Spanky Dad and the Three Bares

It was early Thursday evening, and the first game of the fall season was in two days. I’d spent the last hour or so helping Van’s soccer team. Several of the same kids from last season were there, but he’s moved up to the ten and under group now, so there are a number of new kids, including some older boys.

Van had enjoyed the attention of his dad being, not just their coach, but a ‘real’ coach (even if it had only been middle school), and I’d had fun doing it. However, since I’d forgotten it was that evening, I was in the middle of trying to figure out what I could cook for dinner without too much trouble.

I’d settled on omelets and had volunteers preparing the ingredients. I was expecting Bryce to help, so started looking for him. The only feedback I received was that he, Tristan, and Tyler had gone out back.

I’d looked briefly around the backyards, not finding them, so stepped out into the side yard. I called but was about to go back in. As long as he hadn’t wandered off to someone’s house, he wasn’t in trouble. Of course, there are risks to saying things like that without knowing all the facts.

As I turned to walk back into the house, movement caught my eye, and I turned to face the creek. I knew there was no way any of my boys had been down there. Not at that time. After all, we’d just had two days of very heavy rain.

I try not to be too strict about where my boys can go. I know that boys need to wander. There are certain limits that I do impose, such as Van can’t cross the main street in front of Arbor Ridge because it makes a turn over a small hill, and I just don’t feel he’s tall enough to have a good view yet. As a matter of fact, I feel one of the main drawbacks to our living here is that they don’t have a big, open, fairly safe area in which to play (and I wonder how urban kids manage to grow up like they do). When I was a kid, we played in The Trails, and if you were careful, you could have gone down past Waco without hitting anything more than a state highway. Now my kids just have the creek. The creek isn’t small, and it does have a wooded area to either side, but it’s hardly a huge playground either.

The problem with the creek is that we only live a few blocks from a major street that goes over it. Normally the creek is only a small run of water. During the summer it’s often only a trickle or less. However, when we have major, torrential rains like we’d just had the last few days, it overflows its bed, and we have nearly six feet of rushing water, with enough water over the edges that it’s hard to tell where the drop off is, and it’s rushing towards an overpass, which causes a lot of cross currents and undertows. While thankfully never many, there have been deaths from people getting caught in that creek after a heavy rain and pulled under.

I let my boys play down at the creek because I feel like boys need a chance to get surrounded by trees and explore or play Tarzan. And every time we have a heavy rain, I remind each and every one of them that the creek is off limits until I go down, check it, and give permission. Which is why I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw Bryce, Tristan, and Tyler walking towards me, nearly covered in mud.

"What have you three been doing?"

They’d been talking and giggling a bit as they came past the tree line, and I guess they hadn’t noticed me, because they jumped when I spoke. Bryce knew he was busted (or about to be), and his face started jumping in that curious reaction of a boy who knows he’s in for it—that mix of fear, worry, and anxious plans to avoid his fate. Tyler and Tristan didn’t look much better.

I try very hard not to yell at my boys. While it’s one thing to raise your voice when you need to get their attention, yelling because you’re mad at them is always counterproductive, as far as I’ve ever seen. Even as I realized what they’d been doing and my heart started hammering, I was telling myself that they were obviously safe, so there was no reason to get worried now, and certainly no reason to take it out on them.

Instead, I waited for them to draw a few steps closer, where they could hear me without me speaking up too much.

"You boys are a mess," I said, starting with an obvious statement.

I wasn’t going to let them in the house like that, so decided we might as well start with the blatant steps. With that decision, I reached over and opened the gate to the back yard.

"Let’s get some of the mud off you and your clothes."

None of them had anything to say as they trooped past me.

Despite the fact that it was very wet and fairly cloudy, it was also pretty warm. I had the three of them stand over by the hedge while I fetched the hose. Their shirts weren’t too bad, but I decided there was no reason not to do the entire package, so I quickly hosed the shirts clean, then had the boys remove them and toss them in a pile.

Tyler was the only one wearing jeans, so I had him hold the legs up a bit, while I washed off their shoes, then had Bryce carry those up to the patio and lay them out to start drying, while I started sluicing the muck off Tyler’s jeans. Bryce was back before I finished with Tristan, so I did him next before having them all turn. Then jeans and shorts came off and joined the pile of shirts.

Most of the mud had come off Bryce and Tristan’s legs while I was cleaning their shorts, but all three of them had managed to get mud under their clothes, so I gave them all one more good wash.

Tyler really seems to have fallen in love with the Tiger colored briefs I’d given him, but he was wearing plain white for once, like the other boys. That means the hose was leaving the material clingy and translucent. Of course, I’ve seen all three boys naked, and there’s really not much to see with a couple of ten year olds and one small eleven year old, but it was very fun to watch the way the material clung to their little rears. I enjoyed the view for a quick moment, then told them to put the briefs with the rest of the clothes and turn around to face me.

The briefs came off before they turned, and I had a moment to appreciate the three little rear ends as they were intended to be enjoyed.

Tristan is just as energetic and active as his friends, but as long as I’ve known him, he’s been soft—it’s like he always carries just an extra pound or two more than he really needs (and at only about 4’6", a couple of extra pounds is a bit of nice padding when it’s spread everywhere). His bottom is no different from the rest of him. It’s firm to the touch (or swat), but there’s that slight bit of cushion that gives it a nicely rounded appearance.

Bryce, on the other hand, is lean and firm. He’s not flat-butted, but his little rear is smaller than you’d expect, with distinct dimples and slopes making it seem almost completely separate from his back and legs. I know Bryce is growing almost constantly right now, which is part of it, so I’m really making an effort to keep him well-fed, but his body seems to be staying ahead of me for now.

Tyler is currently between the two. He’s had a lean, firm build as long as I’ve known him, but not as much as Bryce. His bottom isn’t as round or soft as Tristan’s, but doesn’t have the tightness of Bryce’s. In a row with the other two, I think it would just come down to taste as to whether his was the most perfect or not, but I was tempted that way.

I’d been fairly quiet during the washing, which really hadn’t taken much time at all. I’d only spoken to assure them I wasn’t upset about the mess (since it didn’t come inside, there wasn’t much to be upset about). Now that they were all (moderately) clean, but dripping wet, I turned off the hose, then back to them.

"Bryce, what did I tell you just… Tuesday after school, wasn’t it?"

"You mean that we’re not supposed to go down to the creek?"

"That’s exactly what I mean."

He’d been looking at me, apparently hoping I’d been referring to the Rangers chances to make the World Series. Once he was sure what I’d meant, he looked towards the ground.

"I want you to grab all the clothes and take them straight to the utility room. Throw the clothes in the dryer. If there are towels in there, grab one and get dry. Then stick your nose against the wall until I get there. If there are no towels, straight to the wall. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," he squeaked. I gave him a mild swat on his clammy rear as he moved towards the clothes, then I turned to Tristan.

"Trist, you’re not one of my kids, but who’s in charge when you’re over here?"

"You are, Uncle Jack," he said, his boyish soprano breaking nervously as he answered.

"That’s right, and unless I’m very mistaken, you were standing right there next to Bryce when I told you boys not to go down to the creek, weren’t you?"

His mouth opened, but he only nodded.

"Did you hear what I told Bryce?"

He nodded again.

"Utility room," I told him bluntly, but not unkindly. "I’ll be there in a minute."

He tensed as he went by me, but I let the chance for a swat go. I waited until he was clearly on his way before turning to Tyler.

"I know you weren’t here…"

"I knew we weren’t supposed to go, Uncle Jack," he interrupted me, before I could even decide what I was going to do with him.

"You knew you weren’t supposed to go down to the creek?"

He nodded, clearly feeling miserable.

"How did you know?"

"Tristan and Bryce told me."

Tyler looked at me for a minute, then took a deep breath.

"I just wanted to go down there and see how high the water was," he said, "how fast it was flowing," he added a second later. "Bryce said we weren’t supposed to go down there, but I told them I was going anyway."

He looked up at me miserably.

"I called them chickens."

I could tell the answer just by the look on his face, but needed to make it clear anyway.

"You know you were wrong to tease your friends for doing what they were supposed to do?"

"I know. I’m sorry."

"You know what’s going to happen now, Tyler?"

"You’re gonna spank me," he said, his voice leaving no room for doubt.

"I’m going to spank all three of you, but…"

"But it was my fault," he interrupted me.

"Tyler, you shouldn’t have teased them about not going. That might have been the reason they went, but it’s not like you knocked them out and dragged them. Whatever the reason, they decided to ignore me and go down there, and they’re going to have to accept the consequences. Do you understand that?"

He nodded, looking like he just wanted to die.

"You know, when I spank more than one boy, I usually spank the youngest or let company go first. I don’t think I’ve ever spanked all three of you at the same time, but since you and Tristan are the same age, and since he’s over here almost every day until his uncle picks him up, I’d probably have let you go first. Right?"

He nodded slowly, not sure where I was going.

"While it’s not your fault your friends decided to go down there, you shouldn’t have teased them about not going, so you’re going to watch them get spanked before you get your turn. Do you understand why?"

Tears were rolling down his face as he nodded.

"I’m sorry, Uncle Jack; please don’t spank them. They’ll hate me."

I knelt down in front of him (managing to get my knee into a puddle of muddy water), and took him by the upper arms, then pulled him into a hug.

"They’re your best friends, Tyler. They’re not going to hate you. They MIGHT act a little mad at you, but if they do, it’s because they’re really mad at themselves. They know they shouldn’t have gone down there, no matter what you said. Besides," I added, after a short pause, "Bryce knows how bad it is to have to wait for your spanking, so he’ll know you’re getting extra punishment for it. They’ll be okay."

He sniffed hard, then asked, "Are you sure?"

"Sure as I can be, Tyler. I can’t promise it, but I am sure. Besides, I’ve never spanked the three of you together, so this’ll be a good bonding experience for you."

A quick giggle escaped him. "I’d rather go fishing."

I laughed back. "Well, maybe we can do that some time. For now, though, we’re going to take care of this. C’mon," I added, standing up and holding my hand out to him.



When we got to the utility room, Bryce was already dry and had his nose to the corner. Tristan was trying to balance against the washing machine while drying his feet. There was a stack of towels waiting to be taken to the linen closet, so I snagged one from the top and started to dry Tyler’s back for him. He’d calmed down a bit, but was still very nervous and upset, and I thought the contact would help him relax.

"You guys look here."

I waited a moment while Bryce and Tristan gave me their attention before going on.

"I want you all to understand that I’m very disappointed in you. I hoped you’d understand by now that I don’t make rules just to be mean or to keep you from having fun. I understand that boys need to run around and explore sometimes. I used to love doing that kind of thing when I was a kid. So when I do make a rule, it’s one that I feel is very important, and you’d better believe I expect you to mind it."

"But we only went down to look, Dad. We didn’t get in it."

"That doesn’t matter, Bryce. The rule is that you do not go down there until I tell you it’s okay again." I paused for a second, then explained again why I’d made that rule.

"I know you boys are good swimmers and everything, but that doesn’t matter. Water like that doesn’t care if you can swim. Water like that creek gets can wash away cars."

I paused to let that sink in, before I went on.

"I know you boys aren’t stupid," I said, letting my voice relax a bit, wanting to get them to really understand this. "The thing is, there are some things you can understand or know just by being smart. There are other things that you don’t really understand until you have some experience. Because you boys are only ten and eleven-years-old, you don’t have a lot of experience yet. That’s why your parents have to take care of you. Do you understand that?"

I waited for all three of them to nod, and Tristan added a quiet ‘yes, sir’, that was quickly echoed by his friends. They did look a little perplexed as to where I was going with it, though.

"Parents don’t always make the best decisions. We’re just human and sometimes we make mistakes. More importantly, we love you guys and worry about you, and sometimes maybe we’re a little overprotective. A parent’s job is to take care of his kids and help them get ready to be grown ups. A kid’s job is to learn those things and mind his parents. And what happens to kids when they don’t mind?"

They’d all three been listening intently, trying to guess where I was going, but now three faces fell and they all looked miserable. There was a long moment of painful silence that Tyler finally broke.

"They get spanked."

All three boys were teary now, but Tristan and Bryce both nodded reluctantly, admitting what they knew.

Tyler was dry, so I took Tristan’s towel and tossed them both into the dryer, then turned back to the boys.

"Let’s go to Bryce’s room."



I followed the boys as we cut through the kitchen and dining room, then angled across the playroom to Bryce’s bedroom. Bryce’s dark brown hair led the way, followed by Tristan’s light blond, with Tyler’s indeterminate brownish-blond right in front of me (though at this time of the year, he’s closer to an actual blond with golden highlights from all his time in the sun).

All three of the boys were still darkly tanned on their upper bodies and lower legs. Their upper legs, often covered by board shorts, were a bit paler, but they didn’t have a lot of chances to go skinny dipping, so their little bottoms were all a very pale but healthy cream, though Bryce’s looked like he had a bit of coffee mixed in, due to his naturally darker complexion.

We drew some attention as we crossed the playroom. Riley, Doug, and the twins were playing some video game. Johnny and Doug were on the game, so it was Josh and Riley who noticed first, but all four of them were watching before we reached Bryce’s door. The four of them were quiet though. Not only did all four of them know that any teasing would probably end them up in line with their younger relatives, but all seven of those boys are close, and there was a good chance that it was only luck that kept some of the older boys from making the march as well.

When we entered Bryce’s bedroom, I shut the door behind us, then lifted Heat from where it hung. The boys had continued forward, and Bryce went to the chair that sat next to his desk and pulled it out into the room before standing in front of it, next to his friends. He looked over at me and winced when he saw the paddle in my hand, but didn’t bother to protest. When Tristan saw the paddle, the tears that had been standing in his eyes started to roll down his face.

I sat down before speaking again.

"You all three know why you’re about to be spanked, so I don’t think I need to lecture any more.

Even as I was preparing them for what they knew was coming, I couldn’t help enjoying them. The three of them make such a cute little set. None of them are especially big, and all are about the same size, despite the fact that Bryce is more than a year older than the other two. With his dark hair, eyes and skin, and his lean, defined body, Bryce is almost the opposite of Tristan, while Tyler fits in the middle. With the three of them standing nude before me, I saw again that Tristan looks the best hung of the three. Although Bryce’s and Tyler’s little peters hung down between a pair of slightly dangling balls, while Tristan’s sac was still close up against his legs, Tristan looked to be about twice as long as the inch the other two boys were showing. Then again, I’d seen the three of them nude and wrestling around, with little erections that they didn’t even seem to notice, to know that they were all actually about two inches, and Tristan was simply a shower, while the other two were growers. Still, it did make for an awfully cute picture.

Without going into detail this time, I simply repeated the points I’d already made, watching to see if there was any disagreement or protest. Thirty seconds later, I called Tristan over to me. I’d known him long enough to be sure he thought getting it over with quickly was the lesser evil, and he must have known it was coming, but a little sob still escaped him when I called his name. Still, he came to me without a fight.

I tucked the paddle behind me for a moment, then took Tristan by the hips and helped him across my lap. He isn’t as accustomed to the position as Bryce is, but he’s been there a time or two, and it only took a second to get him into place.

I really prefer not to paddle Trist. His uncle does use a paddle, but only on very rare, serious occasions, and he’d never been paddled (and barely even spanked) until his uncle moved in with them a couple of years ago. While it’s certainly not easy for the other boys, a paddling seems especially hard on Tristan. Still, what they’d done wasn’t just disobedient, but dangerous, and this was a case that needed especially hard.

I picked up the paddle, gave Tristan’s bottom a pat with it, then went to work. The paddle cracked one, two, three times, tracing down his crack, then moved back up to trace four more swats moving down his left cheek, then his right one.

Tristan had already been on edge before the paddling started, and he was yelping from the very first and quickly started to sob. It actually wasn’t as bad as it should have been. I felt like Tristan deserved a paddling for this, and I knew the other boys were going to be getting it, so he had to get one. Still, there are paddlings and paddlings, and I was using more wrist than arm action, which had to be stinging like the devil, but would probably mean a quicker recovery for him.

Down the middle again, then a couple of swats to the sides of his chubby little bottom. One more time down the middle, then a few swats on each leg. His sobs had been getting harder and louder, but the swats on his legs were enough to push him into real crying.

I’ll say this for Tristan, he tries to stay still and take it; but as I moved back up to repeat the pattern on his bottom, he started losing control, squirming around and kicking his legs.

His already rosy cheeks turned a true red under my renewed attention, and his crying continued to get louder and harder. As I finished moving back and forth down each cheek and returned to the center of his bottom, he was on the very edge of totally losing control, so I added a bit more arm to the swats, and he was bawling before I’d placed the final swat there.

I almost placed it on his hand.

I paused just a second to pin his wrist under my left arm, then went down his bottom again, meaning a couple of extra smacks for him, but I’m not sure how much difference they made by then. He was really bawling as I placed a couple of swats to each side, then went down to his legs. I doubt anyone even noticed I’d skipped the last set of swats down the middle.

Three more swats to each leg, and his legs weren’t kicking so much as just spasming with each smack. I paused for just a second with the paddle hovering over his sit spots. I thought about making him wait for those; about saving them for all three boys, and giving those last, burning swats after the spankings, with the three of them lined up and bent over the bed. It’s a method I’ve used before very successfully. The pause lengthened to a couple of seconds before I decided that the three boys had broken a very important safety rule, but that all three of them now seemed to understand how important it had been and were repentant. They deserved, and were going to get, very hard spankings, but I decided that little bit extra would go from enough to too much. The paddle smacked down, not especially firmly, a couple of times on each of Tristan’s already blazing sit spots, curving his back up and drawing a howl from him.

"It’s all over now, buddy," I assured him, as I tucked the paddle onto the chair behind me.

I gently rubbed his rear with my left hand, feeling the heat coming off his cheeks and vaguely remembering from my own experiences just how much he must be aching right now.

"C’mon now," I added, as I eased him up and turned him to sit in my lap.

The tow-headed boy was still bawling loud and hard as he turned, and the movement wasn’t helping, but as soon as he was up, he threw his arms around my shoulders, looking for comfort. I held him tightly for a moment, letting him cry against my shoulder, then reached down to kiss his forehead.

"You’re gonna have to get up now, Trist. I know you’re not ready, but the other boys are waiting."

Looking up at Bryce and Tyler, there was no doubt they’d be very happy to go on waiting as long as Tristan wanted to wait (and a few years after that, no doubt), but I wanted to get it over with.

I eased Tristan to his feet, then gently guided him back to Bryce’s side. He stood there, one hand rubbing his face and the other his bottom, before I told him to put his hands on his head. Another second of rubbing, then he did.

Tyler and Bryce watched as Tristan returned to his place beside them. Both of them were already on the edge of breaking down; tears running down their faces, chins quivering, and chests heaving quickly with barely suppressed sobs.

"Your turn, Bryce," I informed him.

Bryce looked confused for a second before answering, "But Tyler…"

"Tyler knows what’s going on," I interrupted my son. "Each of you boys is responsible for your own choices, and each of you chose to go down there, so each of you is getting the same punishment. However, it was Tyler’s idea to go down there, and when you two said you shouldn’t, he kept pushing. I’m not going to spank him any harder for that because he didn’t ‘make you’ go, but I do want him to watch you getting your spankings first. Right, Tyler?"

"Y-y-yes, Unca Jack."

Bryce turned to look at the fairer boy for a second, then nodded and stepped reluctantly to my side.

After more than five years of fairly regular trips, Bryce and I both know how he needs to go over my lap, and I don’t even have to think about it and barely have to adjust him. He just lays himself in the right spot. This time, I didn’t bother saying anything at all. It had all been said, and there was no reason to drag things out. As soon as he was over my lap, I retrieved the paddle and started to spank.

Unlike Tristan, Bryce is very used to the paddle. That doesn’t mean he takes it any better than the other boy in the long run, but he starts off with a little more control. Of course, a lot of that goes out the window when he’s had to watch someone else take the first spanking.

As the paddle moved back and forth over his firm little cheeks, he was quiet and still at first, but quickly started squirming. As I moved from side to side on his cheeks, each leg began to quiver and shake. His upper body began thrashing around a bit, and he began to make an almost quiet, moaning, groaning type of noise from between his teeth. As I left his rosy cheeks to smack his legs, he began to yelp and his legs began to really kick. The sobs started as I moved back up to his already stinging cheeks.

I don’t know whether it was for emotional support or an attempt to hold himself still, but as his bottom turned a true red, he suddenly took a firm grip on my leg. His legs were going like a champion swimmer’s, and real crying suddenly burst forth from him. I finished his bottom and went back to his legs. He was crying full power, but not quite bawling yet, even as I finished the legs. You could tell he was on the edge, though, not just from his tone, but from the lack of strength in his movements now.

One good firm swat on the left sit spot, then the right. Back to the left, and the boy broke. He was bawling loud and hard, no longer squirming and struggling and kicking, but barely jumping as each swat landed. Another on the right to even them out, then one more pair, and I put the paddle down.

As I rolled Bryce into my lap, I could barely understand him repeating, ‘I’m sorry, Daddy, I’m sorry,’ over and over. I just hugged him to me tightly and assured him it was okay and that all was forgiven. I’m not even sure he could hear me right then, so I kissed his forehead, then helped him up. Without having to be told, Bryce put his hands on his head and stepped back beside the other boys.

Tristan’s crying wasn’t as bad as it had been before I started with Bryce, but apparently watching his friend over my lap wasn’t a good way to help him settle down. It was easy to see that Tyler was barely in control of himself. He wasn’t sobbing, but the tears were still flowing and he was bending his knees and twisting around like his little bottom was already on fire. I’d not told him to put his hands on his head, and they were moving around, coming together, and he was even wringing them occasionally. When I gestured to him, he broke into tears, but still stepped over to me.

With no more lecture than I’d given Bryce, I picked up the paddle and went to work. It was hard to tell, since he was already crying, but I knew Tyler was used to the brush, even though spankings from his mom were usually shorter than what I gave. Instead of listening to him, I watched his body reactions.

The emotional crying he’d given into grew louder and harder, but it was his body that told me where he really was. He started off fairly still, though squirming a bit. As I worked the paddle around his bottom, his squirming got harder and his upper body started to thrash around. Then his legs began kicking, small arcs at first, but quickly growing wilder. His hands never came back behind him, but they were smacking against the floor and my leg.

Even though he was already crying, I knew it was from his emotions, from guilt about leading his friends into trouble, about teasing them, and also about having to watch their punishment while awaiting his own. Because of that, I wasn’t worried about his spanking being ‘too much’. Besides, though I wasn’t going to spank him harder than the other boys, I really wanted him to learn two lessons from this—not just about following rules, but also about how to treat other people.

Finally, as I was going over his cheeks a second time, turning them a deep red color, his whole body arched and he wailed. After that, there was no question that he was bawling. That didn’t get him off easy, though. I honestly believed that all three boys were equally deserving of punishment in this case, but also that Tyler was a little more equal. I skipped a couple of swats on his bottom, but made sure his legs were nice and red before placing those last few smacks on his sit spots. Normally, I would have given him less than Bryce, but I gave him the same number this time so he’d have something to remember this by for a little longer than normal.

After squeezing Tyler to me and giving him a small kiss, rather than popping him to his feet, I gestured for the other boys to join us. Bryce was still crying, but Tristan’s had faded to an occasional, hiccupping sob. Both of them were happy to join us, though, and more than ready to let me squeeze them tight. I spread my legs a bit and shifted Tyler to my left knee, then lifted Tristan to my right. Bryce squeezed in between my legs and his best friends, and I just held them all as they hugged each other and me.

After a quiet moment, I finally spoke. "I love all three of you guys, and I’d hate for something to happen to you. When I tell you a rule, you’re always welcome to ask me why. I’ll explain it as much as I can. I want you to understand why I’m making them. It might not make sense to you or you might not agree with it, but I’ll always try. Okay?"

I paused for them all to agree. Even Tyler’s crying was beginning to calm, so I could understand all of them now.

"Good. I really do want you to understand, so you know why. I think that helps a boy mind. But if you don’t mind, you can expect to find yourself back in this position every time. Do you believe that?"

"Yes, sir!" all three boys assured me.



A few moments later, the three of them were standing, nose on wall, displaying those fiery, red little bottoms. When we’d moved Bryce into his new bedroom, we’d deliberately picked that spot. The three of them were standing with a little space between them, though I could see Bryce occasionally shift to one side or the other, brushing shoulders with his friends. While I’d never actually had to do it (and refuse to answer as to whether I was hoping to or not), there was room for five boys to stand there, just in case these three, Gordy and Paul all ever managed to get into trouble at the same time.

I only made the three of them do a couple of minutes in the corner. That kind of group spanking can be very hard on a boy, especially on the one who had to go last. I wanted this to serve more as a break between the spanking and the rest of their lives than as additional punishment.

I waited and listened to a last few sobs and some sniffs before letting them come back. After all three of them assured me they were going to follow rules and would ask if they didn’t understand, I sent them to get cleaned up. While they were in the bathroom, I checked on their clothes, but they hadn’t had enough time to dry yet, so I went back to Bryce’s bedroom and dug out something for all three of them.

Clothes weren’t too big an issue for the three boys right then. All three of them complained about their rears still being ‘hot and stingy’, and they ended up staying bare until Dean arrived to pick up Doug and Tristan. By that time, I was able to give them their own clothes back, and they all started, very carefully, to dress. Dean, who knows my rules and is happy enough to have me around to handle these things, waited patiently. Doug and Riley, not so much so. As soon as Tristan headed towards the door with his uncle and cousin, Riley made his way over to his little brother.

Proving that boys don’t quite get the concept of ‘whisper’, Riley leaned towards the other boy and asked in a voice I could clearly hear across the room, "What the heck did you guys do?"

I was tempted to stay to hear what he said, but unfortunately, I had omelets awaiting my attention.







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