"Get up to your room, I'll be there in a moment." I growled at 12 year old Peter.
The Adam Rich look alike had just beaned his younger brother, Donald, with a wet nerf football, causing Donald to be knocked onto the hard pool deck.
The boys had been playing "got'a" with the ball in the pool and Donald had gotten Peter and ducked Peter's many tries to get him back. We were going to a friends for dinner and I di not want to be late. I'd told the boys to stop and get out, which also met removing all the pool furnitiure they'd thrown in the pool to make their underwater cave. Donald, being the sweet boy he was, immedately began taking pool furniture up off the bottom of the pool. Peter, being the mischeivous, "I've got to get the last shot" kind of sweet child he was kept trying to get Doanld with the wet nerf ball. Finally he made contact with the back of Donald's head, just as Donald was getting out of the pool. The result being that Donald was pitched onto the hard deck and I was now at the end of my rope. I would soon be at Peter's end.
I held Donald and checked for bleeding. Donald looked so much like Johnny Crawford it always amazed me, wich I could have seen Johnny in the speedos Donald was wearing. "I've got to speak with Peter. You wait a minute or two before coming in, ok?"
Donald nodded his understand and stood up. His wet, thin body glisttened in the sun light and his red, white and blue. ' American flag" speedos showed off his tight round bottom and handsome boy part, which was tucked to the left running two and a half inchs along the leg seam of the suit. I'd give him an extra good suck this evening as a reward for not buying into Peter's misbehavior. And now for young Mr. P.
I walked into Peter's bedroom and closed the door behind me. He stood, head down, next to the end of his bed. "Is Donald alright?"
For all his mischievousness there wasn't a malicious bone in the boy's body. "What should I do about your not stopping when I asked, your not helping with the pool furniture and your hurting Donald?"
"A spanking!" He stated and walked up to me.
"How many?" I asked as I sat on his bed and he moved to my right side, we'd done this many times before. This time, I thought, he'll find it a bit different. Normally I did not believe in hurting boys when spanking them for punishment. I always felt that their pulling down their pants and underwear, bending over the knee and allowing thier behinds to be swatted was enough to make the point that they;d errored and were paying the price. Peter liked having his bottom patted, amoung other things, but this time I was set on letting him feel some sting like Doanld had hen he was knocked to the pool deck.
"Twenty?" Peter ventured.
"Too many, fifteen should warm you well."
I watched as Peter hooked his fingers into his light blue speedo and worked it down over his bubble butt and fat young penis. Once the suit was around his knees he bent over my knees and allowed me to position him so his bare battom was presented weel for spanking.
I looked down on the pale bottom of my catamite son. Donald did not allow or enjoy sodomy, but Peter very much enjoyed the feeling of things going up in tight young rear: thermometers, enema tubes, fingers, tongues and penis', especially mine. As alwasys when I found myself in this position I found myself wavering in my determination to do right by Peter's misbehavior, but thoughts of Donald's look of outrage at Peter's late and clearly by the rules, unfair attack put some resolve in me and I lifted my hand from the twin pillows of his bottm and brought it back down with a firm SMACK.
Peter;s feet kicked and his head came up in reflex to the spank on his naked butt. My hand rose and fell again with another firm, TWACK. "Uh." Peter grunted in response to these firm smacks on his bare little rear end.
SPANK "Uuh", a buck from the young 12 year old as my hand stung his naked end. Spank, spank spank, smack, smack, smack went the spanking and "Uuuh, Uuuuuh, Uuuuuuh " went the young miscreant.
His pale bottom had gone from irvory, to pick coral, to hot pick, to red by the time I'd reached fifteen swats on his quivering young behind. His feet flutter kicked and his head bucked up and down with each spank, but no tears of yells, just grunts to let me know my spanking was not as soft as he'd hoped.
When I stood him up his "heinric", as we called his three inches of boy muscle, was at half attention, which made the next par t of his punishment that much more diffecult for me. As he stripped his speedos off for his shower I gace him the tough news, "You've also lost your night with me tonight."
On week-ends the boys each got a night to sleep with me alone and on Sunday they both shared my bed. Peter's lips puffed up, starting his famous pout and for the first time he looked like he might cry. Just at that moment their was a knock on the bedroom door.
"Come." I said and Donald opened the door.
He stood in the door way, looking at Peter's red little rear, with tears streaming down his crinkled up young face. "I didn't want Peter to get a spanking." He cried, having heard the loud slaps apllied to his older brother's naked rear.
Peter went to his brother and put an arm around Donald's shoulders. "Its ok bro, it didn't hurt that much. race you to the shower." And off they torn.
God I love them, even these many years later I still feel wonderful when I think of even the tough times we shared.