Fifth of July Hangover

It was Independence Day when I got a phone message from my Aunt Peg. When I heard her whiny voice, I knew she wasn't wishing me a happy fourth or inviting me over for a cookout. She seemed to call only when she needed something. I wish that included something provocative, since she looked and dressed sort of like Peg Bundy, and that would have fulfilled a couple of long-standing fantasies of mine. But usually it was just some sort of household repair or baby-sitting duty. She was a single mom, and I knew what that was like. So, as much as I didn't want to, I returned the call.

And then, next morning, sporting my fifth of July hangover, I made the two-hour trip, plumbing tools in tow.

The plumbing problem was easy to fix, just a hairball in the bathroom drain. My aunt offered me a much needed cup of Joe, so we went back to the kitchen. I walked behind her, admiring her black stretch pants and her way-too-high-to-be-sauntering-around-the-house-in high heels. Yeah, it was a strange feeling to be lusting after one's Aunt. But I'm not even sure if we we're still related. My dad's been married four times, and I've lost track of who's who on his side of the family. I keep hoping that one day she'll invite me over and offer to clean out MY pipe.

After some small talk, she started on about her kids. Being a 30-year-old single male, I tend to stop listening when people talk about their kids. I try not to be rude, but I don't really care how many goals Adam scored in his soccer game. I was too busy sipping my coffee and enjoying her sweater-covered assets to hear much, although my ears perked up when she brought up her oldest daughter, Leanne, who had just graduated from high school, and who'd been giving her fits, lately, even being brought home by the police.

"Will you go next door and help me out…? I'm desperate." She finished by placing her hand on my knee, her face inches from mine, her perfume tickling my senses.

My mind started screaming, "Desperate women do desperate things." I nodded my head and puckered my lips. Next thing I know I'm being pushed out the front door.

"Thanks," she said, as she shut the door behind me.

"What the fuck!" I muttered, shaking my head. I thought, "That never happens to my alter ego, Deputy Duffy."

I stood in front of the next-door neighbor's house for several minutes. I was still trying to regain my composure. I knew the girl that lived there and my cousin are best friends, and then I remembered that I had been there once a couple of years ago, to change the locks after the lady of the house threw her husband out, but for the life of me I couldn't think of her first name. The door suddenly opened, and she waved me in.

"Ah, hi there Mrs. Parker," I managed, with a wave, at least remembering her simple last name.

"Come in, Steve, I've been waiting for yah," she said, with a smile. "Nice to see yah again."

"Yeah, been a while," I said, feeling awkward as hell, as I entered her house.

Mrs. Parker had she'd lost a few pounds since I last saw her, but, in a simple summer dress, she still looked like the proverbial housewife. She led me into the kitchen, where I saw Leanne sitting at the table.

"Hey, Steven...,what are you doing here?" Leanne said, with a scrunched face.

"I-I-I," I, ah, stammered. I still didn't really know that either. I just stalled while she stared at me.

"Well, why don't we go into the living room," Mrs. Parker said, ending my desperate mumbling.

I walked into the living room, and Mrs. Parker told me to have a seat. I settled into an old fashion wooden rocking chair, while Mrs. Parker took a seat on her couch, just off to my left. With a snap of her fingers, she had Leanne standing in front of her, her left profile toward me. Leanne was a cute brunette with "girl next door" qualities. She was dressed simply in blue jeans, a small white top (that she filled out well), and a pair of black, high-heeled boots. She had blossomed quite nicely in the couple of years since I'd seen her last. Little did I know I was about to find out just how much.

"Now that we are in position, are you ready to begin your punishment?" Mrs. Parker asked.

I found myself rocking steadily back and forth. I don't know if it was nerves or just the simple fact that it was a long time since I'd sat in a rocking chair, and it was kind of fun. Leanne looked down at the floor and nodded her head.

"Ok, then, let's get started," Mrs. Parker said. She leaned back, crossed her legs, and said a simple word: "Strip."

"What?" Leanne screeched. My rocking came to a sudden stop, as I was asking myself the same thing.

"You have a hearing problem?" Mrs. Parker snapped.

"You can't be serious!"

"I am."

"No way.... I'm 18 -- almost 19 -- I ain't no baby."

I started rocking again, and I'm pretty sure my rocking was from nerves now.

"You agreed to be punished by me, for your sins, while your mother punished Hillary, and already you're balking at my first command!" Mrs. Parker barked.

"B-b-but I…ah…didn't think.... I mean, I'm a woman now."

"I thought you knew this was going to be a bare bottom spanking. After all, your mother had no problem stripping Hillary to the skin and giving her a good one."

"B-b-but that was dif…. Nu-uh, she would've told me.... And what about him?" Leanne (seemingly flustered) said, pointing, but never looking my way.

"He will help me with the spanking, 'cause I have bad wrists…arthritis."

"He's going to spank me?" Leanne squealed.

My rocking stopped. I, too, waited for the answer.

"Yeah, that's why your mother called him. She knew it would be extra embarrassing for yah, and it might just teach you a lesson this time. Now, no more arguing; get going."

I was shocked, but at least I knew why I was there now -- mostly for embarrassment purposes. Still, my heart was racing. I don't really have a spanking fetish, but I was already picturing her stripped naked, cousin or not.

"I can't believe this," Leanne said, as she pulled off her left boot. "Unbelievable," followed the right one. "But I'm only taking these off," she stated, while wiggling out off her tight blue jeans. It was a struggle, but they were finally wrapped around her ankles. With a kick, they slid across the hardwood floor.

"But, I don't have to take this off,” she said with a snap of her waistband. “Because it's a thong."

Yes, it was...a nice black one. I still couldn't see much, but I knew it was only a matter of time. I chuckled inside, feeling like a dirty old man and noticing that I was instinctively rubbing my palms together.

"Let's get this over with," Leanne sighed.

"Well, who died and left you boss?" Mrs. Parker hissed, and then she crossed her arms. "I said, 'strip, girl.' Now get going, and don't stop until you're in your birthday suit."

I cheered inside.

"Are you insane?" Leanne quickly cried out, as if she finally realized Mrs. Parker's intentions. She looked at me, and then she added, huffily, "Yeah, like that's happening."

She bent down and picked up her jeans, whereupon Mrs. Parker jumped up from the couch. Leanne seeing this, raced for the door, while trying to step into her jeans at the same time. I stood up and turned to watch the pursuit. It was a short one. After a couple of stumbling steps, the jeans won the battle and sent Leanne tumbling down to the floor. She came to an abrupt stop on the hardwood floor, with an ear cringing screech. Mrs. Parker stood over her in a triumphant pose for a moment, before she reached down, and, with an unsympathetic pull of the hair, helped Leanne to her feet.

"Please, my hands are burning," Leanne sobbed, as she rubbed her palms together.

"You'll forget about your hands soon enough," Mrs. Parker huffed. She bent, pulled the jeans off of Leanne's left leg, tossed them onto the couch, and then sat down right on top of them.

The ticking sound coming from the grandfather clock in the corner was the only sound for a few minutes. Finally Mrs. Parker cleared her throat.

Leanne answered with a shake of her head.

"Keep stalling," Mrs. Parker said. "We have all day and all night, but you're not leaving here until I'm satisfied that you've learned a few lessons.... And Lesson #1 is you getting naked."

"This ain't fair! I only agreed to a spanking, not a strip show," Leanne whined.

"Funny, the cop that brought you home said you were wearing nothing but a smile when…."

"But I didn't see him coming," Leanne interrupted. "And that was with Donny. And it was dark, and-and we were just paying off a debt...."

"And?" Mrs. Parker snapped.

"And…I mean it’s the middle of the day, and you want me to get naked in front of my best friend's mom and even worse, my cousin Steven. See what I mean?"

"Yes I do," Mrs. Parker said, with a wicked smile. "Hence the word 'embarrassment.' I guess your mom was right." With that, Leanne flashed me a look that could kill. For the first time I felt a little for her, but exactly what I felt, I wasn't sure. I knew I wasn't her favorite person in the world. (I think she knew that I was hot for her mom.) And it wasn't like I knew this was her mom's plan when she called me. Needless to say that, so far, I was glad that I returned that phone call.

For the next several minutes Leanne would tug at her top, but then she would do some more complaining, while I was using the time to mentally picture what her breasts might look like. They certainly looked substantial in her clingy top, and I could just make out the outline of her nipples. But her stalling was killing me. I felt like jumping up and tearing off her top, just to get on with it.

"What?" Mrs. Parker finally said with a laugh. "Is someone still stuffing her bra?"

Leanne smacked her lips, but it finally got her moving. She turned around and pulled her shirt over her head. (And, no, she wasn't stuffing her bra; she wasn't even wearing a bra.) I got a right profile shot of her breasts (Jesus!), before her arm blocked my view. Arm pressed against her chest and face flushed, she turned back around and dropped her shirt on the floor.

But Mrs. Parker quickly barked at her, "Toss it over." She did, but wasn't happy, in fact, I swear she mumbled the word, "Bitch."

"Ok, just one more thing," Mrs. Parker said, pointing at Leanne‘s thong.

"But why?" Leanne cried, a tear rolling down her cheek.

"Because you've lost your thong-wearing privileges."

(I had to clamp my jaw to keep from laughing.)

Nervous minutes passed, and I began to wonder if Leanne was going to make another run for it, but at last she turned around and rolled down her panties with one hand, keeping her arm across her chest. She turned and tossed her thong at Mrs. Parker, her actions quick enough that I couldn't see much -- but I knew I'd see more.

"How times have changed," Mrs. Parker said, shaking out Leanne's thong.

"My mother would have killed me for leaving the house in these." Mrs. Parker wore a sour look, as she held them up. Leanne moaned, "Oh my god!"

Then she looked at the floor, one arm still across her chest, and the other covering her crotch.

Crossing her legs, Mrs. Parker sat back, and folded her hands in her lap. We both were focused on Leanne now.

"Hey, didn't someone say earlier that she wasn't a baby? Look at you."

I must admit that Mrs. Parker was indeed acting like a bitch and Leanne looked like someone about to go skinny-dipping for the first time.

"Well, she's all yours."

"Excuse me?" I squeaked, forgetting my place at this point.

"Remember the spanking? Hello...."

"Oh, yeah," I said, trying to play it cool, though I'd never given a spanking before, not even to a lover. But I do have the Internet. (Need I say more?)

The first thing I thought about was the position. With Mrs. Parker's presence and my groin already a-flutter, I didn't think I could handle Leanne lying across my lap, so I scanned the room. I didn't really see anything that helpful, and I didn’t think she’d go for “all fours” on the coffee table, so I figured the couch would have to do.

"Ok, move over to the couch." When she didn't move, I snapped my fingers.

"Let's go." Still nothing.

"Are you deaf, girl?" Mrs. Parker said, for the second time. Leanne shook her head and shuffled forward. I knew who was really in charge.

With legs straight and tightly pressed together, Leanne dropped her hands down on the seat of the couch, right next to where Mrs. Parker was sitting. I moved over by her side. Mrs. Parker was facing me, so I couldn't really be obvious with my stare, but I could tell that she had a nice butt. I was about to see if it was a nice butt for a spanking.

I gave her a test blow with the palm of my hand, since Mrs. Parker said nothing about an implement. I almost laughed, not believing I was really doing this. A few swats followed, each a little firmer, until I finally got the smallest of a squeak from Leanne. I figured I found the correct strength behind my blows now, as pain really wasn't my goal. I must say I enjoyed the various noises that escaped from her lips as I continued. The ass cheek that I was focusing on was turning a light shade of pink. I figured I gave her a dozen blows or so, and wondered if that was enough, so I looked over at Mrs. Parker (who, I must say, had a great view from where she sat of Leanne's breasts as they hung from her chest -- and maybe I was mistaken, but she did seem to notice).

"You can't be serious," she said, when our eyes met, and I was confused.

She slid to the edge of the couch. "She has two cheeks, you know," she said, rather wisely, her face only inches from Leanne's ass. I used the

opportunity to shift behind Leanne and finally got a good look for myself.

(What do you know, she did.)

Leanne glanced back, as we examined my handiwork, but she quickly changed her mind (obviously embarrassed that we were checking out her ass) with a smack of the lips.

("Yes, a nice ass, indeed," I thought.)

“Can I go now?” Leanne asked.

"But we’ve only just begun, my love. Now get up there," Mrs. Parker said, with a pinch of Leanne's ass.

"Ouch!" Leanne crawled forward and knelt on the couch, her head resting on the top of it.

Mrs. Parker waved her hand in front of my face. "Ok, back to work, you, and put some muscle behind it.... If you have any."

Normally, I would have been a little insulted, but, after she said this, she turned and picked up Leanne's right leg and moved it about two feet away from the left one. Leanne had to arch her back to adjust. What a view!

"Hey, what the...?" Leanne spat, reading my eyes, and she quickly moved her legs back together, just seconds after Mrs. Parker let go. But Mrs. Parker was at least as stubborn. Back apart they went. Back together they went....

I stood back, amused, enjoying the tug of war, which went on for five or six rounds.

"So you wannna do it the hard way." Mrs. Parker finally wrestled Leanne's legs apart and slid her own legs in between them and sat down.

Leanne's knees were now resting on both sides of Mrs. Parker’s outer thighs. Mrs. Parker slowly spread her legs apart which also spread Leanne’s legs.

“What are you doing?” Leanne whined.

“Ok, back to work.” I heard Mrs. Parker’s voice, but as hard as I tried, I could not get over the implications of this position.

(And speaking of hard, I suddenly realized that I was now sporting a full- blown hardon. I was hoping my loose-fitting running pants that I had worn for the long drive were hiding this embarrassing fact. I also shifted to Leanne's side and quickly delivered some blows, while trying to wish it away.)

I think with the added excitement my blows were a little firmer because my hand started stinging. I rubbed her ass cheek after every blow to ease the sting. (At least that was my excuse.)

Leanne seemed to moan out after every blow now. It did little to soften anything. Harder blows followed until Mrs. Parker interjected, telling me to check her ass. She wanted “red tomatoes.” Honestly her ass was more like “red Zinfandel,” but I lied when Leanne turned her pleading gaze my way, a small tear drop rolling down her face.

“Let me check,” Mrs. Parker said, in disbelief. She stood, pressing on Leanne’s back as she was trying to get up. Mrs. Parker ran her hand along Leanne’s ass cheek.

“She’s not even that warm back here.”

I nodded, but didn’t even know why. I was simply focused on watching her rub Leanne’s ass.

“Please,” Leanne whined. “My bikini.”

(I figured Leanne wore a thong bikini as well and was afraid of bruising.)

“What the hell!” Mrs. Parker suddenly cried out. My body shook, and then my jaw dropped. Mrs. Parker had both of Leanne’s ass cheeks in her hands, her thumbs pulling them apart. “Where is your pubic hair?” I couldn’t help moving in for a closer look at Leanne’s shaved pussy.

“Please, he can see!” Leanne shouted. I felt guilty, but I could see.

“Not so fast!” Mrs. Parker snapped. “Not until you tell me why.” Her fingers pulled farther apart, and Leanne’s pussy lips spread, her pinkish insides flashing into our view.

Mrs. Parker chuckled, grimly. "Yes, he can see everything now."

“Oh my!” Leanne squealed and managed to break free, but a ponytail grab jerked her back on the couch. Mrs. Parker looked steamed. A moment later I found out exactly why.

“Hey, I’m not the one who told you to shave down there.” Mrs. Parker was pulling on Leanne’s hair, and Leanne was reaching up, grabbing at Mrs. Parker’s wrists, probably trying to free herself. This offered me my first clear shot at Leanne’s lovely ample breasts. They were nice and round and firm-looking. They were capped by light pink nipples surrounded by even lighter areolae, which looked truly erotic against her silky white skin.

“Let me go!” Leanne wailed, and she took a kick at me, probably noticing my stare. I stumbled back and tripped over the edge of the coffee table. It was now my turn to crash to the hardwood floor, down on one knee. Of course I quickly stood up like it was no big deal. But with the pain in my knee, I forgot about one little fact.

“What are you laughing at!” Mrs. Parker snarled at Leanne. “That could have hurt him.”

Leanne pointed at me, "The perverts got a hardon!" I froze. (She could see?)

"Well, whose fault is that?" Mrs. Parker spat, and she pulled Leanne off the couch by the hair. When she landed in front of me, I instinctively

covered my excited crotch with my hands.

"How is it my fault?" Leanne cried out. Mrs. Parker still had a handful of hair.

"All that moaning and groaning while being spanked...flashing your bare pussy.... It was supposed to be punishment, girl."

Mrs. Parker flashed a wicked look at me. “I bet you even shaved this morning, hoping this would happen.”

“No way!” Leanne sobbed. “Please, I’ve learned my lesson.”

"Lesson! I’m glad you said that, because Lesson #1 didn't work -- in fact, I think you even liked it. So maybe this'll be more effective.... Pull down his pants."

"What?" Leanne screamed out, and I gulped, thinking the same thing. But I wasn't running for the door either. I was frozen like a statue, a statue with a hardon.

She looked right at the bulge in my pants, which I quickly covered with my hands once again. "I don't do...."

"Oh, don't give me that. My daughter told me what you did to that punk, before the cops showed up."

"No way.... She wouldn't tell you THAT!"

"She did. She told me everything. She spilled her guts after I yanked the TV out of her room."

"God, I'm going to kill her," Leanne said, before she looked over her shoulder, up at Mrs. Parker. "But did she tell you, we were just paying off a debt, and that Donny helped us pass chemistry?"