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Subject: {ASSM} St: My Cousin and I -- Part 2 (t/b, t/m, spank, shave, sex)
Date: Wed, 25 Oct 2000 01:10:05 -0400
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St: My Cousin and I -- Part 2 (t/b, t/m, spank, shave, sex)
The story continues but this time told by Allan rather than his
older cousin Ike. Of course, this is fiction. It contain scenes
of spanking. If such a subject is offensive, uninteresting or if
you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.
This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is
prohibited without permission. Personal/private copies are
permitted only if complete including the copyright notice.
The author would appreciate your comments -- pro and con, including
constructive criticism, and suggestions. YLeeCoyote@Lycosmail.com
My Cousin and I -- Part 2
by
Y. Lee Coyote
That time I was over Ike's lap -- some four years ago when I was in
the seventh grade with him reviewing my report card -- had a
profound effect on me. Somehow through all the joking and fun it
made me realize that how I did in school really mattered. Don't
get me wrong, I still had fun and fucked up occasionally but I also
studied hard.
When I fucked up, Ike -- quite properly -- made me pay for it. He
was a paragon of fairness and always gave me time to defend myself,
but after that, my pants came down and over his lap I went. It was
near the end of the seventh grade that I really got it. I was
having what mom would have called a "bad hair day" had it been her
day. I had managed to get on everyone's nerves one morning and
when I almost knocked over the vase from great grandma (who I never
even knew) running after the ball I should not have been playing
with in the house that Ike grabbed me. He got a vice like grip on
my arm (that I still can feel) and dragged me up to my room. I
think that if he had grabbed my ear like in the stories I heard he
would have torn it off.
"WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF ALLAN KEVIN SMITH?" he roared
at me. This was the first time I ever heard Ike use my full name.
Mom had a few times and it always meant that I was in deep, deep
shit. There was nothing to say and we both knew it. I sensed that
I was about to get my tail busted and fried just like Timmy got it
from his dad. For the first time I was really and truly scared. I
wished that I could be elsewhere. Later Ike told me that I was
actually shaking. The little boy in me wanted to cry even before
my pants were down but the man I was trying to grow into would not
allow it. I can just imagine the fight that they were having in my
subconscious. Looking back now I'm glad that the man won.
The man took control. Without being told, I undid my belt and
jeans. Just as I was about to push them down, Ike snapped at me:
"STRIP! Everything off and be quick about it." I did not dare to
argue with him so I pulled off my t-shirt and then bent over to
open my sneakers so that I could kick them off. I pulled off my
jeans and briefs and caught my socks as I did so. I was now naked.
I still managed to keep from crying.
By now Ike was stilling on the bed. As I approached, he yanked me
over one thigh and put his other leg over mine. My torso was
supported by the bed and he grabbed my wrist and forced my arm
behind my back up high. I could not move at all. He had never
done this before. The worse part of knowing that I was really
going to get it was knowing that I really deserved it. The little
boy wanted to cry out for mercy but the man would not let him.
"TAKE YOUR MEDICINE LIKE A MAN!" he screamed inside my head.
Like I had a choice!
Then Ike began. He raised his hand and brought it crashing down
hard on my butt. SPANK!! The boy had his say; I yelled. The hand
came down on the other cheek just as hard. SPANK!! I yelled
again. Ike kept me immobile and he continued with the longest,
hardest spanking I had every received before or since. A few more
SPANKS!! and I was crying like I did when I was seven. The boy had
taken control and I was crying and yelling. I thought that I was
begging and promising but Ike tells me I was incoherent. Then I
lost it. For the first time Ike was spanking so hard that not only
was I crying but I was bawling like a baby. The man inside was so
ashamed of me.
After an eternity Ike stopped spanking me. I continued to bawl.
He lifted me up and held me very close. I hugged him back and
bawled my eyes out on his shirt while the fires of hell continued
to roast my butt. Slowly, very slowly I began to regain control
and stopped bawling. I was still crying when Ike laid me out on my
bed. I just hugged the pillow and cried.
Slowly the man got control and I stopped crying but I just lay
there not wanting to move. I may have even fallen asleep for a
bit. I'll never know. I know that the man had control because
although I hated what had happened I did not have any anger toward
Ike. I had really been obstreperous and paid the price. Don't get
me wrong -- I was not happy but this was not Ike's fault. I just
laid there not knowing what to do.
Then I heard someone coming up the stairs. I was really surprised
that it was Timmy. Latter I found out that all he knew was I had
been spanked and surely needed a little comforting. Actually, Ike
had even sent some "comfort" in the form of a pain relief cream.
Timmy was great. He understood all about my problem having gotten
spankings this bad and worse. He was able to kid me about things
(but never laughing at me) and assure me that I would survive. He
was extremely gentle as he rubbed the cream into the flames. It
did not put out the fires but cooled them down considerably. I
knew that I would feel this for days.
We talked a for long time before he got me to get dressed and go
face the world. When I got downstairs, the women were gone and Ike
was down in his room. We went to see him. I just wanted to tell
him that I knew that this was my fault and not his and I did not
hate him or anything like that. That's not what happened. He had
been crying too. When I saw his wet face I just ran right to him
and hugged him tight and told him that I loved him. Yes, right in
front of Timmy. It had really hurt Ike to have spanked me so hard.
That saying "this hurts me more than you" must be true.
Well, I got off my track. I was talking about being over Ike's lap
when he reviewed my report cards. We quickly made that a special
tradition. He would ask if I got all A's (which I never did) then
I would drop my pants and get over his lap. I don't know why but
it made report cards very special in that they had a real effect on
my life. Ike actually spanked me only a couple of times about bad
grades that way and never very hard. Deportment got a different
response. Once I messed up in school enough to get a note on the
report card and I paid the price -- twice. First a spanking right
then and there for the crime. Ike turned my butt a nice bright red
that even showed the next day in gym. Then I got it for not
confessing three weeks earlier.
I was already in the eight grade when that happened. As I had
already started to grow both generally and in that special way of
adolescents. As I got bigger, Ike told me that we would shift to
other methods of spanking. He was afraid that many of the things
that he had heard about could cause real damage so he settled on
just two things -- a heavy oak hairbrush and a strap made from an
old wide leather belt. I have no idea why he did not think that
they could do real damage -- they sure can hurt.
It was Halloween that I learnt about the hairbrush. It may be the
traditional night for mischief making but that just does not
protect one's butt at all. The guys and I were just trying to
scare the spooks away from the old otherwise deserted mansion at
the end of Elm Street when we were grabbed by the fuzz. It may
look real cool to be riding in a fuzzmobile on TV or in a Hollywood
flick but when you're crammed in with four other guys in the
backseat being taken home to certain doom it just does not feel
very good at all.
Mom was not very happy as the cop undid the handcuffs. (Did I
mention that they hurt and that it is very uncomfortable to sit
with your hands behind your back with another guy sitting on your
lap with his cuffs diggin' into your abs. Need I mention that his
butt crack is also pressing on your cock when one is at the age
where just the thought of the question "Is your cock hard?" makes
it so?) Ike let mom yell at me awhile and then dragged me
upstairs. I thought that he would be sympathetic because of all
the great shit he had told me he had done. I was very wrong. I
had done something quite different; even worse than just being
caught. I was brought home by the cops in a well marked squad car
that parked in front of the house with its lights flashing for all
the neighbors to see. I was an bad example to all. I had to be
turned into a well punished example.
"Strip and shower, Allan. And make it fast!" I was a mess between
the dirt from crawling under the fence and the grease paint
gangster face that was my costume. I did as I was told pronto.
When I returned to my bedroom Ike was waiting for me -- hairbrush
in hand. Neither of us said even a single word. The brush would
soon speak plenty. Far more than I wanted to hear. I just got
into position over his lap. I hoped that Ike would remember all
those pranks that he had done when he was a kid. He gripped my
waist tighter than ever before and tapped by bottom with the brush.
I was not liking this at all and knew it was going to get worse; a
lot worse.
WHACK!!
"Yooooowwwwwwwwlllllll!!" I yelped at the first stroke. And at
everyone following until I was crying like a baby. The brush
continued to kiss my overheated butt. I just howled more now,
completely out of control. I don't know how long this particular
eternity was but it was more than long enough for me. Eventually,
Ike stopped. He laid me on my tummy and rubbed my back until I
slipped into crying and then to sleep.
That was the first time Ike used the brush on me. The business end
is smaller than Ike's hand but much harder. Even when Ike is
gentle the hard wood packs quite a wallop; appreciably more than
his hand. My butt just can not resist it and quickly crumbles
under its onslaught every time.
I was still looking like someone had painted my ass red in the
morning. Painted it with a meat tenderizer. It was not so bad in
school (provided I sat down carefully) until the fourth period --
gym. To compound matters, this week I had swimming. Bare ass
swimming. If it had just been regular gym maybe I could have
hidden my butt from at least most of the world, but NOT at the
pool. The Coach did help any either. He brilliantly told me,
announcing to the entire class, that I forgot to wash the rouge off
my butt from my costume. Everyone acted like that was the joke of
the year. Just as I was wishing I was dead, my big mouth neighbor,
Kenny, spoke up. "That's not rouge, Coach, Allan got SPANKED last
night. I heard him yelling back in my house." That got even more
laughs.
I felt that I had to answer that so I pushed big mouth into the
pool calling him a hairless baby. The Coach did not appreciate
this at all even though everyone was laughing harder than before.
I got a three day detention. And a note for mom.
The note did not go over well at home. Ike and I had a long talk.
First he decided that I was going to spanked for fighting, actually
for assault. Then there was the matter of my ridiculing Kenny for
not having hair yet. Ike actually sent me to his room to get a
razor and the shaving cream. I had horrid thoughts that I would
soon be hairless just like Kenny and everyone would know. When I
returned, I was practically crying and begged Ike not to do that to
me. He just hugged me as I pleaded. After letting me suffer for a
while, he said he would not do that if I invited Kenny over to
watch me get spanked and also to apologize.
"He tell everyone that he watched you spank me like a little kid."
I complained.
"Probably; but, it's true." Ike replied. That, unfortunately, was
all too true.
"I'll be the laughing stock of the school. Ike. Please...."
"Your going to get your ass spanked with Kenny watching or spanked
and lose your pubes, Allan."
I was at a loss. Then I had an idea. It probably would hurt more
but at least it was not babyish. Ike agreed to this. I called
Kenny and asked him to come over so that I could apologize and he
could witness me being punished. The former was not really of
interest, but the latter had him over in less than a minute.
I made my apology and he grunted. Then I pulled out my belt and
handed it to Ike. I dropped my jeans and briefs and assumed the
classic position. Ike folded the belt and took the first stroke at
my still red butt. It hurt and I grunted trying so very hard not
to cry nor even yell. I got a second shot which hurt even more.
Ike then surprised both Kenny and I. "How many more should he get
Kenny? Ten? Twenty? Thirty?" What is he thinking? That would
kill me. The third stroke landed on my butt with a loud smack.
"Just two more, Ike." said Kenny, "He has had a lot already." Oh,
bless him. Just two more. Then in rapid secession came the two --
they were even harder than the others. Ike was making them count.
I was hurting but not crying. Kenny gave me a slap on my hot butt
and left saying: "See you tomorrow -- in swim class, Red-butt."
In gym the next day Kenny was more than just great. First, he told
everyone that he had accepted my apology. Second, he _apologized_
for saying that I had been spanked like a little kid since I was
strapped like a man. Third, he refused to say any more.
Unfortunately not all the strappings I got were that gentle.
Believe me that belt can hurt more than the hairbrush.
************
As I started saying before, time has moved on since Ike first wrote
about us four years ago and now I'm fifteen and a Junior in High
School. I've grown a lot in every way and am as big as my cousin.
Back then he was just starting college but after studying for two
years he had to work for a year. Now he's back in college as a
senior at twenty-three.
I've though a lot about asking mom revoke his authority to spank me
and, believe it or not, decided not to. Of course, I could do
without the spanking from him but mom sure ain't going to take down
my pants now so that means that I'll be grounded, have an early
curfew or some shit like that. I'll rather be spanked. Don't get
me wrong, it's not that I _like_ being spanked but that it is
better than the other options. I've also have gotten to like the
ritual Ike and I have when I get my report cards. I have a very
special incentive to get good grades beyond the future improvement
in life -- protecting my butt now. I can tell you that it sure is
a great feeling getting up from his lap unspanked.
But what happed the last time was very interesting. I went down to
the basement to see Ike with my report card. I felt real good
about it because the lowest grade I had gotten was a C+ in gym.
(You just wouldn't believe how many times I forgot my gym outfit.)
He was trying to work when I got there but stopped to deal with me.
I removed my pants (showing a man size package now) and got over
his lap. Ike studied the card and gave me a short light spanking
for that gym fuck up. I hardly felt it but this has been a very
symbolic time for both of us. As I was about to get dressed I saw
one of his test papers on his desk. It could have been flying
through Times Square and I would have still noticed the BIG,
BRIGHT, RED F! I picked it up and there was another one under it
from another course. My cousin who I love more than anyone else
was in trouble.
I wanted to help. I had to help!
Still half naked, I sat next to Ike and hugged him. "Tell me about
it." He hesitated. I waited and then urged him again. "Ike, you
got a problem. Let's talk about it like you always told me to.
I'm not a little boy any more; I'm just a few years younger than
you and a century ago I would have out working and almost married."
Then he spilled his guts. It was a rambling story but it really
boiled down to that he failed the tests because he was not studying
because he was partying to much. I let you guess what he was after
at the parties.
We both knew what was necessary. "GET THE HAIRBRUSH, IKE!" I said
firmly and he did. Then he stood in front of me; like a naughty
boy. "Lose the sneakers", I ordered. and then I lowered his jeans
and briefs for me for the first time. After he stepped out of them
he went over my lap just as docilely as I did over his so many
times. I got a firm grip on his waist and gave him several hard
SPANKS with my hand.
I got a very special kick out of seeing my hand print for in red on
his butt for the first time. As the color deepened my cock grew
hard. It had always gotten at least semi-erect when Ike spanked me
but now it was fully hard. I admit it -- I loved the feeling. I
don't know if it was the power or the spanking, that I loved. Then
I shifted to the hairbrush. I started to spank him with it.
WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!!
WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!!
WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!!
WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!!
He was reacting. I remember the feeling of resisting as the boy
and the man inside of me fought. How I would not cry until the boy
took control. As I continued to beat his butt, I felt that he was
close to breaking. And then he did. He yelled and then sobbed.
He begged me to stop just like I had begged him. I followed his
example and continued to spank him. His will to resist departed
and the boy inside him was in now charge. He was crying. I
shifted to my hand as he was now sensitized.
SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!!
SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!!
SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!!
SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!!
His crying intensified and shifted to bawling. I knew that feeling
(all too well). I did not have the wisdom to know how much he need
to cry; to get release. I just knew that I always belt better
afterwards when it happened to me. I kept spanking him but slower
and not as hard. I decided to lecture him.
"You must study more."
He grunted through his bawling. He was not able to really talk.
"You must not party so much."
More grunts.
"Forget the girls for a while."
Different grunts.
"There's lots of time to get laid."
More grunts.
I laid him out on the bed and went to his john to get something to
wipe his face. While I was there I saw what he was jerking off to.
They were young -- in high school -- like me. By the time I got
back he had stopped bawling and was just crying. As I hugged him
and wiped his face he started to return to normal. I was sitting
on the bed and he lying so that his face was in my lap. My cock
was straining to get to my navel. He was then that he surprised me
for as he moved around, he was bumping my hard-on. He put one of
his hands up and stroked my hard rod. Then he pulled it down so
that he was nuzzling and even licking it. Then he started to suck
it as if it was a pacifier.
Since I had started to spank him, I was hard and oozing a lot of
pre-come. He sucked with great enthusiasm and it was great. In
just a few minutes I was the edge and I grabbed his head to slow
him down. He let me control him. I slowly faced fucked him until
I just had to come. Then I blasted a load right down his throat in
one of my greatest orgasms ever.
I stayed hard and in him. As we were there he started to remove
his shirt and then mine. He untied my sneakers and pulled them
off. A few minutes later we were both naked and lying on his bed.
I was holding him and he was relaxed. I wonder what more he wanted
and needed. I was caressing him and every time I got near his red
hot butt he cuddled up tighter to me. I moved my hand to his crack
and then started to finger his hole. His response was even
stronger; he spread his leg and held me tighter.
Finally, I noted the tube of lube on his night stand and grabbed
it. I put some on his hole and on my ever hard cock. I rolled
over onto him and pressed in. He pushed back allowing me to slide
right into his hot hole. It felt real good and in seconds we were
humping like bunnies. I don't think that I lasted more than a
couple of minutes before I exploded into his flaming ass. Seconds
later he exploded also with a great cry.
We lay entwined for some time before he spoke. "That was great,
Allan. It was just that I needed." I just hugged him some more.
Eventually, we went to shower. It was then that I noticed that his
pubes were short like they had been trimmed. As we washed each
other I realized that they would be more even if they had been
trimmed and therefore that he must have been shaved like some of
the guys in his magazine.
I decided to mention it. As I gave his pubes an extra wash, I
said: "Feels like you need a shave ... again, Ike."
He cock stiffened as I spoke and very softly he said: "Yes, Sir."
I reached over to the medicine cabinet and got a razor. I knelt
down before him and as the water flowed over us, carefully removed
his pubes until he was as smooth as a little boy. Then I turned
him around and fucked him again while jerking him off.
When we were dressed again, I told him that I did not want him to
go partying again until he got his grades back up were they
belonged. Ike agreed noting that he was a little bald to go
playing. Also, that he wouldn't really need to since he now knew
where to find what he needed. I assured him that I would keep him
well fucked. It was little enough to repay him for all that he had
done for me.
For the next few months I managed to check up on Ike's grades two
or three times a week. He always had some failing paper to show me
but by the second time I could see that they were fakes. For what
ever reason, he wanted (needed?) to spanked, shaved and fucked. I
could not resist him and always gave him what he wanted. He
actually stopped going to parties and studied a lot more and
finished both terms with good grades. Everyone was so proud that
he graduated.
It had a good effect on me also. I worked very hard at school to
have great grades and to be a good in general because I found the
being the spanker was much more fun than being the spankee. I was
afraid that if I messed up then Ike would spank me again and,
worse, stop having me spank him. It was also very nice to be able
to enjoy sex on a regular basis without having to constantly
hunting. That saved me a lot of time and worry and let me
concentrate more on my work.
It was also something of a strain to always be so good and so
studious. I had not realized how much but summer was quite a
relief. Before Ike move out for his job, there were a couple of
occasions that he spanked me. Even though they were not very hard,
I cried and felt better. I got over the stress without knowing
why.
I realized my senior year was going to be a problem. Who would
look after me to keep me out of trouble and to kept up my grades.
The End
(C) Copyright by A.I.L. October 24, 2000
Y.
Valid return address is <YLeeCoyote@Lycosmail.com>
(Posting address is for the spammers)
See my stories at:
http://www.geocities.com/yleecoyote1938/
See Goldilocks stories at:
http://www.geocities.com/goldilocks1938/
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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