for you when I know where we are going to be. I do care for you, Alan.<br />
I do. But dude, three times the money I was making is too good an offer to pass<br />
up. You will do OK.<br />
<br />
I left a bit of money with Scott, not much because I need to live on the road<br />
and until we get working again down there. Don't be mad, just remember what I<br />
taught you. Pay the rent. As long as they get the money they won't care. You<br />
will still have a base. You will still have the Gym and your job on the site. I<br />
hope that bastard doesn't get pissed and fire you too, but Dude what else can I<br />
do? I know this is a kick in the nuts. I know you will be pissed, but hang in<br />
there you are a smart kid and I know with what Scott and I showed you, you will<br />
be OK.<br />
<br />
Be well,<br />
Peter<br />
<br />
*****<br />
<br />
Alan read the words and felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach. He sat on the<br />
floor against the wall and began to cry. That is where Scott found him an hour<br />
later still holding on to the letter. Scott took one look and got a cup of<br />
coffee and some water. He coaxed Alan off the floor and on to the old couch.<br />
Numb, tears were streaming down Alan's face. Scott carefully took the letter and<br />
put it in his desk. Scott wrapped an old blanket around him and he went to carry<br />
on with his work.<br />
<br />
Scott was upset at Peter for leaving the kid; they had argued about it. Scott<br />
told Peter that the kid looked up to him and he was worried that this might<br />
drive Alan over the edge. An hour later, Alan had fallen asleep, with his face,<br />
still looking hurt and the couch damp were he lay. Scott got a towel and gently<br />
lifted Alan's head as he muttered "Peter," sighed and went back to sleep.<br />
<br />
~ ~ ~ ~ ~<br />
<br />
It was getting dark, Peter had taken care of the household chores, mostly<br />
waiting for Russ to call. That was like a lifeline when Peter could hear his<br />
voice. They talked for over an hour and then Peter felt so bad when he hung up,<br />
he called again. He didn't know how to say what he wanted to say. Usually, when<br />
Russ was home, when they hit that part, Peter would cuddle up to Russ and try<br />
talking to his shirt.<br />
<br />
"Hey Sweetheart, it's okay, you know? Perfectly okay to miss me and I think it<br />
is wonderful you called to tell me that", said Russ. Peter, gripping the phone<br />
so hard his knuckles were white, relaxed with a sigh. Russ knew, but then he<br />
always seemed to know. Peter made that observation out loud before his mind<br />
could censor it. Then there was a warm chuckle from the other end of the line.<br />
<br />
"I am your Top, of course I know. I know everything." Russ replied with such a<br />
pompous tone, that Peter laughed out loud.<br />
<br />
After another few minutes Peter was able to say good night without feeling like<br />
he was all alone again. Peter paced the house for a bit then he decided that he<br />
should do something. So he put on one of his oldest jackets and battered jeans.<br />
He made a dash for the bus and caught it as it was pulling away. He sat and<br />
watched the dusk slowly fall over the city. The holiday season was in full swing<br />
so the Christmas lights helped make it seem a bit more festive. At least in the<br />
part of town they lived in. As they got closer and closer to the downtown area,<br />
the lights got less and less. Down here it was survival, not celebration. Peter<br />
got off the bus near his old haunts. He walked around for a time seeing the old<br />
sights which didn't cheer him. It did however make him thankful. He was out. He<br />
was safe and he was loved.<br />
<br />
Peter brought those memories up front. Remembered the many times he walked these<br />
streets alone, scared and hungry. Hungry not only for food, but for someone to<br />
care. Someone that would feel something if he was hurt or someone that wanted to<br />
comfort him when he was scared. He affected a tough guy image, and in many way<br />
he was. He had been alone on the street and he did survive. He made it. His mind<br />
went back, as it did so many times, to Alan. He saw him in his mind's eye as he<br />
looked the last time they had seen each other. Peter had tried to do what he<br />
thought was the right thing. He left Alan as much as support he could. He often<br />
wondered what happened to that little guy and he spent many nights trying to<br />
drink what he knew was a betrayal away.<br />
<br />
Living with Russ and waking up many nights with nightmares, Russ had asked Peter<br />
about Alan. Then one night the story came out about the letter and how he had<br />
left him.<br />
<br />
Peter was not kind to himself. He remembered the shocked look on Russ's face<br />
when he began to scream that he had abandoned the kid and ramped up to a full<br />
blown meltdown. Russ knew only that Alan was the name that Peter would call out<br />
in his nightmares. He was surprised by the abrupt change in the man he loved and<br />
the bitter self-hate that lived just under the surface.<br />
<br />
Russ reacted to the meltdown and did what he could do; he quickly took charge of<br />
the situation. He had Peter across his lap so quickly that Peter was shocked<br />
into silence. Russ spanked hard that night. He felt he had to get through to his<br />
man, to the man he loved. He felt, maybe, with this direct approach he could<br />
lance the boil of shame and hate that lay like a constrictor around Peter's<br />
heart and soul. Russ was an experienced Top. He knew that this spanking was more<br />
of a shock, more like the slap in the face to an hysterical person. It worked.<br />
The blazing bottom and the tears were a good start. However Russ knew that<br />
spanking didn't cure everything. So, that was when they started to talk about<br />
therapy for Peter which lead to private sessions as well as couple sessions. It<br />
was hard, hard work.<br />
Many times, Peter returned from the therapy white faced and shaking. When Russ<br />
went to pick him up, they would spend time in healing hugs, until Peter was able<br />
to make it home. It started with Peter, shattered, leaning on Russ as they went<br />
home together. Then as Peter got stronger just having Russ there was a help. Now<br />
he could usually go on his own and it was rare that he would call Russ to pick<br />
him up after a session.<br />
<br />
Russ watched the work being done with admiration for the man he loved. Peter was<br />
a complex person who had lived outside the structure of a home-life at a very<br />
young age. He was strong and he was tough. The work done in the quiet room was<br />
heartbreaking. The pain of feeling like trash; like something to be thrown away.<br />
The basic betrayal of his parents for money. They didn't deserve the gift they<br />
had been given and they threw it away.<br />
<br />
Russ was different, he loved and cherished this man, his brat, his boy. As the<br />
time passed they worked well as a couple. Russ loved Peter and Peter loved Russ<br />
and they were making a life with each other.He acted on that and they were clear<br />
on the fact that Peter was a brat at times. The spanking got less and less, but<br />
they still existed as a sharp reminder that Peter was cared for and loved.<br />
<br />
~ ~ ~ ~ ~<br />
<br />
Peter walked past one of the bars he used to drink in. It was a gay bar and one<br />
of the few places he could go and let that part of his life come out and play.<br />
Leaning against the bar, he looked over the room and saw the dancer. Dancing on<br />
a box with one of those mini spotlights on him, he was dressed - if that was the<br />
word for it- in just an old worn jock. His eyes were closed and he was dancing<br />
to the music. Being a slow night, the dancer was not really working the sparse<br />
crowd, but was dancing to suit his own dreams.<br />
<br />
Bills were folded on the edges of his jock, either he had had a better night<br />
than the crowd showed, or he had seeded his jock to encourage tips. Peter kept<br />
glancing over the room as he worked on his beer. It felt very good to know he<br />
could do this. He could afford to drink a beer here, without worrying that he<br />
would not be eating dinner or sacrificing something else to cover the cost. He<br />
felt he was well within the bounds that he and Russ had set. He didn't drive. He<br />
had enough for his bus ride back home or, if that didn't work, he could afford a<br />
cab. He grinned at a cute young guy who walked up to him, but shook his head at<br />
the offer. The music ended and then the next canned set began. The dancer moved<br />
off his box and walked over to the bar. Because it was a gay bar, the spotlight<br />
had been trained lower than the head height of the dancer and focused much more<br />
on his jock than on his face.<br />
<br />
The light was hard to see through and if the dancer had looked out into the bar<br />
he would usually just see shapes until someone went up to tip him, then all he<br />
usually saw was the money and the hand reaching for his jock. Stepping off the<br />
platform was one of the many things that made this job difficult.<br />
<br />
Alan's eyes tried to adjust to the dim lighting of the bar after the bright<br />
light of the spot. In the past, accidentally he had bumped into guys, which made<br />
it very hard to explain that this was not some sort of lame pick up move. This<br />
time he made it to the bar without running into any one or stepping on to<br />
anything. When he wore the jock he was usually able to wear an old pair of<br />
trainers that could complete the look.<br />
<br />
The bartender looked at him and handed him a glass. Alan drank the soda water.<br />
It wasn't easy to dance all night. Still he had come in tonight to see if he<br />
could make a few more bucks. Carl grinned at him and Alan grimaced back.<br />
<br />
"Not much happening here tonight kiddo!" Carl said.<br />
<br />
"Tell me about it", Alan glanced with a professional look over the crowd. "I'm<br />
going to call it a night, Carl. That okay with you?"<br />
<br />
"Sure Alan, not much use shaking your butt for this tired crowd," replied Carl.<br />
<br />
Peter started on his second beer. He was remembering some of the times he had<br />
had in this dive when the word `Alan' broke through his thoughts. He jerked his<br />
head around and saw the bartender talking to the dancer. The dancer had his back<br />
to the room but Peter could see his profile. His beer bottle slipped from his<br />
hand and landed loudly on the bar. At the sudden sound both the bartender and<br />
the dancer looked toward the sound. Peter was looking right at Alan.<br />
<br />
"Peter?" came the remembered voice.<br />
<br />
"Alan?" Peter whispered. He walked forward.<br />
<br />
"Peter!" The voice got louder. "PETER!"<br />
<br />
Alan was a sudden blur of motion and Peter found his arms full of a warm<br />
wiggling laughing man. Peter's arms locked around Alan and he too was laughing.<br />
They embraced again, holding one another tightly.<br />
<br />
In all the gin joints in all the world you walked into mine. Things might just<br />
get better.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044367416949960084.post-44993936843221709522012-03-23T16:16:00.000-07:002012-03-23T16:16:13.686-07:00There Are Nights<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Okay, okay, I had it coming, I know it.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I am not the brightest bulb in the pack but I got that. Now if I can just stay here like this a bit longer. My hands are kinda hidden and he might not see that I’m leaning on them. Anything to get my ass off the friggin' floor. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Damn! I am 36 years old and my ass is smoking. He is way, way too good with that strap. No, just in case you were thinking I have been beaten up, you are dead wrong. I just got my ass handed back to me hot, welted and sore. Not only that but I put my butt over those pillows on the bed and let him do it. However I am sure nobody's ass feels like mine does right now. I am sure no one ever got a strapping like that before. You see, Tim doesn't usually use the strap. Not for this type of thing. This one is the old fashioned type of strap they used to hang on the back of the bathroom door. At least my grand dad told me his daddy did. It is old but well maintained (my job) to keep it oiled and supple. I guess I do a good job because I feel every lick burning into my ass right now.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
Tim does wear a short strap when we dress to go out. It is clipped to the leather harness belt and, with his hat and chaps, he is one hot leather man. But for spanking he doesn't usually have to use a strap; his hand is way more than enough. Way more. So yeah, he is a Daddy and I am his boy. So I look like I am a leather dude. Too. I am a sub and I have been in love and loved by Tim now for like two years. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Mark! Get that ass on the floor unless you want to go back over the bed! Got it? In fact, hands on your head and stay there and think."</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Damn he can see in the dark. My hands lifted the moment I heard his voice, dropping my body back on the scorched waste land that was once my ass.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Sir! Yes, Sir!”</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">It was the only thing I could say really. I was busted and I knew better. He did have every right to blister me again. I just hoped that he would not, my ass nerves re-awaking to the burn of the leather. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
We put down this floor. I remember all the tearing up of the ugly rental carpet. The picking out the color and the great “fun” we had laying this floor down. Hard wood floors, so desirable in the housing market now. I sure would not mind the carpet back just under this window. We had a hell of a time with this room. It was the first one we ever did when we bought the house. We figured that we could experiment in here. How many people are really going to see the bed room, except us that is? I tried to shift a little but the heat from my ass what making the floor warm and there was just no place to go. As I remembered, we did get good at laying the floors. We had trouble getting the hang of it and more than once in this room I despaired for the house, our relationship and our lives together. Remodeling is very stressful. I let out a sigh. We did survive and now I am sitting here feeling every lick across my butt. <br />
<br />
The alcohol I drank was pretty much burned out of my system. Hey, you can't get drunk, flirt with someone other than your man, have a fight with your man and then ride home pissed off enough to forget your helmet and still be drunk. Even if that could happen, seeing him in the drive holding your helmet would be enough to sober anyone up. Then when you see the strap in his other hand you are sure you never had a drink in your life. I went from drunk and happy/angry to scared/sober in a flash. Suddenly I didn't feel like a hot biker dude with a great chest and even greater washboard stomach. So the guy at the bar had said as his hands roamed up and down,</span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">pressing into me, with Tim staring daggers at me from across the room. When I saw the helmet and the strap I felt like I was nineteen, freshly kicked out of college and facing a very pissed off Dad. My balls and cock tried to climb back inside leaving me to face Tim all alone. <br />
<br />
There was nothing really to say. His arm went around my neck and he pulled me to him in a gruff one handed hug. His voice growled in my ear that I was drinking and riding. He was going to make it very clear to me that this was something I was never going to do again. If I didn't want to sit down ever again he was fine with that. I was, right then, getting very scared of my Daddy! That faded right away when he hugged me to him again right there in the driveway and a tear splashed on my leather jacket. I looked up. I saw another tear slide down his face. Suddenly I saw the picture in his head: me in a twisted wreck of the bike, no helmet to protect the solid bone I call my head and him all alone. I shuddered, threw my arms around him and hugged him back, then took that damn strap from his hand. Kneeling right there on the driveway, I handed it to him and bowed my head.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044367416949960084.post-61941787096189434592012-03-02T09:53:00.002-08:002012-03-02T09:53:56.329-08:00Birthday Boy<div align="CENTER" id="yui_3_2_0_18_1330709918074113"> </div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"> Alan parked his car in the drive, leaving enough space for Peter; Russ got the garage. He walked to the mailbox, got the day's ration of bills and sale fliers and walked into the kitchen. It was cleaning day, the entire house smelled of polish and the kitchen gleamed. Nancy and the cleaning crew did a great job.</span></div><div> </div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Alan grinned, thinking back to the days he and Peter argued the pros and cons to Russ about paying for a cleaning crew. Finally Russ had said if they wanted to pay for it he had no problem. However, he reminded them that windows and baseboards would still be cleaned if certain brats need to be settled. Then Russ laughed when the predicable looks of total innocence flashed over both of Peter and Alan's faces.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"> Opening the fridge he grabbed the chocolate milk container out and drank deeply. Why did it always taste so much better from the carton than a glass, he wondered. He finished it off and re checked to see there was another quart in the fridge. Sighing in relief, he walked upstairs to change.</span></div><div> </div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Quickly he stripped down and put on his jock and his short workout shorts. He padded his way downstairs to the small room off the garage which they set up as a workout room. It wasn't a lot: a universal gym, some free weights and a incline board. They still went to the Company's gym to do real work outs. Peter and Russ often stopped there on the way home and it was normal for all of them to meet there once a week to meet with the company provided trainer. Still this was great. He didn't have to go anywhere and he could wear his trolling shorts (as Russ called them) here. Alan did some stretches to warm up a bit. He was setting up the weights on the gym when he heard Peter's car park and the slam of the back door. </span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"> “I'm down here!” </span><span style="font-size: medium;">Alan shouted.</span></div><div> </div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">He heard Peter's steps in the kitchen and then silence as he guessed Peter was going up to change out of his work clothes. </span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Alan was working up a good sweat when the door opened, there stood Peter in his ratty old work out shorts and tee. Alan grunted as he let the weights back down and wiped at his forehead. </span></div><div><br />
</div><div>“<span style="font-size: medium;">Hey!” </span><span style="font-size: medium;">Peter said as he started to stretch. </span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"> Alan stopped to watch Peter as his body stretched and he was warmed again by the feeling of love and affection that flashed though his body as he watch his partner's legs and that oh so perfect butt tense and relax. Peter noticed Alan watching and started to flex and pose, just a little, putting on a small show for his lover and partner. His arms over his head. His blond chest twisting then he bent over again so his butt was right in Alan's face. </span><span style="font-size: medium;">Alan could not resist landing a pop across the well muscled ass.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div>“<span style="font-size: medium;">Hey", c</span><span style="font-size: medium;">huckled Peter, "</span><span style="font-size: medium;">Hands off the dancer.”</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"> “I can't help it. It is such a hot ass, Dude, I just want to touch it and feel it. Maybe you could lap dance for me", </span><span style="font-size: medium;">Alan joked, casting his gaze up and down Peter's body with an I-want-you look.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Peter grinned back. "</span><span style="font-size: medium;">Yes, a cute boy like you, all hot and sweaty. Ahh but lap dances are expensive, boy, how do you plan to pay?”</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Peter looked Alan up and down with that lustful look. "</span><span style="font-size: medium;">I mean, Dude, I don't see a wallet in them shorts, there isn't any room to hide one the way you are tenting up anyway. You're a tease boy, just a hot sweaty good lookin tease, that is what you are.”</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Alan got to his feet tossing his hair back. </span> <span style="font-size: medium;">“Are you sure?” h</span><span style="font-size: medium;">e asked innocently as his hands roamed over his short shorts feeling them up the front and cupping them down the back, then slowing in the movement of a dancer and began to work them off his hips, exposing his jockstrap.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div>“<span style="font-size: medium;">Hmmmm", he said twirling the shorts around his finger. "</span><span style="font-size: medium;">You are right no wallet.”</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Alan sighed theatrically and sat back down on the bench. "</span><span style="font-size: medium;">What's a boy to do?”</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Peter laughed and sat down on the bench beside Alan.</span></div><div> </div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"> "</span><span style="font-size: medium;">I have a few ideas!” h</span><span style="font-size: medium;">e growled as he grabbed Alan and drew him over his lap.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div>“<span style="font-size: medium;">I have several ideas for a Birthday Boy, especially in this position, one that has not had his birthday spanking yet.”</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Peter 's low voice was making Alan wiggle as his hands were rubbing and roaming over Alan's bare butt. </span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Then they heard the garage door open and the sound of Russ getting out of his car. </span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Peter's hand cracked down on Alan's bare butt. Alan jerked and howled!</span></div><div><br />
</div><div>“<span style="font-size: medium;">Help, help! I'm being abused! Help!” </span><span style="font-size: medium;">he cried, giggling as Peter's hand landed another smack on his upturned butt. </span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">The door opened and Russ was there filling the doorway his briefcase dropped to the floor as he leaned against the door.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div>“<span style="font-size: medium;">Just what is happening here?” he said in</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> that deep Top tone of voice.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div>“<span style="font-size: medium;">Help!” yelled Alan, s</span><span style="font-size: medium;">truggling to get off Peter's lap as Peter tightened his grip around his waist. </span></div><div> </div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">"</span><span style="font-size: medium;">I'm being beaten Sir, Help!” </span><span style="font-size: medium;">Alan yelled as he tried to bite Peter's leg.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div>“<span style="font-size: medium;">No biting” Peter yelped. as his hand smacked down across the firm muscled butt of his lover. </span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Peter landed another swat to the upturned bare butt and looked innocently at Russ.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div>“<span style="font-size: medium;">Nothing is happening here, Sir. It is his birthday I was just trying to save you the trouble is all, being the thoughtful partner I am.”</span></div><div><br />
</div><div>“<span style="font-size: medium;">Yes!” Russ nodded grinning at the giggling and struggling Alan trapped over Peter's knee. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">"</span><span style="font-size: medium;">Peter you always have been so helpful but in this case I do believe it is the Top's job to deliver the birthday spanking. But don't let me stop you from your turn. Then again, you might get one yourself young man for over stepping your bounds!" </span><span style="font-size: medium;">Russ said in the mock Top growl as he loosened his tie and started roll us his shirt sleeves.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">"Brutes. I am trapped by brutes", whined Alan. </span></div><div><br />
</div><div>“<span style="font-size: medium;">Yes it is a sad commentary on life isn't it, young man?” said Russ, pulling Alan off Peter's lap and kissing him deeply, then sitting down and pulling Alan over his knee. </span></div><div><br />
</div><div>“<span style="font-size: medium;">Ahh so nice to see a warm glow already", </span><span style="font-size: medium;">he growled as he ran his hand over the warm cheeks of his youngest brat.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">He kept Alan over his knee and began to give his lover his traditional birthday spanking.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Peter laughed and kept giving out pointers. Pointing to part of Alan bottom that wasn't quite pink enough. </span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Russ finished with a flurry of light swats. Then he picked up the wiggling Alan and pushed him to Peter.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div>“<span style="font-size: medium;">Here”, he said, “Why don't you carry him upstairs as I change and we can take him out for his Birthday dinner.” </span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Peter tossed the still gasping Alan over his shoulder with that pink glowing bottom right at his shoulder and began slapping the butt as they walked out of the small workout room.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div id="yui_3_2_0_18_1330709918074120">“<span style="font-size: medium;">Which restaurant, Sir?” h</span><span style="font-size: medium;">e said in that deferential voice. </span>“<span style="font-size: medium;">The one with the hard wooden seats?”</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044367416949960084.post-20527800983552740062012-02-29T09:58:00.001-08:002012-02-29T10:03:58.967-08:00Where To Go?When spinning out of control. When you can see the wall coming at you at great speed. Where can you go?<br />
<br />
Boy's or boi's or subs or brats can and will look for that wonderful comfort of a well warmed butt, the blessed outburst of tears, the comfort of a stinging sore butt, and the warm hard arms of a man, Top, or Dom holding you as you hide in that comfort zone at the juncture of neck and shoulder, inhaling the scent and comfort of a man. A lap bend over and now a fortress protecting.<br />
<br />
When the sting of a bare butt stops the spin. The sharp crack of the paddle or strap clarifies the mind. The love flows and the spin settles from a vortex to a calm ride.<br />
<br />
Where does a Top go, or worse a brat without a Top. We have nothing, we are caught in the spinning vortex. For some we can grasp a spar and hang on for dear life. Closing our eyes and trying to will the strength back. To close the shields. To become a Man. After all, men stand on their own. This is a lie. This eats at us. Are we not men? Where do men go for help?<br />
<br />
When the pain of life, the hurt and the sadness pile on. Where do we go? Many might try the path of drink or drugs. It does help, but not for long and not without its own very real danger. Where can we go? Where do we get the relief? A nod, a hug, the buffet of a shoulder. <br />
<br />
The light is pale, the darkness is so vast. Where is my man? Where is my Prometheus with his fire to beat back the dark. It isn't the fear of pain. It is the fear the pain will be all and the redemption of caring and love will be unshared. Will contempt rule? Will a Top understand? A Top would; would a man? Yes, if he were a man. Tops need love too!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044367416949960084.post-5439695890074414412012-02-10T23:07:00.000-08:002012-02-10T23:10:30.562-08:00Loss<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V03DAwSN8Mk/TzYTUM1k9LI/AAAAAAAAALM/nUtHzfnqmsw/s1600/memory.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="243" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V03DAwSN8Mk/TzYTUM1k9LI/AAAAAAAAALM/nUtHzfnqmsw/s320/memory.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
It's been done. The service, the endless paperwork, all the friends and family trying to help and support me<br />
<br />
He is gone. I am alone.<br />
<br />
We had talked about this, we knew what each of us wanted. I was older and I was supremely sure I would be the first one to go.<br />
<br />
I sit on our bed, my bed now. It is huge, it never was before. A wide gulf empty. I need to move. I can't sit here. <br />
<br />
<br />
It crashes over me again. He's gone. I want it to be a dream. I want him.<br />
<br />
Hanging on the post his work shirt. I press it to my face. He is here. I can smell his aftershave, his warmth, his scent.<br />
<br />
The tears begin again.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044367416949960084.post-69839180477833476032012-01-10T10:26:00.001-08:002012-01-10T10:26:43.348-08:00Business TripAlan stood in one corner and Peter in one on the other end of the <br />
master bedroom. Four pairs of cheeks were blushing; the lower pairs were <br />
not blushing as much as a fiery red. Russ had to grin at the sight of <br />
his brats standing in the corners. He tossed the hairbrush on the bed <br />
and started to remove his sodden jeans and tee shirt. <br />
<br />
"If I have chaffing on my tender skin for wearing these wet jeans all day <br />
boys, you are going to be very sorry before dinner", he complained.<br />
<br />
"Yes Sir", came a watery voice from Alan followed by a suppressed cough <br />
from Peter, then a contrite, "Yes Sir." <br />
<br />
Russ stomped into the master bath and shut the door firmly.<br />
<br />
Peter was chucking openly as his hands rubbed at his hot bare butt and <br />
Alan stated to giggle again.<br />
<br />
Alan looked over to Peter and said, "Did you see his face?"<br />
<br />
Peter was across the room in a second taking his younger lover in his <br />
arms hugging him and laughing openly.<br />
<br />
"Are Tops allowed to stomp and slam doors Peter?" Alan asked looking oh <br />
so innocent<br />
<br />
Peter laughed harder and tried to smother Alan's laughter in his shoulder.<br />
<br />
"I can hear you both!" snarled Russ from the shower.<br />
<br />
This set Peter off again and Alan tried to shut him up by pressing his <br />
arm around Peter's laughing mouth.<br />
<br />
"Three days in Orlando, Alan! Three days!" Peter said as they were packing. <br />
<br />
Well, Peter was packed and he was helping Alan unpack. "You need shorts <br />
and tee shirts, you don't need your entire wardrobe", Peter said in exasperation <br />
as he tossed out another pair of slacks on the bedroom floor. <br />
"We just need carry-ons He has to dress. He has to be the business man. We <br />
are going to Florida for fun and sun for three days."<br />
<br />
It was January and the outside temperature was in the low 30s. No snow, <br />
not even for Christmas. Russ had come home that night with tickets for all <br />
of them. He had a business meeting and he thought that the Florida sunshine <br />
and the warm temperatures would be a nice break. Alan and Peter had used <br />
some of their money to buy park hopper passes and the hotel had shuttle <br />
service to the parks in the area.<br />
<br />
They had had a great time. This was the last day, the meetings were over. <br />
Russ had arranged everything so they had one last day at the park of <br />
their choice. The guys had toured each park and the night before they <br />
discussed long into the evening which would be best to spend the day.<br />
<br />
"I don't DO roller coasters!" Russ stated emphatically as he shuddered as <br />
the three of them watched a group of cars reach the top and then, as far <br />
as Russ could see, fell in free fall. His stomach dropped in sympathy and <br />
he turned a slight pale white. Both guys were nodding with a look of <br />
feigned understanding as their eyes were a spark with the idea of riding <br />
that. They heard their partner say this over and over again. He could <br />
tell they did not understand what he was saying. Peter and Alan dragged him <br />
to the front of one of the long lines just to watch. When the floor of <br />
the cars retracted so the riders' feet were dangling Russ shook his head.<br />
<br />
"No Way!" he said it that firm tone both guys knew all too well.<br />
<br />
Peter looked over to Alan and they walked dejectedly down the line. Peter <br />
was trying hard to explain it was totally safe and they would actually <br />
be pulling 6Gs. Russ just repeated even more firmly, "I don't DO <br />
roller coasters!" <br />
<br />
They all stood outside the lines, with Peter and Alan standing in front of <br />
Russ as they tried to cajole and convince their partner that it was fun. <br />
Russ was getting a bit upset; he thought he made his statement very clear. <br />
They could ride, he would wait, and then they could do other rides that <br />
didn't involve G forces that astronauts had to face when they launched from <br />
the cape just a few miles down the road.<br />
<br />
Alan was nodding and Peter was looking up. Russ knew that he wasn't <br />
getting anywhere with them. He did however know his own stomach and he <br />
was feeling just a bit put out when suddenly both his loving partners <br />
hooted with laughter and dashed away from him. At that moment a huge wave <br />
of ice cold water flew over the plexiglass guard and drenched Russ to the <br />
skin.<br />
<br />
They had stood him in front of the end of the log flume ride.<br />
<br />
Drenched to the skin, the entire park heard a full throated roar, "You <br />
brats are so dead!!"Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044367416949960084.post-63462925641050493542011-11-17T17:01:00.001-08:002011-11-17T17:01:26.845-08:00What A DayBy Randy Williams<br />
<br />
Alan moved his chair back from the desk. Glancing up at the call board, he was<br />
happy to see the queue was empty. The last call had not been an easy one. He<br />
made notes on the customer's record and sighed.<br />
<br />
The call center had been hopping all day. The calls coming in were usually easy<br />
to handle but the company that owned the call center had instituted some changes<br />
the customers didn't like so the volume had been higher than normal and almost<br />
each one was a complaint. He didn't think the new rules were going to help<br />
anyone out and it seemed to him it was just a way for the company to make more<br />
money in fines and fees. It had been a long day. His lunch break had been eaten<br />
up by another call and he wasn't able to get out long enough to have any sort of<br />
lunch. He stomach was roiling and he was getting a slight but noticeable<br />
headache behind his eyes. The stress level was high in the call center and he<br />
was having another bad day. Sara in the next cube had applied yet another spritz<br />
of her flowery perfume. He sighed deeply and tried to breathe as shallowly as<br />
possible. Alan didn't like to complain that the scent Sara used made his eye<br />
water and caused him to sneeze.<br />
<br />
"I'm sorry Alan, I got stressed and forgot." Sara said speaking around her cube.<br />
"Please don't tell the old Bitch!" She pleaded in her most winning voice. It was<br />
her real voice as opposed to her working voice and Alan grinned at her.<br />
<br />
"Well if you get me a Diet Coke I might forgive you," he replied. "But please<br />
cool it with that stuff."<br />
<br />
Sara had been told that her choice of scent was not to be used so heavily and<br />
had even got written up once before for wearing so much of it. Alan had not been<br />
the one that complained, but still it had made the old Bitch pull out all her<br />
manager/employee (charm) and it had been a hard couple of days last month. Alan<br />
was pretty sure the person that had complained had been fired, but he wasn't<br />
going to say that to Sara.<br />
<br />
She grinned and put her phone out of system and left her cube. Alan never<br />
figured out how she could keep doing that and survive, but she did. Shortly she<br />
was back with a ice cold Diet Coke and a small bag of peanuts for Alan.<br />
<br />
"They were out of cashews, sorry. Oh and just so you know, Kim is trying to make<br />
some popcorn so you are warned," she said with a grimace.<br />
<br />
A very short time later the stench of burnt popcorn wafted through the call<br />
center. Alan put his head in his hands and groaned. He was hoping the protein in<br />
the peanuts would help his stomach, but that smell was enough to make him<br />
nauseous. He was sure that the clocks all had been sprayed with super glue<br />
because they were just not moving. Finally 4 pm arrived and he clicked his phone<br />
off system and began to gather his stuff to go home for the night. Dan, Marcus,<br />
Brian, Kim and Sara all converged on his cube.<br />
<br />
"Hey we are all going to the Office for a drink. It has been a bitch of a day",<br />
Dan said, swinging his messenger bag back and forth. "Happy hour half-priced<br />
drinks. Want to come?"<br />
<br />
Alan thought for a second. His headache was pounding and his stomach was still a<br />
bit upset but he was sure that was more hunger than nauseousness.<br />
<br />
"I'll let the home front know", he replied and pulling out his cell he headed<br />
for the hallway with the group. Peter picked up his phone on the second ring.<br />
<br />
"Hello, Peter Jackson speaking", he said into the phone.<br />
<br />
"Hello Peter Jackson, can I go get a drink with the guys from work? Mr Jackson,<br />
huh huh, can I can I, Mr Jackson? Please Sir."<br />
<br />
"Babe, you know I have to answer it like that so give me a break alright?" Peter<br />
chuckled. "Why are you asking me? You know the rules. Ask Russ. You know, rule<br />
number 15 or is it 1167 or something like that? We must know where we all are at<br />
all times. God knows we can't just go and have some fun. Wait a second, why ARE<br />
YOU ASKING ME, Alan!!?"<br />
<br />
"Peter, come on, Mrs Wilson said he was in a meeting and then she asked if it<br />
was important. You know she only does that when he is really tied up. So I<br />
thought, since it IS rule 15, I would let you know where I was. So we are going<br />
to the Office down the street and we are going to have a drink after work, OK?<br />
That is why I am telling you. I ain't askin' you nothing, Bro. I'm just tellin'<br />
you where I am going. OK. OK?"<br />
<br />
"Alan," Peter said, "I don't know, if himself is backed up in a meeting and Mrs<br />
Wilson would not break in, it is a fair bet old Russ will be a in a very bad<br />
mood. Maybe you should just head home. Besides it's your turn to cook! But I'm a<br />
nice guy, I'll cook if you wash. But really, boobie, call Russ and let him know<br />
OK? He has gotten way too good with that paddle lately. I'd like to take that<br />
cute ass of yours to bed without its night light red glow. Unless I put it<br />
there. Or Russ puts it there all in a good time. But you're almost a big boy<br />
now. You get in trouble your butt will pay. I ain't savin' your ass. Cute as it<br />
is."<br />
<br />
"I'll call. I'll call," said Alan as he slipped his phone into his pocket.<br />
<br />
The six of them left their cars in the lot and walked to block and a half to the<br />
Office. It was one of the many bars in the city; mostly a place where you could<br />
go to get a quick lunch or a drink. The bar had been trying to get customers in<br />
for the night business and had started offering ½ priced drinks and a light<br />
buffet for the happy hour customers. Alan headed to the buffet, looking at the<br />
piles of chicken wings and potatoes skins. He stomach reminded him that he<br />
missed lunch. At that thought his memory kicked in and he remembered a long<br />
night writing the line...<br />
<br />
{I will make time for lunch. I need to eat regular meals. Vending machines do<br />
not serve lunch!}<br />
<br />
...only about a zillion times the last time Russ discovered that he skipped<br />
lunch. He got some chicken wings and some celery and went to find his friends<br />
who had scored the one large table. Brian was returning from the bar with a tray<br />
of drinks. He passed them out to everyone and Alan had a shot glass handed to<br />
him. He looked at Brian.<br />
<br />
"What's this?" he asked as Brian set a beer glass in front of him as well.<br />
<br />
"It is called a boilermaker. A shot of whiskey with a beer back. What you do is<br />
drop the shot glass in the beer and drink the entire thing down", Brian replied,<br />
taking a long pull at his beer glass to make room for the shot glass to go into<br />
the beer.<br />
<br />
Sara giggled and took a long drink and showed Alan how to drop the shot glass in<br />
the beer mug. Then she drank the entire thing down.<br />
<br />
"See Alan easy," she said slamming down her empty mug. Marcus slammed his down<br />
and grinned.<br />
<br />
"They are lethal, but they are a good way to forget this rotten day."<br />
<br />
Alan shrugged. He took a long pull at the beer and then dropped the shot glass<br />
and then drank it down. Alan didn't usually drink hard liquor. His tastes ran to<br />
beer and occasional mixed drinks. The whiskey hit his stomach along with the<br />
beer. The taste of the whiskey was muted somewhat by the beer but the warm glow<br />
in his stomach began to feel very good. He picked up a chicken wing as Marcus<br />
went to the bar. They sat there and talked about work and the Bitch. Marcus<br />
returned with the usual for all of them. Alan was happier with just the bottle<br />
of beer.<br />
<br />
He reached into his pocket and his hand touched his phone. He pulled it out and<br />
walked to the outside patio, speed dialling Russ's office number.<br />
<br />
~ ~<br />
<br />
Peter browsed through the contents of the refrigerator. He pulled out three<br />
large pork chops. He washed and wrapped the potatoes in foil. He seasoned the<br />
chops and put them all in the oven. Then he went about making a salad. The house<br />
phone rang. He picked it up with a hello.<br />
<br />
"Hey lover boy," sighed Russ, grinning at the sound to Peter's voice.<br />
<br />
"It looks like it will be a bit of a late night here honey, what time was Alan<br />
making dinner for?" Since Alan had discovered baking, he also was expanding his<br />
cooking abilities. Russ thought that that was just fine and was careful to be<br />
sure he didn't run late when there was something Alan was trying to cook.<br />
<br />
"I will be slaving at the oven tonight, Russ. I am sure I can cook a few pork<br />
chops as well as Miss Julia Child could. He didn't call you?"<br />
<br />
"Why should he call?" asked Russ.<br />
<br />
"Ah well he called me and said Mrs Wilson said you were busy, so he told me, or<br />
really asked me, if he could go to the Office with his work friends", Peter<br />
explained.<br />
<br />
"I see," Russ said slowly.<br />
<br />
"He did call Russ, I told him I can't give that permission to him and he best be<br />
calling good old Russ", Peter said with a grin, which Russ heard though the<br />
phone.<br />
<br />
"Who you callin' old, you young whippersnapper? I'll show you old. I prefer the<br />
word `experienced'. Which I will show you when I get home, boy", Russ mock<br />
growled at Peter's grinning voice.<br />
<br />
"Oh Daddy, for that experienced bod, I'll be happy to cook. I know how you love<br />
pork chops. I might dab a bit of pork behind my ear just to egg you on", Peter<br />
said in his sexy bedroom voice. Russ laughed out loud.<br />
<br />
"You get pork fat on those sheets, young man and I'll be warmin' some tail,<br />
which might be a good idea. You are getting awful mouthy lately." Then he<br />
sobered. "Well Lacey was right, I am backed up and I will be very late. They are<br />
sending out here for dinner because these contracts have to be done by midnight.<br />
If dinner has been started just go ahead and you and Alan eat", Russell said<br />
knowing that it was not normal and if Lacey Wilson had told one of his boys he<br />
could not talk, she was correct. She usually was. She didn't mind breaking into<br />
his work day with calls from either Alan or Peter in a normal course of a<br />
business day. She had met them both several times and thought they were just<br />
what Russ needed.<br />
<br />
"Well..." Peter replied. "Just you remember, that vending machines don't serve<br />
meals as you had Alan write last week or we'll be talking with that paddle of<br />
yours. You got me young man?" Peter said in a recognizable mimic of Russell's<br />
Top voice.<br />
<br />
"Mouthy, mouthy, mouthy!!" Russ chuckled. "Mind the home front sweetie, OK?"<br />
<br />
"Love ya, Russ. I will." Peter replied and hung up the phone. He figured the<br />
chops had been in too long to pull out again so he just set the oven temp lower<br />
and went on with the salad.<br />
<br />
~ ~ ~<br />
<br />
The music at the Office was getting better. Alan had won one game of darts. Then<br />
Marcus bet him double or nothing on a game of pool, the bet being a rounds of<br />
drinks. Alan had little trouble winning. When he got back to the table the<br />
chicken wings were gone and there was another beer at his place. He reached into<br />
his pocket for the tip and his fingers touched the phone. Stepping outside on<br />
the small patio he placed a call to Russ's office. The private line rang and<br />
rang then there was no answer. Well he would try again in a minute. There was<br />
another beer at his place. The whiskey and the three beers were beginning to<br />
work on Alan's empty stomach. Then the work crew decided that they had stayed<br />
long enough and all started to head back to the cars in the lot. Alan's hand<br />
pulled out his phone. His finger automatically hit the speed dial for home.<br />
Peter was looking at the chops and pinching the potatoes when the phone rang.<br />
Seeing it was Alan he picked up the phone.<br />
<br />
"Bon Appetite!" he said<br />
<br />
"Pete, listen err well, ahh you know how Russ feels about driving right?"<br />
<br />
Alan drawled as the beers made him miss a few vowels.<br />
<br />
"Baby, where are you?" All sense of humour had disappeared from Peter's voice.<br />
<br />
"We are walking back to the parking lot at work and well I don't stink I fud<br />
drive," Alan muttered into the phone to the sympathetic looks of his work mates.<br />
<br />
"Keep your hand off those keys darlin', help is on the way. Ten minutes max and<br />
don't even thing about being upset that you called, K?" Peter said as he headed<br />
for the door fishing his keys out of his pocket. Dropping the phone on the<br />
island he set out to rescue his lover.<br />
<br />
Less than 10 minute later Peter pulled into the parking lot. Alan was leaning<br />
against his car Brain and Kim were talking to him and they all looked up when<br />
Peter pulled up. Alan grinned and said good bye. He was a bit unsteady when he<br />
opened the passenger door and fell into Peter's car.<br />
<br />
Peter arms went around him in a firm hug kissing him on his forehead.<br />
<br />
"Good boy, excellent . No driving while drinking. You get a pass because you<br />
called", he whispered in Alan's ear. Peter waved to the co-workers and rolled<br />
out of the lot heading for home. Peter glanced at his lover as they drove home.<br />
<br />
"Just how much did you have to drink, Hon?" Peter asked in a quiet voice.<br />
<br />
"I am not sure. They gave me a shot and a beer that you were supposed to drink<br />
together, then a few more beers. I guess I would be better with something in my<br />
stomach but I missed lunch again. You really don't have to tell Russ that you<br />
know."<br />
<br />
"Babe, I won't lie for you. You know that," Peter said quietly.<br />
<br />
"Pete I am not asking you to, but if he doesn't ask and maybe he won't, then you<br />
don't have to volunteer like everything I did wrong, you know?" Alan said as he<br />
leaned against the seat back closing his eyes.<br />
<br />
The rest of the drive was quiet. Peter pulled into the drive and Alan looked for<br />
Russ's car and sighed deeply that he didn't see it in the driveway.<br />
<br />
"Maybe the condemned man can get inside before the Lord High Executioner gets<br />
home."<br />
<br />
"Alan!" Peter said with a chuckle. "That is awful!"<br />
<br />
"Well I swear I didn't do anything but forget to eat. You know how he is, he<br />
busted me for it last week," replied Alan as he got out of the car. He leered at<br />
Peter then hugged him.<br />
<br />
"What can I do to take your mind off the things I have done, huh babe?" he<br />
whispered as his hand started stroking Peter's back and then cupping his butt<br />
through his jeans. Peter returned the hug and then swatted Alan on his butt.<br />
<br />
"I am sure I can think of something, but you need a shower and I need to check<br />
on dinner. Now git!"<br />
<br />
He landed another swat on Alan's retreating backside. Alan giggled and headed<br />
upstairs, rubbing his butt dramatically.<br />
<br />
Peter checked the dinner and chops, which looked done and the potatoes were<br />
soft. He clicked the oven to warm and followed Alan upstairs.<br />
<br />
Peter heard the shower start. He grinned and removed his jeans and tee,<br />
stripping off his briefs and socks as he tugged at his swelling cock and balls<br />
and walked to the shower. Though the glass door of the large shower he could see<br />
Alan's form. Peter watched for a minute scratching his chest and his balls, his<br />
mind drifting into the totally sexual. Then he slowly opened the shower door and<br />
stepped in. Alan had soap on his face and his hair was coated with shampoo.<br />
Peter's arm snaked out, grabbing Alan by the waist and pulling him to his body.<br />
The warm wet naked body of his lover tight against him felt so good. His cock<br />
was resting in the cleft of Alan's butt. Peter whispered in Alan's ear, "I'll<br />
wash your back babe."<br />
<br />
He chuckled and his hand began to massage Alan's shoulders and down the smooth<br />
skin of his back. Peter's hand played a bit with Alan's cock and balls.<br />
<br />
"Hey!" giggled Alan. "That's NOT my back."<br />
<br />
Alan turned and his arms went around Peter's neck pulling him down for a long<br />
kiss. The warm water sluiced over them both. Then Peter moved Alan out of the<br />
spray. Alan stood with his arms against the back of the shower wall as Peter<br />
began to wash his lover's body. The body wash glided over the warm skin and<br />
Peter's hands washed Alan's back and his arm pits, then cupping and washing his<br />
warm wet male ass. Alan turned and dropped to his knees and took Peter's growing<br />
hard-on into his mouth and began to lick and suck his man's cock, playing his<br />
tongue over the head and under the crown. Alan's hands were roaming over Peter's<br />
ass and lower back. Peter felt his cock respond and he pulled Alan to his feet.<br />
<br />
"No, shower quickly today my lad," Peter said as he kissed Alan's mouth.<br />
<br />
Alan had either used mouthwash or brushed his teeth because the stale beer smell<br />
was gone and he returned the kiss with interest.<br />
<br />
Both guys washed and rinsed each other. Alan's drinking seemed to wash down the<br />
drain. Peter shut off the shower and stepped out grabbing a towel and handing<br />
one back. Alan took the towel and began to dry Peter's wet body, taking his time<br />
kissing and nibbling as he tried to dry Peter off. Peter wrapped Alan in the<br />
huge bath sheet. They entered the bedroom. The towels fell to the floor.<br />
<br />
Peter grabbed Alan and bent him over his naked lap.<br />
<br />
"Now Alan, what did Russ say about lunch?" he growled as his hand landed with a<br />
firm swat.<br />
<br />
"I was not to forget, OUCH, to, OUCH, to eat," laughed Alan as he humped his<br />
butt up in the air.<br />
<br />
"That's right little man," Peter said. "It's time to pay the piper!"<br />
<br />
With that Peter's arm held Alan in place as his hand began to spank that<br />
upturned butt. The licks were not as hard as a real spanking however they did<br />
sting; the warm glow began to sink into Alan's body. He could feel Peter's cock<br />
under him growing and poking him in the belly and he knew Peter could feel his<br />
own hard cock against his warm thigh.<br />
<br />
"I told you one of us was going to turn this cute butt into a nice shade of<br />
night light red boy and it looks like this time it is up to me," Peter mock<br />
growled as he kept spanking that wiggling bare butt. Alan was humping his ass up<br />
in the air as each lick landed, moaning and gasping.<br />
<br />
"Oh Pete, I've been a bad boy," he moaned as a hard lick crack across his cheek.<br />
With a twist he got out from under Peter arm and pushed Peter back on the bed.<br />
<br />
"I plan to be even badder," he quipped as his mouth dove for Peter's hard cock.<br />
Taking it deep down his throat, he buried his face in the clean scent of Peter's<br />
pubes. Alan's throat muscles worked that hard shaft. Peter groaned and his arm<br />
went wide on the bed as Alan's cock sucking talent overcame his spanking desire.<br />
<br />
He loved the way Alan could take either his or Russ's cock and just keep it down<br />
there. It was a talent and he knew better to grab Alan's head or try to guide<br />
the warm wet mouth. Alan loved the feeling of the cock in his mouth and he had<br />
worked hard to learn how to give good head. He loved it when he could look up<br />
and see the look on his man's eyes as they went all soft and dreamy. He released<br />
Peter's cock and reached for the lube.<br />
<br />
Alan placed his body over two pillows, his ass open and waiting as Peter lubed<br />
up his hard cock then Peter's finger entered Alan making sure he was well lubed<br />
and relaxed. Peter knew this was not an easy thing, but Alan loved the<br />
surrender. Peter slowly entered that warm pink glowing butt, gritting his teeth<br />
to make it slow and easy. He could feel his pubes scrap against the hot spanked<br />
flesh of Alan's butt cheeks.<br />
<br />
"You OK babe?" he grunted.<br />
<br />
Alan nodded and Peter began to rock. Slowly he began to slide in and out of that<br />
hot spanked butt. Alan was moaning and Peter was grunting. As his cock nudged<br />
Alan's prostate, Peter was kissing on the back of Alan neck and the scent of<br />
body wash was being replaced by the fresh scent of male sweat.<br />
<br />
"Peter," gasped Alan, "Yes Pete, yes. Now. Please let me have it, please Peter,<br />
give it to me."<br />
<br />
The raunchy sex talk was so hot and none of them were stoic, but Alan was a<br />
master at it and he could almost make Peter shoot by just talking dirty to him.<br />
Peter moaned and pulled out of Alan. Stripping off the condom, he flipped Alan<br />
over and they were soon face to cock, licking and stroking each other. With a<br />
strangled cry, Alan's cock began to shoot and that was all Peter needed to tip<br />
him over the edge. Both guys' cock shot load after load and then collapsed on<br />
the bed. Peter grabbed one of the towels and, while Alan was gasping and panting<br />
and kissing Peter's chest and belly, he cleaned them both up.<br />
<br />
Both men lay next to each other, Alan encircled in Peter's arms his face pressed<br />
against Peter's neck as they both drifted off.<br />
<br />
~ ~ ~<br />
<br />
Lacey Wilson walked into the conference room. Russ was slouched in his chair.<br />
His tie was down and he looked up.<br />
<br />
"Well Boss it looks like you all done it."<br />
<br />
"Yeah?" he sighed, but the contracts were signed.<br />
<br />
`That will help keep the home front going for another three years', he thought.<br />
<br />
He knew he had to get up. Lacey was moving about picking up the high end<br />
restaurant take out boxes then, beginning to put the room in some sort of order.<br />
Russ sipped his lukewarm coffee and shook his head. He stood up and got a bottle<br />
of water and drank deep.<br />
<br />
"Yeah Lace, we are done here. Done for the night and for the next day. You have<br />
the PA's take over and you and I will get some rest."<br />
<br />
Lacey Wilson grinned and nodded. She would be at her desk by 8 am as usual and<br />
they both knew it, but that didn't mean Russ had to. After all, he had done all<br />
the work. The contacts were done and he had saved the day. She would be able to<br />
take any action and, if she needed to, she could call him at home. The PA's were<br />
good, trained by her, and Russ knew they could keep the office ticking over like<br />
a Swiss watch.<br />
<br />
~ ~ ~<br />
<br />
Russ pulled his car into the driveway. He saw Peter's car and the kitchen lights<br />
were on. It was past midnight. He entered his home though the kitchen. He went<br />
to the oven and opened it. The chops looked done and he pulled them out and<br />
placed them in the plastic container the potatoes in another one. He shut off<br />
the oven and walked into the living room, then on to the study. He went to the<br />
small bar and poured a stiff drink. He took the drink and sat down in his chair.<br />
He took a pull from the drink and sighed. He never drank at the office and it<br />
was not often at home.<br />
<br />
"Home from the salt mines boy?" Art appeared on the couch and grinned at him.<br />
"You look tired Russell. Did you eat today?" Art asked.<br />
<br />
"Yes mother I did. It was a long day, but we finished and the work is done and I<br />
am home. Where are the boys?" Russ asked taking another pull of his drink. Art<br />
chuckled.<br />
<br />
"Well your brats are in bed, fucked out and sleeping like a couple of babies.<br />
How come they get to party and you are down here? I thought the Top got all the<br />
goodies." Art laughed.<br />
<br />
"Oh shut up, old man did you get your rocks off watching? A pervert ghost," Russ<br />
teased.<br />
<br />
"Boy! You know better and I taught you better! You best loose that mouth, old<br />
man! Boy, one of these days, I am going to learn how to be solid and you and I<br />
will have a talk about your attitude. My hand will do the talking and your butt<br />
will listen," Art replied in his best Top drawl.<br />
<br />
Russ smiled at the feeling of submissiveness that shot through his body.<br />
<br />
"Sorry Sir," he said. "It's been one hell of a day and I am tired, besides you<br />
started it."<br />
<br />
"Well you best watch your mouth, that's all I'm sayin'," Art said.<br />
<br />
"Wait a second, where is Alan's car?" Russ asked.<br />
<br />
"Well boy from what I was able to put together, Alan went out for a drink or<br />
five after work. He was feeling the drinks and he called Peter to come and get<br />
him. Then they got home and Peter sent him up for a shower and he joined him and<br />
they ended up in bed. I expect that Alan might feel just a tad delicate in the<br />
morning. Apparently he is as bad as another brat I know and forgot or didn't get<br />
to eat, so the drinks hit him hard. I don't think he drank enough water or took<br />
any aspirin, so you might have a hung over brat in the morning," Art reported.<br />
Grinning at his brat, Art continued, "You know, if they ever find out about me<br />
you are going to lose the magical Top ability to know what is going on."<br />
<br />
Russ chuckled and looked at Art, letting all the love he felt for this man show<br />
in his eyes.<br />
<br />
"You know if you being solid got me a hard spanking it would be OK because then<br />
I could hug you and hold you."<br />
<br />
"You are a lovely man, you were a great brat and you have become a fine Top,<br />
Russell. Now if I am not mistaken there are two young men that might be very<br />
happy to have you wake them up."<br />
<br />
With that Art vanished.<br />
<br />
Russ drained his drink taking it to the kitchen. He went through the house<br />
shutting it down and checking the doors as he headed upstairs. The upstairs was<br />
dim but with the light in the bath he got into the shower. He let the hot water<br />
cascade over his body as he washed the stress and grime from the day. The<br />
contracts were done and they would be a good business move. He could now go on<br />
to his other plans. The contracts were a good first step and he was sure they<br />
would help out as the business expanded. He towelled himself dry and dabbed just<br />
a touch if his cologne on his throat. He shut down the light and entered the bed<br />
room. He stopped and just stared two young men were intertwined. They looked<br />
like something in a Greek mural. They were asleep. In sleep both looked so<br />
innocent, peaceful and not at all like they did when they were awake. Alan was<br />
snoring softly. Peter was pressed against Alan's back. In the dim light of the<br />
electronics on the bedside tables they looked unearthly.<br />
<br />
Russ climbed into the large bed behind Peter and snuggled up to the warm skin of<br />
his oldest brat. He didn't bother with sleep pants tonight since both the guys<br />
were naked as well. Peter muttered and gently rolled over into Russell's<br />
embrace. He kissed Russ.<br />
<br />
"Hmm you taste like scotch, good scotch." He kissed again. "Yup, very good<br />
scotch", he reaffirmed.<br />
<br />
Russ returned the kiss and pulled Peter to him. Peter's mouth went to his nipple<br />
and nipped it then licked his tongue over to the other one, taking a nip then<br />
another lick. Russ's nipple grew hard and his cock began to swell. Russ kissed<br />
Peter hard and then in a whisper, "I believe we have something to discuss about<br />
experience and youth", as his hand started to grope Peter's soft cock, tugging<br />
it and stroking it and he sighed as it began to swell.<br />
<br />
"We do", chuckled Peter, as his hand found Russ's growing hard on and began to<br />
stroke it.<br />
<br />
As Peter played with Russ's cock he bent his head to kiss down his neck to his<br />
chest, nibbling. He lapped at Russ's nipple and rolled it lightly with his<br />
teeth. Russ gasped as the light bite sent a shiver down his body. His hand<br />
released Peter's hard cock and ran up Peter's hard body tweaking his nipple with<br />
his fingers. Then, kneeling over his lover, his cock was taken deep into Peter's<br />
warm wet mouth. Peter played with the foreskin as Russ's hand reached back to<br />
tease Peter's cock and his soft heavy nuts. Peter rolled and laid down flat on<br />
his belly. Russ ran his hands up the broad shoulders and then down to the firm<br />
butt of his lover. Reaching for the condom and lube he then slowly entered<br />
Peter. As Russ entered Peter he marvelled at his men. Peter was young and<br />
strong. As Russ thrust deep he came to rest his hips against those firm yet soft<br />
cheeks. He loved that feeling. He could feel Peter's body respond. Peter was<br />
solid and firm he could take Russ and they began to thrust. Alan was more<br />
quicksilver, not as solid and Russ loved them both. He loved the feeling of<br />
power that Peter held contained as much as he loved the wiggling, giddy motions<br />
of Alan. He was thrusting and climbing. He felt alive and warm and his cock was<br />
getting harder. Peter was gasping. Russ nibbled the back of Peter's neck and<br />
thrust deeply feeling Peter shudder. It was so good, so warm, so right. They<br />
were together. Their moments were as one raising and thrusting deeper and<br />
harder. Peter knelt with his shoulders on the bed, his male butt up and full as<br />
Russ drove deeper. Holding himself tight against Peter, he reached down, his<br />
hand coming away wet and sticky. He stroked, playing with Peter's cock, hearing<br />
his breath come faster and beginning to rasp. Russ slowed down and pulled back,<br />
then entered again. Peter gasped. Russ whispered, "Experience young man,<br />
experience." With a deep shudder he came as Peter's body locked him inside,<br />
both of them coming together. Russ finished, laying across Peter's sturdy frame<br />
panting. Peter was moaning, "Oh man. Oh Russ."<br />
<br />
Russ grabbed for his towel and tidied them both up and then Peter collapsed on<br />
his back, his arms wide, one almost hitting Alan who remained deeply asleep.<br />
Russ rolled over Peter and ended up in the center as Peter rested his head on<br />
Russ's heaving chest. Russ flipped the sheet back over them and his hand felt<br />
the heat coming from Alan exposed butt. He looked at Peter, his eyes grinning in<br />
the dim light. He looked at his younger lover's butt still showing a nice warm<br />
glow.<br />
<br />
"Was that for not eating lunch?"<br />
<br />
"Hey, he got drunk and called babe. I wasn't going to punish him for that. That<br />
is your job, you big bad Top. We just went to bed. You know how he is when he is<br />
loopy!" Peter chuckled, remembering the fun they had. "We played around. Yeah it<br />
was the excuse but we both know it was just a trumped up charge so I could get<br />
that sweet ass all nice and warm and hot."<br />
<br />
"Did either of you eat anything at all?" Russ asked, drawing Peter into a one<br />
armed embrace.<br />
<br />
"I put the pork chops and potatoes away."<br />
<br />
Peter kissed him lightly. "I'm more sleepy than hungry. That experienced bod of<br />
yours has worn me out", chuckled Peter, drawing deeper into the hug.<br />
<br />
Russ kissed him lightly on his temple and then Peter closed his eyes and was<br />
asleep, his head resting on Russ's chest. Russ sighed. It had been a long day he<br />
thought as he drifted off to sleep.<br />
<br />
The EndUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044367416949960084.post-55357655277542968272011-10-26T10:53:00.001-07:002011-10-26T10:53:54.013-07:00The Morning AfterPeter padded down the stairs in the morning. He was dressed is his most <br />
well washed sleep pants with no shirt and bare foot. The kitchen tiles <br />
were cool on his feet, and he knew he should have put on some socks. He <br />
clicked on the coffee maker and wandered into the laundry room. Ahhh <br />
socks. Putting them on he went back to the kitchen. Grabbing his favorite <br />
mug he set it next to the machine. The warm morning smell of coffee filled <br />
the dim kitchen. <br />
<br />
“Hey.” He grunted. <br />
<br />
As Alan stumbled into the room. Running his hands though his black hair, <br />
his eyes not yet functioning, rubbing his face he looked more a sleep <br />
than awake. Peter got Alan's mug out he poured coffee for both. Peter got <br />
the cream and sugar out. He set the mugs on the island. Alan wandered to <br />
the captains chairs. He,sleepily pulled one out. <br />
<br />
“Alan, I wouldn't if I were you,” Peter said, resting his forearms on <br />
the island top<br />
<br />
Alan stopped. Grimacing, he leaned carefully against the island. <br />
<br />
“This sucks!” Alan whined.<br />
<br />
"I can't sleep on my front. he pouted, You weren't doing it very well either. <br />
<br />
"Russ is still out like a light, that brute! Why should he get to sleep? He <br />
set my butt on fire," Alan voice was rising louder with the outrage of a spanked brat. <br />
<br />
Peter grinned at him and took a sip of coffee. “It wasn't that bad boobie.” <br />
<br />
Peter went over to Alan and rested his hand on Alan butt covered in a <br />
thin pair of sleep pants. Alan hands quickly went to Peter's backside. <br />
Alan tugging lightly, and Peter's well washed sleep pants fell to the <br />
floor. Alan hand went to his lover's hips and turned him so his ass was in <br />
full view. Alan sank to one knee and lightly kissed each of Peter still <br />
pink cheeks, his tongue making butterfly licks on the warm blonde orbs. <br />
Peter pulled him to his feet. His hands slid down, causing Alan's sleep <br />
pants to puddle around his feet Peter's hand cupped the cheeks of his <br />
lover still feeling a slight heat Peter pulled Alan to his body his <br />
hand rubbing those cheeks lightly.<br />
<br />
The two naked men were locked in an embrace in the dim kitchen. Being men a<br />
nd just waking up their cocks were rubbing together. Alan's hands <br />
cupped Peter's butt. Alan's head rested on Peter's shoulder, kissing his neck.<br />
<br />
Peter chuckled deeply. “Hey Babe.”<br />
<br />
He ground his hard cock into Alan's and tighten his embrace. Then he <br />
slapped his hand lightly on Alan's bare butt.<br />
<br />
“Hey!” Alan complained<br />
<br />
“Come on, Alan.” Peter's hand gripped Alan's cock and stroked lightly.<br />
<br />
Alan breath hitched. He grinned and stood back slightly his breath coming faster.<br />
<br />
“What do you say we make breakfast for us all and go wake up the mean old <br />
man with breakfast in bed.”<br />
<br />
Peter chuckled pulling up Alan's sleep pants, and then his own.<br />
<br />
Both men's cocks were hard and proudly sticking out of the flys of the sleep pants.<br />
<br />
“Breakfast,” whined Alan looking at his hard on.<br />
<br />
Peter chuckled<br />
<br />
“Well.”<br />
<br />
“Breakfast doesn't mean we HAVE to eat. But lets cover the tasty bits so <br />
we don't get burned by the bacon,” Peter said. <br />
<br />
Turning to the fridge, he pulled out bacon and eggs and frozen potatoes.<br />
<br />
It shouldn't have taken them long to cook breakfast,but they kept stopping <br />
to hug, to stroke, and to nibble each other.<br />
<br />
Peter set up the tray with one plate covered in scrambled eggs and bacon. <br />
Toast and jam were set next to them with the thermal jug of coffee, cream, <br />
and sugar. Three glasses of juice and one of chocolate milk for Alan Peter <br />
got out the silverware and the good napkins. They collected empty mugs <br />
and other necessary things.<br />
<br />
Peter carried the loaded tray and Alan trailing behind him As they reached <br />
the landing they turned to the master bedroom. <br />
<br />
Peter looked at the bed, Russ was still asleep under the covers. With a <br />
grin, Alan tugged at Peters sleep pants. Peter stepped out of them. Then <br />
made sure Alan's were off as well.<br />
<br />
With a giggle of pure mischief, Alan slowly tugged the blankets off Russ and then spooned next to him.Rubbing his hard cock up Russ's thigh<br />
<br />
“Breakfast, you mean old man. You want to get up and help out with this<br />
<br />
Russ's eyes snapped open. His hand grabbed for Alan's cock, and then <br />
grinned at the sight of Peter standing there. The breakfast tray in <br />
his hands; his hard on proceeding him.<br />
<br />
Alan kissed Russ deeply.<br />
<br />
Russ returned the kiss and looked at his men.<br />
<br />
“Well well breakfast in bed. I done died and gone to heaven!” he leered <br />
at Alan and shot a smoldering look at Peter. <br />
<br />
“What shall I eat first?"Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044367416949960084.post-89852103812783448992011-10-23T18:13:00.000-07:002011-10-23T18:13:01.104-07:00Back To NormalHe bent me over his hard lap; his arm trapped me in that position at all brats love to hate. His deep dark voice rumbled above me about not cleaning the patio and going out with Chris instead. I squirmed as I felt his hands pull down my white briefs. Then felt the cool wooden back of the bath brush......Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044367416949960084.post-74745572651743104852011-10-22T15:42:00.001-07:002011-10-22T15:42:44.861-07:00Not AgainI said it again. Shit<br />
<br />
I wanted to rear up off his lap and stand on my own two feet and scream<br />
<br />
I didn't say "Daddy I'll be good!"<br />
<br />
"You ain't my daddy and you never will be."<br />
<br />
Considering what we were doing last night it is a very good thing.<br />
<br />
Ouch!!!!!!! Damn he knows how to spank me Fuck it. <br />
<br />
I am an adult I don't need this. I am functional I don't want to be <br />
spanked Damn it all I am 32 years old<br />
<br />
Ouch Stop it.<br />
<br />
Damn there went my briefs, Oh No how what Please not the hair brush not <br />
the hair brush just the hand just the hand please not the hair brush.<br />
<br />
Ouch That's his hand bloody mutant<br />
<br />
I can hold out he is older and he has to be getting tired <br />
<br />
Ouch Shit<br />
<br />
I didn't mean it I'm sorry<br />
<br />
Ouch <br />
<br />
I'm sorry I'll behave<br />
<br />
Damn was that my outside voice<br />
<br />
OK OK I give up he is rightUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044367416949960084.post-70613020824102108882011-10-16T14:32:00.001-07:002011-10-20T08:47:18.605-07:00Not Our Fault - Part 3Not our Fault chapter 3<br />
Randy Williams<br />
<br />
Dressing quickly, I left the bedroom and made my way down to the kitchen, remembering what Art had said and making just enough noise to let Peter and Alan know I was on my way. <br />
<br />
Listening carefully, I heard the sound of Peter rushing back to his corner. I grinned.<br />
<br />
Usually I was pretty strict about the corner time, however tonight I was showering and they had been down here about half an hour. Far long enough. I set the paddle on the kitchen counter and made myself a cup of coffee. <br />
<br />
As I opened the refrigerator I stopped and looked around the kitchen. It was spotless; the floor gleamed and counters were wiped down. The cupboards were polished? The entire room smelled clean and homey. The clean smell was pleasant; the homey smell was coming from a couple loaves of bread. I had to grin at that. Alan was discovering the joys of baking. Peter was quick to roll his eyes at first however when a supply of cookies and brownies kept appearing, he quickly saw the advantages and was happy to help eat. <br />
<br />
I glanced at the clock: 35 minutes. Too long!<br />
<br />
Picking up the wooden paddle and my coffee, I walked to Alan. I turned on the table lamp on the other side of the room and set my coffee down on the end table opposite the light. As I bent to set down my cup on the coaster I caught the smell of lemon. I glanced around the room again, and I was greeted by the clean smell of a polished and well- tended home, with the exception of the 23 year old man standing dejectedly facing the corner. His hair was dishevelled and he legs were trembling. <br />
<br />
“Go get Peter, Alan”, I said in a firm voice.<br />
<br />
Alan turned and saw me, and I saw the tear streaks and the whites of his eyes.<br />
<br />
Too long; way too long. I wanted to kick myself.<br />
<br />
“Hey Babe”, I said gently.<br />
Suddenly I had my arms full of a worried young man. Alan was always the first to break, also the one that could plan the most inventive plans. His mostly naked body pressed against me, his arms around my neck. Damn he smelled good. Gently I disengaged him. I wiped his face with my handkerchief, turned him around by his arm and gave his boxer briefs a firm Swat! <br />
<br />
“Get Peter please, and if you have to go to the bathroom you best get that out of the way, both of you”, <br />
<br />
I said in that firm Top voice, still wanting to kick myself for making this young man I loved so much wait so long.<br />
<br />
‘With any luck they both will go to the bathroom’, I thought as I picked up the hot mug with slightly shaking hands. Taking a deep swallow I willed the caffeine to get moving though my jet lagged system. <br />
<br />
They had a party. Remember that. A party they knew better than to have.<br />
<br />
Then the room was full of two worried, half naked young men.<br />
<br />
I sat back in the slipper chair. ‘Silly name’, I thought, ‘Except it is a great chair wide and comfortable but has no arms. Perfect for taking guys over my knee.’<br />
<br />
I saw both sets of eyes glance to the wooden paddle on the end table.<br />
<br />
“Okay, Peter, tell me what happened please. Why is there a keg floating in the pool?”<br />
<br />
“Santa Ana Winds”, replied Peter in a defensive manner.<br />
<br />
“Peter! We can start with a spanking and then get an explanation if you wish!”<br />
<br />
Peter drew himself up to his full height.<br />
<br />
“What does it matter? You are going to paddle us anyway!”<br />
<br />
His hand went to the waist band of his briefs and yanked them down; he practically threw himself over my lap.<br />
<br />
“Peter! Stop it!” Alan cried.<br />
<br />
My arm went around the small of his back and held him there.<br />
<br />
“Settle down young man, this happens on my time frame not yours and you can stop trying to protect Alan!”<br />
<br />
I barked, as my hand cracked down on his bared butt hard. <br />
<br />
“Get up! You are not in charge here young man.”<br />
<br />
My arm slipped under his chest and lifted him to his feet.<br />
<br />
“Now sit down and behave!”<br />
<br />
Peter was in full protection mode. His love for Alan and me was powerful he always wants to throw himself on the grenade.<br />
<br />
‘Thank God for brats’, I thought. Peter's words and actions spoke to me far more than just the surface.<br />
Looking at him still pacing like a young lion, his butt displaying a nice red hand print, Alan standing there looking at the floor, my Top sense snapped into effect.<br />
<br />
Here were two bad brats. Yes, the house was clean and spotless. Yes, as Art pointed out, they busted their butts cleaning and making our home beautiful. I didn't check the refrigerator but I would wager my favorite dinner was in there. So yes, they did what they thought they could do to feel better, they did clean and they did shop and bake and all the rest. <br />
However they had a party. The guilt was eating them both alive. We have a way to deal with that.<br />
<br />
I stood up, in charge now and in full Top mode. My jet lag was gone. My exhaustion was gone!! Most importantly, my indecision was well and truly gone.<br />
<br />
At my movement Peter stopped in mid stride and sank to the floor. Alan let out a small yelp of surprise and sat as well.<br />
<br />
I stood, hands on my hips, my eyes raking over these two men I loved. Yes, I could see it still there: guilt, worry and in Alan’s case, beginning panic. It was time to be in control.<br />
<br />
I held my hand out to Alan. His face paled and tears started to fall. He stood.<br />
<br />
I pulled him to me and I hugged him tightly. Then, sitting down, I pulled him over my knee. I peeled down his boxer briefs, my mind now sure and clear. That fine male ass was not causing me any arousal.<br />
Down came my hand on the bared cheek. I wanted this to make an impression. I continued spanking his butt, holding his body against mine, my one arm keeping him is place as my other hand landed again and again across those bare cheeks now beginning to glow pink. <br />
<br />
Alan was not a stoic. His crying increased. I know that it was not because of the pain. Hell he wasn't really sore yet. <br />
This was the emotion, the outflow and inside the crying was a release. His legs kicked and I held him tighter, my hand spanking those cheeks farther down on the lower parts of those cheeks. The hand cracking across his pale to now becoming red butt echoed off the walls. <br />
<br />
Peter was cursing a blue streak under his breath. He hated to see Alan get spanking as a punishment. I landed a harder swat causing Alan to gasp and Peter glanced up.<br />
<br />
“You both did it, Peter eyes right here”, I said in a firm tone.<br />
<br />
His young male face, almost a fully formed man's face, still had the lack of an edge. He eyes were haunted as he watched my hand descend on his lover/ partner/ buddy/ best friend’s bare backside, wincing as each lick landed.<br />
<br />
This was my job. I wanted both to know I knew they did it together. When they do get a spanking usually it is together. I have found that Alan draws strength from both of us there. I also know it drives the punishment home more fully to Peter. I swear he would not say a word, but when Alan is in pain he cannot control his eyes or his emotions. <br />
<br />
Yet his inner feelings of our agreement and our rules make his presence a good weather vane for me. He is not resentful; he is not hiding any hidden anger. Alan, my lover, my heart, would take a spanking from me if I thought he needed one. He would pull down his pants and his briefs and willingly lay over my knee, whether or not he thought he deserved it. <br />
<br />
Peter would rather take a beating from a stranger than let Alan come to harm, so when I have Alan across my knee I am trusting my Top instincts. I trust them fully but it is a great side boost to know where Peter's head is at. <br />
<br />
It is also a mercy for Alan to get it over with. I love Alan and I love his sense of humor and fair play. He is inventive but very rarely mean in his ideas. I feel we have come some distance because he is no longer mean to himself. When we were a new three some, and I was just learning my boys and my boys were just learning me, I thought his self-deprecating humour was a shield. It was. It was fear basically. Over the years he has discovered that he is a good man and he doesn't need to do that anymore. <br />
<br />
<br />
I know, I know, I have a man across my knee. I am whaling on his bare butt. Yet I am talking about loving him and his feelings. I'll share with you a Top secret: we don't like spanking or hurting our lovers. Now don't get me wrong, a night of hot sex with a good side order of erotic butt warming is something else altogether. But I didn't fly a zillion miles today, be gone for three days and two nights, and rush home to hurt the boys I love. Yet as hard as Alan might deny this, it does hurt me more than it hurts him. Yet I am the Top. I am in charge and sometime that means I have to take steps. It can't be all fun and games. Sometimes it is just plain something I know I have to do. Please don't get me wrong. I love Alan's butt and I think it is the sexiest thing in the world when it is wiggling over my knee, all hot and stinging, and he is pleading and begging for me to stop; when his front is hard and erect and we are playing. But having his bare butt over my knee like this hurts me. Yet it is something that we need to do.<br />
<br />
I stopped spanking and rested my hand, stinging slightly, on the burning flesh of his bared butt cheeks. He was sobbing and crying. He was hurting. He’s a well spanked young man. I rested my hand on his burning butt and fixed Peter with my best Top look.<br />
<br />
“Tell me about the party Peter”, I said in a commanding voice.<br />
<br />
He ducked his head and I could see a tear fall to the carpet.<br />
<br />
“Look at me!” I snapped.<br />
<br />
Out it came. It was a party. He and Alan had met up with some of their friends. It was a warm day and the pool beckoned. It didn't take long to make it happen. They had done good things as well; they kept the good liquor locked up. They had beer and pizza. It didn't even get out of hand, according to Peter’s slow, monotone voice. Alan’s sobs were a counter point to this tale of boys being boys. Alan was calming down a bit, his crying had started to quiet down to sniffs and hiccups. Just a stupid, spur of the moment thing that escalated.<br />
<br />
“We have rules. I am as close as my phone. You could have called and asked. You didn't have to try to hide it. All I wanted you to do was show me the respect we have for one another.”<br />
<br />
Alan’s tear strained voice muttered that it was done and set up before they even thought about that. Peter added that after the party got started they both met in the kitchen and just wanted it over and done with. The guilt was setting in even before the party ended. They knew! They knew! <br />
<br />
God I love them so. <br />
<br />
“Then let’s finish this”, I said.<br />
<br />
I picked up the wooden paddle and rested it on Alan's hot bare butt.<br />
<br />
With a crack I landed it across both cheeks. That paddle is light weight but it packs a sting. Using mostly my wrist I landed ten good solid licks to my boy’s bare backside. His tears started almost at once and he was kicking and begging after the third strike.<br />
<br />
<br />
Then it was over. I sat the paddle on the table and gathered my boy in my arms, holding him and rocking him as he cried into my shoulder. Alan's butt was glowing red. It wasn't a spanking spanking. It was a good spanking, enough to remind them that I was a part of this. I wanted this to underscore the party. The party itself and most importantly, a party given without permission. I wiped Alan's face with my handkerchief. I stood him up and pointed to a place in front of the chair. Alan knelt, his feet keeping his sore bottom off the floor.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Peter”, I said.<br />
<br />
Peter stood he looked at Alan and his hand touched Alan's shoulder. I sat back down pulling him with me until he was across my knee. Peter hated this part. He was stiff. My arm went around his middle and my other hand rested on his bared butt. I started, my hand landing hard across his bare cheeks. Harder than with Alan. Don't let anyone tell you it is always the same because it isn't Peter is bigger and stronger. He has a mental toughness Alan has not. Peter's head was down and there was just the sound of my hand landing across those hard male butt cheeks. He was reddening nicely. Still Peter was the stoic one. When we played he was all laughter and groans, gasps and giggles. He loved the sex play spankings as much as we all did. They were different, he was vocal. He would wiggle and kick and beg. <br />
One soft curse. His hard young man ass was tense. He was feeling this and I knew it. He knew I knew it and we both knew Alan knew it. I glanced at my other boy, his eyes on Peter, tears running down his cheeks.<br />
<br />
I stopped and picked up the paddle. Taking a firmer grip I began to lay that paddle across Peter's butt with hard, crisp cracks. After a few I stopped. Peter's ass was glowing red and the heat was pouring off it. Still not a sound. I knew he was feeling it and it was normal. Peter was always harder to spank. He would clamp down his feelings, bury them.<br />
<br />
“Peter! Do you control your punishment? Do you tell me who I am going to spank or not spank?”<br />
<br />
I landed the paddle down hard.<br />
<br />
“No!” he yelped.<br />
<br />
I landed five more good solid licks to remind him. They made the difference. He was gasping now. Dropping the paddle on the carpet I pulled him into a hard embrace. His arms went around me his head against my chest, my chin resting on his head.<br />
<br />
“I decide the spanking around here my man”, I said.<br />
<br />
I felt his head nod then then dam broke. His gripped me tight his head nodding his voice thick with tears.<br />
<br />
“Aww, Russ, I love you.”<br />
<br />
I pulled him to his feet standing with him my arms around my lover, my brat. my life. Then Alan threw his arms around Peter and I. We were locked together. We stood there for a minute. My arms around my boys, their arms around me. <br />
<br />
I was home.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044367416949960084.post-4688307009996856112011-10-16T14:30:00.000-07:002011-10-16T14:30:43.207-07:00Not Our Fault - Part 2by Randy Williams<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I followed Peter to his corner and watched as he stripped down to just his<br />
briefs. He gave me a look and his eyes went all smoky with concern.<br />
<br />
"Russ we didn't mean too..." Peter started the whine.<br />
<br />
I was fading fast and didn't have the time, or right now with all the warm<br />
thoughts of what I wanted our welcome home to be, the patience to listen. I took his jeans with me and left him facing his corner.<br />
<br />
Down the short hall, Alan was standing near his corner. His eyes filling, his face looking miserable.<br />
<br />
"Russ..."<br />
<br />
"Now, Alan!"<br />
<br />
He too stripped down to his boxer briefs.<br />
<br />
I gave him a curt nod and he turned to face his corner. I left the room with two pairs of still warm jeans.<br />
<br />
I know, I know. Separate corners in separate rooms can seem to be a bit, well, excessive. However these were my brats and they were - if nothing else, besides that is, looking so damn cute and so hot - endlessly inventive. I had the pants and left them in just their briefs because it was what, just last month I caught them TEXTING while in the corners? No pants, no phones. That night a new rule was written in stone along with a warning they stop that nonsense or they would be doing corner time naked!<br />
<br />
Grabbing my two- suiter in the other hand, I trudged up the stairs to our master bedroom. Frankly I just wanted to cry. I know. I know I'm a Top we don't cry. We maintain order. We hold crying brats. Hell, we make brats cry; I can, with just a LOOK, not to mention the paddle hanging on the back of the bathroom door. I was muttering as I stripped off my clothes, "I'm a Top. I'm a Top." That lasted until I was in the bathroom and had the shower running. The trouble is I don't feel like a Top right now. I let the hot water sluice over my head and sighed deeply, thinking back to my brat days. I loved my Top and he was good. We were good together. He took this confused kid off the junk heap. Showered me with firm, stern love. Let me rest. Let me become the man I am now.<br />
<br />
Right now I was exhausted. I hurt and really, all I wanted to do was curl up in His arms. I didn't want to be the bad ass. Hell, I had thrown a few parties. Hell, I had been right where those two were! Standing on starting-to-ache legs; worried about the condition of their butts. Alan would be sure by now that I would become the ogre and throw him out. Peter would be outwardly stoic but I could mentally see him running his fingers though his dirty blonde hair repeatedly; a sure sign of inward stress. Do they know? Do they have any idea? Can I make them understand?<br />
<br />
My life was so empty after Art died. We had been together for years. Then BAM! A damn drunk driver. My life was over.<br />
<br />
I did good, I did. With help from a few other Tops and friends of Art I became what I am.<br />
<br />
I am a Top. But what is a Top without his brat? Or in my case, as a grin flashed across my face, my brats? I leaned against the shower wall. I wanted just to stay there. But there were two men downstairs.<br />
<br />
I turned the water to cold and stood there until I was shivering. Then I was out groping for a towel. I felt one and dried my head.<br />
<br />
"Well boy, you have a small problem don't you!"<br />
<br />
I dropped the towel to my shoulders and there was Art, standing there with that damn grin on his face. The first time this happened I thought I was going mad.<br />
<br />
I resumed drying my chilled body. "Yeah, old man, I do and it's your fault!!" I snapped.<br />
<br />
He chuckled. Bastard! He actually chuckled.<br />
<br />
"Russell, if I were here and alive I would put the paddle to good use. Dead or alive, you don't talk to me like that. Now keep drying, you are going to catch your death. I have told you and told you, cold showers like that can really mess you up. Keep rubbing. Harder! Get warm, you idiot boy!"<br />
<br />
Then he sat on the sink chuckling.<br />
<br />
"You feelin' a bit sorry for yourself?"<br />
<br />
"Why?"<br />
<br />
"Those two butts, hmmm, to spank. Nosiree, I don't feel sorry for you one bit! Rub, boy. Get dry, they are waiting. I hope I taught you better than to keep a brat waiting too long."<br />
<br />
"Art", I whined. Yes, I actually whined. God if those two downstairs knew I was whining to the ghost of my old Top...<br />
<br />
"Russell, they are good brats, mostly. Hell boy, better than you were. Did you see what they did yet? They busted their asses to get this place clean. Yeah I know, mostly for their behinds but for you, too. Right now Peter is holding Alan who is sobbing in his arms. My boy, you do know how to pick good lookin' young men. Damn if you don't!"<br />
<br />
When he said Alan was crying my arm reached for the door. It is automatic: my brat, my lover, was crying.<br />
<br />
"You old softy!" he chuckled<br />
<br />
"Now get some clothes on, make a cup of joe and settle those two men down! They love you, man. As much as you love them. Damn iffin I didn't raise a good one here."<br />
<br />
I wrapped the towel around my waist and started for the bedroom.<br />
<br />
"Russell, ain't you forgettin' something?"<br />
<br />
Art said grinning at me with pure mischief in his eyes as he nodded toward the paddle hanging on the back of the door.<br />
<br />
I reached up and took the paddle in my hand and headed toward the bedroom. I Am A Top.<br />
<br />
As I left the bathroom I swore I heard a soft, "I love you, bub."<br />
<br />
I turned quickly to see just an empty bathroom.<br />
<br />
***Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044367416949960084.post-53125009157071410192011-10-16T14:17:00.000-07:002011-10-16T14:17:30.985-07:00Not Our Fault - Part 1'Not Our Fault' by Randy Williams<br />
<br />
<br />
I sighed and wondered if maybe more Advil would help. So I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed again.<br />
<br />
You see I am a Top. I have the usual aversion to over medication, the usual<br />
aversion to lying. I am morally upright and I have the eye brow. I can spot a lie or a shaded truth faster then a speeding bullet. Yet here I am standing here looking at two young men, well my young men, really my brats actually. I do have to admit they do look good. Wait, wait. Stop, rewind Not our fault. Hmmmm.<br />
<br />
You see I have been gone on a business trip for three days. Working and sweating to make a hearth and home for our little family.Well sweating if you call being trapped in conference rooms with stuff shirts work, and believe me it is and it can be a bit sweaty. So here I am jet lagged to hell and back. My back hurts from the lousy seats on the plane. Or any plane unless I get first class. I am suffering from airplane scotch, airplane meals and feel like my body has not showered in about a month. What has been keeping me going for the last leg of the never ending flights is thoughts of coming home. Home to my boys and the wonderful sexy raunchy welcome home sex that should ensue after this far too long absents.<br />
<br />
Now before you grab any phone to report child abuse, I call them my boys but<br />
they are of age. Really we all are of age. Believe me I am feeling everyone of my 40 something years. They look, well they look like they should be models. They both have that freshly showered look and well no shirt and those jeans.... Wait wait, rewind, rewind.<br />
<br />
"Not our fault!"<br />
<br />
Hold on to that, concentrate. Not our fault. Not our fault. Just keep saying<br />
that. Stop thinking about Peter's chest, stop looking at Alan's white brief<br />
line. Stop it . You're a Top, act like it.<br />
<br />
It is time to let loose the Top sense. I know people have heard of the Force. Well it is something like that or something more like a Spidy Sense if you read comics.<br />
<br />
So Peter has that look; chin out eyes look a bit sleepy body almost relaxed.<br />
Still there is something. Alan well his eyes are a give away, he looks guilty trying hard not to look guilty. With that head cock like it does when he is about to tell a whopper.<br />
<br />
Taking in a huge breath of air.<br />
<br />
"OK then Peter your corner, Alan your corner. NOW!", I snap. "I am going to have a shower then we can all discuss how it is not your fault that there is a beer keg floating in the pool. Now MARCH!"<br />
<br />
*****Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044367416949960084.post-39033293527137731282011-10-16T14:10:00.001-07:002011-10-16T14:10:05.684-07:00AfterMy nose is stuffed up. My face is stiff. My chest hurts.<br />
<br />
I am resting where I belong. My head on his shoulder, pressed into his neck. <br />
Breathing in his scent. My ass is on fire and I don't want to look. I am at<br />
peace. I snuggle into his neck and whisper , "I love you."<br />
<br />
His hand cups my still burning bare butt.<br />
<br />
"I love you, too", he replies.<br />
<br />
Safe once again, I drift off to sleep.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044367416949960084.post-58023489537696587992011-10-16T14:08:00.001-07:002011-10-16T14:08:44.557-07:00JockI rubbed the warm soft leather of the jock. It pulled each time I moved. <br />
Notto mention the warm scent. I can't spend tomorrow in the rest room. <br />
I stretched out on the bed. <br />
<br />
A grin ghosted across my lips as I heard, "Brat!Where is MY jock?"Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2044367416949960084.post-45131174888101172542011-10-16T14:06:00.001-07:002011-10-16T14:06:45.227-07:00WARNING MAY NOT BE YOUR THINGMy mouth kissing and nipping down from her oh so pretty navel.<br />
<br />
Lapping at the crisp hairs guarding her pleasure points. Those hairs <br />
waving in the breeze of my breath as I lean in to lick and tease. Her <br />
right hand spanks down on my bare unprotected backside.<br />
<br />
I rear back to see her grin, quickly overlay-ed by her Top LOOK.<br />
<br />
Now she purrs in that silky dangerous voice. the one that sends <br />
chills up my spine.<br />
<br />
"Did you go somewhere without asking your Top?"<br />
her hand cupping my stinging butt slowly sliding down toward the center <br />
and then in between my legs. Her fingers brushing my mound her voice and <br />
the sting of her hand made my clit twitch as a gush of wetness and <br />
warmth spread though me.<br />
<br />
" Not me my Lady" I giggled hugging her and pushing her back into the bed.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0