The Sleep Over


by Ricky Scarma <Ricky13@hotmail.com>

"Its your turn."

"Hey! I don't wanna!" Eric spat, brushing aside the fingers of his friend urging him toward the window. His friend only laughed and lunged for Eric's arm, just barely missing.

"You boys better be getting to sleep up there," Came the voice of Eric's dad from the living room and as if it had pressed a button igniting the proper response in the boys muscles, Eric bolted for the bottom bunk and shoved his legs under the blankets.

His friends merely stared and smirked. Ten-year-old Toby cupped his mouth and coughed, "Wuss." He had been the first of his buddies to wave his butt out the window, 'mooning' the neighbor girls across the way and he was certain that anyone who didn't follow suit was all "Wuss".

Apparently Donnie had agreed because he was turning his butt toward the window and the sisters and wiggling his bare butt like he was waving. The girls looked like they were giggling, but none of the boys could be certain. Girls were weird anyway, after all.

It was supposed to be Eric's turn, but at the last moment, when both of his buddies were waiting for him to take his turn, he backed off. The girls were, as a matter of fact, his neighbors and he would have to see them again after his friends went home. And these two girls were fruity, always giggling and acting silly and he wasn't going to embarrass himself in from of them even if it meant he was a wuss.

"What's the matter Erica," Toby taunted, jabbing Donnie in the arm with a snicker, "You like being a wuss?"

"I'm not a wuss!" Eric snarled, kicking back the blankets.

"Donnie did it and he's only nine!"

"I'm ten now! I turned ten last week when I had my birthday!" Donnie reminded his friend rather indignantly.

"Okay, okay. Don't get bent. I forgot." Toby moved toward the bunk beds and hefted himself to the top. "Eric's still a wuss."

"I am not!"

Donnie crawled beneath his sleeping bag on the floor next to the bunk beds and the room fell silent. Lights from the traffic behind the house cut across the ceiling and the long shadows of an oak snatched as if at the flickering lights.

A thump from downstairs told the boys that Eric's parents were still milling around. A horn blared for a few seconds a few houses down. Tiny scrapping noises came from the window closest to the bunk beds where the trees gnarled limbs scratched at the glass as if for a way in. All the sounds of the night, interrupted only when Toby whispered, "Wuss.".

Eric said nothing while he scrambled from his bunk, the energy of his escape indicating his temperament as he made his way to the window, turned his butt to the glass and slipped down the back of his briefs. Almost as quickly, he had them pulled up, trounced back to his bunk and defiantly dug himself back beneath the blankets. Toby and Donnie both giggled, the older boy with his hand holding his face.

"Now leave me alone!"

The phone rang. The boys could hear the muffled movements of Eric's parents responding to the caller and then a few moments later the soft discussion the two had between each other. It was only when the door to the hallway came open did Eric feel the fear.

"Okay," Eric's dads voice boomed from the narrow hallway, "You've gone too far."

"Oh crap oh crap oh crap," Eric chanted, cramming his face beneath his pillow as if it would hide him.

"That was Dave, our next door neighbor. He said you boys were mooning his daughters and using obscene gestures."

Light flooded the room.

"He's pretty pissed off and I can't say I blame him."

Eric uncovered his face, hoping to see that his dad wasn't carrying anything threatening. He was not. Eric gulped and sat up on the edge of the bunk bed.

"Donnie, were you guys mooning the girls?"

Oh no! Don't ask him, Eric thought, holding his breath while Donnie parted his lips and answered, "Y....yes sir."

Busted.

"Okay," The man slumped into an armchair that was too small for his height, then pointed to the door, "Eric, go get the paddle."

"Dad!" Eric sat straight up, holding the blankets as if for security while the other two boys stared wide-eyed and startled by the proclamation.

"No 'dad' anything. You know the drill. Mr. Myers saw one of you boys mooning him from the upstairs window and he said his daughters saw two of you doing it before he got up there. Then he said one of you gave him the finger...."

"DID NOT!" Eric nearly exploded, angry because no one, not him or his friends had ever done that. It was an out and out lie. It was unfair.

"Regardless. I believe Mr. Myers wouldn't just make such a story up and so, I'm going to have to punish all three of you....and I hope you'll finally get to sleep afterwards. Now, go get the paddle Eric, or your going to find yourself with a little extra."

Eric jumped from his bed and dashed for the hallway, tears already forming.

The 'paddle' was a wooden spoon. His mom used to use it to stir soup and stuff, but it wasn't used for food anymore. As the boy made his way down the stairs and into the living room where it was kept in the drawer of a table next to his dads chair, he clenched his butt cheeks remembering the most recent encounter with the paddle, about three days ago when his mom had swatted him for staining her dining room carpet with a bottle of bleach he had no business being with in the first place. She had burned his butt and made him stand in a corner for over an hour.

He opened the drawer, slipped his hand in and pulled out a long handled, brown wooden spoon, the 'spoon' portion of it more narrow then most of the newer spoons his mom kept. How he hated that spoon.....

He returned to find his friends stark with fear, especially at the sight of the spoon.

"And besides, both of your dads had already given me permission to discipline you two in any way I saw fit."

Eric felt the spoon being removed from his fingers then his ten-year-old, fear racked body being maneuvered to face his dad in front of his friends.

"Dad!" Eric pled, swiping tears already dripping down his cheeks, "We didn't finger Mr. Myers!"

"Did you moon him?"

The room fell silent.

"Ye....yeah, but it was just a joke," Eric blurted finally, "I didn't know he was going to be there."

"Then you're still in trouble," The man decided and pulled his son between his legs, reached to the elastic of his size ten briefs and slipped them past his kneecaps in one quick swoop.

"NO!" Eric bellowed, wiggling in his dads grip, "Please, we didn't mean to make him mad! Please."

The boy's father ignored his pleas and the sudden eruption of the other two crying and turned the boy across his left leg, wrapping his left arm over the youngster's middle.

The spoon punctuated a sudden CRACK, echoed with Eric's high-pitched squeal. His legs became ramrod stiff, then kicked as the pain seared his right cheek, leaving behind an angry red, oval tattoo of the spoon.

"WE WON'T DO IT AGAIN!" Eric sputtered, pushing his fingers against his dads thick, hairy arms, "Please, we won't do it again."

The spoon struck again, imprinting itself to his left buttock. Eric was bawling uncontrollably now, his body squirming madly against the pain that marked only the beginning.

The boy's father brought the spoon down hard, first from one cheek then to the next, in quick, unyielding succession while the ten-year-old squirmed helpless beneath the mans grip, kicking his legs and clenching against the burn in his cheeks. He gave up his pleading, squealing instead with each new stinging blow until the paddling was finally over and he was allowed to bolt from his dad's hold.

"Don't touch your butt Eric," The man demanded, "Put your hands on your head until I say to go to bed."

Eric reluctantly raised his hands to his head and laced his fingers on his blond hair, clenching his butt cheeks in hopes to quell the sting.

"Donnie."

"But," Donnie pleaded, "I wasn't doing anything, honest!"

"You were, stop the lying and get over here."

Donnie started bawling, pulling himself from the sleeping bag and standing to his feet. "I wasn't really!"

"Your getting extra for lying little man."

Donnie sobbed uncontrollably now as he moved toward Eric's dad and let the man pull on the elastic of his briefs.

"I wasn't doing anything Mr. Kyle!" Donnie wailed, grabbing his briefs.

"Now Donnie, your going to let me do this the easy way, or you're going to find out how very determined I really am."

Donnie sniffled, then slowly moved his fingers from his briefs. Mr. Kyle took a hold of the boy's underpants and slid them down his legs. Donnie's tiny penis was rigid, jutting upward from his body, his middle milk white and soft.

Mr. Kyle pushed the boy over his knee and wrapped his arm around his middle. "I'm only doing this to teach boys a lesson." He said, then raised the spoon and cracked it across Donnie's right cheek. The little boy went rigid and screamed, squirming madly against Mr. Kyle's hold.

"I wasn't doing anything! I wasn't doing anything!" Donnie howled, twisting his legs and hips in an effort to pull himself free. The spoon smacked his left buttock, burning intensely and the boy jerked madly, bucking against the pain. "I want my daddy!" He screamed.

"Your dad gave me permission to punish you Donnie," Mr. Kyle responded and slapped the boy's right buttock, watching the spoon imprint itself in red just a little higher then the first swat.

Donnie squalled, bucking against Mr. Kyle's grip while the spoon slapped his rear, sometimes catching the top of leg, or the side of his hip, but Eric's dad never let up, spanking the boys butt as hard and as consistent as he had his own son's until he was satisfied. Then he released the boy and warned him as he had his son not to touch his bottom. Red faced, and wet with tears, the boy complied, placing his hands on his head, sobbing.

"Okay Toby."

Toby said nothing. He slid down from the bunk bed and made his way toward Mr. Kyle, but slipped his own briefs down before the man could reach out for them. Toby's penis was much larger then Donnie's, but just as erect. He leaned over the man's leg and grit his teeth.

The spoon burned like nothing Toby had ever felt before. His dad had used a belt on his bare butt many times, but the wooden spoon brought an instant explosion of pain to the surface of his buttocks and he was crying and squirming with the second swat. By the last smack of the spoon he was bawling like a little baby, his hind end feeling as if it had just been seared with a branding iron all up and down.

When it was over, Toby took his position with his friends, holding his quivering hands on his head, wanting so much to rub out the fire in his butt.

"You boys stay there until I tell you to go to bed. Keep your hands on your head or I'll be back up with the spoon again, ok?"

"Yes sir," The boys responded in unison and Mr. Kyle was down the stairs and out of sight.

"This is your fault Toby," Eric sniffled, wincing as he adjusted his right leg.

"Is not!" The boy responded, snuffling.

"Yeah it is!" Donnie scowled, wiping his face with his elbow.

"I didn't tell you to do it!" The boy wailed shifting legs.

"You did too! You told us to do it!" Bellowed an indignant Eric.

"I SAID QUIET!"

The boys fell silent except for the intermittent sniffling, scowling at each other while they waited for Eric's dad to give them permission to go back to bed.

Eric twisted his leg to inspect the damage and grimaced.

"Look at mine," Donnie whispered cautiously and turned his butt toward Eric. Eric inspected the boy's well-spanked bottom, noticing the marks just below his butt cheeks and the welts raised on both sides where the spoon had left its impression. Then he turned his own butt toward his friend and watched his face twist and gawk.

"Okay, you boys go to bed....straight to bed. I don't want to hear another word from you or your getting twice the spanking, you hear me?"

"Yes Mr. Kyle." "Yes Dad." "Yes Mr. Kyle." And the boys quickly pulled up their briefs and scrambled to their beds. A long silence followed before Donnie's whisper broke in.

"Wanna feel?"

Eric said nothing, but slipped out of his bed and towards his friend. Donnie slid from his sleeping bag and slid the back of his briefs down to let Eric touch. Eric's hand slid over the welts and lumps, feeling the heat.

"Know what?" Donnie whispered, managing a smile.

"What?"

"I got a boner."

The three broke into giggles and watched as Donnie turned his hips, brandishing the miniscule boner and flaunting it inches from his buddies face....

The End


More stories by Ricky Scarma