One to Grow On

By Jere Haken

Devon is turning 21, and his best friend Dylan has promised him a birthday spanking he'll never forget. Dylan will definitely deliver, but not in the way that Devon expects! This is for those who enjoy a good spanking.

Warning: This 12k word erotic short story features an encounter with a stern older disciplinarian, a leather belt, a hairbrush spanking, and two naughty gay boys in a hot tub. Contains daddy issues, M/m spanking, sex, rimming, and a blossoming romance between friends.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jere Haken
• Release date: Jan 8, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301247608

Jere Haken

Jere Haken is a lifelong spanking enthusiast who enjoys stories about bright red bottoms on men and women alike. If the word "spanking" gives you that special tingle, you'll definitely want to check out stories by this author!

Book preview

One to Grow On

Jere Haken

Copyright 2013 Jere Haken

Smashwords Edition

Squawnk!

I opened one eye and blearily regarded my future murder victim. He had on one of my t-shirts that he'd borrowed and never bothered to return, and his long legs trailed out of the little khaki shorts he always wore. He was just about to sound off again when I reached out and knocked the obnoxious air horn from his hands.

Rise and shine, buttercup! he said. It's time for all good boys to get out of bed!

I closed my eyes and buried my face in my pillow.

Go away, Dylan, I mumbled. This buttercup needs more time to bloom.

I felt my bed dip down as he crawled in beside me. The next thing I knew, he'd thrown off the covers.

Jesus, dude, just because you have a key doesn't mean you get to use it like this, I said.

Get up, get up, get up! he said, bouncing up and down on his knees beside me. He gouged me in the ribs, but I ignored it. Up, up, up! It's your big day, Devon! You can't spend your whole twenty-first birthday in bed. I've got plans for you…

I rolled over on my back and squinted up at him.

Plans? I asked. What plans?

Oh, you know, he said. Plans.

He reached over top of me, practically crushing my ribs to do so, and retrieved my glasses for me, which he placed carefully upside down on my face. I sighed and righted them, rubbing sleep from my eyes.

Some of us have to work at night, you know, I said. Some of us can't get up and go gallivanting around at… I did a double-take as my alarm clock's numbers came into focus. Holy crap! I'm late!

I jumped from the bed and flew to my closet as fast as my feet would carry me. I pulled the first pair of black slacks I could find from their hanger and yanked them up my legs—backwards.

Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God, I muttered at my bang-up job dressing myself. I wriggled out of the pants and got them on correctly. He's gonna kill me. He's gonna kill me.

From the corner of my eye, I watched Dylan watching me. He got off of my bed and rummaged through the closet as I messed with the zipper on my slacks, which in my haste I'd managed to get caught in my boxers.

Here, he said, holding a blue polo shirt up against my chest. I know you always like to wear that dressy white thing with those, but trust me, this'll look better.

I slung his offering aside and reached for my white dress shirt.

Dylan snorted.

I can't show up to meet my dad—late—wearing a freakin' polo shirt, dude, I said.

I tucked the dress shirt into the back of my slacks and buttoned up. Dylan straightened my collar for me, and then handed me a tie. A pink tie. I stared at it dubiously.

A little splash of color will do you good, he said. Come on. It's your birthday. Live a little.

…Okay, I agreed. Okay.

Want me to do it? he said.

I never could quite get the hang of a tie, but Dylan had it knotted perfectly in less than a minute.

There, he said, dusting some imaginary lint from my shoulders. Here's a boy who'd make any father proud… Well, except for that hair…

Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God…

I rushed to the bathroom to see the damage.