Don’t borrow dad’s car

Al sat at home reading. Would the heatwave never end? Perspiration glistened on his gym-honed naked torso. All he wore were the tiniest tennis shorts, but still he could not get cool.

He had just returned from the mall with magazines and cigarettes. In that heat even a short journey had taken it out of the nineteen year old. A rivulet of sweat trickled between his abs forming a puddle on his flat tight stomach.

Suddenly his elder bother Joe, the marine on leave, burst into the room. Joe liked everyone to know he was a marine and always wore a camouflaged tee-shirt and green shorts to prove it. He was so full of himself.

“Hey did you just use dad’s car?”

“What?”

“I said did you just use dad’s car?”

“What’s it to you?”

“You know dad left me in charge while he’s away.”

“So what?”

“He said you weren’t to use his car.”

“I didn’t.”

“Yes you did. I’ve just seen it. The engine’s still warm.”

“So what? So I went to the mall.”

“You know you’re not supposed to take dad’s car. You know that.”

“I only went to the mall. It’s no big deal.”

Joe’s already sweaty face turned puce. His kid brother was hankering for a spankering. “It is a big deal. You remember what he did to me that time?”

Al sighed. “What time?”

“When I took his car without permission.”

Al knew where this conversation was going; but he would go along for the ride. “What happened?”

“He blistered my bare butt with that heavy bath brush. I couldn’t sit down for a week.”

“Oh, yeah,” Al’s grin showed his brilliantly white even teeth that contrasted against his deep suntanned face. “So what?”

“So what!” Joe didn’t like his kid brother’s attitude one little bit. “So what is that I’m going to go right now and fetch that brush and do the same to you.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yes, I am. Just watch me.” Joe darted from the room and Al returned to his magazine. Seconds later his irate brother returned brandishing a huge heavy wooden-backed bath brush.

“Here. See.” He waved the brush in Al’s face so close the teenager could smell the stale sweat soaking his brother’s clothes. Al shrugged his shoulders and Joe stood unsure of what to do next.

“So get up then.”

“Sorry?”

“Get up. Come over here, I’m going to spank you.”

Al flashed that grin again. “No you’re not.”

Joe wasn’t the smartest kid on the block. He was the kind of young man who communicated best through grunts; so that’s what he did; he grunted.

“What was that?” Al was beginning to enjoy himself. He was a bright college kid and would do well in life. He despised his brother. What a moron, he thought, he only went into the marines because he couldn’t get a job anywhere else. No way was he going to let the brute spank him.

Joe tried again. “Get up. You have to go across my knee and I spank your sweet little ass.”

“No you don’t. Now, will you please be quiet I’m trying to read my magazine.”

“Hey!” Joe had just seen the cigarette pack. “And you’ve got cigarettes. You know dad’s banned cigarettes. He’ll roast your butt if he knows you’ve been smoking. And in the house too.”

Joe stood resolute, the bath brush still in his hand. He looked across at his sexy younger brother.

“Hey, Al,” he growled, “The choice is yours.”

“What choice?”

“Well I can tell dad when he gets back and he’ll give you such a whipping. And you’ll probably get grounded too.”

Al turned his attention away from the magazine. His brother was right, damn it. Dad would take the skin off Al’s buttocks for sure. Al wriggled a little in his chair, already he could feel the heavy swats of the brush pounding into his tight ass.

“So,” Joe waved the brush for emphasis, “What’s it to be: me or dad?”

Al’s suntanned face blanched a little. Did he really have a choice? Dad’s spanking would be awesome; then there’d be all the reproaches. How dad couldn’t trust his own son. Al would never hear the end of it.

Joe didn’t wait for an answer. He sat down in the center of the long couch and stared across the room at his kid brother. “C’mon buster,” he waved the heavy wooden brush once more, “Assume the position.”

Al always despised his brother, but now he did it even more. The bastard was going to enjoy this far too much.

A wicked grin slashed across Joe’s face. “C’mon little brother, you know how it’s supposed to be done.”

And, Al did know. Angrily, he threw down the magazine and rose to his feet.

“Temper, temper, little bro. You’re in enough trouble already; you don’t want extra swats for attitude.”

Al refused to catch his brother’s eye as he walked the four paces across the room to the couch. Then, silently, he placed himself across his brother’s legs. The couch was so large and Al relatively small, he was able to stretch out his legs behind him and rest his chest and arms ahead of him, so that his whole body fitted on the couch.

It was a hot humid afternoon and Al’s body was drenched with sweat. His tight tennis shorts clung to his buttocks. They were so tiny they hardly covered the boy’s cheeks. He closed his eyes tight ready for the expected onslaught on his rear end.

Joe had never spanked anyone before. Well, not in earnest. There had been one time in barracks when the guys were so bored they had cut switches and tested them out on each other’s naked butts. Joe had almost forgotten about that. It was a marine thing, not something he would want to share with a civilian.

He glanced down at the small mounds twitching gently across his lap. The brush in his hand was so large and Al’s butt so small Joe could easily have covered both cheeks with a single swat. But, instead he aimed at the left and then the right. Al gasped as the wood cracked home. He had never thought too much about it before, but his ass was probably all solid muscle; there was very little fat. When it came to spanking was that a good or a bad thing? Was it better if you had a lot of flab to absorb the power of the brush as it smacked down? He really didn’t know.

What he did discover was that there was a dull ache as the brush hit its target. He felt it alright, as it smacked down across the centre of his globes, but truthfully he wasn’t in much pain.

His butt rose and fell as Joe’s brush smacked down over and over again. It was an involuntary action. It must be some natural reflex. It’s what anyone’s buttocks would do if they were assaulted.

Al buried his face in his folded arms and let his big brother get on with it. He was certain he could take anything the older man could give.

“Nah!” Joe was exasperated. This wasn’t how it was meant to be. His kid brother was supposed to be wailing and hollering; pleading to be let off. He should be begging that if the spanking stopped he would never borrow dad’s car again without permission. But, none of this was happening. The boy just lay there – taking it.

This was when Al realized instead of ‘taking’ it, he should be ‘faking’ it. His brother wanted to believe the boy was in agony.

“Nah!” Joe repeated. “This is no good. You’re not feeling a thing. Stand up.”

Al rolled himself off his brother’s lap and stood. He hopped from foot to foot rubbing both hands across his buttocks. He assumed that’s what you did to show how much the spanking hurt. But, his brother wasn’t as big a fool as Al supposed.

Without speaking a word, Joe unbuttoned Al’s tennis shorts and yanked them to his knees.

“Back over buster.”

Resigned to another butt blistering, Al resumed his position across the couch. At least, I’ve still got my briefs on, he consoled himself.

But, he thought too soon. As soon as he was comfortably face down once more, Joe grabbed the elasticated waist of the briefs and slowly tugged them down, until they rested just below his buttocks.

Al gulped as he realized this was likely to be one heck of a butt blistering. His gulp quickly turned to yelps and then to yells as his marine brother whacked down his heavy brush with maximum force into the nineteen-year-old’s naked rear.

Al’s body was thrashing left and right across Joe’s lap. It was as if the youngster was trying to swim away to safety. He reached back with his right hand to try to impede Joe as he lashed the brush down. Joe was having none of it. He gripped the boy’s wrist tightly and held his arm firmly folded across his back. Al was going nowhere; not until Joe had decided the brat had learned his lesson.

Now Al’s shorts and briefs were removed Joe could see just how little ‘give’ there was in his brother’s buttocks. They were almost solid muscle. Dark red marks formed immediately the brush connected with the cheeks and very quickly there were turning to bluish bruises. Soon they would be deep purple.

Al’s legs thrashed all over the place and his body continued to twist and turn; this way and that.

Soon, not a single square inch of the teen’s backside was still flesh colored. Joe looked across at the boy’s face still buried deep in his arms. He could hear his little brother choking back the sobs.

“Have you learnt your lesson?” he barked.

Al didn’t reply; perhaps he couldn’t, his throat was so choked with the bile he was desperately trying not to spew out his mouth.

Smack! the brush struck again. “I asked, have you learnt your lesson?”

This time the sorrowful boy gasped the affirmative.

“Alright,” Joe eased his grip on his kid brother, “You can get up.”

This time the spanking dance and buttock rubbing was not faked. Al bounced up and down in agony rubbing away at his toasted naked buns. Then he saw his brother’s stare transfixed on his dick as it flopped up and down in front of him. Within seconds he had his briefs and tennis shorts back in their rightful place.

Joe flashed a self-satisfied smile. Yes, he silently praised himself: this has been a job well done.

Al grimaced; not sure what was to happen next. How did a spanking end?

Joe wasn’t too sure either, so he improvised. “Are you sorry you took dad’s car?”

“Yes,” tears and snot covered the youngster’s face. “Yes, I’m sorry; I won’t take dad’s car again. I promise.”

And he meant it too … until the next time he wanted to go to the mall.

For a different version of this story, click here.

More stories from Charles Hamilton II are on the MMSA website

Charles Hamilton the Second

charleshamiltonthesecond@gmail.com

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