''Well, what have you got for me for Fathers Day''
I asked my sons, ages twelve and ten. I have only been their 'dad' for about 6 months at the time of this story.
Their mum was downstairs making me a special breakfast. Both boys blushed and turned around so their backs were facing me. The y lowered their underpants and placed their hands behind their necks.
''very nice'' I commented admiring the slim hips and shapely young bottoms.
''whose first'
''I am'' replied the twelve year old as he ran over to me. The ten year old just started to cry.
He had forgotten the rule.
The first bottom got six whacks and the second got ten. It was my way of having fast access to their little boy mounds.
I patted my lap and the twelve year old climbed over. His mounds are better shaped than the younger. More to sqeeze and mould before they are made to twitch and bounce on my lap.
I use the wider paddle on Sunday's when the boys have school the next day. Stings without bruises. I raised the paddle high above my head.
The bottom clenched ready for the first whack.
I enjoy the sound of the paddle slapping into the pale bottom as much as I do the sounds from the boy's mouth.
The younger boy just continues to cry and holds himself, fearing his turn.
''Stop being a little girl'' I yell at him.
Part two later.