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The following story is fiction.  The following story is fiction; just a fantasy.  It contains M/M activities including role/age playing, spanking, shaving, and sex.  If such subjects are offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.  Before you get very upset at the events in this piece, please remember that it is narrated by a twelve-year-old and they tend to exaggerate frequently.

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.

Weekend With Dad


Friday Afternoon

It had been a tough week.  I had not been sure I would have the report ready by five o'clock Friday but I did.  Miraculously, it was done by three!  I personally put it into my boss' paws before *he* left for the weekend.  I would now have the weekend to play with Roger and not have to be a wage-slave doing 'catch up' to get that damn report on the boss' desk by eight o'clock on Monday morning.  It sure felt good that it was now the boss' problem.  As soon as I got back to my desk, I gave Roger the call for which he was hoping and waiting.  When he heard me say: "…signed, sealed and delivered…." he knew we would be having fun soon.

"That's great Tom; I'll expect you here about seven for the weekend.  Everything OK at school?" he said, immediately shifting into his role playing.

And I responded to this with both a swelling in my pants and verbally.  "Copacetic, Pop, just copacetic."  Then we both hung up.  Just one more thing to do to setup for tonight.  I opened my attaché case and found the diskette I had optimistically prepared last night and stuck it into my PC.  Then I dialed up my private ISP (bypassing the company's own server), logged on and opened my mail program.  I quickly copied the prepared file into a new message and sent it to Roger's personal account.  I then put the disk away, deleted the sent message and emptied the trash.  It would not do to let the company snoops be able to see what I had done.  Roger would get it when he checked his email when he got home.  My cock stirred again in my suit in a very nonprofessional way as I though about what we would do later.

Friday Evening© YLeeCoyote

When I got home, I immediately started my transformation from a thirty-something professional man to a schoolboy.  The 3-piece suit, the wingtips and the tie all went into the closet and I went into the shower.  Then I shaved my face very close and dressed in a T-shirt with a rock band logo, loose jeans and hightops.  Wearing my old high school jacket and baseball cap (reversed) I looked under twenty; not quite the high school boy, but close enough.  The clock in the hall struck indicating that it was time to go.  I grabbed my backpack to complete the image and dashed for the subway.  Sure, I could have taken the car but that wouldn't keep me in the mood.  Now – and for the rest of the weekend – I was a seventeen-year-old high school junior of divorced parents going to spend the weekend with my Dad.  I hoped that Pop had thought of some things fun to do.  I must have been smiling very broadly based on the looks that I was getting from the other passengers.

I let myself into Pop's place (my home for the weekend), dropped my pack in the hall, threw my jacket at the hall chair, parked my ass in front of MTV and yelled "Hi, Pop, I'm home; when's dinner?"

A few minutes later Roger, err… Dad walked into the room and flipped off the TV.  Before I could start whining, Dad said: "Let's go, Tommy."  Then as soon as we got into the hall, he was on my case about my jacket and pack being on the floor rather than in the closet.  'Oh, shit', I thought, 'it's going to be one of *those* weekends.'  Of course, the real me was still smiling in great expectation.

Dad immediately sat down on the hall chair and quickly pulled me across his lap.  He then gave me ten hard spanks with his big hand on my seat.  Because it was over my jeans it really did not hurt but I knew I was in for it this weekend.  Dad was not allowing me any slack at all.  I put my pack in the closet where it belonged and we went to Dad's car.  After a few minutes of driving, Dad turned the car onto a residential street and stopped.  One brief toot on the horn and this 'kid' runs out.  "Tom", Dad said, "*Cousin* Davy will be with us until his parents return tomorrow evening."

Davy got into the rear of the car looking like a teacher's wuss pet in his preppie clothes including a TIE!  All he had to was swap his warm-up jacket for his blazer and he would be dressed for his fancy-schmancy prep school.  "Good evening, Uncle Roger.  My parents told me to express their best wishes and their thanks for your looking after me.  Hi, Cousin Thomas."  Dad hadn't told me about this; I wondered what he was planning.

Dad took us to a small neighborhood restaurant where we were strangers and could easily pass as a man with his kids.  When Dad ordered a glass of wine I chimed in with "Make that two, please."  That got me a serious frown from Dad and he got a quizzical look from the waiter.  "Just kidding;" I said, hoping to pacify Dad and continued: "I'll have pineapple juice, please."  Dad didn't say anything about that but I did not think he was going to forget it either.  He never does forget.  We chatted pleasantly throughout dinner and Dad asked me about school three fuckin' times.  Of course, I told him that all was well; great in fact.  Davy, the show-off nerd, boasted of getting all A's and had brought along a letter of commendation from his dean.

When we got home Dad took us both to the den and handed me a printout of an email.  It was a letter from the 'vice-principal' to Dad telling him that I had two unexplained absences and was in danger of failing history.  "As I recall, Thomas, we discussed this a month ago and you made some promises.  What do you have to say for yourself, young man?"

'Oh shit!' I thought; 'I'm going to get it and Davy is going to get to watch the show.'  "Dad, could we do this in private, please?"

"This IS private, son.  Davy is family.  He is your first cousin and close as a brother to you.  Now answer my question."  Anticipation had caused Davy to be wearing a grin that would put the Cheshire Cat to shame.

I thought back to the time Dad had referred to.  In exchange for not being grounded I had promised to work harder and not to skip school and, obviously, I had not done so.  Worse, I was caught!  Past experience had taught me that the less I said the better, so I just said "Nothing, Dad" in the meek voice of a guilty and trapped boy.

"First, son, until you catch up in history you're grounded!  I've already spoken to your mother and she agreed.  Second, for playing hooky – twice – you're going to get spanked – twice – tonight and tomorrow."  I started to interrupt to complain that I was too old to be spanked but Dad just held up his hand in an unmistakable sign to shut the fuck up – now!  "As long as you act like a irresponsible little boy, you will be spanked like one.  Finally, for lying like a little boy about how you were doing in school you are going to look like a little boy again.  Hopefully, growing up again will help you learn to act like a responsible young man."  I knew better than to open my mouth; when Dad is like that, anything I say would be wrong.  I just stood there staring at the floor, waiting for Dad to act.

Dad walked over, sat on the couch and pulled me to his side.  As he undid my belt and jeans he asked if I understood why I was about to be spanked.  I nodded, grimly.  He pulled down my jeans then my briefs.  I was exposed totally.  I wished that we were alone.  Dad had done this to me with others around in the past and it is ever so more embarrassing.  Of course, with thirteen-year-old Davy, who is still in *middle school*, it was mortifying.  Dad then gently, but very firmly, pulled me over his lap.  Resistance earns extra strokes with the belt so I'm careful never to resist.  Seconds later Dad's big hand came was caressing my upturned bare bottom.  Then that hand rose and came crashing down – fast and hard – right in the center of my butt.



It hurt and I had to yelp but I resolved not to cry in front of Davy.  Twelve minutes and a thousand  (well, it seemed like it) spanks later my butt was on fire and I was beginning to lose my resolve not to cry when Dad stopped hitting my red hot butt.  I thought that it was over (at least for tonight) when Dad told Davy to get him the PADDLE.  I never saw Davy move that fast before.

Moments later the paddle was in Dad's hand and resting on my already burning buns.  Dad raised it up and brought it crashing down on me causing me to howl with renewed vigor.  And then, after five heavy whacks I crumbled and started to cry.  By the time Dad stopped, I was no longer concerned with my macho image, but only with my painful bottom and I was fully bawling like a ten-year-old sissy crybaby.  Dad held me tightly for a few minutes trying to comfort me before parking me in the corner.  Then he and Davy watched some TV.  I'm sure that they spent a lot of time watching my hot red ass also.

Dad killed the TV and we all went off to shower.  Davy and I took a shower together while Dad used his own.  Davy had grown since the last time I had seen him.  He now sported the a nice, but small, bush and a man-sized sword.  I guess that the days of taunting him about being hairless are just about over; but not quite.  I still had a big bushy growth of hair and boasted of it to him.  Davy, of course, razed me about my spanking, hot red butt and crying like a wee little kid.  Worse, he even told me that old saw: "Pride goeth before a fall" with a big shit-eating grin.  I wondered what he knew or thought he knew.

I soon found out.  Dad called us into his room and asked me if I knew the difference between a man and a boy.  Then he explained that he was very, very disappointed at the way I had behaved – lying about school like a little boy rather than facing up to it like a responsible young man should.  The tag line was that since I acted like a little boy I should look like one!  He had me lie down on his bed and asked Davy to get his hair clipper from the dresser.  Davy was very responsive and was back in two shakes of a lamb's tail.  Then he asked so every sweetly: "Please, Uncle Roger, may I do it?".  Oh no, it was still another horror about to happen.  I prayed silently that Dad would say no.  But my prayers were not answered as I wished for Dad said: "Sure, just be careful, Davy."

"Yes sir, Uncle Roger." the traitor replied happily as he advanced to my crotch waving the insatiable clippers.  He was having his own sweet revenge while helping Dad punish me for lying.  Buzz! went the clippers and Davy moved them carefully over my pubes.  Admittedly, the vibrations felt real good and my shaft responded even though my thick, long pubic hairs were being sheared off at their bases turning me back into a little boy.  Davy even managed to use the clipper as a vibrator to insure that I had a hardon as he did the terrible deed.  Of course, he griped my rod so that he could kept it out of the way of the hungry clippers.  What had taken years to grow into a great thicket was quickly clear-cut in just a few brief minutes into just inconsequential stubble.  My shaft looked like the lone tree that survived the storm.  It betrayed me by standing tall and proud.

When Davy finally turned off the awful tool, Dad got a small plastic bag and he put the cuttings into it.  Then he handed the bag to Davy and said: "Here's a souvenir for you."  Davy beamed as he took the bag.  Now not only didn't I have my manly bush, but Davy had it as well as his own.  I was sure that I was going to regret teasing him about not having pubes.

Dad then dropped a hot wash cloth on to my clipped pubes and after a few minutes replaced it with shaving cream.  It was real nice and warm but it meant that I would be hairless for a long time.  Dad spent but five minutes with a razor and my once hairy pubes were now as smooth and bare as the proverbial baby's butt.  Then Dad gave me another lecture and sent the two of us off to bed.  "Good night, Uncle Roger." said Davy and then "Come along little boy." to me.  And feeling just like a docile, punished naughty little boy – bare, smooth pubes and a hot red behind – I went meekly along with Davy pulling me with one hand and clutching his trophy in the other.  I'll let you guess what he was pulling me by.

Although, if truth be known, deep inside I knew that Davy had a trophy in each hand.  After what had happened, Davy would have everything his way this night.  I felt like a ten-year-old boy with his older cousin who was the leader.  Suddenly I realized why.  Déjà vu had struck, for when I was really a boy and visiting my Uncle's house I had been naughty and had gotten well spanked for it.  Then my older cousin took me to his bed rather than mine.  That was a very happy night.  I hoped that the coming night would be as sweet.

Once in bed Dave wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tight.  I could also feel his hard rod pressing against my hot butt as he held me so very close.  He let his hand roam down to my bare crotch and gripped me there.  Then he said: "Timmy, you are such a naughty little boy.  When are you going to learn to be good so your Daddy doesn't have to spank you?  I'll bet your little buns really hurt now, don't they?  And you still need to cry."  With that he turned me around to face him and slapped each of my sensitive already red-hot cheeks.  I started to cry again as he comforted me.  A few minutes latter I was quiet having found my 'pacifier'.  As I sucked Dave's hard rod, my nose got ticked by his bush.  My problems with Dad and school faded from my mind as I happily sucked my big cousin until he exploded into my mouth.  It tasted so yummy that I kept sucking in the hope that there would be more but that was not going to be the case this night.

Dave had other ideas.  He pulled me off his drained rod and pulled me up so that he could give me a long hard French kiss accompanied by a great bear hug.  His hand then went down to my still hot butt and he started to play with it.  I loved how he caressed it and then started to play with the little rose bud in the middle.  Soon he had me on my tummy and was letting his once again hard rod replace the finger tickling my anxious hole.  After a squirt of lube I felt him press forward.  I let myself surrender and he thrust deep into my receptive hole.  As he did this my own rod strained between the sheet and my tummy but I could not touch it as he was holding my wrists.  Repeatedly, he drove his hard shaft deep into my guts and pulled it out again.  With each stroke he struck my prostate and drove me wild.  I exploded making a mess beneath myself before Dave shot again this time filling my guts with another of his large loads.

He kissed my nape and rolled off to lie beside me.  With one of his arms about me we slipped happily into dreamland with my hot tush facing up.

Saturday morning

In the morning I was stuck in my room studying history while Dad caught up on some paper work and Davy watched TV.  That afternoon was much more fun.  We went to a Model Train show with more than 200 different exhibitors.  There was lots of great stuff, both new and old, which was the cause of my undoing.  I got very excited and consequently behaved badly – shoving and grabbing things.  Dad warned me several times but I did not mind him as I should have.  Even Davy told me I better shape up – pronto.

Well, trouble found me and struck.  Dad suddenly grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and started to lead me away saying: "You're in real trouble, young man.  I warned you several times already."  The show did not fill the entire convention space and Dad propelled me to the side of the hall which had been cordoned off with some curtains.  The area was filled with cartons and a few chairs (surely for gold bricking workmen).  Dad sat down on one of the chairs and started to give me a lecture as a prologue to the inevitable spanking.

What I did not know at that time was how much of an audience we had.  Later, I learned from Davy that even before Dad had grabbed me and told me I was in deep doo-doo, a couple of twelve-year-olds had been watching everything.  He noted that they immediately picked up what was happening and had decided to follow just like a couple of news reporters.  He also recounted that the two young spies were even betting on whether I was going to get it with my jeans up or down and that it would make a good story for the train club news.

Even before I saw the two kids lurking in the background, I was begging Dad not to spank me here (at the show) but to please, please wait until we got home.  Dad reminded me that I already had a strapping scheduled for this evening and that there is no time like the present.  With that wonderful bit of wisdom said, Dad started to undo my belt and fly in preparation to pulling down my jeans.  Then two kids started to giggle loud enough that Dad heard them.  One of them said: "I told ya – he's going to get it on his bare ass."

I turned crimson red when Dad spoke, "Well, since you're here kids come see what happens to a very naughty little boy up close." as he pulled my jeans down to my knees.  And come they did!  Then Dad put my fate into the hands of those two kids by asking them if he should pull my briefs down.

The first one answered instantly.  "My pop always does me on the bare.  Says that it is more effective that way; DOWN!"  He said it very emphatically with a giggle, a big ear-to-ear smirk and a growing bulge in his jeans.  After all, what did *he* have to lose?  It wasn't his ass on the line.  The second one was more reserved and required a nudge from the first.  "Come on, Rex, tell how you get it."

"Mom always does me on the bare too.  Dad leaves my panties on if I'm wearing a dress but pulls them down if I'm in jeans, just like my brother *always* gets it.  I say BARE!"  This was even worse than I first thought it could be.  Not only did I have a young audience but one of them was a girl (albeit a tomboy).  Dad stuck his thumbs into the waist band of my briefs which he jerked down to my knees so that the two kids could see everything including that my crotch was hairless.  Then Rex said: "He looks old enough to have hair there."  Dave explained to the kids that since I had been behaving like a naughty *little* boy I had lost my hair so that I would look like a little boy until I behaved as a big boy should.  The kids laughed at that as I blushed all over.  My cousin can be so fuckin' helpful at times.

By this time, Dad had me over his lap and was beginning to spank me.  As usual it was a hard spanking even though he was just using his hand.  I was already red from blushing but Dad made sure that the red would persist much longer.  It did not take long for me to howl, cry and promise to be good.  The boy took a few pictures of me getting spanked.  He told Rex that a picture would really enhance the story.  This, of course, I did not know at the time nor did Dad.

When Dad decided that I had enough, he made me stand with my hot red butt hanging out with my nose pushed into the corner formed by a column and the wall.  And again the kid took a picture.  Fortunately, there was enough noise from the show that we were not heard and did not get any more of an audience.  After that we finished the show and I was a much more polite little boy.

When we left, the two kids were waiting for their ride home and saw us.  As we passed them, Rex asked: "How's your ass feel, *little* boy."  I turned red again and kept going.  They then went into hysterics.

We dropped Davy off at his house on the way home.  Along with his good byes, Davy invited me to visit with him Sunday afternoon.

Saturday Evening

After dinner Dad told me to get *IT* and bring *IT* to his den for the three way discussion about skipping school a second time.  With just a simple "Yes, Sir" I dutifully went to get grandpa's razor strop.  I had learned (painfully) that any attempt at "discussion" was guaranteed to assure additional strokes.  I knew what ever Dad planned for me, would be more than I wanted without any extras.  After the mandatory lecture Dad had me strip and bend over his desk.  While I gripped the sides very tightly, Dad got into position and then let me have the first stroke.

*WHAP*  went the heavy, flexible strap driven with Dad's full force against my waiting, naked, vulnerable butt .  I answered it with a scream as the searing pain shot through my body.  I wanted to beg Dad to stop but I knew each word would cause an extra stroke.  I bit my tongue as I waited for the next blow.  It was not long in coming.  This one was across the bottom part of my painful buns whereas the first had been right across the middle.  The third one was across the top.  Later Dad told me that I looked like I was wearing red striped briefs.  The fourth one was the worst.  It hit in the tender space where thigh and butt join.  I really howled for that one.

Dad repeated the whole sequence and I responded appropriately.  By the end I was one very sorry, but horny boy with a crimson hot ass, a tear streaked face and a very hard wee-wee.  Dad held me in a very tight bear hug and told me he was sorry that he had to whip me like he had, but I must learn not to skip school.  He went further and called it "tough love".  I called it a very hot burning butt.

After our showers, Dad let me get into his big bed and rubbed some cooling and soothing cream on my unhappy ass.  It did not take long before he was also massaging the inside parts just as nicely.  As with Dave, Dad's fucking was very exciting and I again made a mess on the sheets.  Dad was careful to make his discharge in me and not make a mess.  I slept on my tummy for the second night in a row.

Sunday Morning

We stayed in bed the whole morning for which Dad said I was a naughty boy and spanked me.  But this was just a gentle playful spanking that just kept the both of us horny for some more fucking and sucking.  And even more SPANKING.

But all good things must end.  Dad had to catch an afternoon plane so right after lunch he dropped me off at Davy's place on his way to the airport.

Sunday Afternoon

Uncle Harry let me in and sent me up to Davy's room just as the phone rang.  Davy and I were examining the kewl stuff he had gotten at the Train Show, when Uncle Harry stormed in. Uncle Harry was very angry.  The phone call had been from Mrs. Whiffle-Bottom the third, the president of the PTA at Davy's school.  There had been reports of marijuana being used.

"David, have you been involved with any of that poison?" demanded Uncle Harry.  Davy was quick to deny any involvement or use.  Uncle Harry continued that several boys had stated that Davy had been their supplier and then picked up Davy's backpack.  David turned very pale as his father examined the contents.  There were several small bags of the forbidden grass inside of a larger bag.  It was clear that Davy was both a supplier and a liar.  "You know what this means, young man?"

"Yes, Dad," said Davy in a very small voice and staring,  "I'm going to get strapped."

"Indeed!  Get your ass down to the basement and get into position NOW.  Tom, you help him.  I'll be down presently." roared Uncle Harry.

Dave and I went down to the basement immediately.  Uncle Harry was very strict about punishment.  In the basement Davy quickly stripped and got into position on the old vaulting horse they had.  I looked at the cuffs attached to the horse and then asked Davy.  "Your Dad's pretty mad and is really going to give it to you hard.  You want the cuffs on so you won't move."  I knelt down and started to attach them even as Davy made weak verbal objections.  However, he did not resist and actually put his limbs into position so that I could fasten the four cuffs easily.  Uncle Harry was known for his severe strapping.  Moving earned extra.

Uncle Harry entered and took the strop from the wall hook and, without a word, started to beat my helpless cousin.  The strop was raised and brought down hard some twenty-five times.  Each and every WHACK!! of the strop smashing into Davy's butt was followed by a howl from him; most of them through his cries.  When he was done, Uncle Harry said simply: "Better stay away from drugs or you won't sit from a month, boy." Then he handed me a barber clipper and said: "Make sure that he's clean before he comes back upstairs." and left.

Davy's butt was in bad shape but I found it irresistible.  Every since the first whack of the strop my cock had been pressing against my jeans.  I swapped the chipper for the lube and, as I opened my fly, approached my restrained objective.  I coated my sword with some goop and also put some on the primary objective itself which was surrounded by two flaming hot buns.  I positioned myself at the unguarded guarded entrance and drove forward.  There was not any resistance and my weapon immediately was completely sunk into its objective.  As I thrust in and out, Davy responded with cries of "Fuck me harder, Tom."  I was a real nice guy and waited until Davy came before I allowed myself to explode into his very hot ass.

After I released Davy, I held him for a while and he thanked me for the great fuck.  Then, before we went upstairs, I got the clippers and I quickly removed his pubes just as he had done to mine less than two days earlier.  It was such sweet revenge.  He knew that if he resisted then Uncle Harry would clip his head and he did not like that at all.

When we got upstairs, Davy (still naked) promised his Dad that he would never play with drugs again.  Uncle Harry just pointed to the corner and Davy dutifully went there.

Uncle Harry indicated that since Davy was going to have a lot of corner time, I should leave and go home.

I had a great weekend with Dad, Uncle Harry and Cousin Davy.  I hope we can get together again real soon.  As I rode the subway to my house, my mind started thinking up ideas for the next time.  Perhaps Davy and I could be a runaway waifs – hungry and dirty – and ripe for being picked up by a generous and kind gentleman with a nice warm pad and a full refrigerator to share.  And having nothing but the most 'honorable' intentions.

The End

© Copyright A.I.L., February 18, 1998

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