Andrew

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This work is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It may contain 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.
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Andrew
“We're not in Florida anymore”

by Willie B Florida
comments welcome to [email protected]

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Like all boys, Andrew loved his penis. LIke nearly all boys he indulged in dreamy fantasies while stroking his member. At the moment he was lying naked in bed in the privacy of his own bedroom dreaming of an imaginary girl. He was vague about the details of what he and she would do together -- after all, Andrew was still only 12 years old -- but he knew that somehow his still too little penis would be hard, and long, and inside this girl's lusciously wet and warm insides.

"Andrew . . . "

"God, mom, shit . . . "

"It's okay. Dad and I just wanted a word with you."

"Why don't you knock? It's supposed to be my room, you know."

"That's why we're here," soothed his dad's voice.

Andrew's hand remained awkwardly grasping his erection, but he was quickly wilting from his impending dry orgasm.

"We wanted you to know that masturbating . . . " began his mother.

"Playing with your penis," his dad interjected helpfully.

" . . . has a lot of health benefits for boys . . . " his mother continued.

"And is obviously a lot of fun!" his dad added enthusiastically.

"Okay, I get it," Andrew blurted in frustration. Did they think he wouldn't play with himself unless they gave him a lecture?

"To get to the point," his dad offered.

"We do not mind at all if you just stay naked when you're at home," stated his mother.

"And masturbate as much as you like."

"Okay," Andrew mumbled, not sure where this was going.

"In fact," his mother warmed to the subject, "to show you how sincere we are in our acceptance, we're expecting you to stay naked at home from now on."

"Masturbating in front of us is optional," his dad said gently, "but if we catch you wearing clothes at home we'll have to punish you."

"What?"

"You heard your father," his mother stressed. "At home, naked. We want you to be yourself. After all, we're very aware of the oppressive restrictions of living in Indiana. We can’t afford to move to Florida, but we want to make sure we're doing what we can, at least while you're in your own home."

Andrew nodded and mumbled something incoherently. It has been said that the greatest strength of youth is to simply wait it out. That was Andrew's strategy at the moment: wait until the parents got over whatever weird trajectory they were on at the moment.

His mother leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. His dad tried the robust pat on the shoulders thing and the two left the room. The door was wide open.

"Lunch is in 15 minutes," his mother called from the hallway, "remember, no clothes."

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Andrew stayed naked at home. It wasn't too bad. After all, his parents had seen him naked in the bath, changing clothes, at the doctor's office. He thought about his parents' remarks about living in Indiana. He'd taken the mandatory dress code for granted. Why not? It had been in place as long as he could remember. In public boys had to wear long pants to the ankles, socks and shoes required, collared shirts with long sleeves and only the top button could be left undone. Swimming suits could be worn only at designated swimming locations and boys had to wear knee length suits approved by the State of Indiana and long-sleeve rash guards to "protect our young from the sun" even in mid-winter at indoor pools. Girls wore similarly modest attire in public and at swimming locations. He wasn’t sure about his parents’ remarks about Florida. Sure, he’d heard rumors about children frolicking naked in the tropics, but nothing that seemed remotely plausible.

Being naked at home, he began to realize how nice it was to be free of the confines of clothing, especially during Indiana's hot summers. What a revelation to feel freedom of movement and the ability for skin to be in direct contact with the air!

But, he kept his masturbation practices private. He was more careful about when he indulged and listened for footsteps in the hallway. There was no lock on his door, but his parents didn't pop up into his room unexpectedly again.

He didn't get in trouble until the night his mom's sister stayed over. Aunt Ruth lived all the way up in Chicago and didn't visit all that frequently. His mother fussed over preparing a nice dinner and getting the extra room cleaned of clutter and presentable as the temporary guest room. Andrew was in his room when he heard his Aunt arrive. He put on a pair of clean slacks and his nice new yellow shirt -- even a pair of socks, but no shoes -- and went out to say hello. He thought he was being a very proper and polite young man and expected the warm hug and embarrassing kisses that Aunt Ruth always bestowed upon him.

"Andrew!" his Aunt exclaimed. Andrew beamed back.

"Andrew!" his mother exclaimed.

"Andrew . . . " his father's voice sounded warning.

"Let me give you a hug." Aunt Ruth smothered him in her arms and against her ample bosom and wet his face with kisses.

As he was released his mother pulled him back, her hands on his shoulders.

"We have some new house rules for Andrew," she explained to her sister, "which he seems to have forgotten."

"But, Mom," Andrew protested, "we're having guests."

"That doesn't change the rules, young man." His father's voice was stern. "But, I realize you may not have understood that. Undress now and we'll overlook the transgression."

"What?"

"Yes, honey, now," his mother affirmed. "Go to your room and come back presentable for dinner."

Andrew stalked back to his room, considered slamming the door, thought better of it and lay on his bed looking up at the ceiling sulkily. He stayed there until the sky outside his windows grew dark and the sound of crickets filled the air.

"Andrew," his mother put her head in at the door. "Dinner is ready."

Andrew said nothing.

Five minutes later his dad opened the door. "Dinner is ready and we're waiting," he said.

"I'm not coming." Andrew announced.

"Get out of those clothes and come to dinner."

Andrew gauged that his father was serious and slowly began to undress. He unbuttoned his shirt, pulled off his undershirt, carefully removed each sock and then slowly pulled down his trousers.

"Just one thing left," his dad urged encouragingly.

Andrew started to pull down his white underwear, but instead stood there sullenly.

"I can't do it, Dad. I just can't."

"Perhaps this will help." HIs dad sat down on the bed, drew Andrew over his legs, unceremoniously ripped down his underwear and let his open hand fly. Andrew winced at the sound of the smack on his rump as much as at the feeling of the whack on his bare behind. Nine more times his father spanked him hard. Andrew was mortified. He hadn't been spanked in years. Worse, he was getting a hard-on, something he did not remember happening when he was a little kid. His dad gave him one more final smack and stood him up. "Ready for dinner?"

Andrew nodded shamefacedly and allowed himself to be pushed ahead, his father's hands on his shoulders.

"Well, you're certainly growing up to be a fine young man," Aunt Ruth gushed. Her gaze was clearly on his still hard penis.

Andrew blushed furiously, and his erection strained his penis upwards.

"Let's say grace and eat before the food is completely cold," his mother suggested.

Halfway through the meal Andrew was feeling okay. He was pleased that he hadn't cried, the meal was one of his mother's better creations, and . . . well . . . he was still feeling a pleasant tingle from the spanking-induced erection. He looked up and smiled at everyone.

"You seem to have survived," his father deadpanned. "What do you say, Ruth? Should we give him one more round of spanking before dessert--this one out here where we can all enjoy it?"

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