As the boys continue their sexual exploration together, they both earn another spanking for lying to their father.

Brothers - Part 17
by Graham
Series: Brothers by Graham

Brothers Spanked by their FatherOn Saturday mornings, if they didn’t work, Mr. Fischer let his sons sleep in til 9:30. He would hustle them out of bed, make them throw on some clothes, so they could race down to the breakfast buffet before it closed at 10 a.m. After they had eaten a lot, the boys returned to their room and showered, and cleaned up for the day. They packed up the week’s laundry to take with them to wash in the afternoon.

One Saturday afternoon, Josh and Joe were walking down the sidewalk together, on their way to the laundromat, and then to a quick, matinee at the downtown theatre. As they walked, they chattered on with each other as they had long been accustomed to doing.

Every week while they were away from home, living in a motel with their Dad, and working on the huge project job they had, the two brothers went to the laundry in town, and did their father’s and their laundry. It was really Joe’s chore, as the youngest; but Josh would accompany him and help him, because they always slipped off to catch a quick movie while the clothes were washing. Afterward, they would hurry back and put the clothes into the dryer, before taking everything out, folding them all, and carrying them back to the motel for the coming week.

Over the months the two brother had been away from home, living with their Dad, and all working together, the brothers had dabbled at first in mutual casual intimacy that ineluctably plunged them into total and complete sexual fulfillment.

It quickly became for them both an expected, anticipated, and hungrily desired, nightly occurrence of lovemaking that relieved their sexual tensions and frustrations. In the process, it melded them together personally in an intimate closeness neither would have imagined previously. They were brothers, best friends, and unconditional lovers. They safeguarded and hid their cherished secret like a treasured gem which no one knew, or needed to know, about.

Sometimes, in their limited times alone together, apart from those time they were supposed to be sleeping in bed, the boys would talk about things that interested them, they found funny or fun to do, about girls, and about dreamed plans for life.

When they walked together in town, they attracted the eyes of girls, and enjoyed returning the looks, commenting on them, even flirting from a distance. The boys knew they were not at liberty to go off anywhere without their father’s knowledge and permission in advance.

Today, however, something made their collaboration time together different – especially for Joe. As they walked to the laundry, they spotted, and were spotted by, some cute, young girls who waved and called out to them. They both waved back, each brother blushing with excited embarrassment.

Today, in the midst of that, Joe couldn’t focus or concentrate on what was happening around him. For frustrating, but inexplicable reasons, his mind kept returning to his brother, Josh, like iron to a magnet. When they were looking at the girls waving and smiling, suddenly Joe found his eyes riveted on Josh. With wide back and shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist and indented back, Josh was a hot sight to behold.

Joe knew from personal familiarity how lean and fit and muscular his big brother was, his strong thighs and calves on lanky, long legs; his lean, hard, fin-like, muscled buttocks encapsulated by the seat of his jeans . No doubt about it, Joe looked up to his big brother, only now there was a kind of luring attraction as his eyes zoomed in on Josh’s backside.

True, that butt was subject too often to spankings from their Dad, just like Joe’s was; but it was a nice, firm, narrow, muscled butt that Joe sometimes reached back and grabbed and held on to when his brother was drilling and filling Joe with Josh’s ample, large, young manhood.

As they walked along, whether subconsciously or clumsily, Joe periodically bumped and nudged into his big brother, and the contact of their shoulders, arms, and thighs, sparked a wave from the point of contact up to Joe’s brain, then transmitted to Joe’s tenting member. He heard the girls laughing, and he smiled, to play along with their thought he was excited over them.

At the laundromat, both boys quickly pulled all the dirty laundry, separating colours and whites into different loads. They stocked the washers with clothe and detergent, put in coins, then quickly split, running like small boys skipping down sidewalks to get to the theatre in time for the matinee showing.

Paying at the front, they entered the dark theatre where trailers were already showing. There weren’t many patrons and Joe and Josh sat against the back wall of the downward slanted room. The movie was Joy Ride.

As the tension and frustration in the movie increased, the two young men’s own lusty drives intensified. By the time the two brothers in the movie were stranded nude at the truck stop, walking in and sitting down naked at the counter, both Josh and Joe had boners bulging in their jeans and were squirming slightly.

In the dark, leaning in against each other, at the back of the theatre, Joe reached over and down, and grasped his older brother’s woody. Josh squirmed more, breathing in deeper, but made no effort to discourage his younger brother. Slowly and silently, Joe unzipped Josh’s jeans’ fly, reaching inside and fishing out the now-huge pole that was planted upward out of Josh’s boxers.

With an accomplished, expert skill, Joe massaged and swirled his big brother’s bigger member. He was always amazed at how Josh’s rod, already erect, grew bigger and thicker and stiffer with ministration. This time was no different, until Josh’s manhood looked like a small baseball bat wagging and waving erect in the air. Josh was heaving heavy gasps, and squirming, but not with protest or dislike: with ecstatic ravishment. The tidal wave grew more and more forceful until exploding in Joe’s hand and on the pant legs of Josh’s jeans.

Josh was trying his best to muffle his heaving gasps as he cooled down from the hot climax to which he’d just been cranked up. He was depleted, sexually and emotionally, as he lay back riding the downward cresting wave of pleasure.

Joe pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his brother’s mast down from the salty, seminal brine. In a few minutes, Josh had recovered and returned his penis into his shorts and pants, zipping back up. Joe was happy he could bring this pleasure to his big brother, although his own erection was insistent in clamouring for relief.

He hoped Josh would reciprocate the sensual favour, but Josh was leaning back, spent with release. Greedy for relief himself, Joe unzipped his own jeans, and took the matter into his own hand. He leaned farther over to the right against his big brother, while jacking his own stick up higher.

All at once, his hand was pulled away, and another hand that by now was almost as familiar as his own, grasped his hungering rod. Knowing fully how to incite and ignite his brother’s young manhood, Josh clawed and twisted the crown of Joe’s penis, feathering with his fingers the sensitive tissue under the head, until he swiftly brought his younger brother to an eruption, spilling ejaculate out onto his hand, and onto Joe’s pants.

Reaching under his younger brother’s seated butt, he grabbed the sticky handkerchief Joe had just used to wipe Josh’s shaft, Josh quickly used it to clean off Joe’s tool, then waded it and stuffed it back under his brother’s buttocks, into Joe’s back pocket.

Joe, too, shortly replaced his manhood into his boxer and jeans, and zipped up. The boys leaned in together on each other, almost as if dozing off, as they let their post-orgasmic tranquility reign with calm while they watched the rest of the movie.

Afterward, they waited to be last to empty out of the theatre, exiting out a side exit, and then racing back to the laundromat. By now, the boys had their Saturday afternoon routine down.

They grabbed clean pairs of shorts, quickly pulled off their jeans, and stepped into the shorts, and in socks and their t-shirts, to wait while they put the laundry into the dryers. Joe took both of their semen-stained jeans into the bathroom and scrubbed the remains off in hot water, wrung out the jeans, then returned and tossed both jeans into one of the dryers.

When the laundry was done, the boys found the jeans they’d worn there, now warm and dry, and missing obvious ejaculation stains. Quickly stripping off the shorts over their boxers, they stepped into and pulled up the jeans, and pulling on their shoes and tying them, they were ready to fold the clean clothes and head back to the motel. No one – especially their Dad – would be he wiser.

Returning back to the motel, they found their Dad had tidied up the room, and then helped his sons hang up and put away their clean clothes. Saturday nights they customarily went out to a restaurant, usually a barbecue, for dinner. This night was no different.

However, when they had ridden in their Dad’s truck to Merle’s Bar-B-Q, the young men followed their father into the restaurant and found a booth to sit in. Once they’d ordered, and were sipping ice tea – and Mr. Fischer a beer – he leaned back staring at both his sons.

"It’s nice to have you boys with me, working with me," he began. Both Josh and Joe smiled, relishing the rare compliments from their Dad. "It’s something we’ll all remember some day – me in my old age, you with your own sons someday. I’m lucky, I know."

"There’s just one thing, boys. I’m wondering what takes so long every Saturday to do the laundry and bring it back. Can you tell me?" He paused peering and waiting.

"Ah, nah-uthing, really, Dad," Josh replied carefully.

"Noooo. We just kind of take our time and enjoy being in town, looking around," Joe added.

"Would that include looking in the movie theatre downtown?" Mr Fishcer asked.

Josh knew immediately their Dad had found out somehow what they were doing. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied Joe, who was trying to signal his big brother not to admit anything.

"Why would you ask that, Daddy?" Joe interjected a question with a more demur and younger manner, hoping to curry a favourable attitude and response.

"Because, I drove into town about an hour before you boys came back with the laundry, and I swear I saw two young men, who looked the spitting image of you both, running breathlessly from the direction of the theatre to the laundry."

At that point, Josh was about to burst with his desire to confess and apologize, but Joe wasn’t willing to concede. "No, Daddy. There’s a lot of young people down town on Saturday afternoons. In fact, that’s why we like to look around."

"Joseph, you’ve earned yourself two whippings, young man. One for going off to the movie theatre without letting me know and approve, but the second – much worse – for lying directly to me. What do you have to say for yourself, Joshua?"

"Okay, Daddy, I know. I was trying to admit it to you. I’m sorry. We don’t do anything bad – honest." He gulped as the memory of what he had Joe had done in the back of the theatre flashed through his mind. "It’s just a little break – a little fun – while we’re doing the laundry."

"Maybe you’re right, but Joshua, what would be the reason not to let me know, if it’s all harmless. Or are you boys hiding something?"

Josh gulped again. This was threatening to break into areas he did not want to go.

"Noooo, Dad. We just thought maybe you’d get mad at our spending extra time doing the laundry by going to see a movie – that’s all. I’m sorry, we’re sorry, Dad. Honest."

"I want to believe you, Josh. You’ve been a good boy, a good son, most of the time – most of the time you both are. But it makes it so much easier to trust you if you’re forthcoming and forthright about things. You understand, Josh. You’re a smart, young man."

"Anyway, because you didn’t tell me and clear it in advance, you’ve both got a spanking coming. That should help clear that up in the future."

"And, Joseph, you know lying always makes everything – anything you might do – so much worse, and you’re getting another, harder one for that."

Joe’s face and eyes reflected the depressive dismay he suddenly felt. Josh sat in stony silence, grieving inwardly about his younger brother.

"And, you, Joshua, are getting the same thing."

Josh’s head snapped up and his eyes widened in stunned disbelief. "Why me? I didn’t lie, Dad. I didn’t mislead you."

"Actually, Joshua, you did. You knew Joseph was lying to me, and you didn’t say a word – not to stop him, not to correct him, not to set the record straight, not to tell the truth."

"When you let your brother tell a lie you know is false, you join in the deception, and you’re just as guilty of misleading and falsehood as he is. So, you’ve got your own dose of discipline coming."

"We’ll be having father-sons talks with the brush tonight and tomorrow night. After that, I hope the slate is clean, and clear, for both of you. Now, here’s our dinners, let’s eat."

Josh and Joe no longer had any appetite or enthusiasm for the rest of the evening at Merle’s. All they could think about, their own backsides tingling with the thought, was the fierce lickings they knew they were soon going to get from their Dad.

When they had finished, the boys’ Dad spoke." C’mon, now, boys – Josh, Joe. We might as well get back and get things taken care of." Both young men slid out of the both and stood, their distressed faces reflecting the grudging attitudes with which they followed their father out of the restaurant.

Riding back was oppressive silence, as no one had anything to say, or wanted to speak. Josh and Joe knew what was in store, though Josh was mentally preparing himself on the ride back to the motel.

He found it helped to think about how much his Dad expected from him, which also meant he held Josh to a high standard; and also about how much his Dad did for him, and for Joe, in giving them not just a job, but a chance for a future business. It helped him to submit, and accept the admittedly distasteful discipline from his Dad, because he knew his Dad meant it to be for his best. Still, he always hated getting his backside blistered.

Joe, on the other hand, always became emotionally fretful and upset, dreading getting spanked, having to take that kind of discipline, feeling subjugated by his Dad’s dominance and authority.

Inside the motel room, Ron Fischer ordered both boys to strip and get ready. Josh immediately, and methodically, complied, while Joe dawdled and delayed, dreading even the lead-up to another licking.

Mr. Fischer took the boys as he found them. Pulling Josh around to his right, he tugged the long, handsome young man down, across his lap, naked as a newborn, with muscled, lean globes aimed upward. With the hairbrush in hand, he swiftly commenced the spanking, propelling Josh to jolt, lurch, gasp, then groan, and quickly apologize and promise to do better from then on.

Their Dad was a long-experienced spanker of his sons, more proficient as they grew up and got bigger, needing a firm hand all the more in his judgment. He peppered and ignited a fiery furnace all over Josh’s buttocks and thighs. Concentrating, after a while, on the tender inner thighs and gluteals, and the unbearably sensitive sit-spots, he invariably brought his oldest son to capitulation and surrender.

Amidst gagging, choking sobs and begging pleas for leniency, forgiveness, and stoppage, Josh always shot quickly straight up to boyish, high-pitched squeals and wailing. Then he hung submissively, sorrowfully, acquiescing in the punishment being administered.

When his Dad finally stopped, he hung squalling for a while, before being helped off the paternal lap to be dispatched immediately to a corner to stand face buried in it, hands on his head, to think on the error of his misbehaviour.

By this time, Joe too was fully bare, sitting on the bed he shared with his brother, weeping at the sight of his big brother being taken to task like a misbehaving boy. At the same time his lachrymose emotions washed over him, he was also overwhelmed by an involuntary arousal that produced a full-blown boner.

So, when Josh was in the corner still crying, Joe was mortified to be summoned to his Dad while trying to hide the raging erection that could not be concealed.

"Do you like seeing your big brother whipped, Joseph? Is that some weird sort of fun for you, son?"

"Nooooo-aaa-Daaad! I don’t know-aaa-why this, ah, happens. I can’t, um, help it. Really!"

"Well, I hope you’re truthful, but I can only promise when we’re finished here, young man, you won’t be feeling any fun."

He pulled his humiliated, second son down across his lap, with Joe’s stiffy stuck between his Dad’s legs. No warm-up, no preface, no delay: Mr. Fischer initiated the dance of the hairbrush on Joe’s smaller, leaner bottom and legs with intensity and force.

Not possessing the stoic strength of his older brother, Joe quickly began screaming, shrieking, shouting his pleas, apologies, promises, and futile attempts to negotiate a stoppage. Far faster than Josh, Joe surrendered, defeated, sobbing and bawling as fire singed his bottom and consumed his soul.

He screeched at soprano-like pitches far beyond Josh’s capacity, bucking and lurching, but always remaining positioned for each, successive spank. If it lasted long enough, he became emotionally deranged for the moment, usually accompanied by a sexual fire that burned the wick to explosive orgasm, ejaculating wildly and profusely.

Tonight was one of those nights, and after the intermingled pain-pleasure of climax, all the remained was more intense, afflicting pain and punishment, until he too was choking on sobs of sorrowful penitent regret. Afterward, Mr. Fischer lifted the broken boy up off his lap, wiped him down, and steered him to a different corner to place his nose.

He called Josh, still whimpering shattered emotions, out of the corner, lectured him shortly about his place and duties as the lead child in the family, then hugged tightly this oldest son he loved, before sending him into the bathroom to shower for bed.

After that, he turned to Joe, whom he let weep in his meditative placement for awhile. With compassion and concern for whatever troubled Joe while being spanked, unlike his brother, Mr. Fischer lectured his second son too, but then pulled the boy into him, sat down, and placed him seated on his leg.

Joe always melted and hugged his father, leaning and crying into him. Ron Fischer tried to convey two messages at once: if you misbehave, you will be spanked, severely; but you are always loved, accepted, wanted, no matter how bad you might be at any time. For Joe, the two messages were real, but sometimes he had a hard time holding onto the second while in the throes of repulsion by the first.

When Josh came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, Mr. Fischer kissed Joe’s forehead and neck, then lifted him up off the knee he was sitting on. "Go get yourself really cleaned up too, Joe, so you’re ready for bed tonight, like your brother", he directed. Joe scampered, still whimpering, into the bathroom to do as he was told.

Mr. Fischer now spoke in a somber, but warm, tone to his oldest son." You have a lot you’re expected to do, and I know you can do, Josh. I want you to know I’m proud of you, even when you get off track."

"I’d like you to pay special attention to your brother. I don’t know what’s wrong, what’s troubling him; but maybe he needs more positive, favourable attention from you, son. You know, he’s always looked up to you. He still does, that obvious. Maybe what he needs is to feel more worthy and accepted around you, and by you. I’m don’t know for sure, but I’d like for you to try, Josh."

“Okay, Daddy, I’ll try. I promise. I love Joe, too.”

With that, he waited til Josh had pulled on a pair of boxers and helped his oldest son get into bed, pulling up and tucking in the sheet and blanket around him. Bending forward, he kissed Josh’s neck and right cheek. "I love you, son — so very, very much."

"I love you, too, Daddy," Josh gushed his reply.

With the motel room nearly dark, from the minimal lighting left on, Joe emerged from the bathroom to find his brother on his stomach, face in his pillow, and his Dad seated quietly in a chair. Joe quickly found a pair of his boxers and stepped into them.

His Dad stood up and walked over to him, pulling down the sheet and blanket on Joe’s side of the bed. Crawling onto his chest and stomach, Joe stretched out, waiting for his Dad to tuck him in as he did. Mr. Fischer again kissed Joe’s neck, whispered, "Sleep good, Joseph, and remember I always love you."

"Okay, me too, Daddy," he answered in a pre-adolescent voice. Mr. Fischer turned off the last burning light, then taking the room key, he left, locking the door and his sons inside behind him.


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