Ron Fischer and his sons take a months long job away from home, sharing a small motel room between the three men. The boys continue to receive blistering spankings from their father and get much, much closer!

Brothers - Part 16
by Graham
Series: Brothers by Graham

Brothers Spanked by their FatherJosh made astonishing progress, as his fractures united quickly and correctly. He also was rid of his unnerving, tightly wound frustrations, thanks to the late night help of his younger brother.

During that time, Joe worked harder and smarter, and really was surprised to find that he was not getting chewed out, and then spanked at home, nearly as frequently as had been his past experience. Even Josh noticed it, and they both commented that maybe he was really learning to do a good job, and their Dad was happy with his work.

Almost coinciding with Josh’s medical release to begin working again, and to resume normal, life activities this, the hotel job at the interstate was completed. Always looking for steady work, Mr. Fischer accepted about that same time a contract for a large housing subdivision in Rapid City, the northwest part of the next State. It was anticipated to last at least 8 months, maybe a year. He decided to let Ernie Stoops retire, and take both his boys, Josh and Joe, into the business. He changed his signs, contracts, and stationery to read: Fischer & Sons Painting.

In his last couple of weeks of recuperative confinement, before being released, Josh has been visited by Beth, the girl he had been showing interest in before he was injured. They had spent time talking together while Josh lay on the couch in the living room, and once he was released medically, he began going out with her in the evenings – until the new job began.

With the onset of the new job, the boys packed up for a long trip away from home. Josh showed Joe some of the things to pack that he would need. Joe included his skateboard. He had to resign from the Sunday School class of 7 year-olds. Josh somewhat painfully bid goodbye to Beth, knowing that it was very rare for them to get back home when they were on a long-term project so far away like this one.

Sunday they left, for the +10-hour drive. To save gas, the boys rode with their Dad in his truck. They arrived at dusk, and checked in to the motel along I-90 where they would stay. Ron Fischer negotiated a monthly rental rate that was better than daily or weekly, since they often worked part of Saturdays, and it was infrequent for them to go home.

The 3 men stayed in a motel room having a small kitchenette area with a fridge and a microwave, which enabled them to cook and heat up dinners for themselves at night, and prepare lunches for the next day – tasks which fell to Joe. The motel also featured a free breakfast from 6 to 9 each week day, 6 to 10 on Saturday and Sunday; and Josh and Joe made sure they filled up each morning before work began.

When only Josh had been working with their Dad, he had been assigned the weekly laundry to do. Now with Joe along, that job had been transferred to him. So every Saturday afternoon, Joe took the laundry of all 3 men and washed, dried, and folded it. Sometimes Josh helped his younger brother – a break and brief escape from their Dad.

The room had two, double beds. Mr. Fischer took one bed, and the brothers shared the second. In a matter-of-fact, serious-tone, he cautioned, "You boys behave. I don’t want you doing anything like happened a couple of months ago. Understand me?"

Joe and Josh both turned deep red with embarrassment, with Joe adding, "Josh is okay, now, Dad. He can take care of himself."

"You boys better keep it that way, too, if you know what’s good for you," their Dad admonished.

"Right, Daaad," they both replied in unison, while a slight trace of a smile was shared between them only.

The work was big, and steady, and hard, and Joe was surprised at how quickly Josh fell right back into it, actually taking charge when their Dad wasn’t immediately present, giving directions and criticism to everyone, Joe as well. At first, Joe felt a bit displaced, but quickly recognized that his big brother was already well-seasoned in the expert details of professional painting. Joe did recognize that Josh usually chided him in private, and tried not to get on to Joe’s case when their Dad was present, so as not to let him know.

Once the 3 Fischer men were working and living together closely, day after day, week after week, the boys found themselves even more frequently and more quickly at the mercy of their father’s discipline when he was displeased with them. The sound of spankings and bawling, wailing sobs from their motel room could be heard nearly every week. Now fully recovered and performing with a knowledge and skill beyond his years, Josh was chagrined still to be getting almost weekly spankings from their Dad for mistakes.

For Joe, it was almost always more than once a week, sometimes several days in a row. They both dreaded and hated being punished by their Dad; but it was as much a staple of their living and working with him, as getting paint on their clothes. No one else ever spoke of it to them directly, but sometimes, when their Dad cautioned or reproved them sternly, the older crew members looked at each other with a knowing apprehension.

Another difference, of course, was Joe’s almost always driven propulsion to orgasms while being spanked on his father’s knee with the hair brush. It had become so routine as to be a habitual pattern with Ron Fischer’s second son. Invariably, he boned up on being stripped of his clothes, was stirred and stimulated to climax during the initial, dominating stages of the spanking, concluded with extreme, heightened agony and anguish during the rest of the thrashing – always followed up by a shower and immediate retreat to bed.

The same curfew hours applied, of necessity, as they lived and worked with their father. Sunday through Thursday nights (Friday night, too, when they worked Saturdays), they were in bed at 10:30, with lights out, after showers – midnight on Friday and Saturday nights. On Sunday afternoons, from 3:30 to 5:30, Ron Fischer required his boys to be in bed, taking afternoon, sabbath naps. At night, he always showered first; so the boys had to hurry theirs, in order to have warm showers, and to get into bed on time.

Mr. Fischer made sure they all got up and went to the local Methodist church on Sunday. Joe mentioned that he had taught 7 year-olds in Sunday School back home, which was noted, but disappointingly did not lead immediately to anything. The two young men, with their father, also attended an adult, Sunday School class; and the two, handsome, lean, young, adult males stirred interest in the girls at the church.

Although on Sunday evening, Josh and Joe often would borrow their father’s truck, and drive to meet other young people from the church; they were always required to be back by 10, to meet the 10:30 bedtime. A couple of times they came back late; but they knew better, and were careful, since their backsides paid the price when their Dad torched both boys’ bare bottoms before dispatching them into bed.

In order to save laundry, their father slept nude, and ordered the boys to do the same. The brothers crawled into opposite sides of the bed, with their bare backs and butts towards each other. Within less than a half hour, their Dad’s heavy, regular breathing indicated he was asleep.

The first few weeks or so, during the night, Joe would roll over, draw close to his big brother, and hold onto him from around his back across his arm and chest. His wooden pole sometimes poked his big brother in the back or butt, but Josh seemed to ignore it, while allowing Joe to hold onto him. Both boys slept soundly in that fashion, but when the alarm went off, waking their Dad, they quickly separated and rolled apart to avoid him seeing them together.

Both young men were relatively inexperienced sexually, having had little history with girls – except for Josh’s unexpected, midnight nurse’s bathing attentions during his stay in the hospital, (which he had told Joe about). From that, he now had some, slight, first-hand experience with the arousing feel of feminine touch. However, he’d had nothing before or since, and his younger brother had willingly become an assuaging solace for him while he had been unable to help himself.

In the meanwhile, the horny loneliness of both boys grew by the day as they worked, and lived, and slept together. By the fourth week, a change took place. Starting their drive together back to the motel, Ron Fischer had informed Joe that he was going to be spanked for leaving the job while they were working, to go look for his jacket in the truck.

After the dinner Joe had prepared, and cleaned up, their Dad told him to get his clothes off and get ready for a whipping. Joe apologized profusely over and over, pleading with his Dad that he was too old to keep getting spankings. Mr. Fischer declared in a strong, firm, almost icy voice that neither was of them was too old to whip, and as long as they lived with him they would live by his rules, and obey them, or get the consequences.

"Now, Joseph, you’re getting a whipping, and if you keep on protesting that you’re too old, we’ll make it an every night event until you get rid of that notion, young man. Now, we can do it the hard way if we have to. Why don’t you stop acting like a baby and take what you’ve got coming?"

Josh watched his younger brother’s face blanch at the realization that he was definitely going to get another of the inevitable spankings.

Their Dad administered a sharp, hard spanking to Joe. Wriggling and wrenching around on his father’s knee, Joe steadily, inescapably, entered into his personal, private zone during the initial stage of the whipping, where he seemingly craved each swat as it came crashing into his burning backside, stirring and exciting his burning member that typically exploded in orgasm. Afterward, Joe bounced and lurched around across his father’s lap while being severely trounced, until he was a broken, defeated, young man, sobbing convulsively.

When it was over, their Dad dispatched his second son to the shower to clean up and get ready for bed, and the young man crawled in, on his side, on his stomach, face in his pillow, and whimpered until he was asleep. Later, after his shower, Josh had gone to bed while their Dad snored in his deep slumber.

Both boys were initially curled up on their sides, on opposite sides of the bed, backs and butts towards each other. After a while, Josh turned around, scooted over, and reached under and over his younger brother, pulling Joe backward into Josh’s abdomen, chest, and arms. Awakened, Joe was confused, but warmly surprised, and nestled compliantly into his big brother’s embracing hold.

Josh reached down, and more surprising to Joe, began to rub lotion on Joe’s bottom and thighs. Joe flinched at the icy sting of the lotion on his hot, raw cheeks. Josh’s huge hands tenderly, softly rubbed the cool lotion all over his brother’s lean, muscled rump and upper legs; and Joe immediately boned up, losing himself in the soothing, assuaging massage he was getting. He was still coming down from the excited climax and intense spanking he had just undergone.

When Josh reached under the curved bottom of his younger brother’s, lean, muscled bottom, the young man had whimper-winced, especially when, with feather-like gentleness, Josh’s hand and fingers felt in the cleavage. Joe gasped a hard, sharp breath, when Josh’s other hand reached around and grasped Joe’s engorged, aroused shaft, stirring his already-hot passions further. With his left hand fingers lubricated from the lotion, Josh slowly, but inescapably, sidled one finger, then two, up into Joe’s rectum.

Joe reacted wildly, as if stuck with a fiery stick; but the hand on his rod, like a sliding, pumping, squeezing, turning, ratcheting sleeve, turned up the heat of arousal on the young man, until was humping the fingers inside him, and humping the hand securely fastening his slick, hungering pole. The younger brother, softly moaning with pleasure and craving need, unfamiliar with any other sexual contact by a woman or man, knew only that this external stimulation was propelling him to blastoff.

Josh was administering the pre-launch firing up of his younger brother’s once-again-hungry rod, and trigger-sensitive hole and gland, that stormed the erotic senses and mind with overwhelming, high-tide stimulations. Joe was more and more swept away with the sensations, less and less conscious and in control. When Josh pulled the pin on Joe’s grenade the younger brother fired astonishing blast after blast, even though having done the same thing less than 2 hours earlier while spanked upended across their father’s lap.

When the blasting stopped, Joe rolled over onto his stomach, to drift off to sleep, and Josh pulled his younger brother over close alongside him with his strong, left arm. Joe rested securely in the muscular, strong arm that encircled and held him firmly, having just become the reciprocal beneficiary of the many nights of kindly servicing he had provided for Josh.

After that, most nights – and definitely when one or both of them had been spanked by their Dad – the two brothers began an arrangement of mutual satisfaction – after their father was soundly asleep – to relieve temporarily the frustrations of sexual kinks and tensions wrenching and throttling each young man daily, and to calm the turbulent storm rattling their emotions and young, adult egos. They slept huddled together until the alarm each morning, when they immediately and quickly separated to their opposite sides of the bed.

No one in the painting crew, or on the job, had any inkling of the increasing, intimate closeness of the two brothers – especially not their Dad. Everyone recognized, and at times commented, that, the boys were stuck living and working 7 days a week with their very strict and demanding father, who kept the young men constantly in line.

In that situation, and without much opportunity to meet and spend time with feminine company, they must be two, constantly hot and horny young men. That was true, but no one knew how they dealt with it, in the absence of girls to help express their male, hormonal drives for relief.

They did know that they didn’t see much of the Fischer boys after they left the job site with their father each evening; and when they were at work, the boys worked hard. The older one, Josh, was clearly the boss – except when their Dad interjected. Kept on a short, tight leash by their Dad, both boys did seem especially quiet, well-mannered, and reserved, keeping to themselves most of the time. In a 10-month period, they were able to return home only 3 times, so they were compelled to accept all that living and working together entailed and required.

One day, however, Ron Fischer had come upon Josh doing some work in a building that he had been led to believe had been done. When he demanded from Josh why he was doing the painting, Josh’s reply had been evasive and vague. "I thought Joe was supposed to have done this work," he remarked. "Didn’t you tell me it was done?" he questioned. "Come on, Joshua, I want the truth."

Still Josh would not give up his younger brother, faltering that there was some added work to be done.

Ron Fischer would have none of the misleading half-truths, and ordered his oldest son to come down and face him. Sheepishly, Josh approached his father. "I want you to tell me the truth – straight talk, Josh. Are you doing this for your brother? Are you doing what Joe did not do?"

Josh knew he was on the spot. He tried to explain that Joe had gotten busy and it had been omitted, but Ron Fischer demanded to know what Joe had been so damn busy with that he had neglected the job that was his. Not receiving an honest and satisfying answer from Josh, he coldly and flatly told his youngest son that they would take the matter up that evening. Josh knew far-too-well by now what that meant.

Not letting the matter rest, their Dad found his second oldest son, where he pointedly asked Joe if he had done the work in the building where Josh had been working. Joe glibly hastened answered yes. When his Dad confronted him with the question why Josh was doing that work, Joe’s face disclosed the consternation and shock of being caught and knowing he had lied. "You boys have both been negligent, and then have both lied to me," he concluded. "We will deal with all of this tonight, young man. Plan on it, and be prepared." Joe cringed knowing now exactly what their father meant.

The rest of the day was like waiting for coming doom. As they drove away from the job site together, their Dad pronounced their fate: "No dinner tonight for either one of you little shits," he barked. "I am so angry and disappointed in both of you. The only thing you’re both getting is a long, hard whipping with the hair brush, and after that it’s to bed with you both."

When they reached the motel, the two young men were hauled out of the truck and marched into their room by their father who followed right behind them. Escorting them in, he barked his orders at them.

"All right, boys, strip – everything off! And I mean everything! – every stitch!"

They didn’t have to be told what to do twice. Knowing what was in store, each boy raced to undress. They were not about to antagonize their father any further – they knew better. He moved one of the small, maple, ladder back chairs away from the table, carried it to the center of the room, and sat down.

Joseph, he spoke to his second oldest son first. "The way I see it, you’ve earned three spankings. The first is for neglecting the job; another for trying to cover it up, another for lying straight to my face – both of you," their Dad explained, You’ll get the first one now, the next one tomorrow night and the final one 2 days from now.

Then he pointed to Josh and said, "You’re getting two more, besides, Joshua, since you’re in charge, and not only did you know Joe had not done his duty, but you lied to hide it from me. The next 2 nights are yours also, son. Now bring me that hair brush from over on the table."

Josh quickly finished pulling off his clothes and raced over to the table to retrieve the brush from where it sat, running back swiftly, then gently, but fearfully, handing it to his father.

"This is going to be an extremely sound spanking, Joshua, and you’re going to feel it awfully hard and cry. Just do not reach back or try to interfere, or I will hit your hands, understand me?" he instructed his oldest son.

"Ye-es, Daa-ad." Josh answered. "I’m sorry, Daaad. I know I’ve disappointed you – and you’re mad – but Daaaad, I really am sorry. I know I was wrong," the fearful, embarrassed, hunky, young man whined in his soft, deep voice.

"Not half as sorry as you’re going to be, Joshua," their Dad said. "You understand why this is happening, don’t you?"

"Ye-es, sir," Josh answered, almost choking on the words.

Angrily, he reached out and grabbed Josh’s arm. In one quick motion, he pulled his oldest son over his knees, and began the embarrassing experience for the boy of having his bottom warmed up red and sore with by hand, before the brush being applied. With the spanking weapon in his hand, their Dad started violently smacking Josh’s bare butt with the brush.

The old, wooden brush whacked against Josh’s smooth, lean, hard, narrow and dimpled, bare buttocks. Josh’s immediate response was a loud wail." Ooh, Oooooaaaaa-maaaaan! Pleeeeze! Ouch! Ow! Aaah! Oweee-aaaaa-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-uh-aaaaaaaaa!"

The young, lean, 24 year-old bucked up and down on his father’s lap as he paddled the youth’s behind with the wood.

"Daaaaad-huh-uh-aaaaaad-uh-uh-eeeeeeee! Pleeeze! Ooooooh! Daaa-aaad! Ouch! Ouuuuch! Ahhhhhhhhh!" Josh kicked his bare feet as their father spanked away at the seat of his oldest son’s bare butt, leaving no spot – and especially the sensitive inner thighs and tender sit-spots – unspanked.

"It-aaaa-hurrrrtz-aaah-sooo-ooo-aaah-much! Aaaaachaaaa-oooo-ow-ow-it’s-uh-hu-urrrteeeeng-huh-uh-Daaaa-haaaa-deeee! Ooooo-uh-uh-staaaahp-huh-it-uh-uh-pleeeeeez-uh-waaaaaaaaa! Stop! Ooh-ow! Daaa-aaaa-deeeee! Oh-oh-ow-oh-ow-ow-waaaaaa-uh-uh-pleeeez-uh-staaaahp!"

Ron Fischer whaled away on his eldest son’s quivering, lean, reddening rump, giving him the soundest spanking he’d ever had. He paid no attention to Josh’s cries.

"Whaaaaaaa-huh-uh-waaaaaaaaa-haugh-uh-huh-waaaaaaaaa!" Tears rolled down Josh’s face as their father blistered the boy’s steely hard, narrow, tensed, protruding buns. His butt sent out shock alarms to his brain that it felt like it was on fire, and the hunky, young man thrashed around on his Dad’s lap trying to avoid the torrid, fiery spanking.

"Ooooo-haaaa-uh-my-uh-oooo-aaaaa-uh-uh-noooooooo!" Josh’s naked, athletic legs and feet kicked faster than ever, scissors, splitting, cycling, flailing – as his Dad lit his bare butt cheeks on fire." Daaa-aaad! Ooooo, Daaa-uh-uh-aaaad! Oooooo-uh-ow-ow-uh-Daaady! Daaaaady! Huh-uh-ow-ow-Daaaaa-uh-uh-deeee! Huh-uh-pleeeeeeze-uh-staaaahp! Stopit! Haughuh-uh-Daaaaa-uh-deeeee-uh-puh–uh-leeeeez! Ooooo-aaaa-uh-waaaaaa!" Josh hollered and screamed for their father to stop, as he twisted and bucked, his legs flailing in the air.

Ron Fischer was really laying into his oldest son, ignoring everything the boy pleaded for and promised. He concentrated the spanks on the meatiest part of Josh’s lean, hard, narrow, muscled behind, the flesh now dark red.

Their Dad gave his oldest son a severe series of doses on his bare white thighs – back and especially the inner thighs – and the sensitive inner buttocks that opened every time Josh’s inner thighs were spanked, turning them an angry, crimson shade. He wielded the hard wood brush all over Josh’s rump, his thighs, the insides of his cheeks, down his crack, across his butt-hole, and repeatedly on the undercurved, sensitive sit-spots. He would not stop until he was convinced his shrieking, sobbing, oldest son had learned his lesson, and continued slamming the brush all over the boy’s bare bottom.

"Aaaaaaaa-huh-uh-waaaaaaa! Uh-uh-oooo-uh-nooooo-uh-Daaadeee-augh-uh-uh-waaaaaaa! Huh-augh-uh-Duh-aaaaaa-uh-deeeee-uh-uh-oooo-uh-noooo-aaaa-not-aaaa-there-oooo-uh-noooo-or-there-aaaa-nooooo-uh-uh-ooooo-uh-waaaaaaaaaaa!" Josh completely lost it, almost losing his balance on his father’s knee. He was utterly and unequivocally defeated. His tears, pouring out of the young man’s reddened eyes, ran down his cheeks, splashing onto the floor.

"I’llbegood! Owwww-uh-huh-I’llbegood! Uh-uh-I’ll-uh-beeee-uh-gooooooooood!" he screamed, tears choking him and stinging his eyes. "Daaaaa-uh-uh-deeeeee! Noooo-uh-spaaaank-huh-uh-eeeenghaaaa-huh-uh-waaaaaa-uh-uh-puh-leeeez-ooooo-uh-waaaaaa! Oooooo-uh-Daaaaa-huh-uh-deeeee-uh-uh-nuh-ev-uh-errrrr-uh-uh-gaaaain! Huhuh-waaaaa! Haugh-uh-I’ll-uh-uh-beeeeeee-un-goooood-uh-Duh-aaaaaa-uh-deeeee-uh-waaaaaaa!"

Sitting there, terrified, watching his big brother being spanked until he had been reduced, and reverted, to a sorry, naughty, little boy, Joe’s mind fleetingly wondered if that hair brush had ever been used for anything other than blistering their backsides. Ever since their Dad and Josh returned home to work at the hotel, and to live, that hair brush had for sure become a dominant intrusion in his life.

Everything was different now – especially living and working away together. Again and again – almost every week – he was getting the imprint of that horrid brush all over his buttocks and thighs – sometime 2 or 3 times a week!

Joe noted each bruise as it appeared, and realized their Dad was making sure Josh would not forget this spanking for a very, long time – maybe ever. In spite of his own impending predicament, Joe found himself magnetically fascinated by the dramatic, unforgettable spectacle happening to his hunky, handsome, naked, upended, big brother. Each time the brush made contact with Josh’s butt, precipitating screeching screams from his big brother, Joe was squirming uncomfortably as his own penis began springing to attention, thickening, stiffening, rising, throbbing.

He sat there staring, transfixed at his brother’s lean, muscled rump turning an angry, dark, red colour from repetitive contacts by the brush. Watching his big brother thrash about, lean, long legs kicking, bucking, and bouncing, and shrieking higher and higher pitched wails, Joe’s eyes uncontrollably began streaming tears, his chin quivering, and he started sobbing quietly. Their father spanked Josh harder and harder, and faster and faster, turning the hunky young man’s narrow, sculpted, hard-muscled, lily-white orbs the colour of an over-ripe tomato all-over.

Suddenly becoming aware of Joe’s empathizing weeping, he directed his speech to his second son. "Are you crying because your brother is getting spanked, Joseph? Well, you’re up next, and you’ll be getting something of your own to cry about," he admonished while turning back to the immediate task of punishing his oldest son.

Josh was besides himself, both with frenzied pain and sorrow over what he had done, and what was happening to him. He cried, begged, pleaded, apologized, promised – in fragmentary phrases that became higher and higher pitched, and sounded more and more like desperate, childish gibberish. Mr. Fischer scolded and lectured his oldest son about his behaviour, his role and responsibility as the oldest son – the one in charge after himself – and how much he had disappointed his Dad. Shaking in spasms, Josh sobbed profusely

By the time their Dad stopped, and let Josh up, drops of clear fluid had formed at the opening on the tip of Joe’s erect, pulsating penis. It slowly dropped to the floor, leaving behind a long sticky strand of pre-cum dangling in the air. Josh was still howling while their Dad kept him overturned across his knees, continuing with a very stern, severe lecture.

"That ought to do the job for you now, Joshua Caleb Fischer," his father addressed him with his full name – emphasizing his anger. "I know you’d like to think you’re too old for spankings, but you should believe me now, son, when I say you are definitely not too old, and you’re gonna get a spanking every time you disobey, don’t follow the rules, and get out of line. This one should help you remember that," he explained, jerking his oldest son to his shaky, dancing, bare feet.

"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-haughuh-uh-uh-waaaaaaaaa!" Josh’s hands flew back to his burning butt, gripping it tight, furiously and desperately trying to rub the scorching fire away. He bounced up and down, his naked penis bobbing around in full view. He didn’t care about anything except the agony of his ignited fanny.

"Remember, Joshua, you’re getting another one for the next 2 nights, too", their Dad reminded him. "Now get yourself over to that corner, and stay there until I finish with your brother." Josh almost leaped from the spot where he was stomping around into the corner, leaning forward into it immediately, his scalded buttocks and thighs on display.

Turning next to Joe, their Dad spoke: "I thought I told you to come over here, Joe. Get moving – now!"

Joe jumped, and moved quickly to the middle of the room, facing his father. Standing there, with his rod fully erect and bobbing, he hated his nakedness and vulnerability before their father. The young man’s stomach was suddenly in his throat and his hands started shaking as he looked into his father’s eyes that sent the message – he was still angry. Joe could tell this spanking would be harder than previous ones he’d experienced from his Dad. Yet, he knew he had it coming. He had let their father down, and he felt terrible because of it.

"Now," Mr. Fischer began. "I’m very disappointed in you, too, young man. I expect more from both my boys. What you did, and what Josh did, to help you, is without excuse or explanation. Besides all that, you implicate your brother, and look what trouble you bring him into? Do you understand?"

Joe’s heart almost stopped. Tears poured from his eyes. "Ye-es, sir," he stammered his answer. His voice sounded shaky and unsteady already.

"I hope so, and you better," Ron Fischer replied, "but time will tell. Hopefully, this spanking will help you remember. Now, get over here and across my knee right now."

With dreading humiliation, Joe began slowly and reluctantly lowering himself, getting himself into position across his father’s lap. He was too tardy, however, and Mr. Fischer grasped the lean young man with his arms, jerking him forward off his feet, and dumping him further over the older man’s left leg. He groaned a hopeless, helpless sound as he was hauled down and across their father’s lap. Having started crying while his big brother was being spanked so soundly, Joe continued weeping as he was shifted into position, pivoted on his Dad’s left knee.

Frightened about what was now happening so many times when he was being spanked, Joe struggled, trying so hard not to leak pre-cum as his penis fell dangling between his father’s legs, while his father positioned him upended across the knees for his spanking to be administered. Bouncing and bobbling Joe’s backside upward and slanted, their father positioned and aimed him for the spanking he had coming, but it also lifted Joe’s rod up onto his father’s lap.

Without warning, his Dad placed the first swat directly across the middle of both of Joe’s cheeks, and a flash of pain shot through him – from his bottom to his brain. Before he had time to react, a second swat landed in exactly the same place. A third. Then another, ... and another, ... and another. An intense, increasing round of pain registered in his brain which he emitted with loud, hollering outcries, yowls, and yells.

Mercilessly, his Dad smacked his rump and thighs harder than before. Each stroke was hard enough to launch the young man, lurching forward on his father’s lap, while each time coming closer and closer to firing discharges of ejaculate all over his Dad’s lap and himself. The boys’ Dad appeared heedless or indifferent to his son’s urgent pleas and cries to stop!, that he couldn’t help it, was sorry, and would never doooooo it agaaaaain! – in the forlorn hope his father would stop scorching his buttocks and thighs, and quit spanking him before he lost all control and humiliatingly embarrassed himself again.

Angrily, their father reminded him to stay in position, or this will be a lot longer and a lot worse than you’ve already got coming. The pain was consuming and overwhelming, but so was the hot, hungering, sensitive rod that rubbed and grew with each smack against the young man’s backside – and especially the inner buttocks and thighs, and sit-spots.

Joe’s skinny, flat, little rump was bumping and bouncing, bumping up and down, and he arched his back and raised his bare rear up to meet each solid smack. The blows continued at the same steady cadence, and his hips thrust faster and more frantic.

In the desperation of bucking to try to evade some of the licking, Joe’s hard, stiff, leaking and sensitive penis was sliding and rubbing against his father’s pants with each lifting thrust that was met by the hair brush’s blows. Incredibly, he was squirming and thrashing about trying to avoid the blistering swats, and at the same time was rising up to be positioned for each, successive one, resulting in a mounting, grinding, humping of his Dad’s leg and knee.

Meanwhile, Josh, still squalling in the corner, had turned his shoulders and head to watch the unbelievable sight of his kid brother’s lustful movements incorporated in his crazed reactions to the spanking that was beating his rear-end several deeper shades of red. Even in the throes of all-consuming pain from being spanked, Joe was aware of the thundering urges and hungering needs of his penis. He tried to will it to stop; but its own craving drives demanded release, all the while Joe was screaming and wailing with pain and shame from still another, no-holds-barred spanking.

As he lost awareness of how hard and how many the smacks of the brush were striking him, he also lost control. After so many, seemingly endless smacks of the brush against Joe’s smaller, lean behind, his thin, naked body stiffened, contracting convexly, in suspended ecstasy. He squealed a cry that rose to a scream of mixed pain and euphoria, and blew his fuse, shooting cascades of sperm from his pulsing member, all over himself, his Dad, and the floor.

Mr. Fischer did not pause, even though his younger, adult son froze in mid-air, sucking in deep, shuddering breaths. The hot, horrible brush fell again – and again – and again – and again, in a rapid staccato of blistering spanks.

Joe shrieked a wail of hopeless agony that descended slightly to screeching and begging for reprieve, for forgiveness, for another chance. He could only bawl and sob, once more resigned to the spanking he was getting until their father determined it was enough. While his Dad pounded on his rear, the broken 22 year-old struggled futilely to form coherent words between his screams:

"Owow! Nooooo-ow-ow-Daaa-aaaa-uh-deeee! Aaaaaa! Staaaahp! Noooo-pleeeeeez! Oooooh, Ow-ow-ow! Nooooo-aaaaa-moooore! Oh, staaaahp-uh-uh-oooo-uh-nooooo-uh-mooooore! Aaaaaaa! I Caaaan’t-huh-uh-taaaak-uh-it-uh-Daaaaa-uh-uh-uh-deeeeee!"

Joe was thrashing around now more than ever, but his gyrations no longer included any craving sexual stimulation and desires. The boy’s legs were flailing around and his body bucked in every direction as he squealed and screamed, shrieked and yelped in utter distress — now only desiring this tormenting punishment to end. Their Dad hiked his younger son up higher over his lap, and Josh could see Joe’s now flaccid, wet, sticky dick swinging spastically between his dad’s splayed knees.

Still whimpering softly, humbled and painfully standing in the corner to which he had been dispatched, Josh had twisted around, watching, and was concerned and saddened about his seeing his brother suffering through another painfully ferocious spanking, and yet having an orgasm in the midst of it.

With a strangely attracted curiosity of his own, he wondered what was going on with Joe that he was incurring so many blistering whippings from their Dad, and yet getting sexually turned on and coming while receiving them. When Joe twisted his head around to beg their father for mercy, Josh saw the glistening tears flowing down his chastened, younger brother’s face in streams.

Ron Fischer was now paddling his second son like a mad man, leaving no chance of conscious awareness by the boy of the length or number of the spanking he was getting. Joe just kept on yelling and pleading, even though it was doing him no good at all. Their father’s lips were clenched, his jaw set hard, as he spanked his younger son’s butt with the same determination that he had brought to the earlier spanking of his oldest son.

He wrapped his left arm securely around the kid’s waist. With his other hand, Dad began to spank the sensitive, inner thighs of his second son, which kicked widely opening the young man’s buttocks widely, disclosing an area of his rear anatomy that had thus far escaped punishment; and their Dad didn’t leave any punishable area unspanked. Ron Fischer smacked the newly revealed portions of the boy’s bottom with a solid, downward motion. The lily-white inside of Joe’s bottom crack contrasted sharply with the deep red of his outer cheeks.

Josh watched with astonished terror and empathizing pain, as their Dad reddened the two pale insides his brother’s inner cheeks. His astonishment turned to fear when their father began centering his swatting straight down the middle. Seeing that flat, hard, narrow, wooden brush smack directly against Joe’s little hole was too painful to watch; and the punishment seemed to be making an equally strong impression on Joe, who squealed and shrieked, squirmed and jumped forward, as his anus was being spanked over and over!

As Joe was gagging with shrieking pleas to stop, Ron Fischer began his disciplinary sequence all over again, reapplying crisp, intense swats to the insides of Joe’s cheeks. While this was happening, the boy was twisting his bottom from side to side as if he could shake or evade the blistering brush, while begging for his Dad to please stop.

The loud and intense punishment seemed to go on forever, but it really took only a couple minutes more of intense spanking before Joe completely collapsed and went limp, while his father continued to blister him good and hard, but slowed the pace of the blows back down to the regular, rote rhythm he’d used at the beginning of Joe’s punishment. Totally broken and exhausted, the boy just lay over his Daddy’s lap and sobbed like a little child.

His Dad laid on one final series of whacks, which ended with the crushed young man dangling on his father’s knee when he had completed the third round of swats to Joe’s inner sanctum, topping it off with a blistering series over and over on the boy’s sit-spots. After what seemed like an eternity, Ron Fischer finally stopped, letting Joe dangle and cry himself out for the longest time, until his sobbing began to subside.

Then, he ordered his son back onto his feet: "Stand up, boy." Joe lay flat out dangling over his father’s lap, shaking and trembling in seemingly unending sobs. Ron Fischer helped the shaking, shuddering youngster get up. Joe’s arms and hands flew back to his inflamed, torched bottom, and he rubbed and clasped his cheeks, trying to douse the fiery pain, while jumping up and down and around, with his dripping, sticky pole, abdomen, and legs exposed to his Dad and big brother. His face and eyes were as red as his rear-end.

At that moment, their Dad spied his oldest son, turned around and gawking, and shouted, "Eyes to the wall, boy! Don’t you dare turn around until I tell you you can! Next time I catch you, you’ll be the encore for your brother’s whipping! Understand me, Joshua?!"

"Ye-ess-uh-uh-Duh-aaaa-deeeee!" the 24 year-old snapped back around, burying his weeping face in the corner as his crisp whine wailed his reply.

After being painfully trounced by the spanking, Joe was now subdued further still when his father grabbed his arm and pulled him, leading him into the bathroom. He turned on the shower, steered Joe into it, and took a wash cloth and began soaping and lathering the weeping young man.

"Huh-uh-uh, Daa-huh-aaaaad, I ca-an-uh-uh-waaaa-uh-waaash myself," Joe tried to protest through his ragged crying, but received another 7 swats across his wounded, throbbing buttocks.

He yelped with renewed pain, but in misery surrendered to being bathed by his Dad. As swiftly as he lathered up his son, Mr. Fischer washed away any trace of the young man’s accident, rinsed him, shut off the water, pulled him from the shower, and wiped him dry in the bath towel like a small child. Joe stood sobbing, feeling emasculated, ashamed, and humiliated like a little kid.

Steering him back into the bedroom, Mr. Fischer told him to get into bed, threatening him with another spanking if he heard or saw him again before the next morning. Joe dove into bed, sliding on his stomach, his bare, fire-engine-red butt glowing in the cool air. His Dad pulled up the sheet and blanket over the supine, young man, who lay crying himself to sleep

Finally finished with the humbled, chastened, younger boy, their father remembered his oldest son still dutifully standing with his fire-engine red butt and thighs on display, his nose buried in the corner where he’d been sent. Mr. Fischer spoke to Josh, telling him he could leave the corner now, and ordering him to get into the shower, and then into bed as well.

The sobbing young man, struggling on his still shaky, wobbly feet and legs, propelled himself with his powerful, muscular legs to race into the bathroom. He turned on the water and stepped hastily into the shower. About to close the shower door, he was surprised to find his father standing there with a wash cloth, to soap, lather, and wash his oldest son.

"Daaa-aaaaad," Josh began to object, and he too was turned away and bent downward as he received 8 or more fast, hard swats to his flaming bottom. Immediately, he acquiesced to the demeaning, humbling, involuntary bathing of his fit, toned, muscular body by his father, then to being rinsed, dried like a child, and led back out into the bedroom.

"Now, Joshua, you, too, are in bed for the night. You both get to sleep right away – if you boys don’t want seconds tonight." He tucked his oldest son into his bed as well, patting the back of Josh’s head gently. Both chastened boys lay weeping and whimpering in the bed as their father turned off the light, and walked out of the motel room. He walked down the street to an all-night diner, had dinner, and came back to find both his naked, adult sons sound asleep on their opposite sides of the bed.

Shortly after 1 a.m., Josh’s rumbling stomach awakened him. He was hungry, and his entire behind was throbbing and aching. Suddenly, he felt Joe’s arms and hands slip around him from behind.

He felt the same cooling lotion being carefully and lovingly applied to his buttocks and thighs that he had often administered to his younger brother. It was soothing and comforting all right, and Josh sprung a woody at once.

Joe’s right hand reached back around, feeling for Josh’s member, but Josh surprised him by flipping over and facing his younger brother, who also had a raging hard-on. Josh turned Joe around, to face away from him, gathering and holding his brother backwards into his arms.

Then Josh massaged soothing lotion all around Joe’s legs, buttocks, inner buttocks, and with his fingers penetrating Joe’s hole as well, which made Joe sharply inhale a deep gulp of air. Josh reached for and grasped his younger brother’s stiff, engorged rod, sliding the creamy lubricant up, down, around, and tweaking the shaft and head. Joe was moaning softly, squirming and humping in his big brother’s grasp.

Josh was driven at the moment with a craving need for relief from the gathering, incessant hunger that daily wreaked havoc with his mind, and lurked in his loins. At this moment, it was like he was possessed by an uncontrolled wildfire. With his right hand attached to his younger brother’s pumping, pulsating penis, Josh retracted his fingers from Joe’s anus, reached around front of his brother’s lower abdomen, and pulled the young man back close into him.

Returning the fingers of his left hand to Joe’s hole, he began replacing them with something much firmer, more insistent, bigger and thicker, stiffer, pulsating and vibrating with warmth, and able to penetrate longer and deeper. Although he had never before considered such a thing, Josh was driven by a hungering, craving force, overriding and tossing away the youth’s normally, cautious reticence.

Instead, Joe felt Josh’s manhood push against, stretch open, and push through as the head entered, and the shaft slid inside an inch or so at a time, giving his younger brother a chance to adjust to the widening, thick circumference with the extending, deepening length. The feeling as the tight tunnel gripped his starving rod only demanded more and more.

With his younger brother impaled on his inflamed shaft, Josh fell into a real gentle, slow, familiar rhythm of penetration and withdrawal. He leaned forward over his kid brother’s freckled shoulder, kissed his low, right front neck, then tweaked, twisted, and tickled Joe’s nipple with one hand, while continuing the pump-action on the younger man’s rod with his other. Smothered by his big brother’s muscled arm wrapped around him, covering him from behind, hugging him tightly, Joe gasped and shuddered, writhing and squirming, while making soft, almost silent grunting and whimpering sounds – skewered by a thick, heated, pulsating spit of flesh.

Driving deeper and retracting, turning and twisting, while grasping Joe’s abdomen from around behind him again with his left arm and hand, Josh pulled the 22 year-old in closer for a deeper, more penetrating, and complete assault. At first the thick, warm, moving column of flesh, buried through Joe’s blistered hole, and embedded deep within him, was an uncomfortable, foreign intruder. Joe writhed trying to endure the discomfort and the feeling of being ravished and vanquished, despite his movements.

Sinking deeply, then sliding out, back and forth, Josh was achieving the excited euphoria of intercourse, while continuing to round out his young brother’s long, hard, erection that was firing that boy’s appetite, marching him along the path towards mounting, explosive sexual release.

In a short time, Joe’s responses to the shaft that was driving him from within changed. His lithe, slim body began contracting and releasing like he was working out, bucking and heaving under his hunky brother, grunting and moaning, writhing and squirming, absorbing with impassioned ecstasy the column of radiating flesh animated deeply with him.

Josh was blown away by this new, unanticipated, awesome feeling. With its thrusting and withdrawing, thrusting and withdrawing, Josh’s rock hard pole began making repeated contact with Joe’s hot spot.

Suddenly feeling dizzy and light headed, Joe’s whole body jolted with a wild, electrifying shock, and he shuddered helplessly while clutching inwardly in an internal orgasm. Joe’s lean, slender body rippled with a tremour that started at his bottom, radiating deep within, up his narrow hips, back, neck to his head, steeping deep into his consciousness – a reaction of wonderfully overwhelming arousal.

The boy’s body was tempest tossed on a sea of wonderful, stimulated sensations, his head whirling, the pulse pounding at the temples, his own member poking stiffly, straight up from his groin, leaking generously from the engorged and open mouth of the head. He surrendered himself to unknown, but now rapturous, feelings coursing through him.

As Josh continued his piston action, Joe’s internal orgasms continued as well. With his back pulled in, pressing against his big brother’s chest and pelvis, Joe could not see Josh shudder, his eyes rolled back, and his whole body shaking and convulsing with the force of the overpowering orgasm he was experiencing. A powerful eruption of molten lava exploded from Josh, surging forth hot, wet, filling inside Joe.

Within a minute or so, Joe was himself driven to detonation, nearly blacking out from the intensity of the erupting blasts of ejaculate gushing into Josh’s hand and on the bed, as well as the internal, orgasmic waves rushing through him. Spent and depleted, the two young men lay motionless, the younger unmoving and still impaled in place on the semi-hard shank yet within him, held close in the confining hug of his big brother’s strong arms.

Josh released his younger brother, rolling over on his side to face Joe who also rolled over on his side. As he and Josh were facing each other, Joe pulled himself in closer so that their limbs intertwined. They leaned into each other, their sweaty bodies pressed together, holding each other, savouring their closeness. Joe snuggled closer into his big brother, and the boys lay together in that cozy, comfy, coordinated condition for several more minutes.

Afterward, the two youths lay together sweaty and tired, temporarily exhausted, drained but satisfied. It was an unparalleled high moment of emotion, passion, and just plain lust in both of their young lives.

They slept spooned together that night, nuzzling, sharing the warmth, hardness, and tenderness of each other’s naked body, each happier than he had ever remembered being. Nothing awakened them, and the boys slept deeply clasped together like that the rest of the night. In the morning, when the alarm went off, they jumped instantly apart to their separate sides.

As they sat together silently devouring breakfast in the motel buffet room, with the television blaring the early morning news and features, the two, young men’s eyes met fleetingly, confirming without speech, the new level of intimate relationship that had been inaugurated between them the preceding night. Their Dad broke the silence, telling them both to get their behinds in gear, it was time to go. They took along some additional breakfast to eat on the way.

At work, everything was the same, except that Josh was more obviously careful to speak to Joe in front of others, and not always protect him from criticism that their Dad might learn about.

The week of spankings for Josh, and the remaining two days for Joe, passed none-too-quickly. In the meanwhile, over those days the boys explored and developed their new, mutual comfort and gratification relationship, eventually refining their technique to concurrent ejaculations of wild, euphoric orgasms. They also perfected performing the new, nightly rendezvous with as little sound as possible, to ensure not awakening their father.

Josh and Joe could not count the spankings that each, and both, of them got over the many months of working and living together with their father. One Saturday night, Josh had talked their Dad into letting them take his truck and go to a movie, while being re-admonished to be back at the room by midnight.

In a careless, unheeding rush of folly, the boys had stopped at a restaurant for a late-night, after-movie snack. Sitting in a booth, eating hot-fudge ice cream on blueberry pie, they lost track of time. Especially with the eyes of several girls and women repeatedly re-directed over to the hot, handsome, young men.

Suddenly noticing it was 12:34, Josh’s face blanched, and when Joe asked what was wrong, he got up instantly, "We’re late! We’ve got to go – now!" he announced.

At 12:52 they drove up to the motel; and at 1:04, the first – the oldest – of the two young men was totally denuded, being spanked across their father’s lap with the hard, hated hair brush searing his bare behind. The younger followed suit, while the older showered and squalled. The younger howled through his rapid shower, afterward, while the older lay sobbing shamefully, regretfully on his side of the bed the boys shared.

Over the many months of working and living so closely together with their father, the boys received many, hard and severe spankings from him. At the same time, their interdependence grew closer, stronger, and increasingly uninhibited with each other, albeit largely unspoken. After receiving harsh spankings, they soothed each other’s wounded, blistered bottoms, while bring calming comfort to their jarred, jangled, troubled minds.

Joe automatically bottomed for his well-endowed, big brother, who knew how to use his own natural gifts to penetrate and stimulate his younger sibling, affording him fulfillment and relief. To Joe, it felt so good when Josh thrust into him, impaling him, filling him up, then stroking steadily in and out, arousing his passions higher and higher, triggering powerful, internal spasms as his hungering rod was stroked to volcanic climax. For Josh, clutching his younger brother and pulling him forward, impaling him on his craving rod, plunging forward and pulling backward, heightened the older brother’s arousal until the volcano could not hold back from violently blowing and erupting.

After a night’s simultaneous, igniting explosion, the boys’ minds and emotions slipped down the slope of tranquilizing calm. Joe would turn over on his side to face Josh, and then slide forward, snuggling deep into the chest, stomach, abdomen, and between the legs, of his big brother, who clasped him securely into himself. They passed the night in deep, peaceful sleep that way, awakened rudely, separating rapidly, at each morning’s alarm.

Sunday afternoons — while their Dad was outside and away, and they were required to be back in bed, napping — became more adventurous field days. Placing his strong arms around his bare, younger brother’s narrow waist, Josh would lift Joe up, setting him down on his lap, impaling the youth on his engorged, pulsating, hot, fleshy stake, spurring the junior brother to inflamed arousal and excitement.

With his back to his older brother, Joe was turbulently bounced and rocked and shifted all around, up and down, on his older brother’s huge, hungering, thick, pole and lean, muscular hips, like a puppet directed by a stick inside him, squealing and crying out. During week nights, Josh would pull Joe backward to him, placing a hand across his younger brother’s mouth, to muffle the sounds.

Josh’s big, fully engorged shaft skewering Joe at that angle pressed repeatedly against the younger brother’s prostate, triggering wave after wave of internal orgasms. Impaled, twisting and writhing on that rod, at such an angle, Joe found his own member raging and hungering and racing toward release.

Sitting on Josh’s lap, facing him, Joe was helplessly driven, shaken and tossed about by the live, moving shaft fixed deep within him, pivoting, swiveling, turning; and when Josh bent forward and downward, burying and sucking Joe’s own erect and extended rod in his mouth, vacuuming it empty and dry, Joe’s moans and cries erupted into sobbing shrieks of delirious ecstasy and delight, which again, at late nights, Josh would attempt to stifle with his hand on Joe’s mouth.

Afterward, the boys collapsed exhausted into sound snoozes – necessarily apart, at opposite sides of the bed, but often with feet and legs intersecting and making contact. Returning to find them sound asleep confirmed to their Dad’s mind the salutary value of these Sunday afternoon naps for his sons.

Over the many more, long months of working and living together with their Dad, Josh and Joe received countless spankings from him. Over the same long time period, the boys continued increasing their mutual intimacy and sexual satisfaction, after their father was soundly asleep, – and especially after one or both of them had been spanked.

Not only assuaging for the moment the devastating and jarring impact that each spanking wreaked on their rearends and to their egos, it brought as well a transient relief from, and lifting briefly, the monkey of sexual tensions and frustration from each young man. It also drew them into a private, unique bond and intimately close, brotherly relationship, as their secret, relished lovemaking activity became an immediate, feverishly craved, stop-gap release until marriage in their unforeseen futures.


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