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Two Aunts
Part 7

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: 12 Dec 2017

The second to the last day of December, December 30, was a Saturday. It was also Garret’s 16th birthday. His Aunts planned a celebration party for him.

The Aunts invited a number of their friends who were in their 40’s to join them in celebrating the birthday of their nephew and newly adopted son. Additionally, Iris told Violet they needed to urge Garret to invite some of his friends. That would give them a chance to see the youths he hung out with.

The party was late Saturday afternoon. They would meet about 4 p.m., have some time to talk and laugh, and for Garret’s friends to get to know him in his new home. After opening birthday gives, they would enjoy cake and ice cream .

On Saturday morning, at 7 a.m., Iris went upstairs to get Garret up. She walked into Garret’s room to find it surprisingly messy, with clothes scattered on the floor, and the boy sound asleep spread out on his bed.

Calling to her nephew-son, Iris saw the boy’s eyes blink as he raised himself up, looking up at his Aunt. Taking hold of his lean, hairless leg, she began tugging him across the mattress on his stomach, out of the bed.

Garret, you need to get up, honey. We have a lot to do to get everything ready for tomorrow afternoon, so you need to get moving and help out.

Instinctively, Garret twisted around, flipping over onto his back and butt. As did so, the added stimuli of his Aunt’s touch and the scraping rubs against the mattress, sprouted a stiff pole of morning wood in the front of his boxer briefs.

Iris pulled him off the bed and he fell down on his butt and back on the floor. His face instantly burned hot and bright red as his young, stiff, little mast stood high between his legs.

Come on, now, Garret. You need to get up and help out in preparing for tomorrow, Iris told him.

Oooaah, Aunt Iris, I’m sooo tired. Can’t I sleep a little longer, please?

You are growing up, Garret, today! You can’t act like a little boy forever. Your help is needed. So, get up and get ready for the day, please.

Observing Garret’s embarrassment sitting on the floor with a boner bulging upward in front of his briefs, Iris decided to leave, and give the youth some privacy to get up and get cleaned up. She walked out of his bedroom as he sat up on the floor, trying to conceal his woody with his hands.

Once Aunt Iris had gone, though, his weary feeling of fatigue returned. He wanted, needed, a longer time of rest. Slowly, he pulled himself up onto his bare feet, the tenting front of his briefs looking like the raising of a ship’s mast.

Instead of staying up, as expected, the boy closed his door and crawled back into his bed. Sliding his brief down over his hips and bum, past his things and knees, he lay in the dark, attending to the demanding need of his craving, young wanker.

Hearing no activity in the bathroom, in a short time, Iris came back in to find her nephew-son still in his bed, with a wet, soaked sheet, and the obvious, telltale signs the boy had been choking his young chicken.

Pulling off the spread and sheet, with sad, disappointed eyes, she looked Garret over, realizing immediately that he not only had not gotten up and ready, as she instructed, but went back to bed to masturbate.

Garret’s eyes looked back, fearful, wary, worrying and wondering if he would get another spanking from his Aunt. If he paused a moment, he would know he was most certainly headed for another spanking for his young adolescent, disobedient, unrestrained misbehaviour.

Garrett’s eyes noted the horrifying hair brush in his Aunt’s hand. She was lecturing him scolding him, as his foot and leg nervously tapped up and down on the mattress.

He was so cowed with dread and anxiety over the prospect of being taken over her knee again like an 8 year-old, and spanked to uninhibited, crying sobs, he could not concentrate on what she was saying.

Aunt Iris took hold of Garret’s thin arm and pulled him up off the bed, towing him around to be deposited over her lap, upside down, awaiting the coming spanking. He had no wait, as his Aunt began a furious flurry of fast, intense spanks all over the boy’s small rump and lean thighs.

Garret wailed, shrieked, and cried, over and over pleading he was sorry, sorry he had not obeyed, sorry he had gone back to bed, sorry he had played with himself, sorry he was bad, sorry he had to be spanked again.

When she finished the morning spanking of her nephew-son, Iris pulled the squalling, fed-faced, red-bottom, after-spanking dancing boy, with hands plastered on his little bottom, tears streaming from his eyes, his just wanked boyhood slightly aroused and bobbing.

You get your little fanny into the bathroom immediately and get ready to come help Aunt Violet and me getting things ready for your birthday party. Don’t delay, or one of us will be back for you, with another session on your little backside to make sure you behave and obey, Aunt Violet scolded.

Garret fled to the bathroom, into the shower, shampooing and showering while sobbing like a heartbroken, small boy. Despite his depressed, low outlook at the moment, he hurried, knowing he had no slack, no spare chance to do anything other than promptly obey.

After a quick breakfast, Garret immediately set about to do tasks his Aunts assigned him, to finish the preparations at the house for his birthday party later that afternoon. He was sent first off back to his bedroom to clean and tidy it up to be suitable for his friends to enter and see.

Aunt Violet check on him, to monitor his work and the quality of the results. Pulling back his sheet and blanket, she found he had not changed his linens to make the bed fresh. Grabbing her diminutive,

He vacuumed floors and rugs, took smaller rugs out onto the porch to shake clean in the crisp, cold, winter air. He pulled on a winter jacket over his jeans and sweatshirt, and shoveled away the snow from the sidewalk leading to the house, and shook the mat at the door free of any snow and melted debris.

The party began with friends of Iris and Violet, and five of Garret’s friends and teammates showing up to celebrate his turning 15. Not surprisingly, the adults sat together talking with the two Aunts, discussing and sharing their experiences since taking charge of the young, teenage boy, and adopting him officially after both parents had gone.

Garret’s friends were packed into his bedroom, talking and laughing, teasing him about being so slow in reaching 15. They asked if he would be getting a student driver permit now he was old enough to have one.

I don’t know, Garret answered, unsure, mostly because he had not thought about it, much less talked with his Aunts about it. About 5 p.m., they heard a call for everyone to come into the parlour/living room.

Garret and his 5 teammates-friends all walked in to the spontaneous singing of Happy Birthday to you,... The boy blushed, as everyone took a seat in a chair or on the floor.

Very soon, Garret will no longer be 15. Violet and I looked through his Mom’s baby book and found he was born at 9:44 p.m., on December 30.

So, we should all enjoy with him the last hours of his 15th year of life. We thought one way would be to share this time giving him his birthday gifts.

All at once, Rowen Maxwell, one of Garret’s soccer teammates and friend, spoke up, interjecting a decisive question. When does the Birthday Boy get his birthday spanking?

Everyone laughed out loud, while Garret’s face flushed crimson and warm, and his head and eyes snapped around to stare like tossed darts at his friend. How about it? How can he get gifts until he gets his birthday spanking? another of Garret’s friend, Mike Degnon, added to the subject.

Violet responded. Yes, you’re right boys. This lucky, little, atill 15 year-old has an old fashioned, traditional, birthday spanking coming. Come on, Garret, honey. Come over here.

If possible, Garret’s face was redder and hotter than before, and a startled, worry look appeared on his face. Looking at Aunt Violet, he knew he could neither ignore her, not refused to obey.

Slowly, with an sense of inevitability, he walked up to his Aunt. She gestured to her lap, instructing her nephew-son that they would all witness his birthday spanking at that moment. Garret gulped, absolutely abhorring what was about to take place.

Wait a minute, ma’am, Rowen spoke again. Isn’t he, the Birthday Boy, supposed to be in his birthday suit when he gets his birthday spanking?

That’s right, you are exactly right, young man, Aunt Violet answered. Let’s get you out of these clothes, Garret. The Birthday Boy is going to get a birthday spanking in his birthday suit.

Ah, no, no, ah, please, ah, Aunt Violet, Garret whispered his entreating plea to her.

Shush now, child. We all know what boys look like when their born, in their birthday suits. You just cooperate, help out, and we’ll have you out of these clothes, and over my lap in an instant.

That is exactly what she did. She stripped off Garret’s tan, corduroy pants, his longsleeve polo shirt, his t-shirt, and last of all his blue and white striped briefs. The boy was so red, so nervous, so embarrassed, he was slightly shaking as his Aunt pulled and placed him across her lap, with his pants and briefs tangled around his shoes at his feet. Yet a small, but visible, boyhood boner had also arisen.

At that moment, the unmistakeable smack-prints of the brush from the spanking Garret had gotten that morning, before he finally got up, were obvious to everyone. Garret let his head hang down low over his Aunt’s left, closing his eyes, trying to escape the inescapable reality of what was happening.

Alright, now, everyone, Aunt Violet called out. Let’s all keep count together for Garret. One! She smacked his plainly already-spanked, little bare rump. Garret jolted with each impact.

Two. The boy tried to steel himself. Three,... four! They were descending and swatting his bare bottom too fast. By six he was twisting and turning, in vain trying to elude any further smacks.

At twelve, despite himself and his determination not to embarrass himself by crying like a little boy, Garret started to cry, nonetheless. When sixteen was struck, he was weeping audibly, sounding very much like a bad, little boy spanked for misbehaving.

He gasped, trying to gulp back any more sobs. And one to grow on, Aunt Violet announced, bringing her hand down with and force and intensity that cracked loudly in the room as it made impact with the hot, hand print marked boy’s posterior.

Not expecting an additional encore, he rose upward and backward, before collapsing over his Aunt’s left knee, sobbing hard and uncontained. Violet left him hanging there for a couple of minutes, to give him a chance to recover. Everyone sat silently observing the events of the occasion.

One thing that transpired from his birthday spanking, and lying squalling over his Aunt’s knees was everyone, including Garret’s five friends attending, were now aware that the boy had been recently spanked, and got spankings, from his two Aunts. Garret realized it too, and dreaded facing, looking into the eyes, of his friends after this event.

It was not as bad as imagined, however. First, he quickly re-dressed, with his Aunt helping him do so swiftly. He cringed, glancing sideways for an instant to see if his friends were watching as Aunt Violet ordered him to raise his arms while she pulled his t-shirt and polo shirt back on, tucked them in under his pants, and gave him a well-done send off with another swat to the seat of his corduroys.

Second, he wiped tears from his face and eyes, found a not very comfortable chair to sit in, and began opening gifts that were handed to him. His pleasure and appreciation almost eclipsed his embarrassment over the birthday spanking.

Third, they all retired to the dining room to enjoy large pieces of cake, and scoops of ice cream; and, fourth, his buddies came up around him to reassure him they too got spanked at home, at times, and nobody was surprised he did too.

One additional result was, even if he would have liked to do so, no longer was there any point in Garret avoiding the locker rooms and showers for the teams on which he played. He had no reason to try to hide the telltale evidence of having gotten a spanking imprinted on his boyish mounds and thighs.

So, even when he was chagrined over having gotten a recent licking from his Aunts, and others seeing it; he knew there was nothing to try to conceal, as he was far from the sole recipient of a spanking to discipline a boy whose occasional wayward actions brought the punishment upon himself.

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