Submitting to MMSA Stories

by Chinadoll

Last Saturday I got two stories on the web for the first time, but it cost me.

I stay with friends of my parents when I can get away for a few days at the beach. They put me up in the guestroom, whenever, because I'm a low maintenance guy and because they don't see their grown son much. Early Sunday, about 1:00 a. m., I came in quietly after touring the clubs with friends. I was beat and just wanted to get some sleep before heading home. I was working Mother's Day and it was going to be brutal. Passing the den on my way to bed, I just had to check the computer to see if anyone had read my stories. A small light clicked on as I closed the door.

"I've been waiting for you." The man of the house, one of my dad's business partners, came out of the shadows. "Turn on the computer." I could hear that he was angry, so I hurried to do as I was told. The thing hummed into life. "Check the e-mail."

Oh god. "You said I could use the computer." I whined.

"What is this about spanking and who are all those people? I didn't say you could use my address."

I explained miserably that I found out about the site from a coworker who noticed me tenting up every time I ran afoul of the exec. When I downloaded MMSA Stories "Always Surf Naked" shot, I was struck by his resemblance to David. I carried the printout around for a few weeks before I started picking A. J.'s brain about stuff that happened when we were kids. Then I started sleeping again with a threadbare teddy that I had inexplicably named 'Dog'. Childhood memories just came flooding back and to exorcise them, I decided to launch them into space. However, I should have asked permission before using an address. I am, admittedly, the most technically impaired guy you could ever imagine.

"When are you going to get past this 'leap then look' approach to life? You have to realize that you have to pay the piper eventually."

He was right, I overstepped my bounds. I apologized and called up the stories. He read over my shoulder using the mouse to scroll up. He was breathing heavily and I just knew that he was pissed, but wouldn't shout in case he woke his wife. "Jesus, Boo, your family is going to kill you."

"You can't tell them, I'll really get in deep trouble, please don't tell." I wheedled. "Please, they never have to know." I was begging then.

"Kid, if David ever sees that, you're toast." He commented dryly. "Take care of that e-mail and get to bed."

That was easier than expected. He was pretty cool about the whole business. Knowing me for over ten years, he knew only too well that I could always be counted on to screw up. I rushed through the mail...whooo horny guy; some kind words of encouragement (thanks Y.); another horny guy; guy who wants to beat my butt to hamburger; kinky guy. Yes, I could see why my host and his wife would be a little blown away. At last off to bed for a few hours before heading into work. On entering the guestroom, I felt immediately that I wasn't alone.

"Strip down to your underwear, son." The voice came out of the semi-darkness. "You need a lesson in etiquette. You go ahead and write your stories, I won't tell, but you will not use my address again. Do you understand me?"

My secret out, I could only answer, "Yes sir."

Hurrying to undress, I heard him snap a belt across his palm, testing it's sting. I laid face down on the bed. He tugged my briefs down to my thighs as he murmured, "Nice tan lines. Now count for me kid."

Before I left Sunday morning, I gleefully faxed a copy of "Step Brothers" to David.

Update: So David got the fax that I sent. Is apoplectic too strong a word to describe his reaction? Nooo, I don't think so . That about covers it.

There are five messages on my voice mail. He's madder than a wet cat, but he has to be careful what he says because I share an apartment and he's not sure who knows what.

"It's David, pick up. I know you're there, I called Daddy." Oh, oh. "Pick up! He told me he just spoke to you, PICK UP, you little BASTARD! (pause) _s_h_i_t_!"

"I just want to talk to you, pick up. Come on, I'm really not that upset. Are you there? (pause) God_d_a_m_n_ nasty little fruit!"

"Look, I just want to know how far you're going to take this thing. I'm really not mad. Call me tonight...or I'll climb through the f.....g phone lines and strangle you, you god_d_a_m_n_ perverted little TREE RAT!!"

You see, my brother thinks he can sweet talk me.

"I waited for your call. I must have missed it, right? You did call, didn't you? PICK UP! I can FEEL you listening to me!!! I got the whole story from (family friend mentioned above). I'm going to be watching and if I see my name mentioned AGAIN, (deep breath, fighting for control) I'm going to BEAT you senseless."

"OK, you cowardly little _s_h_i_t_. You should have called me. Now I'm really mad. When I see you this summer, I'm going to make your wildest dreams come true. Are you catching my meaning? Are you there? (pause) PICK UP!! _s_h_i_t_! _d_a_m_n_ you!! (pause) This is not over. (deep breath again, he's so quiet now I can hardly hear him) You know I can't use my hands, (budding surgeon) but I can always borrow Daddy's paddle, can't I."