It appears that you are NOT on the Coyote’s Den website.  If you are using a proxy or an archive this is probably what you want so just continue although some functions and formatting may be inoperative.

To escape porn hijackers COPY the real URL into your browser address bar.
Sorry, not clickable.

The story continues but this time told by Allan rather than his older cousin Ike.  You should start with part 1.

Of course, this is fiction.  It contain scenes of spanking and sex.  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.

My Cousin and I  (2/3)


What it was like

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 vise 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.© YLeeCoyote

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.


"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.

The other side of the coin

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 sized 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.


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.


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.

End of Part 2.  Go to Part 3

© Copyright A.I.L., October 24, 2000

Your comments are appreciated.     Gay Stories     Main Directory

The URL for this page is:

Last updated:  September 15, 2023