He shut the door, and I shoved him against the doorframe and began kissing him with wet need, running a hand under his shirt, poised to tease his sensitive nipples. The throbbing hard-on in my pants pressed against his, just as Qasim's had earlier.
But he responded limply to my kisses. Perplexed, I pulled back, still holding him. We could hear Qasim moving in the bathroom.
"You alright, Amir?"
He didn't speak. Qasim's jizz had slid down past the knees of his jeans. Slowly, he dipped a pair of fingers in the mess, coming up with a good-sized warm glob. I badly wanted to lick it off his hand, to see if it tasted anything like his.
"Amir?"
He just sort of looked at the cum on his fingers, with a mixture of shock, lust, and sadness in his eyes, a kind of doleful fascination.
"Are you OK?"
Still nothing. It was as though he were alone in the room. The shower came on in the bathroom he and Qasim shared. I felt a small pang of concern, deep beneath the hot cloud of lust. I watched him wipe the cum-covered fingers on a clean part of his jeans. Then he began fumbling with the button of his fly, but since the jeans were still somewhat new, and I could see now his fingers were trembling, he didn't have much success.
"Here."
I reached for him, worked the button out easily, then slid the zipper down along his still-hard shaft. He took a heavy breath. I slid the pants down to his knees. He supported himself against the door as I helped him step out of first one pant-leg, then the other. His long feet in the white socks underscored his vulnerability, as did the undaunted and clearly distressing--tumescence in his white briefs. I could see as I lifted his shirt to gently caress his back and belly that there were clear drops of pre-ejaculate just below the waistband, where the head of his cock was trapped.
I hugged him tightly and gave him a soft but probing kiss, coaxing his lips open with gentle darts of my tongue. This time he not only allowed it, but even responded, his answering movements equally subdued. When the kiss finally broke, his full sweet mouth traveled along my neck, reached my ear. I inhaled loudly. His warm breath, the warm nearness of him. Soft black curls clinging to my skin. The flutter of a moist, delicate eyelid against my cheek.
"I need you to punish me the way I did Qasim," he whispered, "Please."
His hand was on my back, brushing lightly, sending light chills along my spine. But his body rested heavily against mine, as if he had very little strength.
I took him by the shoulders and stepped back to look at him. He refused to return my gaze, instead keeping his eyes fixed on somewhere beyond my right foot, his soft thick-lashed eyelids half- obscuring the jeweled darkness beneath. In partial profile like that--the eyes, closed just enough to show the fine lushness of the hooded lids; the curve of the long, regal nose; the delicate yet generous mouth; the thin shadow of morning stubble on the firm cheek and strong jaw his loveliness was almost impossible to bear. It was beyond sexual. Though I craved him with a steady ache, I was at the same time overwhelmed, deeply shaken, by his gravity and beauty at that moment.
I kissed him again, running my hands over his body, velvet-smooth and hot. Composing myself, I let him go with some reluctance. I spoke into his ear, trying to sound tough, "Get me something to smack your pretty ass with, Khalili."
Without saying a word, he went over to the very cluttered desk, rummaged a little under papers, textbooks, notes of commendation from the school, and came up with a twelve-inch wooden ruler. He looked at it for a moment after he'd picked it up, as if truly scared, standing there in his clean little ass-hugging briefs, the hem of the T-shirt resting along the rounded tops of his buns. Then he turned back toward me.
"How's this?" he asked, his voice wavering.
I eyed the ruler. It was wide enough to cover a good swath of firm honeyed cheek with each swat, light enough to pack a good whippy sting. Or so I thought I was still no expert at smacking sexy Arab boys.
"It's good," I said, seating myself on the bed, beginning, in spite of myself, to feel more eager than worried, "Come on."
He stepped over to me, slowly, holding the ruler stiffly in one hand. His erection hadn't diminished I could see, even though the shirt had fallen down over it.
"Look at you, Amir," said, laughing a little, reaching to cup the hot hard bulge in my hand. "Rahman's right. You and Qasim are exactly alike. You gave him just what he wanted. Face it."
I'll admit I was only trying to convince him he didn't need to feel guilty, not necessarily that he didn't need to be smacked in my mind, smacking Amir was always an option to be pursued, not avoided.
He only averted his eyes, ignoring my words. I took the ruler from him.
"Alright. If you insist."
I took him by the arm with my other hand loving the feel of his hard compact muscle under my firmly clasping fingers, loving that he let me guide him with such complete, graceful acquiescence, though we both knew he could break my hold anytime he wanted. I pulled him over my knee so his erection rested against mine, and his butt was the highest point on his body. Sweetly rounded peaks of flesh that seemed as one in his tight white briefs but I knew better, knew very well the savory delights nestled between them. I heard him breathing hard as I ran my hand over his tightly-encased behind, that endlessly entrancing combination of muscle and soft springy flesh, which I could now compare to both his younger brothers' though, unfortunately not to Rahman's. The oldest Khalili boy was probably immune to spankings at his age, and had surely always been immune to spankings from anyone but his father.
I fondled those pretty globes in their thin white shield, running my fingers down the cleft, straining the fabric. Amir flinched a little, playing the reluctant penitent, scared of his punishment.
But as I changed again to light, gentle caresses, he began to thrust his rump up into my palm. I favored him with a sharp slap on the left cheek and an order to lift his ass up so I could peel those sexy briefs off. He lifted himself more than was strictly necessary, using the bed as leverage, and I skinned the briefs down to the middle of his thighs. Careful, as he had been with Qasim, not to catch the elastic on his erection.
His thighs they rarely got the attention they deserved, though they were as delicious as the rest of him. Taut bronzy skin over smooth lean muscle, little silky hairs. Maybe I'd smack them a bit, too. That would hurt bad, yes but clearly he wanted to be hurt bad.
I passed my hand over each of his smooth mounds. The flesh was pleasantly warm, as well as silky, but I knew it would soon be baking hot and jumping under my hand. Again, he pushed his behind now bare--up into my palm. I gave it a resounding slap, shoving his exposed hard cock into my own jeans-covered stiffy and making his luscious buttocks clench up in surprise.
"Amir!" I hissed. "What'd you say to Qasim? Don't. Clench. Your. Butt." Four hard spanks-one with each of the last four words, two on each bun.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
"Good." I slapped his butt once more with my hand, then reached for the ruler.
I looked at the length of flat wood, wondering exactly how I was supposed to use it on him. A swat with the end on each cheek, or the whole thing at once, across both buns? I gave him a little tap, then a nudge, right where the cheeks met above his thighs, which made him arch his back and raise his rear. Exactly what I wanted.
I brought the ruler down across the fullest part of his butt, the wood sinking briefly into the cheeks before bouncing back up.
"Ohh..." Amir said, doing his best to keep his bottom up and relaxed.
Again, I brought the ruler down across his cheeks. I heard him gasp; I saw his toes curl in his socks. Another slap, making the two perfect mounds smush together, just as Edgy's cane had. His crack shut to a dark line and his buns went flat in the middle, then bounced open again just as quickly. A thick honey-pink band had formed across his butt from the three ruler-strokes. He remained silent, except for low, short groans, his back arched rigidly, his butt unwaveringly raised.
He had reacted well to those spanks too well. He'd kept his control, and he would continue to keep it if I didn't use more force. I needed him squirming and tearful and begging to be let up, just like Qasim. To find the link, as they say, between his spectacular golden-brown bottom and his (needlessly, I thought) guilt-ridden mind.
That spectacular bottom, incidentally, had relaxed a little. His bare erection pressed harder into my lap.
"Keep your butt up, Amir." A light tap on his lower rump. Immediately, the two cheeks across my lap were thrust perkily up. He even parted his thighs to provide better access.
"Good boy." I stroked his striped buns lightly with one hand. "Make sure it stays up or it will sting more than it's already going to. If I see it go down again, I might smack your thighs for you, too."
He only perked his ass up more in answer. I gave it four good strokes with the ruler, building on the rosy strip left by the first three, making the flawless skin flush deep pink, then a light strawberry red. These strokes were firmer than the preliminary three; they bit harder into his perfect, springy gluteal muscles, producing a thick thwack sound. This time he couldn't contain a few quick, breathy cries. Good. We were getting somewhere.
I settled into something of a rhythm, gave him more and more of the same: firm, biting slaps across that luscious fullest part of his butt, bringing an intense scarlet blush to the original stripe.
"Ahh!" The first cry that did not seem to be whispered.
A number of harder, more deliberate smacks, each coming several seconds after the last. They began to overlap on the untouched places. I waited, then landed a good one on his sweet spot.
"Unnnhhhhh..." A low, lengthy noise that might have been a growl of involuntary pleasure. I ran the ruler slowly, lengthwise, from his sit-spot, over the swell of his buttocks, to the place where they split so adorably from his strong, elegant back. He squirmed his ass back into the ruler, as if loving the feel of the smooth wood, now warm from his hot flesh.
I resumed the firm smacks, and again the meaty, thick sound of wood on ripe young ass filled the room. The shower was still going; I wondered if his brother would hear over the water. The absolute worst he could do was walk in on us and create an awkward moment. His earlier "performance" over Amir's lap guaranteed he'd have to keep quiet. Gaining further confidence from this realization, I established a special pattern of loud ruler-slaps: first the top of his ass, where it began to curve in toward his back; then the round, full middle; then just above the fold between butt and thighs. Soon I had him moaning every few seconds, a sound somewhere between a purr and a whine. His ass was swaying gently, but he kept it perched up and relaxed; I could easily reach any part I wanted. His erection bumped my thigh, full and hard as ever. I would have bet anything there was a nice puddle of his warm precum staining the fabric of my jeans. I hoped he would follow his brother and squirt on me during the spanking; that would be about all I'd need to start cumming myself.
His ass was now inflamed with thick, angry stripes. Every spot on his behind had been struck repeatedly, yielding a sweet dusky red to offset the even bronziness of the thighs and back. His toes were twitching now at each stroke, and he had begun to sniffle softly. That was good. We still had a ways to go, and I didn't expect him to start bawling right away.
I began to concentrate just on his sit-spot. His butt was especially cute there, where the rounded cheeks came together over the tops of the lean thighs, creating a small crease. It was also quite sensitive, and I was rewarded with sincere grunts of increasing pain, hard breathing, loud sniffling. By the sound of it, the pleasure in this was gone for him. But by the feel if anything, his erection seemed to have increased in size and urgency he was still lapping up the punishment like a cat with a dish of warm milk. I gave him a good solid one, seeming to slice into his buns. He made a harsh sound as if choking on his own breath and nearly arched up off my lap. His butt flinched tightly, then relaxed.
Only a brief slip. Still it was too much.
I changed the position of the ruler in my hand so I could insert the edge between his buns. Then I ran it slowly down the now-slackened cleft.
"Amir," I said, "You know what's going to happen?"
"No," he said in a low, almost muffled voice. "What?"
I smacked him hard across both thighs. There was a vicious crack as the wood impacted the lean muscle. Amir's whole body jumped from the shock, and a throaty sob escaped his mouth. Immediately, a bright stripe appeared across the taut honey-brown flesh.
"Two more," I said, applying the first of the two before he had a chance to brace himself. Another beautiful stripe. Again, he cried out, his legs jumping. I grabbed his left thigh just above the knee to hold it down and gave the flesh below his ass a sharp pop. He yelled louder this time, his back straining. As with Qasim, I wished I could see his face. Reasoning that the one on the left leg had been only half a smack, I took the right leg and gave it the same treatment. His yells turn to strong and steady sobs.
For a moment, I let him cry.
"Don't do that again," I said, parting his buttocks with the edge of the ruler, caressing. He shivered, and the sobs softened now that I wasn't hitting him. "Or I'll spread your sweet little butt-cheeks open and whack you on your hole." I teased the orifice with the pointy corner of the ruler, to underscore my words. "You keep it relaxed, and you keep it up."
On the last syllable, I tapped the clean little pucker gently. His ass looked so good, marked up and blushing. I just wanted to lean down and lick him.
"I will," he murmured, teary-sounding.
I took the ruler from between his cheeks. He raised his ass and wiggled his red-striped thighs apart, then waited patiently for me to hit him again. I repeated my earlier pattern of strokes. One on the cute creased sit-spot. One on the rounded crowns of his butt-cheeks. A third just below the split, then back to the lower butt. After several rounds, his ass was a deep maroon instead of the natural dusky- gold. Two firm delicious swells of thoroughly beaten flesh. He kept it squarely in position, barely moving except for a little natural bounce, letting the pain come out through his voice and not his body. He was crying hard not like a child exactly, but like a young man in extraordinary pain, like someone who understood why he was in pain. The sobs were genuine, but resigned, and they communicated something more than just physical agony.
I cracked him three more times across the tops of his buttocks. On the last he screamed, flinching his cheeks shut, twisting hard, and pressing his erection into my lap. I heard a gasp of true fear through the continued tears as he realized what he'd done.
"Five on your hole," I said.
I saw him nod meekly, the sweat pasting the black curls to the velvety back of his neck, on which beads of sweat stood out, shimmering.
"Spread your thighs."
He spread them as wide as he could in his awkward position across my lap. Hiccupping a little from the tears, otherwise quiet, he reached behind him and used his shaking fingers to spread his own buttocks so far apart that the tender unspanked skin strained near his fingertips and appeared much lighter than it actually was. Toward the hole, it was darker, pink-bronze, the delicate rim clean and pure and untouched. The sweet rose again, I wanted to put down the ruler, forget the spanking, and just eat him raw.
But instead I ran two fingers down that dry-silk valley, tugging at the few small hairs nestled around the opening.
"If you think you're getting any breaks for cooperating," I said, "You are mistaken. Sorely mistaken."
In reply, I got the now-expected silence, and he raised up his ass just a little more. Unsure of how hard I ought to hit him, and afraid of catching his fingers, I smacked the end of the ruler down into his crack with a muted splat, getting an equally muted reaction. The next shot was harder, producing a sharper crack and a yelp from Amir. His formerly pristine hole began to redden, which only made it look tastier. The third whack started up fresh sobs, and the fourth provoked a gale of tears so forceful that I was taken aback. Amir's fingers were welded to the spread flesh around his cleft. The sobs didn't stop, and he howled right through the fifth slap to his hole almost as if nothing were happening. His body could handle no further pain, so simply did not register it.
His hands remained frozen on his cheeks for a few seconds. Then, fingers quivering, he released them and they bounced back together. Some of the red from his crack was visible, now blending into the general fresh-spanked hue on the rest of his behind. It was no longer so perky as it had been moments ago seemed he had given up on trying to keep it raised. He was consumed with sobs, writhing on my lap, gripping loose bedsheet in his balled fists. I laid four more stern blows on his solidly beet-red backside, and he barely had the voice to cry out above his own noise at this newest and last--torment.
I dropped the ruler on the floor. Amir's white-clad back continued to hitch wrenchingly as he cried. His erection remained, but I doubt he even noticed. That well-smacked ass wiggled salaciously in my lap even as the tears gushed from the other end. I put my hand out to stroke the pretty, sweat- matted black curls, then his neck and back the T-shirt plastered in places with sweat then the butt itself, oh-so-gently, my fingertips barely grazing his burning skin. The heat drew me, and I pressed my lips first to one raw, red, luscious mound, then the other.
"Get up, Amir. You're done."
He stood right away albeit shakily. The shirt fell down again over his bright red butt, but did nothing to hide the boner he had up front. His eyelashes were wetly matted, the eyes themselves large and pain-dazed. Dusky skin flushed with high color and streaked with tears. Curls stuck to his temples. Mouth quivering as he tried to speak.
"D-do you want me to maybe go in the corner now? Like Qasim?"
He looked so cute and pitiful, his eyes pleading. For more punishment? For a reprieve? Yes, he'd look hot with his elegant nose shoved into the corner, his briefs bunched around his ankles, and his round red rump sticking out against his lean brown thighs, but--
"No I think you've had enough."
"I hurt him," he said, his voice very soft, very weak.
"No, you didn't." I stood up, pulled him close to me again, and kissed his sweat-moistened neck. His pulse was still going hard, and his scent was intoxicating.
"Yeah, I did. I smacked him more than he needed. I know I did." Amir breathed deeply, then said in a voice almost too low for me to hear, "I couldn't help it. I wanted to see him cum so bad."
I squeezed him tight, running a hand up over his smooth back and down over his hot, tender globes, then, in front, along his erect shaft.
"I want to see you cum."
Amir smiled a radiant smile, but brief and sad. All too quickly, it morphed back into a stubborn little frown.
He started to step away from me.
"I don't deserve that. I deserve to be in that corner there, with you staring at my naked, red butt."
"Oh, come off it, Khalili--"
"It's what I did to Qas. It's "
I grabbed the back of his soft damp neck in one hand, wrapped the other arm around his slim waist, and kissed him. It shut him up neatly, immediately. He kissed back, though without a great deal of enthusiasm.
I pushed him down on the bed, relishing the strong wince in his face as his sore bottom hit the sheets.
"Amir," I said, kissing his ear, "if you don't shut up about this," another kiss, this time on the super-sensitive side of his neck "I'm going to take that ruler over there,"
a kiss high on his cheekbone "flip you over, spread your gorgeous sore little cheeks" one on his closed lips "and smack your hole til it's as sweet and red as the rest of your ass." another on the lips; this time I probed softly with my tongue before withdrawing to look at him.
"No... No more on my hole... Please, Aaron."
I loved the way he sounded when he was pleading with me. I kissed his forehead.
"Good boy. Now lift your arms up. Your shirt is coming off."
"What?"
"Lift your arms, Amir. Now."
Seeing the look in my eyes, he obeyed. I peeled the white shirt off to reveal that smooth, leanly muscled, golden-brown chest. His dark nips were standing up hard and eager. I pulled his briefs off easily, then pinned his hands at his sides. Then I kissed down his neck and chest and licked each cinnamon nub in turn, sucking them and finally worrying them gently with my front teeth while his moans grew increasingly louder. Soon my lovely penitent had begun to squirm with unabashed pleasure.
Still holding his wrists, I kissed further down his chest to his velvety belly, swirling my tongue in his navel, then kissing the dark little happy-trail to the base of his very ripe erection. When I engulfed him, he made a startled, squealing sound in his throat. His wrists tensed against my clasped fingers. He tasted wonderful, like sweat and salty pre-cum. I moved my mouth up and down, then concentrated on his soft head, swirling my tongue around, lightly prodding the oozing slit at the tip. I knew it wouldn't take long. His squirming increased, and his breath had become loud enough probably for Qasim to hear it next door. We could no longer hear the shower. When had it stopped? Had he heard the spanking?
All of a sudden, Amir's hips bucked, and he gave a sweet soft cry. His release was strong and abundant, the thick cream washing my tongue and the back of my throat. After the first few hard spurts I took my mouth off to watch the rest of it squirt and then dribble out of him, to enjoy the melting look on his face as his body rode that long-awaited orgasm. It made small white pools and long, warm, pearlescent streaks on his taut flesh. I bent down and lapped at it with ardor, tickling his sensitized flesh and mixing the salty issue with my own spit til finally his belly was reasonably clean.
"I don't want to stain your sheets," I explained, breathless, cum coating my lips.
"What do you mean?" murmured Amir, still dazed.
"When I turn you over." At his blank look: "Your cute red backside is in need of comfort, is it not, Mr. Khalili?"
I didn't give him a chance to protest. I flipped his pleasure-limp body over and spread his thighs. He let me he enjoyed being manhandled like that. I felt his whole slim body shudder as my open lips and wet tongue caressed his left buttock. It was very red, and still very hot.
"Oh " he breathed, as I began to work over the whole hot globe with my open mouth, "Oh Aaron it hurts but "
He cut off his own words with a long sensuous sigh as my tongue skated closer to his reddened crack. I licked up and down the crack not too deeply, not yet, just brushing where the buns met then crossed over to his flaming right cheek. I tasted light young sweat and felt the slowly- fading heat from the ruler-smacks. My tongue glided eagerly over the firm rounded flesh, then I kissed the wet skin gently. I stroked the backs of his thighs as I did so, remembering that I'd also smacked him there.
I would have nibbled him gently had I not just sensitized his buttocks to the point where even a hard kiss made him wince. Instead I began to tongue closer to his crack, dipping my tongue in with greater frequency as he writhed in delight. I placed one hand on each damp warm butt-cheek and gingerly parted them so I could get at that tender reddened rose. It looked a little swollen from the hard smacks, almost as if he'd been recently penetrated. I smoothed a few small shiny hairs away from his hole and dove in, lathering the tasty little bud with spit, and kissing him wetly up and down his crack. It was hot in there too, and a little dank with all the sweat from his recent encounter with the ruler. He just about went crazy, groaning and wiggling his beautiful raw sore ass into my face. I ate his succulent little pucker like I had eaten his cum, all the while keeping his flushed buns spread, caressing the crack area rhythmically with my thumbs. I started to lick around the edges of the bud again, marveling at the soft texture of the puckered flesh. When I poked my tongue into his hole, he almost yelled, but caught himself just in time. He tasted so damned clean, except for the fresh sweat, as if he were always ready for me. I dug in deeper, moving my tongue vigorously against the walls of his tight hot passage. His heavy moaning filled my ears. He began to fuck himself on my tongue a little, rocking back and forth lightly. I skewered him like that til the root of my tongue ached and still didn't stop. Once I withdrew to go over his raw cheeks again, coat them with hot saliva. But soon enough I was back at his pucker, kissing and probing it like I would his equally luscious mouth.
I felt him cum again, felt his buttocks tense up and his little hole twitch tight around my tongue. I heard him as well, the deep moans running together into one long sound of utter delight. This orgasm was hard, but a mere aftershock compared to the one before. After it was over, he lay limp and panting, while I rested my head on his thigh and stroked his slick buttocks, brushing my lips against them in an occasional satisfied kiss. Satisfied though I hadn't yet cum myself, something I knew I could remedy in about a minute flat.
I opened my pants and began jerking myself as I gave Amir's ass light kisses and rubs. I thought of him over my knee, of the way he'd writhed and pressed his erection into me, the way the ruler had bounced off his firm ass as it grew redder and warmer. The way he'd kept it perched up for me all the while, loving every instant of the harsh treatment. I remembered him standing up, thoroughly chastised and beautifully submissive, asking if he should go in the corner as Qasim had. I thought of Qasim in the corner, red-bottomed and sniffling. I imagined Amir in the same position. Then warm cum coated my hand.
After my head cleared, I wiped my hand on some of Amir's Kleenex and crawled up beside him. The two of us lay across the bed him naked, me almost fully clothed. He reached for me and gave me a long deep kiss. His eyes were moist and grateful.
"Thank you, Aaron," he said, blinking.
I stroked his ass, gave it a pat.
"What are you thanking me for? I owed you that one, remember? That switch stung."
"I'm thanking you anyway. I needed it."
"Well, you're welcome."
We rested for half an hour, just lying there holding one another, still except for the occasional languid kiss. At one point I licked the remaining dampness from his eyelids. Finally, he stretched and sat up, a pained look in his face as his burning ass pressed into the sheets.
"I should have that talk with Qasim," he said. "He's confused... and I still feel responsible. You understand?"
"Yeah, I do." Now that I'd cum, I was starting to feel quite a bit of sympathy for poor Qasim. "You should go see if he's doing okay."
"I'll walk you to the door."
I watched him pull on his clothes, admiring his body lazily, still a bit dazzled. We kissed once more, then left the room together. In the living room he gave me another lingering hug, kissed my neck and whispered that he'd see me tomorrow.
I stepped outside into the bright sunlight. As I heard the door shut behind me, I wished I could stay and listen in on the conversation Amir was to have with his brother. I couldn't begin to imagine (well, I could--but it got me nowhere) what the two chastened Khalili boys might discuss behind Qasim's locked door. I wondered if I'd ever find out.