Early One Summer Afternoon by Scott Charleston s_charleston1999@yahoo.com copyright 2002 by Scott Charleston, all rights reserved * * * * * This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It contains explicit depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story. * * * * * Early one summer afternoon when I was about 10 years old (1952), I got in trouble with my mom after breaking a window with a ball that I had been bouncing against the side of our house. Since this was something I had been warned about repeatedly in the past, my mother's announcement that I had earned myself a sound spanking was hardly a surprise. Nor was her order that I was immediately to get upstairs to await her in my bedroom where I was to prepare myself for this spanking. Knowing that resistance would only bring a more severe spanking, I dejectedly shuffled up to my room and removed my jeans and underpants and assumed my normal pre-spanking 'corner time' position to "think about my sin" and the retribution to come. And then I waited. About 15 minutes into the normal 30 minute routine however, I heard the phone ring and faintly heard my mom talking with a neighbor. Twenty minutes later mom was still talking and I was getting tired of standing with my nose in the corner -- but hopeful -- that mom might have forgotten me or changed her mind. Nevertheless, I initially stayed where I was, realizing that to move out of the corner before mom entered my room would earn me an automatic 'double dose'. And even though mom had always hand-spanked me, a double dose of mom's heavy hand was not something I was eager to experience. Nearly a half hour later however, mom was finally off the phone but still downstairs apparently doing a load of wash, and I was becoming increasingly restive. While on one hand I hoped she had forgotten my punishment, on the other, I knew she had really been mad at me and figured that if a spanking was going to come anyway, I'd rather get it over with. Finally, nearly an hour and a half after I had first been sent to my room, I decided to risk leaving the corner and sprawled out across my bed (still bare bottom) to read a comic book -- but with my ear cocked for the normal creaking of our stairs that would warn of my mother's approach -- and give me a chance to get back where I was supposed to be. Several minutes later what I heard however, was the doorbell ringing and the subsequent faint sounds of my mother and someone else talking in our living room. As the conversation began to stretch out, I became increasingly curious, straining to hear what was going on. Moving off my bed to the door of my bedroom, I cracked open the door, but still found their conversation indistinct. Finally, my curiosity getting the better of my common sense, I crept along the hall to the top of the steps, where I could finally hear, but safely remain hidden, crouched on my hands and knees on the landing. Eavesdropping, I soon realized that my mother was talking with the Fuller Brush salesman who regularly serviced our neighborhood, and briefly listened while they traded neighborhood gossip. When he started to move into his sales pitch I got bored however and decided to get back up and return to my room. BIG MISTAKE. For as I stood up from where I had been kneeling, I managed to step on the very floorboard whose 'creak' I had earlier been counting on to warn me of mom's approach. Needless to say, the loud creak was obviously noted, as the conversion momentarily came to a halt and I heard mom call out, "Scott"? While I froze, when I didn't answer, their conversation resumed after a moment, and I thought I was home free. Quickly crawling back to my room (as stealthily as possible), I then reassumed my proper corner time position. And again waited. Ten minutes later I heard the front door close, and a minute or two later, mom's approach, followed by the sound of her entrance to my bedroom -- where she discovered me still 'obediently' bare bottom, with my nose in the corner. Standing there with my back to her, I tried to assume the picture of contrite innocence as I waited for her to speak. All I heard for a moment or two however, was a strange 'snapping' sound. Finally, however, like a moth attracted to a flame, I couldn't resist turning to see what the noise was -- only to discover that my mother was indeed standing there -- slowly slapping a large wooden hairbrush into the palm of her other hand. That image, and what followed, are indelibly etched in my memory. "Guess I forgot to give you that spanking I promised you earlier, didn't I, young man?", mother coldly asked at last. "Well, it was good of you to remind me just now with your stunt on the stairs -- and so timely too - just as Mr. Phillips was showing me his new line. So, when I mentioned to him that I'd have to cut his presentation short because you had been waiting for me to spank you, and apparently getting impatient -- as well as too old for my hand alone to remind you to stay in the corner -- he suggested I might find this more effective", she said, holding up the hairbrush. "And when he offered to let me take it for a 'test drive' - across your bare backside -- before purchasing it, well, you know me, I just couldn't pass up such a bargain. And with that, disregarding my pleas, mom angrily grabbed me, pulled me over to the straight back chair by my desk, sat down, and dragged me over me over her knee -- where she immediately began putting that hairbrush (and every inch of my soon hot and very red bottom) -- to a sound and all too thorough 'test drive'. Not surprisingly, by the time mom finished, I was sorely disinclined to sit down (for hours), and all doubts about my mother's memory had been permanently put to rest. Particularly mom's ability to remember the 'double dose' rule. Also needless to say, later that day our 'helpful' Fuller Brush representative was pleased when mom phoned him to say that he could ring up a confirmed sale. When Mr. Phillips apparently asked if she had found the 'test drive' satisfactory, she simply laughed and assured him it that it had been "most satisfactory -- to almost everyone". Considering the number of times my bare bottom was to subsequently 'polish' the back of that hairbrush over the next few years, that "almost" was to prove a definite understatement.