Spanktober #18: "Hunters' Moon"

Sometimes you go hunting in the forest. Sometimes the forest goes hunting for you. Sometimes both of those things happen at the same time, and then the forest tends to win.

Homecoming

 Heya folks. To celebrate Pride Month, I've decided to give the boys a little more attention in my next couple of pieces. For instance, this long-belated answer to Meryl's question that she asked at the end of her little account a few summers ago.

It turns out that her husband coming home from overseas didn't really change much of anything after all. Just sort of a "same, but moreso" kind of adjustment to the status quo.~

Siren Sting

 What happens after the song.

"I Roll to Seduce It"

 Another in the "twinks getting dommed by monstergirl" series. Which I guess is a thing now.

Morning Wood

 She speaks for the trees. The trees are saying "Plow that ass and then spank him again!"

Spanktober #2: "Nightmare"

But then who was dream?

Queen

 

They call her Heartbeaker.

Well, they used to. Then they found out what she does to butts. Now they call her Buttbreaker.

November

Finishing last year's calendar project, a year late. Long hiatus I know.

Anyway, happy November. Beating Sticks would like to remind everyone that with regards to all of your Thanksgiving stuffing, roasting, and eating needs, ass is a perfectly acceptable substitute for turkey.

Sandburned

Hot golden sunlight, cool sea breeze, and the distant calls of circling gulls beckoned Zach out of Genie's red convertible and onto bank. Seeing the sapphire expanse with its rippling white borders and the tanned, athletic-looking bodies cutting through it or sunning themselves on blankets laid out on the sand gave him a pain of self-consciousness. It had been far, far too long since he'd made a point of visiting the beach, and to be perfectly honest he hadn't been spending enough time outside in general. More than anything though, the summer sky and seashore wind just made him resolve to do this more often from now on.

"It's a fucking perfect day," Genie said as she stepped up beside him, her smile a brilliant white against her dark skin and tinted shades.

"Yeah." Zach looked out at the wooden boardwalk, the glittering sand, and the rolling blue waves. "Thanks for taking me."

"Oh, come on," Genie put a finger to Zach's forehead beneath the brim of his hat and used her greater height and leverage to push him half a step back across the pavement, "I thought we were a little passed that point in our relationship."

Bending over to fish her bag out of the car behind them, Brianna let out a low, quiet chuckle. "Let's get to the changing booth. I've got our bathing suits all in here."

Zach's face heated up from more than just the sun as he looked back toward the car. Brianna's tan, slender legs and perky little bubble butt in her denim hot pants gleamed in the sunlight, innocently alluring. There was nothing in her body language or her tone of voice to suggest that she'd said that just to poke at his nerves, but Zach knew that if she had her face turned to him he'd see that subtle, malevolent twinkle in her wide, green eyes, and that smile on her glossy lips that you had to look carefully at to recognize as a stalking cat's. Zach now had no choice but to think about the swimsuit she'd bought for him, and that she'd decreed he would wear today if he wanted to join their beach outing.

"Well," Zach said, looking back up at Genie as Brianna straightened up and locked the car door, "race you to the changing booth?"

Both women chuckled, Genie going so far as to wince sympathetically as she turned her head downward and set her dreadlocks swaying. "Nooooot the best idea, babe," she said, giving Zach a pat on the shoulder.

"Why not?" Zach asked, feeling more self conscious by the second even before they got down to the beach. Their reactions to his question made him feel like a child reasoning with adults instead of a college freshman talking to girls just a few years older than him.

"It's a peaceful place," Brianna said as she stepped up beside her wife, bag slung over her sun-kissed shoulder, "but that's because they take the rules very seriously."

"No running," Genie clarified. "No panhandling. No littering." 

"Not that you'd ever do that anyway, sweet thing," Brianna giggled, stepping over in front of Genie and pinching Zach's cheek.

Zach sighed and pushed her hand away. "Am I expected to start bragging about how much I love littering to defend my masculinity or something? If so, sorry, not doing i-aaiii!!" His sentence broke in a startled squeal as a strong, dark brown hand grabbed the crotch of his shorts and squeezed just hard enough to suggest a threat.

"Looks like you left your masculinity wide open, doesn't it?" Genie gave a little tug with her fingers, squeezing his cock and coinpurse a little harder through the fabric of his pants and underwear before letting him go. 

Zach, head spinning at her having just done that in a public parking lot in broad daylight, decided there was nothing he could do in his defence that wouldn't just backfire even harder. Brianna, meanwhile, just smiled at that and gave him a meaningful look, as if Genie had made some kind of biting intellectual argument that he'd best take to heart. The fact that his crotch was a little stiffer than it had been a minute ago was like adding insult to injury, like he wasn't even allowed to properly feel affronted.

"C'mon," Genie said, blowing a little kiss at Zach and stepping on toward the path, her short yellow dress billowing wide around her hips, "I wanna get in the damn water already."

"Patience is a virtue," Brianna chided her as she followed after.

Genie snorted. "Yeah, I just wish I had your self-control, right."

Zach followed a few paces behind them, head still spinning. His life certainly had gotten interesting over the course of the summer.

...

"Owww!"

Zach hissed in sharp pain, jumping back onto the boardwalk and kicking his stinging foot against the wood. It might have been a while since he'd been to the beach, but he had done it before, and he was sure that he didn't remember the sand ever getting this hot. Sure, the sun had been beating down bright and hot without pause since it rose in the early morning, but still, this couldn't be normal!

If he'd thought ahead a little bit and worn sandals instead of socks and sneakers, he probably would have never even had to notice. He hadn't, though, and so now he was standing on the boardwalk looking out across the beach at the tiny figures of Brianna and Genie as they searched for a place by the water to set up their blanket. Even at this distance, they looked absolutely breathtaking in their swimsuits, even for someone who'd seen them in one hundred percent less. Also visible at this distance were the climate appropriate flip-flops on both pairs of feet.

Zach chewed his lip. He would have been out on the boardwalk before they were if he hadn't taken a bunch of extra time to worry over himself in the changing hut's bathroom mirror. He wouldn't have been too bothered over his chubby belly and lack of muscles on their own, even if this beach's generally fitter regulars made him conscious of how much he really needed to start a gym routine. What had him really nervous was the bright purple speedos that his body seemed ready to tear free of at any moment. Zach knew these were supposed to fit snug, but he also knew - beyond any reasonable doubt - that Brianna had picked a size smaller than his. The way they held his fat butt upward was almost more embarrassing than if he went out there buck ass naked. The outline of his cock clearly bulging at the front was even worse. Like, "possibly bordering on literal indecent exposure" worse, especially if he was going to spend the afternoon with Brianna and Genie frolicking around in their bikinis.

So, he'd spent several good minutes adjusting and pulling at the taut nylon until it looked as close to dignified as he thought he could get it. And now he was stuck trying to figure out how to catch up with the girls, and he couldn't even really blame it on Brianna since the main problem - the lack of footwear - was one hundred percent on him.

I can dash over to them, right? Zach gauged the distance from himself to where they were setting up, and then the locations of the large beach parasols whose shadows marked islands of cooler sand. I'm not actually going to burn myself. It'll hurt, but nothing I can't deal with, yeah? Heck, it's not even going to be the most painful thing to happen to me since I met them.

Fixing his hat and adjusting his glasses, Zach psyched himself up, ran through his flight path one more time in his mind, and then dashed out onto the golden sand.

"Ahhh! Owww ow ow ow ow ow ow ow..."

He leaped from tiptoe to tiptoe, sacrificing one foot after the other to pull the previous one away from harm. It was like tap-dancing on a hot, sandy stovetop, and the parasol he was running toward had somehow moved much further away. He kept his teeth clenched together, determined to keep himself moving forward as quickly as possible without risking his balance on the rippling dunes; if dashing across the sand was this painful, he didn't even want to think about faceplanting into it! The parasol was getting closer, but not fast enough. Grimacing even harder, wondering if he was actually burning his skin by doing this, Zach broke into an outright run, or the closest thing one can do to running using only one's tiptoes. A couple of other beachgoers winced in sympathetic pain, or just surprise, as he bounced passed them. In the background, he heard the lifeguard whistle at someone to get out of the water or something. To Zach, these things were all immaterial; he just needed to get off the sandy stovetop!

There were people in the shade of the parasol - he'd ask to borrow somebodies' flip-flops before moving on to catch up with Brianna and Genie. Yes, it would be embarrassing,

 but he was sure he could manage it if he offered to buy them an ice cream or something. 

Ice cream. Oh god yes, ice would feel good right now. Even just water. Anything cold. Almost to the parasol, almost to the parasol, just six or seven more leaps.

"Hey!"

Zach heard the voice just a split second before he felt the powerful yank on his hair, nearly pulling him off his feet. His most recent hiss of pain became a startled yelp as he nearly tore that hair out of the back of his head with his own momentum.

"Did you really not hear the whistle? I said slow the heck down!"

Still jumping from foot to foot and hissing with each contact, Zach turned around to find himself staring straight into a sleek, sun-kissed neck with a lifeguard's whistle hanging around it. Below his eye level, a pair of breasts that would have really wowed him if he weren't so distracted by his burning feet swelled out beneath a maroon one piece. Above it, he finally managed to crane his head up against the hand clutching his hair to observe, was a mane of platinum blond hair and a very unamused face.

"S-sorry! Sand is hot, I gotta get off the sand!" Zach sputtered up at the veritable amazon holding him by the hair, still hoping from foot to foot. 

The lifeguard scowled, and then let go of his hair and grabbed him under each armpit. Zach's eyes went wide as she bent the knees of her long, thick legs and hoisted him off the sand with just a minor grunt of effort. He was now eye level with the woman, and clutched securely in her strong, weathered hands as if he were a literal child. She didn't look much older than him - probably even younger than Brianna and Genie - which just made it even more embarrassing that she could pick him up like this!

"Alright," the lifeguard said with a strained smile as she kept Zach aloft, "are you more comfortable now?"

It took a moment for Zach to figure out how to respond to that. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the beachgoers under the parasol he'd nearly reached all staring his way. His face went redder than it had when Brianna needled him about the speedo she'd forced him into. The speedo which, incidentally, he was still wearing, and which was giving the audience a view that didn't make him look any more dignified to say the least.

"I..." he stared down at the hot yellow sand that had caused all this trouble "...well, physically, yes." Then, trying to save face with a little humour, he added "Thanks."

"You're welcome!" Her smile brightened for a moment, looking more genuine. Before Zach could decide if his sarcasm had actually gone over her head or if she was just making a good performance of ignoring it, she continued speaking. "Now that nobody's in danger, why don't you tell me why you ignored both the no running sign and the one warning you about the sand after ten AM?"

Her smile had cooled back to purely professional now, and her blue eyes were piercing straight into his skull. Those were both, Zach realized, entirely fair questions. Well, he did have a pretty compelling answer, at least.

"I forgot my sandals. My ride is someone already out on the beach. I needed to get to them to-"

"You couldn't have called them?" The statuesque blonde raised her eyebrows as she pulled him slightly closer, so he couldn't look away from her face without being both really obvious and really pathetic-looking.

Oh. Yeah. I could have done that, couldn't I have? He hadn't considered it. Probably because he would have been embarrassed to. Well, that didn't exactly work out in his favour, did it? He heard excited babbling from the parasol behind him. Speaking of phones, he was sure he had seen someone pulling theirs out before the lifeguard had pulled him closer.

"I...they're in the water. They wouldn't hear it." He whispered, hoping the lie wasn't as obvious as he felt like he was making it. 

The lifeguard grimaced and adjusted her grip under his arms. She was starting to tire. That wasn't good. She kept him aloft for now, though. "You can get a pair of flip-flops on the boardwalk for, like, twelve bucks," she said, still keeping her eyes drilling into his, "why didn't you just do that?"

Oh. Yeah. I could have done that too, couldn't I have? Okay, really, why hadn't he done that? This question actually really bugged him now that he thought about it. He considered himself smart enough to have thought of that. What had gone wrong there?

"I'm..."

Her face was still hardly a foot from his. Her mouth now a grimace of effort as she kept him in the air, no longer able to even affect a professional smile.

"...sorry?"

The lifeguard let out a sigh, sending her curtain of white gold hair shifting behind one muscular shoulder after the other. "I believe you," she said, her arms starting to tremble, "but that doesn't change the rules. Sorry."

"Can you just bring me to the shawooooaah!" 

Zach's last word turned into a muffled cry as the blonde ducked much lower and then threw Zach over her shoulder like a captured maiden in a pirate movie. His soft belly pressing its weight into her back as her arms clamped around his thighs, clutching them to her breast. He thrashed his head around, blinking sunlight out of his eyes, and saw that the peanut gallery was growing. People were wandering over from far across the beach toward the spectacle.

"It's okay! Really, I can get myself back to-"

"Before you go anywhere else," the lifeguard grunted through her exertion, spinning around and heaving him back the way she had come like a heavy backpack, "we're going back to the tower. And I'm not going to let you hurt your poor feet anymore."

He felt her fingers stroking the sole of his left foot, tickling him and forcing a reflexive kick. Laughter erupted from all around, rising above the rumble of the waves and the calls of the distant gulls. 

"Thanks," Zach whispered, almost mewled, in a tiny, bitter voice as he hid his face in the fabric of her one piece, "You're a real hero."

"Ohhh, thank you! That's so sweet of you!" 

Then, to Zach's abject humiliation, he felt her give his chubby bottom a firm pat through his too-tight speedos, undoubtedly making it wobble for all to see. More laughter came from the gathering throng, as well as a pair of wolf whistles, as she carried him toward the watch tower. Zach didn't know what she'd do with him there, but so far this had not been his lucky day.

...

Brianna leaned back onto her hands, enjoying the crisp warmth of the sand filtering through the beach blanket against her ass and legs. The crystal blue water with its shifting white crests was calling her, though, and in a minute or so she'd have to dive in. With a smile, she turned her head to look at Genie sitting beside her, her wife's tall, curvy body glowing gold through the tinted lenses of her shades. It was almost hard for Brianna to remember that she really hadn't been much of an outdoors kid before she met Genie. Her smile widened in reminiscence of their first few beach visits, and hikes, and camping trips, before she laid a hand on her wife's bare shoulder.

"Want to get in the water?"

Genie pursed her thick, Ivory Coast lips quizzically, and shook her head. "The hell happened to Zach?"

Brianna looked over her shoulder toward the boardwalk, fixing her yellow shades in place as she faced the sun. She was sure he'd been following just a minute behind them from the changing hut, but there was no sign of him.

"He cannot still be hiding in there," Brianna shook her head, incredulous. 

Genie gave her a half-serious accusatory glare. "You're the one who was torturing him with that swimsuit. You tell me."

She huffed at that, sitting upright and folding her lightly tanned arms under her breasts. "I'm not going to apologize for giving everyone here something nice to look at."

"You're such a nerd." Genie snorted, making her dreadlocks shake. "And a bully."

"For the last time, I told him he didn't have to wear them."

"Yeah. While brushing your hair."

"Oh come on, that was a total coincidence!"

There was no answer to that. Genie just folded her own arms back at Brianna and sighed, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. For her own part, Brianna was actually starting to get a little concerned. He couldn't actually be that mortified of the sexy little swimsuit she'd gotten him, could he? She loved Zach's adorable teenaged shyness, but this was a little extreme for him. 

"Okay," Brianna said, sweeping her eyes across the parasols and deck chairs that spotted the beach, "I guess try calling him?"

"Hope he has his phone on him," Genie sighed, reaching into the beach back to fumble around for her phone, "Or if he doesn't, that he's at least looking for us."

Suddenly, a wild shout of distress sounded from somewhere near the lifeguard hut. Was that Zach? It had sure sounded like him! Focusing on the little wooden tower, Brianna saw a very tall - and also very attractive, she couldn't help but notice - young woman sitting on the lifeguard's chair and forcing a struggling shape down toward her lap. The shape in question - also quite easy on the eye, but that was old news of course - was wriggling in a very familiar manner as the girl pulled that traffic-stopping swimsuit Brianna had just bought him downward. Struggling to get the tight waistband down around the boy's prominent seat with a difficulty that Brianna wished she could have seen much closer up, because it looked like exactly her kind of hilarious. And titillating. Tilaritating? No, that one's no good either. Brianna had been trying to come up with a good word for her favourite type of spectacle for a long time, but still hadn't arrived on a good one.

"The hell did he do?" Genie asked, staring just like Brianna as the statuesque blonde resorted to pinning Zach's back and thighs with her elbows so she could use both hands to deal with the speedos.

Brianna shrugged one shoulder a little, smirking. "Does it matter?"

Genie snorted. "Think we should help him?"

Brianna tore her eyes off of the tilarity and stared incredulously back at Genie. Genie's face split into a huge, cackling grin. 

"Hah! Wish you could've seen the look on your face." 

Brianna sighed, failing to suppress an embarrassed grin. "Keep fucking around, pumpkin, and you're going to find out." 

With the obligatory threat made, Brianna fixed her shades and looked back at the hut. Zach's bottom was glistening bare in the sun now, each cheek wobbling like the waves on the sea as the lifeguard pulled his speedos just far enough down his legs to restrain them the most. That girl knows her shit. Interesting.

Brianna pushed herself up onto her feet, and took Genie by the arm. "C'mon, let's get a closer look."

...

"I really am sorry," the lifeguard said, earnestly, "but the rules are the rules."

Zach would probably have asked if these rules of hers had anything about public indecency in them, but he was already too busy saying something else.

"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!"

Until a moment ago, he'd been too distracted by dying of embarrassment to worry about how much it might hurt if someone strong enough to carry him over their shoulder were to slap him. It was only his modesty he'd fought fruitlessly to preserve when he realized what she was about to do. But then the first slap had landed, and the second one barely a heartbeat later, and he'd immediately forgotten about such petty, civilized concerns.

"AAAAAAAAAH OW OW OW OWWWWWW!!!"

Her apologies proved insincere as she didn't hold back even slightly. Zach's whole world was the bonfire on his bare buttocks and the firm, thick thighs he needed to pry himself off of to escape it. Her hand just came down so fast, and so hard each and every single time!

"I'M SOOORRYYYYYY!!! I'M SORRY, PLEAAASE!"

"I'm sure you are," chided his chastiser, not breaking pace at all as her jackhammer of an arm kept working through her words, "but we need to make sure you remember this next time. It'll remind you to stop and think about how to deal with these little problems before you do something like hurting your poor feet again."

She emphasized her point by landing the next dozen swats right on his sit spots, sending him into a renewed fit of thrashing and howling. How many had she given him already? It couldn't have been more than two minutes since the spanking began, but it felt like she'd already landed hundreds!

"Now," she continued, landing a pair of swats on the back of each of his upper thighs and making him gasp in white hot shock, "I think you've learned your lesson. Am I right?" Her palm rested against one of his blazing hot domes, her strong fingers pressing into the roasted flesh.

"I learned my lesson from the goddamned sand!"

"Mmmm...you should try to work on that attitude of yours." She murmured, maternally, as her hand stiffened against his buttock again. "People will never do what you want if you talk to them like that."

SPLAAAAT! SMAAAAAACK! WHAAAAAAP! Her arm went right back to work, which amounted to shoving his bottom back into the oven just as it was maybe starting to cool down. Zach wailed and flailed. The lifeguard lectured. The sharp, fleshy smacks echoed over the beach, turning the head of nearly everyone present Zach's way. When she stopped again after another thirty seconds, she found that Zach's attitude had indeed benefitted from her advice.

"Have you learned your lesson now?"

"Yes! I've learned! I promise, I've learned!"

"Are you sure about that?" Zach could hear the smile on her lips as they spoke those words. If she hadn't been enjoying herself to start with, she's definitely started to by now. 

Eyes still closed, Zach forced down the indignation and just gritted his teeth. "I am. Please just let me go."

"Well, if you're asking so nicely, then that means you've really learned." Her left arm stopped crushing his midsection, and he felt her hand tousle his hair. "You can get up now, I've got to make sure nothing's happened while you had me occupied." 

He doubted she need worry about that. It looked like everyone within sight had started watching by the time she'd sat down in the chair, and Zach couldn't imagine they'd started paying less attention once she started pulling his swimsuit down. 

"Well, get moving!" 

She tapped his ass with her fingers to signal him to get up. With the state his flesh was in though, even that light poke made him wince. Eyes still closed and face turned downwards to hide from the spectators, glad that he could only barely hear the laughing and chattering over the backdrop of the waves, wind, and seagulls, Zach peeled his sweat-gleaming body off of her lap and gingerly put his hands to his bottom cheeks. They were swollen. Not as badly as they'd been after the worst of Brianna's punishments, but still very puffed up, and so hot to the touch he was sure someone could smelt iron in his ass crack. Would he even be able to get his trunks back up, over this much volume? He felt the sting of tears begin to pierce the corners of his eyes. Zach wasn't much of a crier (if he had been, the lifeguard would have had him bawling before she was halfway through!) but the ramifications of this kind of public humiliation, in a town where he was still getting to know people...what was his life even going to be, now?

"Get yourself back together," the lifeguard said to him over her shoulder as she stood before the railing, making sure no one was drowning or moving a single mile over the speed limit, "You can take a minute if you need to. I'll see if anyone's got shoes they can lend you."

"That shan't be necessary!" Brianna's cheery voice said from just beside the hut. "Thank you for finding that one, we were looking for him."

Still grimacing with his hands on his charbroiled cheeks, Zach opened his teary eyes just a crack and looked up. His fears about the audience had been justified, as there were gleaming eyes and smirking mouths pointed at him from all around, but the two closest sets - and the two most delighted looking - were those of his dear, loyal companions who he knew he could always count on.

"No worries! You shouldn't have let him run around without sandals, though."

Brianna performed a longsuffering sigh at the tall lifeguard's jocular smile. "I'm almost ready to give up and stop taking him anywhere at all."

As Zach closed his eyes again and tried to bury himself in the challenge of getting his swimsuit back up, Genie slinked up onto the platform beside him. 

"Lemme help you with that."

Zach knew what she was about to do, but he quickly realized there was literally no better choice, so he just clenched his teeth harder and braced himself as she grabbed the hem of his undersized speedo and yanked it up to his thighs like a playground bully giving someone a wedgie. There was an absolute explosion of pain as the material stretched tight around his swollen flesh, constricting like a hungry python and compacting all the parts that hurt together. He yelped, gasped, and then panted, shifting from foot to foot as he struggled fruitlessly to get used to the tension of the nylon digging into his white hot sit spots and clenching nearly as hard in the front against his cock and balls. Oh fuck you can probably see everything through this! Not that everyone on the beach wasn't already seen everything anyway. Oh god, I'm not going to be able to go outside all year after this!

As Zach whimpered and felt the first real tear starting to come out, Brianna ran back to her beach blanket and returned with the big bottle of water she'd packed. "Here, this is a trick I learned from one of Genie's gal pals." She poured a little water onto the sand in the shade of the wooden tower, where it was less hot. "Get wet sand on the bottoms of your feet. It'll keep you off the hot stuff, hot stuff." She batted her lashes at him and giggled.

"Huh. That's...actually really cool," Zach said, still wincing and hissing at the way the speedos were squeezing him, trying to keep his mind off of everything else. 

"Mmhmm. Literally."

They made their way back onto the beach, moving toward the blanket. Every few dozen feet, Brianna poured a little more water out so Zach could stick more wet sand to his feet and keep the heat at bay. All while his butt burned as hot as his feet ever had without any recourse. His face was also burning, of course, and his chaperones weren't exactly helping with that issue.

"So," Brianna said with a cruel grin as soon as they were out of earshot, "did you get her number?"

"Yeah," he grumbled, giving Brianna a bitter glare, "she branded me with it."

"Maybe I should go back and give her yours," Genie contributed with a devilish white grin of her own, "she seems like your type."

Zach blushed even redder, not the least because he knew that he really would like having that woman's number and he wasn't proud of it. "Go for it. It's not like my opinion has ever stopped you."

"Would you still love me if I were any other way?"

"Wait, you thought I loved you?"

Genie gasped, clutching both hands to her bikini top over her heart. In front of them, Brianna chuckled.

"Don't go breaking my pumpkin's heart now, young man. Wouldn't want to get yourself in even more trouble, would you?"

"It's bad enough you're making me jealous," Genie continued before Zach could speak in his defense, "you've actually got bigger cakes than I do right now! That's just mean!" She slapped the seat of his way-too-stretched speedos, blowing oxygen onto the hot coals packed in under them and making Zach jump in place and let out an embarassing squeak. 

"Why am I friends with you?" Zach growled, glaring from one tormentor to the other.

"Because we're hot and DTF," Brianna explained.

"I meant besides that."

"Shit. Um...yeah, you got me."

They reached the blanket that the girls had left spread out under their bags and sunscreen bottles. Mercifully, the people had mostly stopped watching them and returned to their business. Hopefully none of them would remember his face long enough for him to run into them.

"I think I need to get in the water," Zach said as Genie sat down on the blanket and Brianna smoothed out some wrinkles before doing the same.

"We were gonna jump in in a few minutes ourselves," Brianna said, "though...hmm. Now I think I could use an ice cream bar or something first."

"I'm good with whatever," Genie shrugged, still smiling a little wider than usual in the wake of the show. "I think...yeah, ice cream doesn't sound bad. I'm guessing you probably want some just straight ice too." She smirked at Zach.

"I'll survive. You've done worse." Zach gave up trying to adjust the speedos into a less agonizing position and - very slowly and carefully - lowered himself down onto the blanket beside Brianna.

"Isn't that right." Brianna nodded her head emphatically as she watched Zach try to sit. Then, just as he was about to complete the process, she pulled the blanket out from beneath him. Thin, overstretched nylon pressed into hot sand. The bottoms of his fiery red sit spots, which had swollen out of the speedos entirely, were pushed directly into the burning hot beach, like two red hamburgers pressed into the pan by a spatula.

A wave of sand particles went flying as Zach shot back to his feet like a rocket, his shriek bringing back all the attention he'd lost and then some. Jumping, bouncing on the sand-caked balls of his feet, he was totally beyond dignity.

"OWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWWWWWWW!!!!"

On the blanket, Brianna and Genie watched the dance.

"I told you that suit would be cute on him," Brianna said, watching the jiggling and bouncing with a dreamy grin as she wrapped her arm around Genie's strong shoulders.

"I told you that you're being a turbobitch to that poor boy," Genie responded, leaning her head in and giving her wife's ear a nibble.

Zach whimpered, still bouncing from foot to foot. Brianna leaned her own head in against Genie's. "We're a couple of smart cookies."

Going Greek

 I'm not sure what the story is for this one. I just felt like drawing something fraternity/sorority-ish.

"Sorry, haven't seen your brother anywhere."

"The noise? Oh, wifey's dusting out a carpet in back. Well, good luck finding him hon!"

Turkey Chase

 A belated happy Spanksgiving, everyone! 

And yes, Brian caught up with Aisha pretty soon; I don't think she was under any illusions that he wouldn't. I might draw the aftermath sometime.~

Oops

Rowan got Meryl's permission to have a couple of friends who live in the dorms come over for a little slumber party.

Rowan's going to think twice before inviting people over again, and his buds will think thrice before letting him invite them places. Meryl, well...on one hand she liked that plant, but on the other it's not every day that she gets to paddle three cute boy butts instead of just the one, so we can call it a draw for her.

Something Different

 

Anniversary Present!

Well, turned out that was well received!

Brianna's strap-on had a very slightly more difficult reception, but hey, that's life!

As you might imagine, Ellie had some strong words for Brianna and Genie after she found out, but I have plenty of other stories to catch up on first. Sorry for my long absence!

Anniversary Present?

So, Ellie's brother - his name's Zachary, it turns out - got into the summer program he was looking at, which means he'll be coming up here quite a lot this summer. To his older sister's chagrin, he's also been looking around for that mysterious woman she rescued him from a couple months ago, despite her warnings. He couldn't recall Miranda's name, so he just asked around for "that really confident, slender, dark haired girl who's always brushing her hair." He was directed to someone who met that general description, and it wasn't who he was looking for.

His new acquaintance has almost seven years on him, which made it an awkward first meeting, but she surprised him by happily engaging in conversation and then bringing him to meet up with her wife in the nearby park.

Funny coincidence, Brianna's been telling Genie that she's trying to think of something really fun to get her for their upcoming first anniversary celebration.

The End In Sight

The version of the Covid-19 vaccine we got over here differs a little in injection site, but what are you gonna do? Just try to not get your butt irritated or bruised before the injection, and there'll be no extra pain.~

Social Distancing Montage

Hey all! Sorry for the long silence. I hope you're all healthy and doing okay.

So, as you might imagine, recent events have been putting a pretty restrictive limiter on my opportunity for candid portraiture. Luckily, over the last couple of weeks some of my friends who are fortunate enough to have someone to be socially distanced with have been kind enough to send me some selfies, GoPro recordings, and the like for me to draw from.

Special thank you's to all contributors! You guys and gals are the best. Meryl, you may want to check the video you sent me from around 3:45 onward, if you haven't already.

Object Lessons

Brianna felt a little guilty about the underaged drinking incident a couple of weeks ago, since she was the one who introduced those naughty lawbreakers to each other in the first place. Genie reminded her that the end of this month was their special biannual anniversary time. So, they invited the unsuspecting Heather and Perry over for a little chat.

This will teach Perry not to let his cock guide him all the time, and it will teach Heather that there are some substances she shouldn't put in her body. It will also teach the neighbors to turn up the music really, really loud when Brianna and Genie have company, but that's acceptable collateral damage.

Guest Post: Two Sides of the Brush

This autobiographical guest post was written by Meryl, who's modeled for me a few times before.



...

I've always liked to collect things. Even as a schoolgirl, everyone called me a squirrel stashing things away for winter. My husband despairs at all the clutter I add to the house, year after year, but once one of my trinkets is mine I don't want to give it up. I feel like each of them says something about me, or in some cases several things about me. Just for example, take my maplewood hairbrush. I was thirty when I acquired it. The wood has a bright blonde finish that catches the eye, all round ovals and slender, curving lines. It fits so comfortably in the palm of my hand, or in the largest pocket of my purse, that you'd think it was made just with me in mind (it wasn't, in case you were wondering).

The front of the head is covered in soft, golden bristles, perfectly spaced, just rigid enough to catch one's hair and smooth it out without snagging or pulling, and silky soft to the touch. It's really a beauty to look at, or to feel. Every bristle in just the right place, evenly spaced, standing at attention and bright gold in color. It has the look and feel of comfort, yes, but also a sort of refined propriety. It's just as efficient at beautification as you'd think by looking at it.

The back of my hairbrush is the exact opposite of everything I just said. It's heavy, hard, and brutally thick, with an artless, swollen bulge in its oval frame. It makes an unpleasant, loud clunk or tap when I set it down against my nightstand or table. The veins in the wood are messy and wild beneath the varnish.

What do these things say about me? Well, this year my husband had to go away on business. Not the entire year, thankfully, but most of it. I work from home, our daughter moved away the year before last, and it gets so lonely and vacant with just me. So, with my husband's approval, I decided to host a pair of college students for the school year. For our proximity to the campus, and the quality of our accommodations, what I charge would be criminally low if the main agenda was profit rather than company. Come September, both freshman students were excited to meet me, and I them. Yoko and Rowan had never met before, but I scheduled to meet them both on the same day; I wanted to make sure they'd get along with each other as well as with me, of course!

Yoko was full of as much confidence as her dainty frame could hold, and she charmed me immediately with her good manners. I could tell right away that we were going to be fast friends for the coming nine months, if not afterward as well! The first thing I noticed about her, aside from the winsome smile, was her hair. Yoko has the most perfect, lustrous, gleaming black hair hanging down past the middle of her back. She had it perfectly smooth, swept back, and tightly braided, with the ribbons in an elegant little knot.

Rowan tried, I could tell. He was nothing but good intentions under that nervous exterior. But the way he came off was, well...less put together, shall we say. He forgot his ID on the bus coming here, and I had to make several phone calls before he got it back. Unlike Yoko, who immediately bore all her things off to her room, Rowan had to be reminded of the backpack he'd left by the front door. He was earnestly sorry for everything, and ashamed of the impression he thought he was making, but actions speak for themselves. Rowan's hair was almost as long as Yoko's when he first arrived, but the first thing I noticed about the boy was a bit further down the back, and far less delicate in presentation, which just matches him so perfectly.

The first two weeks came and went, and the three of us got to know each other. Before October came near, Yoko was already becoming the little sister I always wanted. She was always right there to help with the housework before I could even ask, and she asked all about me and myself her. Soon, we were spending some time every day chatting out in the sun or by the window. Talking about her classes, my work, movies, music, and eventually boys in her class.

Around the same time that we started feeling comfortable enough with each other to discuss that last topic, I began brushing her hair. Yoko's silky mane is as black as a night sky without the moon or stars, and when brushed and smoothed down it gleams in the light like polished obsidian. Whoever cut her hair knew exactly what they were doing; every strand is exactly the length it needs to be, with perfect symmetry and balance. The firm, yellow strands of my brush catch them with ease, and they cooperate so readily as I bring them to their purest shine. Sometimes she wants me to put it up in a bun. Sometimes braids, pigtails, ponytails, or loose waves. Sometimes Yoko just lets me do what I will, and we chat and giggle as if I were eighteen again myself. When we go out shopping or moviegoing or even just sightseeing, Yoko is always the picture of cosmopolitan refinement, and her dressed and bound hair is a small - but very important - part of that.

I don't have many common interests with Rowan, though he's a smart enough boy. He does have a fondness for gardening, but I'm very particular about how my rooftop garden is arranged and cared for, and prefer to keep that work to myself. He helps around the house when asked, but he forgets things all too easily, and tends to make new messes as quickly as he cleans them. I started with rolling eyes, impatient sighs, and the occasional pointed glare over pursed lips. I told him I was going to have to take more drastic measures with him soon, and though he babbled out his assurances to the contrary it wasn't yet the second week of October when I had reason to take him to task. 

The back of my maplewood hairbrush is a fat, thick, heavy round thing, and perfect for a pair of fat, thick, heavy round bottom cheeks. Even in his looser denim shorts, you can always see the shape of that boy's caboose. No matter how inappropriate to the time and place, it's always just sticking out there, bouncing with each step and bulging up like a big, tangly weed whenever he picks up something he dropped, which happens frequently (and I've never seen a young man wear his "freshman fifteen" quite so well). Along with the long hair and small frame, it's a contributing factor to people mistaking him as a girl, but not the dainty and lovely kind of girl like my little baby sister Yoko! It's an improper bottom, on an improper boy, and it invites every last bit of my own impropriety. We're all cruel, savage, greedy creatures, underneath the mask of society. After that first time I pulled Rowan over my knee, I knew I would do it again very soon. He would annoy or irritate me, and I would vent that other side of me and his juicy, bouncy cheeks. The rooftop garden ended up becoming our little spot after all, but not for the reasons one might normally think.

After every punishment, with his eyes wild and teary and his bottom cheeks as bright a glowing red as my favorite dress, he'd swear to never require another reminder. He always did, though. I made sure of it! There was always something wrong with how my scattered, disorganized, bubble-bottomed renter did something, even if I had to look harder as October moved on by. This isn't a part of me that can be reasoned with, after all. There's no fairness or understanding in how I treat Rowan. At least once a week, and usually more, I'd have that tushy over my lap and reduce the boy attached to it to something as wild-eyed and savagely howling as my own id. I made sure Yoko wasn't home whenever I spanked Rowan. For her, I'd be nothing but a sweet, caring, and worldly hostess.

When he didn't resist, or show any sign of trying to relocate, I started moving forward. I'd set higher and higher expectations for him - all completely disproportionate to what I asked of Yoko, and justified by all the nuisance Rowan had been so far - and soon I could always count on having a reason to punish him when I wanted to. Not all punishments are as severe, of course, but there's no such thing as a "minor" spanking with my maplewood hairbrush! Most times, I work those naughty cheeks over with my hand until Rowan is squealing and squirming before the brush even comes out to banish his buttocks to the flames of hell where they deserve to be, for my amusement. He could have left at any time, of course, but he didn't. The fact that I started wearing shorter skirts and lower cut tops when I invited him up for our non-negotiable rooftop chats may have had something to do with that. I wasn't thinking of that at the time, though; I just dressed that way because I loved watching him go red faced and nervous when confronted with my scantily-clad self holding the hairbrush, and luxuriated in the way I forced his eyes to linger on me. Knowing I can make a young boy salivate does help me cope with being forty-nine, and Rowan's spankings are my time for shameless self indulgence!

 

Feeling more of his bare skin against mine when he bent over my thighs was also a contributing factor to my wardrobe choices for "tushy time" as well, I can't pretend otherwise.

Things came to a head after Thanksgiving, when it was too cold and wet to use the rooftop and I'd taken to keeping things indoors. Rowan always had an eye for Yoko, and he was spending more and more time with her after classes. I can hardly blame any young man for being interested in her, but I absolutely blamed Rowan for it! For one thing, I just didn't want these wires crossing. It would just pain me to see Yoko's childlike gaiety entwined with Rowan's lewdness and crudeness! For another, I was jealous, and while I'd normally never let such base impulses control me, Rowan and I had an established relationship revolving around just that. 

I don't know how interested Yoko might have been, when he started making his advances more openly. I think she was considering it, if perhaps not all that seriously. I know Yoko prefers bigger, manlier boys, and even his new haircut and gym regimen didn't quite make Rowan into one. Regardless, I wasn't about to take the chance! The instant I had Rowan and the house to myself, I dragged him into my room and told him very, very clearly that he wasn't going anywhere near Yoko! It also just so happened that this was the perfect time of year to use some of that fresh, juicy ginger I'd been growing last year. Rowan's rump had been spanked plenty of times before I got my hands on it, but it had never known the agony of a plump carved ginger root working together with my hairbrush! He whimpered, squeaked, and begged like never before, all to no avail as I spanked and paddled that flame-filled fanny to my heart's content.

Now, I might be deliberately uninhibited when it comes to Rowan and that naughty bottom of his, but I still understand that actions have consequences. There wasn't exactly a good reason for me to object to his pursuit of Yoko, and I needed to give him something. Of course, I'd also been needing someone to give me something for those last few months, and I think we both got what we required.

Rowan seemed to think that I'd be less harsh with him after that evening, the silly boy. Instead, well, I practically made him my slave! I don't have to justify anything to him anymore, so I stopped. If he does everything perfectly, gets perfect grades, and does all his chores, he still gets a long, hard, bare-bottomed spanking over my lap if I feel like giving him one, and I often do! If he causes me any grief, falls short in his studies, or (worst of all) does anything to upset my precious Yoko, then he just gets an even harder one, with a significantly lower chance of an extended bedroom stay and a slightly higher chance of ginger.

Yoko and Rowan came back from winter break just a month ago, and things haven't changed a bit over their December/January absence. Yoko and Rowan are friendly with each other, but they don't interact all that often. He has his friends, and she has hers. She has her alone time with me, and he has his alone time with me. Both sides of my complicated little maple knick-knack have their perfect places, and equal time to shine.

I suppose I'll just have to see where things go and how they change when my husband comes home this May.