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Pickup
Part 31

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: 16 Jan 2018


The last spanking by my Dad on Saturday, after Thanksgiving, while my parents were visiting me, was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back, after getting spanked repeatedly for two days, since Black Friday, and kept undressed and bare both days.

I was at the ends of my fight and determination. I could not take any more.

My rebellious, stubborn refusal to tell him and my Mom the truth about Jamie Leary living with me, and the relationship we had, was crushed. I was crying again uncontrollably, pleading and begging through heavy and hard sobs.

I knew I had to come clean in order for the spankings from my Dad to cease. I knew that would not happen until I told him the truth. Even as I was surrendering, I felt like a part of me was being cut out and displayed to the world.

At last I conceded, okay, okay, okaaaay! I’ll tell you the truuuth! he let me up off his lap. I could not think or talk for a couple of minutes, stomping and dancing up and down and around, clasping my blasted behind that felt like it would never recover, never heal.

Finally, I began to try to speak, finding it difficult to sustain communicative speech, because my squalling became heavier and despondent at what I was about to do. Stumbling and stammering, I disclosed to him and Mom about meeting a guy who was hitchhiking in a storm, picking him up, and bringing him to the cabin.

I tried to shorten and omit a lot of details, while making sure I was honest, did not misrepresent or conceal the truth. I could not taken another licking!

Telling them how we had hit it off immediately, became friends, started spending time together, before we became close, closer than mere friends. At that, my Mom and Dad looked askance at me as the reality of what I was disclosing slightly indirectly became evident.

So you to young men began having sex with each other? Dad asked plainly. I shook my head affirmatively.

Are you saying you’re gay, Lincoln? Is he? Mom asked.

Ah, I, ah, guess so, Mom, an, yes, Ma’am.

Who is this guy, son? Dad began interrogating again. What’s his name? How old is he? Where’s he from? What do you know about him? Where is he now?

His name is Jamie Leary, Jamieson Jeremiah Leary. He’s 22, a graduate student in physical therapy at East Tennessee State. He’s from near Lima, Ohio, raised by his Grandparents who have a farm. I visited them there.

Do they know about their son, I mean, grandson and you? Dad asked.

Shaking my head negatively, I answered, No, no, Daddy. He says they’d be very upset about it.

You mean like your Mom and I? Dad asked rapidly.

Are you? Uh-uh-I’m-uh-sorry. Uh-I-uh-love you both.

Are you thinking carefully and clearly about what you’re doing, Lincoln? Dad asked.

Huh-uh-I-uh-thuh-ink so, uh-Daddy. I-uh-nuh-ever puh-planned-uh-anything-uh-like this! Never-uh-uh! It-uh-juh-ust-uh-happened, buh-uht I-uh-thuh-ink we-uh-luh-ove each-uh-uh-other. Uh-I’m-uh-suh-arry, uh-uh-Momma-uh-Duh-addy! I-uh-love you-ou both

Since meeting Jamie, I’d cried a lot more than for many years. From the many spankings he’d given me; and from my Dad’s recurring, stern spankings the past two days, I was way-too-acquainted with wailing from being painfully, shamefully spanked.

These tears, though, were retching from so far within me, digging up my deepest emotions. I did love my parents so much, was so grateful for them. I hated disappointing, hurting, upsetting them.

I don’t think you know for sure, can say with certainty, you’re gay, Lincoln, my Dad responded. You’ve never had any love interest, girl or boy. This may very well be an older, more experienced guy taking advantage of a naive, immature, inexperienced kid.

I don’t-uh-think so-uh-Momma, uh-uh, Duh-addy. Uh-I-uh-think-we-uh-really-uh-care-uh-uh-bout-uh-each-uh-uh-therrrr-uh-uh, I replied, perhaps too hastily.

Well, you don’t know for certain, Lincoln, any more than your Mom or I do. We do know it’s not what we want for you, not the kind of life we want you to have.

He paused, and I was hanging on his words, not knowing what he would say.

Anyway, son, right now, it has to stop. You are to get his things out of here. He is not to stay here any longer. I’m going to check up on you, and I expect you to heed my words, young man.

If I find you’ve disobeyed me, I will discontinue paying the rent and depositing living allowances for you. In that event, you’ll have to find a way to pay for this cabin, or move out.

You are to stay away from that young man, period, no matter where you end up living. If you can’t be trusted to do what you’re Mother and I tell you, we’ll come get you, and you can finish up getting a degree at UT Chattanooga. Understand, Lincoln?

Of course, I understood, but I hated it. He was telling me I had to split up with Jamie, and live apart from him, or else I would be forced to leave Appalachian State and go back home.

Dad did not like my hesitation to assure him I would obey and do what he said.

Is it going to take some more spankings to get your compliance, young man? I mean, it’s a shame it took so many harsh lickings to bring you around. Now, are you going to need more to assure us you will obey, do what you’re told?

I broke down further, sobbing hard, unable to speak immediately.

Lincoln! What’s it going to be, young man?! Obey, or get spanked?! He pulled me, with my angry red bum and thighs, and partial boner still sticking up, toward him, between his leg.

Duh-addy-uh-please-uh-nooooo-uh-uh-waaaaa! I was bawling.

That was it. He turned and toppled be back over his left leg, covering my legs with his right. The ping pong paddle resumed popping and whacking all over my already excruciatingly sore rump and thighs.

I squealed and cried out, in incredible pain, demoralizing shame and sorrow. He delivered still another, unmitigated spanking to me, until I was sobbing, shrieking, calling his name for mercy, but finally wailing my agreement to his demands.

At that point, he stopped, reaching down, pulling me up and back to sit on his lap. With my legs on either side of his legs, he held me against him while I heaved and shuddered my blubbering.

When he put his arms around me, I threw mine around his neck, pulling myself fiercely against him. He held me tightly, rocking me gently in his hug, on his lap, until my despairing sobbing subsided.

All right now, Lincoln. You’ll be alright, son. You get ready for bed and sleep in tomorrow. We’ll talk again in the morning, before Mom and I leave. You’ll be okay. You just need time to grow up, and in the meanwhile to listen and to what you’re told.

He released me and let me hop woodenly into the bathroom to get ready for bed. When I came out, the pillow and blanket were waiting for me on the couch, and the lights were out. I crawled onto the couch, burying my head in the pillow, stretched out under the blanket.

A few minutes later, both he and Mom came out from my bedroom. We love you, Lincoln, very much, Mom whispered, stooping to kiss me on the side of my face.

Dad followed suit, telling me I was his son, his good boy, and he would always love me, but he expected me to obey and do what I was told. He too kissed me, on my neck.

I-uh-uh-luh-ove-you-ou-uh-too, Momma, Daddy, I whimpered back up to them.

In the morning, Dad told me I could get dressed after I showered. Thuh-ank, you, Daddy, I responded, hurrying to clean up. It felt good to be able to put clothes on.

We ate breakfast together, and sat (me very uncomfortably) talking for a long while. Dad outlined again what I was required to do. I sat quietly, if sadly, listening, reluctantly, but ultimately clearly, agreeing to do what he reiterated.

When they had packed up and were ready to leave to go home, I got teary-eyed. Mom and Dad together pulled me into their joint embrace, and I broke down crying, sobbing, squalling like a child.

Be good, now, son, Mom urged. Listen to Daddy, do what he says. You’ll be a better young man for it.

And find it a lot easier to sit down too, Dad admonished. We love you, he added.

Okay-aay-uh-Muh-omma-uh-uh-Daddy. I-uh-uh-luh-ove you-ou-uh-too, I replied.

I stood in the cool, mid-afternoon air, waving to them as they drove away. With my bottom incessantly hurting, I finally walked back into the warm cabin. Closing the door, I wondered, what am I going to do now?

 
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