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Pickup
Part 8

by Graham

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Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 15 May 2015


Thursday morning I was up early again, showering, dressing, making coffee and taking some with me, as I drove off for the last long day of the week. Despite his request for me to waken him when I was leaving, I slipped out and away, letting him sleep on soundly.

The day was intense, with assignments for Monday being handed out. My butt was still tender from the number of spankings I’d gotten over the past 5 days, especially not having gotten any for almost 2 years.

Still, the stinging soreness on my bottom triggered my fleeting thoughts to Jamie. I wondered how he was doing? What? And, yeah, I smiled to myself thinking he would be experiencing a more freshly uncomfortable fundament than I right now.

At the end of the day, I drove wearily back to the cabin. Opening the door, I was astounded again to find Jamie up and dressed, seated on the couch with his right leg dutifully elevated, and the cabin once more tidied up and ready for me.

Before I could remark on what he’d done, he blurted out, Come in, boy, sounding like I imagined his Grandpa. I looked at him surprised.

What is it about an order you can’t seem to meet and comply with, young man? he was exerting the initiative, putting me squarely on the spot. Not expecting this, I was taken aback, put on the spot.

What?! I asked with a mixture of incredulity and annoyance.

Don’t answer me with that tone, young man! Jamie spat out.

Now I was not only caught short, but a bit alarmed by his manner. Okay, Jamie. What are you talking about? I asked with slightly evident pique.

What did I tell you last night? he queried.

I don’t know, I answered honestly.

Didn’t I tell you to wake me up before you left this morning?

Oooh, that. But that was not an order at all, Jamie. It was a request. I remember. You asked, Can you get me up before you leave? I said.

Well,... I mean, did you do that? he persisted.

No, I didn’t. I looked at you sleeping soundly and decided you needed to rest to recover more than for me to wake you up early. So I decided not to.

You decided not to do what I said, what you knew I wanted, he tried to pounce.

Look, Jamie, just get off your imaginary high horse. That was a far cry from any order, and I did what I thought  – still think  – was best. Now, if you want to try to fabricate some kind of insubordination, you’re going to have to peddle that in some other galaxy.

In the meanwhile, I’m tired, and your obvious attempt to instigate trouble is really bugging me. If anything, it indicates you are the one in need of an adjustment, young man. You never even gave me a chance to compliment you on your obvious progress today, or to thank you for cleaning up my cabin again  – even though you probably shouldn’t have been on your feet that long.

Instead, you jumped on me as soon as I walked in the door. If anybody is acting insolent and presumptuous, it’s you, Jamie.

Why’re you acting like this, Jamie?! I don’t get it?! All of a sudden you’re jumping all over me, picking a fight, jabbing at me. Why do you want to do this?”

I don’t know for sure, but it kind of seems to me like, underneath all the contrived bluster  – which was so transparently concocted – you’re really looking for, asking for, wanting a licking. By this time, I’m ready to oblige you, give you want you need, and want.

I didn’t realize I’d stacked my hands on my slender hips while I stood rigidly staring him down. Under my plainly goaded gaze, his folly and error seemed to dawn on him.

He leaned back on the couch, the gust of self-inflated, indignation dispelled. Deflated, he suddenly looked sheepish and shamefaced.

In an almost instantaneous metamorphosis, he changed his tune dramatically. Ah, I, ah, I mean, you’re right, Lincoln. I shouldn’t have jumped at you like that, I know. You don’t deserve it  – especially after everything you’ve been doing for me this week. I’m, ah, sorry, he stammered his hastened about face.

Of course, I’m going to accept your apology, Jamie. How couldn’t I? But I think you need a comeuppance, if I can use that term. For you to ambush me like you did, with such a brash, bellicose attack, betrays your false anger as a facade for something else – a need and desire for discipline – a spanking – maybe? Or a need for a lesson about impulsive, bad behaviour toward somebody else, me, somebody who is anything but opposed to you.

So, whatever you’re trying to prove, Jamie, only one thing is going to come from it – a blistered butt.

I was astonished as his fair face blanched whiter and looked bleakly abject and ashamed. It appeared as if he recognized his affected posture of disapprobation had been seen through, and he was a needy, naughty boy, deserving, fearing, yet wanting a licking.

Get your clothes off – NOW! I barked at him. He literally flinched sitting on the couch, staring as if in a dazed dream. I won’t repeat it again: Clothes off, now! I sizzed.

He hung his head, defeated, but not without a last ditch effort and hope. Aw, Jamie, come on, I’m sorry. I mean it. It won’t happen again, I promise. I won’t do it again.

I hope not, big buddy, I was getting used to the converse of his term for me, but sorry doesn’t cut it after the bad deed’s done. Sorry’s too late. Only punishment and a lesson for the future, I spoke with steady firmness.

Gee, Lincoln, you sound just like my Grandpa so much. How’d I get in this situation, anyway?

You brought it all on yourself, big buddy. You need to think long and hard about how you treat somebody  – me  – and, if you’re needing and wanting a spanking, whether there’s a better way to arrange for it, for us to help each other. For now, though, you’re getting what you obviously need  – and wanted.

Jamie’s face was deep red, his blue eyes wider ponds than I’d ever seen them before. I could see traces of tears welling up, and a hint of a trembling quaver of his lips and chin. He was vanquished, and he knew it. Resignedly, he began complying.

Off came his faded, thin jeans, his sweater and t-shirt. With only a pair of faded, maroon and grey boxers as the last bastion of modesty before surrender to full nudity, he looked up with sad, pleading, but resigned, eyes to find no solace in my face-off with him.

His head and body sunk down into the couch as he pushed down his boxers. Denuding himself, he lay, bare and exposed, waiting for the inevitable spanking he knew was coming. I pulled off my braided, leather belt and doubled it over in my right hand.

Like sudden lightning striking before the storm begins, I began applying that belt to Jamie’s beautiful, but already marked up, bottom and upper legs. He grunted, then shouted, before giving up and screeching with each biting lick.

Even though his rearend was on fire, and he was crying out in pain, he actually also wanted more. He began moving his butt upward after every smack that evoked a scream and sobs, waiting for the belt he knew was coming down again.

Tears were streaming down his handsome, lean face, but the room  – everything  – became a blur as the belt continued slicing into his flesh. Yet, his manhood continued swelling, remaining hard and pulsating the whole time.

I pulled him up off the couch and his dick stuck out like a pole. This guy, Jamie Leary, broken and weeping, hands plastered on his hot, raw bottom, had a mammoth hard-on from me whipping him! Whoaaaa! He really was like me. We were alike.

Transforming from angered punisher, to sympathetic comforter, I grasped his leaking log and began swirling and twirling the bell-shaped head, polishing it with his pre-ejaculate emission and my fingers. He began breathing hard and heavily, squirming on the couch under my ministrations.

All at once, he stiffened, moaned wildly and helpless, and erupted like a phallus-shaped volcano. Surge after surge of white, rope-like semen burst forth, shot out and upward, coating and covering my hand, and falling on his lean abdomen and legs.

I decided to give him an extra, unexpected treatment. Instead of releasing his fading penis, I used the ejaculate to lubricate him more, triggering a second arousal.

Jamie’s beautiful, alabaster, freckled face, with his red eyebrows and lashes, disclosed his surprised state. As I continued, insisting his huge, young manhood recover its hungering eagerness, his face became contorted with intense emotions of pleasure/pain mix.

With my unrelenting stimulation, jacking and pumping, and eagle-clawed polishing his engorged, stiff, reddish-purple head, he began jerking and lurching as I ratcheted his excitement higher. All at once, stiffening as tight as a cadaver, lying back with his butt and hips raised off the couch, he shouted and exploded, shooting like a geyser.

I pumped the discharge flying upward and out, then kept on milking more and more reluctant, leftover semen, until Jamie was squealing and whining, Please! Please! I-uh-uh-ooooo-uh-please!

At last, he collapsed, begging, No more, no more. Please. I-uh-uh-dooon’t-uh-huh-ave anyeeee-uh-mooooore! I leaned over, wiped the residual tears from his face and eyes, and kissed him long and hard. He responded like iron to a magnet.

Afterward, I went and got warm clothes and wiped him down, tenderly bathing that rod that brought me so much unfathomable pleasure. Telling him to get dressed again, I went to the kitchen to prepare supper.

As we sat together eating, I suggested we do something fun together tomorrow, since I was off for the next 3 days and could spend two of them with him. He perked up with enthusiastic interest. What d’you have in mind, Lincoln? he asked.

I told him about a spring fed creek with rapids where people rent tubes and float down the dashing water of the creek. It was near Bryson City, over two hours away; but if we left early, we could spend most of the day there. He enthusiastically liked the idea, and so it was agreed we would do it.

That evening, Jamie took care of using the bathroom and getting ready for bed by himself. Once we were nestled into bed together, he grabbed me and pulled me into him. Knowing how sensitive and sore his member, and his bottom would be, I decided it was my turn – duty and pleasure  – tonight.

He was surprised when I turned him over, with his back to me, and pulled down his boxers. My finger poked into him, readying the aperture for further entrance.

I brought my erect boner to his hole, grabbed him around his hips, and began the penetration that evoked a gasping sigh of pleasure from him. I buried my bone into him, then commenced the up and down, in and out, process that drove us both crazy.

Despite two hand jobs today  – one a long-milked escapade  – the stimulation of internal orgasms within him fired Jamie’s previously spent rod into full mast display and leaking condition. I grabbed it like a bolster to hold onto, and our cooperative copulation produced a combined climax that overwhelmed us both.

I clung to him, into which embracing hug he succumbed and snuggled, plainly enjoying being the one held and comforted and secure. We shortly fell asleep like that.

 
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