Shawn and his father walked out of the judge's chambers and down the echoing corridors of the courthouse. Shawn's hand was in his dress-pants pocket, holding onto the judge's card like a lifeline and an authority over his father's authority.
His father also had a hand in his pocket but holding onto the still-plumped dick that pointed down one leg after being taken over the knee for a bare-assed spanking, a lesson in giving a lesson, and with Shawn watching the whole time. The judge had redirected Shawn's track off the path of corrections and court dates and fines and time served.
Shawn was thankful for that and for having his dad be in charge of him for once. But they didn't talk while they walked or as they got in the car. Shawn got in the passenger seat first and watched as his dad sat down in the driver seat and then sat there silently.
"Butt hurt?" Shawn asked. His father's face, with a surprised grin, swiveled in his direction. They looked at each other and then around nervously and then back to look each other in the face.
"Did that really just happen?" his father asked, and they laughed. "Wow, you're too old for that but I'm really too old for that." They smiled. Shawn watched his father nervously reach out a hand and place it on his shoulder. With an awkward pat, they sat there in silence before his father continued, "I'm, just, happy that I'm taking you home now." Then he reached the other arm around for a difficult front-seat hug.
They wrapped that up and put on their seat belts and drove, loosening their ties and putting the windows down a bit. After more silence, Shawn said, "I'm... I'm happy that we're like going to make up for some lost time." His father nodded and smiled but didn't really say anything. He drove on, not thinking much about it, but Shawn was wrapped up in his thoughts as they continued home.
After a while, Shawn said, "umm.... What are my chores?"
His father didn't know what to say, "oh, uh.... well. Let's say that you have to ...make your bed every day and... take out the trash, and you can clean the bathroom every once in a while?"
Shawn nodded and thought and finally said, "and what time... uh, is my curfew?""Curfew?!" his father replied. "Uh, 10?"
They looked at each other and drove for a bit, both looking ahead. Shawn slowly restarted the conversation, "and... uh, if I don't do my chores or if I'm out too late or anything, then uh.... then that's what I'll get?"
Still looking ahead, his father just said, "Yep, that's right." He was putting on a performance of the type of father that Shawn was hoping for, just as he was acting polite and respectful in front of the judge.
They got home and settled into a regular existence. They each came and went, but still kind of like the strangers they had been. They talked and usually ate together when they were home, they each did whatever else to pass the time, and Shawn did those few chores they settled on, even though his father didn't seem to notice much.
The morning after they had a big take-out dinner, his father went to take the trash out and realized that his son must have already taken care of it. On his way back to the third bedroom that was serving as a kind of home office, he looked in at Shawn's bedroom, kind of a mess but with a perfectly made perfectly tidy bed in the middle of it.
"I'm going out," Shawn said one night. "I have to be home by 10, right?"
His father, sitting on the couch and watching TV, looked back and said, "huh? Oh, yeah, be home by 10, young man" and waved and went back to what he was doing.
Hours later, Shawn paced by the mailbox, looked up at the light on in the office, and decided not to go in but instead took a long walk around. When he came in, it was 10:25. He walked upstairs and looked in the open door where his father sat a desk, looking at a computer screen. His father looks up at him, and they stare at each other in silence.
"I'm late getting in.... sorry," Shawn says. Silence. They just look at each other with no real expression, waiting.
Shawn walks in and stands next to his father, looking down at his feet. His father quickly closes what he was looking at.
His father looks at Shawn and finally slides his chair out, "okay, well... I guess we're doing this. Get over my lap." Shawn watches his father's legs spread wider; he leans over them and rests his chest and thighs down.
Shawn's father feels the weight of the horizontal body draped over his lap and looks down. His son is facing the wall but then looks up, over his shoulder. They lock eyes for a second, then look around, and then his son faces the wall and leans into the leg.
Placing a hand gently on his son's flat firm back to help hold him steady, the father reaches his other hand up and lays it on the twin curves below him. He feels the soft cotton of his son's gray sweatpants and the padding below. "Now.... we agreed you'd be home by 10... and you weren't. So I'm. Well, I'm going to have to teach you a lesson."
One flat pat comes down like nothing. Then a couple moments, and then two more HAF, HAF. Shawn stares ahead patiently and waits.
"now... to show you, uh, I'm serious, I'm going to take these off..." says his father, fumblingly gripping the waistband and tugging the sweatpants off and under the legs and down, falling loosely around the ankles.
Shawn is wearing white briefs with a red and blue stripe around the waistband, and his father remembers wearing that kind as he tugs them down and tucks them under the curve and jerks the side down a bit so they'll stay in place. His hand rests on his son's thigh, and he notes the smooth skin under his fingers as he looks at the exposed butt. Shawn is frozen while this all happens, staring ahead and sensing through his body.
He leans forward, pushing his head and chest down slightly and his rear end up a bit more. His father secures the legs and again rests his hand flat on his son's ass. Now, Shawn can feel the skin and then no contact and then a sting and a SLAP! noise as a bolt shoots through him. Another SMACK! and SMACK! and two more across both cheeks at once as everything jiggles under the hit.
Shawn is dipped backwards and up onto his feet, his pants around his ankles and his butt still out. "There, now..." his father grumbles, "now... did you learn your lesson?" Shawn nods and watches his father's eyes drift down between them. They both look down at Shawn's escaped boner. After what seems like an eternity, his father finally says, "okay... well, now, um, that right there? that's nothing... I mean, that's okay! and I just want you to go stand in the corner now.... and uh, think about it."
Shawn steps slowly over to the corner, waddling and wagging, and rests his head against the wall. His father looks ahead and then takes a few breaths and then looks over at the corner at his son's ass hanging out under those white briefs. He can't see his son's face or the cock in the corner. He waits and thinks and looks down.
Shawn looks back over his shoulder, not sure if he's allowed to or not, and looks at his father sitting there with an empty lap, not looking at him. He puts his head back in the corner.
Then he reaches down and holds his hard cock, squeezing it a little and giving it a few tugs. He pulls his balls out and holds them in his other hand, lifting them higher and feeling the waistband of his underwear beneath them.
He starts stroking, slowly. He starts sliding his palm and his gripped fingers along the fleshy shaft and down to the sensitive helmet at the tip. He rolls his balls in his hand, and then he stops and lets go with both hands.
Then he waits a second, two, three, four, and then he slides his underwear down to his ankles as well and starts jerking, still facing the corner. Shawn's father notices that and watches. He sees the bent elbows and Shawn's bare butt tensing and dimpling at the side, knees barely bent.
He just watches. Shawn strokes and pulls and tugs his rod from its base, bouncing his balls as they fill and tighten. Shawn doesn't look back over his shoulder. Shawn's father feels his own dick stiff and weightless under his slacks, and he holds it.
Now Shawn is moaning like he's alone. His head is pressed into the corner, and his shoulders are hunched. His pale backside sits atop two pale legs, with high white socks up to his muscular calves. He's not just moaning, he's groaning and grunting and mumbling to himself.
Shawn's dad watches as one hand reaches back and caresses the firm, tight flesh that was just under his hand, and the man finds himself undoing his button like after a meal and then sliding the zipper down and reaching a hand in to take hold. He pulls it out on view and looks at it as he slides his fist over it, poking through, and then bouncing his hand up and down, watching and listening.
"UGGGGGHHHHHH oh! OH! mmMMM!!" comes from the corner as Shawn shoots up onto his hand and onto his T-shirt.
His father bites his lip as his cock erupts on its own command below him. It oozes up and then gurgles once, and the man rubs the fluid around his dick, coating it.
They each breathe and sigh and pant and come back to this world. Now Shawn just stands there in the corner, still naked waist-down. His father puts everything away and waits and then says, "okay, son, why don't you go ahead and pull those up and ...that's that."
Shawn does and turns around out of the corner. He doesn't make eye contact, not that his father is really either. They both stand there not together until Shawn walks out and goes to his bedroom and closes the door.
The next morning is Saturday. Shawn sits at the kitchen table, eating toast, as his father walks in. They look at each other with surprise and then look away, playing busy. They mumble "morning"s at each other as they gulp juice and clank drawers and doors and dishes. Then the clatters stop, and the father looks down at a countertop.
"I think we should ta--"Shawn interrupts him, "I don't want to talk about it!" The conversation stops and starts a few times before finally Shawn reiterates "I said I don't want to talk about it!" and gets up and goes to his room.
His father busies himself for a while, takes a pointless trip to the hardware store, returns with nothing, sees that his son is still sulking in his room or rather hears the music through the walls, and finally finds himself sitting at the computer in the same chair that he sat in.
He starts to type "spanking" to do some research, but it auto-completes based on previous searches, not his. He stares at the list. He opens the history. He looks through the sites and photos and videos. He walks in his son's footsteps, and his crotch gets full. He adjusts his swollen lap. He tugs roughly but then places it, and feels a slickness pooling. He watches the screen and imagines Shawn sitting there doing the same. He watches the scenes play out and can feel the sensation on his butt or on his hand or across his lap or sliding softly down his legs.
Then the house is silent. Shawn's music has stopped, and his door is opening. His father closes the computer again hurriedly and looks up, but Shawn is heading the other way, toward the stairs, anticipating the doorbell that rings, followed by Shawn stomping down the steps in bare feet.
His father gets up, adjust his underwear, goes down the hall and down the stairs and bows to see who's walking in the door. It's the judge. At first, for a second, he doesn't quite recognize him in normal clothes but it's him. He's smiling and shaking Shawn's hand and then he sees the father on the stairs.
Shawn is still wearing plaid flannel pajamas, not too loose that they don't hug his perky backside. As his father steps down to the front door and shakes the judge's hand, he notices. They all go into the living room and sit.
The judge says, "Shawn called me and told me about everything that's happened, and I'm here to help you two." They talk, almost like a therapy session, until finally the judge asks Shawn's dad how he's feeling overall about their situation.
"You know how people say that they met their birth father?" he replies, "I kind of feel like that, like I'm connecting with my birth son. Nobody ever says that."
The judge asks Shawn how he feels about what his father just shared. He answers, "I think that's bullshit, and I don't ever want to hear anything like that again. There's a reason nobody ever says that; because it's stupid. This is like a one-way street. It just is. If I want to call you my birth father, then I'm allowed, but you need to be a man and act like one for once!"
Calmly, the judge moves this conversation along, and everybody learns a little more about what everyone is feeling and thinking. Eventually, Shawn's father asks the judge, "so I guess you're here to put me in my place, huh?"
"No, I think maybe Shawn should be in charge," the judge answers. "Shawn, do you think your father deserves a spanking?"Shawn looks at the judge and then at his dad. "Yes... yes, sir."
"And do you want to be the one to give it to him?" After a bit of silence, Shawn answers with a polite and formal "Yes sir."
Shawn is sitting in the center of the big couch, while the judge sits in one chair and his father sits in another. The judge tells Shawn to tell his father to stand up, and he does. His father stands and crosses his arms like a stubborn kid.
The judge asks Shawn, "What do you think your father should be wearing for this?""Nothing!" he answers. The judges instructs him to instruct him. "Dad, take off your clothes."
His father kicks off his shoes, pulls his shirt up over his head, and shucks down the rest to his feet, stepping out of his clothes and standing naked and on display. His body is not too short and with a good amount of muscle. He has hair on his chest and legs and around his knob and nuts, which are darker than the rest of his skin. Shawn can't see his father's round mound behind him, but the judge can see a reflection in a mirror.
The judge says, "Shawn, are you curious about your father's body?" Shawn looks and shrugs and nods. The judge says, "Why don't you say it out loud if you are?"
"I'm curious about my dad's body," Shawn mumbles. "I think that's to be expected," the judge says, "you're probably curious about your own body and then also about his." Then he asks the father if he agrees, and he nods.
The judge asks, "Shawn, is there anything in particular that you'd like to be wearing for this?""Um... one of my dad's ties?""Okay, why don't you run up and put one on?" the judge says, watching as Shawn races up the steps.
His father turns and says, "Do you really think this is a good idea?""I really think the two of you have a lot of issues all jumbled around, and it'll be good to face them."
Proudly wearing one of his father's neckties loosely and tied so the long end drapes a little low, down longer than the pajamas shirt, Shawn strides back in and plops back down in the center of the couch.
The judge casually asks, "Shawn, may I take off my shirt?" and Shawn casually replies that he should go ahead, and the judge stands and unbuttons his shirt and opens it, revealing no undershirt, just a somewhat hairy chest and a not-bad body for his age, and just as it looks like he's about to sit down and have them proceed, he says, "And... my pants?"
Shawn doesn't know quite what to say. His father figures the judge is going to sit there in boxers and watch. Shawn says, "uh... sure? if you want.""Do you want me to?" the judge asks. Shawn shrugs and starts to say something, but the judge interrupts, "I want you to decide either way, you're in charge, and tell me what you want me to do."
Shawn ponders for a bit and says sternly, "I want you to take your pants off." The judge nods and undoes his pants and slides them off, revealing no underwear beneath and a stiffened dick that, when he sits back down on the armchair, points up.
Shawn and his father are both looking. The judge looks at both of them, pauses, and then says, "As you can see, I like it. I used to have to sit naked and watch until it was my turn. Just thinking about it will get me going, but sitting here and feeling the chair under my skin, you can see what it does to me. Shawn, you can decide if I am allowed to touch it or not."
Staring and waiting, silence floating in the room, Shawn says, "I say that you can touch it." With a smile, the judge touches one finger and then wraps the rest around.
"Ummm...." Shawn says, "I am also going to take off my shirt." and looks around at the both of them."You're in charge, right?" says his father, still standing buck naked and waiting.
Shawn stands, pushes the long sleeves back on his pajamas shirt, undoes the three oversized buttons, and opens the shirt wide, letting it slide off one side and then tossing it across the arm of the couch. He crosses his arms, like his dad. His frame is thin, with bulgy little muscles on his arms and long, dark strands of armpit hair sticking out.
Waiting for a little, he then says, "and these too!" and slides his pajama pants down, with a bob up of his knob as he stands back up and tosses the pants aside. Both older men observe as Shawn stands there, legs pointing left and right, dick pointing ahead, and not a stitch on except a silky tie knotted around his neck and hanging down.
This is the first that his father has ever seen him naked in his life. The judge says, "Shawn's going to look just like you pretty soon" and looks at Shawn's dad, who looks back at him but then back and down and then up at his son's eyes and then down again.
"Uh, yeah... he looks just like I did at his age, every part," his father says. Then they stand there for a half-minute, unsure.
The judge says, "Shawn, now you're going to tell your father what to do." Shawn sits down and thinks about how he'll say it."Dad.... get down here over my lap now."
His father climbs over Shawn, who lifts up the hand that'll be put to work, and settles down lying flat along the length of the couch. His head looks forward to one arm of the couch, his chest is over Shawn's lap, his butt is under Shawn's hovering hand, and his legs stretch down to rest on the other arm of the couch. The judge just lets them sit there, everyone taking it all in, before he helps Shawn continue.
"Why don't you rest your hand down on your dad's behind, Shawn?" He places it on the side of one cheek, and the judge says, "No, flat against the middle." Shawn's hand comes up and then palms down against the crack between two big cheeks. His father feels the hand on him.
The judge says, "How does that feel to you, Shawn?"Shawn says, "It feels kind of weird. I can feel Dad's chest hair on my dick."
The comment makes his father acutely aware of what's pressing up against his firm chest. The judge asks Shawn if he likes it. He nods. The judge suggests that he say it out loud if he does, and Shawn slowly, sheepishly, lets out, "I like how my dad's chest hair feels on my dick."
The judge says, "You might get so excited that you get his chest hair wet, huh?" Shawn replies that he might. The judge asks Shawn's dad what he thinks about that.
"Well, that's okay if that happens," he answers. The judge asks him if he has anything else to say, and he says, "Shawn, I understand that I deserve this, and I'm going to be a better father for you from now on."
The judge tells Shawn that he's in charge of this and that he can start whenever he wants to. Shawn tells his dad that he's going to get a good spanking for being so bad, and he starts. He lifts his hand up and slaps it down with a sting, not letting his hand rest there. The crack of it makes his father flinch and press down into his son. Two more like that, and then Shawn rests his hand down, rubbing into the reddened skin to soothe the sting.
With Shawn's hand rubbing, his father squirms a little, pressing into the couch fabric and feeling Shawn's dick comb through the fluffy chest hair around it, skirting around a nipple. Two more swats slap down, each time getting a rub against the skin and almost squeezing the muscle. A few more continue like that, and the man has gotten a full ordeal, when the judge interrupts from his seat.
"Shawn, I bet you'd like to just unleash on him and spank long and hard, right?" Shawn, grinning, answers that he would. His father winces at the thought of that much more pain. The judge continues with a suggestion, "Why don't you do that to me? I can take it. You can go as hard as you want for as long as you want and give me everything that every other judge and cop and coach and teacher all deserve for not getting your father in line to get you in line. What do you think about that?" Shawn answers okay, and the judge tells him that he can go ahead and make it happen.
Shawn tells his father to stand up, and when he does he has a real hardon, curled up to point at his bellybutton, and jizz in his chest hair that drizzles off. He stands there, waiting, red-assed. The judge asks him if he likes getting spanked until he gets a boner. He answers yes. The judge suggests that he should say it out loud then.
"I like getting spanked until I get a boner!" Shawn's father states. The judge tells Shawn that he's in charge of saying what to do.Shawn replies, "Get over here and on my lap!"
The judge rests his extra-long frame over the couch, trying to position his meaty ass under Shawn's hand and arranging his hard dick under him. "And is your father allowed to touch that boner you gave him?"Shawn answers, "No, dad, put your hands at your sides and don't even think about touching that. You're not allowed to." The man stands and waits.
Then Shawn remembers what the judge said and starts wailing on him. SMACK! SMACK! SLAP! Shawn gives the judge ten, twenty, thirty good hard spanks in a row before stopping to press his hand down and rub. The judge's pale, fleshy ass is now bright red.
Shawn gives a bunch more, slowly now with pauses between each. He's getting emotional and almost crying, letting all his frustrated feelings out. He's breathing hard. His father is watching, frozen on orders, tented up like a circus, and oozing and pulsing without ever laying a hand on his hard cock. Twenty minutes have gone by of the judge's spanking, and Shawn has had a really therapeutic release of tension from it, and finally the judge says, "Shawn?"
Shawn pauses, sniffs, and says, "What is it?" The judge explains that Shawn has really tanned his hide good and that his ass is so sore now and that maybe this spanking could end with Shawn letting his father shoot and that it would cool down the judge's hot butt.
His father gets the suggestion, as does Shawn, and Shawn tells his father that he's now allowed to touch his cock, tells him "Shoot it right here, and then that's when I'll stop spanking."
Shawn steps over, gripping his aching tool and feeling his balls tighten up against his body already. Spank! Spank! Spank! and then the judge feels the cool sensation ease the hotness. Dad moans as Shawn watches and then paints it around the judge's rear. The judge loved the whole thing and is still holding in a load that he's going to wait on until he can get home and relive the whole thing in his mind.
The judge pops up with energy and faces Shawn's father. They hug, and the judge says something comforting in his ear. Their hug lingers.
Shawn stands and waits. "Come here, Dad, and give me a hug." They wrap their arms around each other and feel their bodies press together. All the parts bump and mesh. Their hug lingers even longer and ends with some firm pats and then holding each other's arms while everything below still presses against.
Remembering something he watched in a video recently, he says, "Now you two probably don't want to sit, so you just lie down on your bellies for a while."
Shawn watches as the two older men with blushing behinds get down on the ground, ass-up, and watch TV for a while.
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