The following story is fiction about youth and a young man.  The story contains scenes of spanking and gay sex.  If these subjects are offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.

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The Lawn Boy and the Spoiled Brat


The Actkinson's house had a big yard with a large lawn and flower borders which meant that it required a lot of work to keep in shape.  And a lot of work meant long hours and, satisfyingly, a lot of cash in my pocket.  That cash was very important to me although less so for them as they seemed to have a lot of it which they spent it freely.  At this time Mr. and Mrs. Actkinson were on a three month cruse and only their son, Malcolm, was at home.  They had a housekeeper (three days a week) who made sure that their little baby didn't turn the place into a pig sty and had clean shirts to wear.

I guess that I should explain a few things.  I'm sixteen and, as you would expect, still in high school.  My parents both work but without much education they didn't have high wage jobs and things are tough.  My doing yard work makes a big difference.  Now Malcolm – he's the little baby – is a spoiled brat of twenty-five.  He has a do nothing job in his father's business.  A friend of mine who works in the mail room explained how he just plays on his computer all day.  In a fancy university he majored in Fraternity Partying.  What a waste!  I admit that I'm jealous because I'm not sure that I'll be able to afford to go to the local community college for an associate degree.

It was extra hard today because he had a party last night and they left a mess on the lawn.  It took me an extra couple of hours because I had to clean up.  Running the mower over lost clothes and stuff either makes a mess by shredding it or damages the blade.  Along with dishes, clothes, bottles and cans there were even several used scum bags, which are pretty disgusting to pick up.  It was after two before I finished and I was especially looking forward to getting my hard earned money because of the extras.

I had just finished putting the gear away when Malcolm got back home from his shopping trip.  I helped him carry the stuff inside so that he could pay me.  I'm owed a couple of bills because he did not pay last week.  All the baby has in his wallet is a few bucks and so I tell him we can go the ATM and get the cash.  "No can do, kid."  he tells me, "I hit my daily limit this morning.  This is all I got."  I saw the register receipts and they totaled over three bills because of the booze and beer.  When I questioned things, he said he had to pay a guy two bills.

I was, as you would be, furious.  "I got to pay some bills today or there will be late charges."  He did not care.  In his world this sort of thing did not happen so he had no idea of the consequences.  When he offered me a beer – a warm beer – and a promise to pay the next day, I had it up to here!

I grabbed him and twisted his arm up behind his back hard which startled him and he began to yell.


That shocked him into silence.  I pushed him to where I could pull a chair out from the kitchen table and then yanked open his shorts which fell to the floor.  I sat and pulled him over my lap like he was a little boy and I was his daddy.  He was as soft as a cream puff.  I yanked down his boxers and then put one of my legs over his locking him into place.

"MALCOLM DAVIS ACTKINSON!  YOUR BEHAVIOR IS TOTALLY UNACCEPTABLE!  You're a spoiled brat and are long over due for a butt roasting spanking to teach you some manners."

"No.  Don't you dare." he yelled.

Then I began to spank him with my hand.  I was very mad and I hit as hard as I could for after all I was just sixteen and he was presumably an adult.  I was amazed at the response.  He was yelling from the getgo but I did not let that stop me.  With each and every spank, his soft little bottom turned redder and redder.  It did not take very long for my hand prints to combine into one large hot red blotch on each cheek.

He quickly realized two things.  First, his yelling was not getting me to stop.  Second, that being spanked friggen hurt.  I know this because he stopped yelling and started to bawl like a little boy of seven although he was twenty-five.

Soon he was completely crushed by being spanked.  It probably was even worse for him because I was still a high school kid and he was – supposedly – an adult man in his prime.  Clearly, he was just a pussyboi.  I could not imagine that he was anyone's big brother in his frat and he surely would have crumbled if he had gotten paddled.  Then he proved it to me by yelling.  "Big Brother, please stop spanking me and fuck me hard."

I could hardly believe my ears.  He wanted to be fucked.  Who was I to deny him such a pleasure?  I lifted him up and laid him over the table.  I took out the condom I had found on the lawn and quickly ripped open the packet.  I rolled it on my steel hard shaft and got between his legs.  I grabbed his waist and rammed my gun into his fuck hole.  He was loose for I entered him easily.  I pounded his ass hard and he was yelling for more.  It did not take me long to explode and then he came making a mess on the floor.  "Thank you, Big Brother, thank you." he yelled.  I was delighted.

I left him and took a shower for I surely stank from both the yard work and the fucking.  When I was finished, I returned to the kitchen where he was holding some ice on his fiery tail.  He could not have looked any more sheepish.  "Get dressed, boy," I commanded, "we going to return this booze so that you can pay me today.

He started to objected and I shut him up with the threat of another spanking.  I took his wallet and the receipt and he carried the case out to his car.  He was embarrassed to go into the liquor store but a gentle pat on his swollen ass got him to reconsider immediately.  They charged him a five percent restocking fee but gave him his cash back.  He could not charge it because it was against state law.

I made him drive me downtown where I paid the bills with only minutes before the office closed for the day.

As I made my way home, I wondered what next week would bring.

The End

© Copyright A.I.L. May 1, 2011

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