“Do the math, Brandon. You’re a very smart boy; excuse me, man. You’re a man now that your tongue has been in a twat,” he firmly said.
My mom was thirty-five. I was eighteen. She had to have been about eighteen when she had me. Probably around seventeen when she was possibly pregnant.
“Did you figure out that math, smart man?”
“Yes.”
“Did you do it out of love, Brandon? Did you lick that pussy because you love that young woman?”
“No.”
My hands were nervously clutching the excess of my jeans on the sides of my legs and I pulled them away, turning them over with my palms up. Why did this feel worse than any argument that I’d had with my mom? I felt like I’d really disappointed him. And he was the only person who cared about me.
“Did you do it for attention?”
“No! Eli, I’m sorry. I didn’t know that this would turn out like this,” I quickly explained and was eager to get back to where we had been as friends.
“You didn’t know what would turn out like this?”
“You ending up so mad. I’m sorry. I really am.”
Elijah stopped pacing and stood behind his chair. I could tell that he was angry, but he wasn’t walking away from me or kicking me out of his office. Like this was actually a conversation rather than being reprimanded. He leaned forward over the back of his chair, gripping the leather armrests.
“Brandon, many promiscuous teens have issues at home. Typically, they don’t get the attention they need, or they have mommy or daddy issues. You, my friend, have all of those things going on.”
I stared at him, trying to digest everything that he was saying. Were we still friends? Little did he probably know, or care, but he was my best friend. Did he just seem mad to me, and he really wasn’t?
“Why are you so mad? Why do you care?” I finally asked out of exasperation.
“Just because no one gives a fuck about you at home, doesn’t mean that no one cares about you, Brandon. I care.” He stood to his full six-feet-two-inch height and began undoing the buttons on his shirt cuffs at the wrists. “And I’m going to show you that I care. Your horny actions can have repercussions that will follow you through life, Brandon.”
Elijah walked around the chair while rolling up the sleeve to his black dress shirt. Instead of sitting in his usual chair, he sat on the other leather couch just to the right of the couch that I sat on.
“Stand up, Prince Charming,” he instructed.
I stood and faced him. I’d play along with whatever shrinky exercise he had in mind just so we could get back to being on good terms. He was all that I truly had. He hadn’t been a fake friend like all the kids at school. Elijah was a solid person, and he promised me that we were friends and that I could rely on him.
“Undo those fancy, designer jeans and push them down to your ankles,” he instructed and then patted his lap.
I could feel the heat rising from my neck.Was he going to spank me?Quickly I could feel the palms of my hands beginning to sweat, and my mouth went dry. I stared back and forth between his eyes and lap while I tried to comprehend all of this.
“Um, I don’t think spankings work on me anymore. I’m eighteen and all,” I replied.
“I think my spanking will do the trick,” he countered and slapped the top of his lap again. “Let’s go, Brandon.”
“Um, I’ve never been spanked before,” I volunteered nervously. “My mom never did that.”
“She was too busy to be bothered with you. I’m waiting.”
Shit. With sweaty hands, I undid my jeans, pushed them down, and shuffled over to him as best as my feet would move. Awkwardly, I bumped his foot with mine. My heart felt like I was running as I leaned over his lap. I locked my arms at the elbows with my clammy palms flat on the couch beside him, propping up my stomach and chest. My face got hotter with embarrassment as I began to feel my dick swell as it was pressed against his lap.
“Relax your arms on the couch,” he said and guided my stiff arms to bend at the elbow. He helped move them into a more comfortable position, though it forced my body down on his lap more. “You weren’t kidding when you said you’d never been spanked.” He laughed.
Elijah moved one of his legs just a little bit, causing my erection to move from being pressed on top of his leg, to being almost sandwiched between his thighs. With his arm that was closest to my head, he stretched it across my t-shirt over my back and patted my side. His huge palm rested on my back, and his fingers curled around my side over some of my ribs. I could feel the heat from his hand through the fabric of my t-shirt as he held me in place. It wasn’t as weird of a feeling as I was worried it was going to be. As Eli’s other hand began to rub over the boxer briefs of my butt cheeks, I could feel myself getting harder. The head of my dick was pressed against the damp spot inside my boxers, and I prayed that he wouldn’t be able to feel my wet spot when the spanking started.
The first spank startled me, and when I jumped, Elijah tightened his hand around my side. I didn’t feel like he was holding me down at all, but more in a way to keep me from falling or moving around too much. Eli continued spanking me, and he’d alternate what cheek he’d hit. His hand delivered strong slaps that were painful and stung, but I wasn’t bothered by the physical pain. It was weird. It didn’t really hurt but felt almost like a relief.
I adjusted my forearms on the couch just a little bit, and I realized how amazing my dick felt. Each spank pushed my body forward some, which caused my hard dick to bump against the inside of Elijah’s thigh. The friction was amazing, and just as I felt myself really starting to enjoy it, his hand stopped hitting my ass and quickly dropped to the inside of my thigh. As I was about to ask him why he stopped, I felt his fingertips gently glide over some of my healing cuts.
