Date: Sat, 24 Apr 2010 00:41:51 -0700 (PDT)
From: wtreat007@yahoo.com
Subject: Hell To Pay

Hell To Pay

by Brother Lalo



"My name is Matthew and I'm an alcoholic."

With those words I began my journey into the halls of alcoholics anonymous
eleven years ago.  My drinking had gotten to the point where the blackouts
and just plain lousiness of it all had finally convinced my family that
some kind of intervention was necessary in order to bring some tranquility
into not only my own but also their lives.

The road certainly hasn't been easy and there have been bumps along the
way.  One such hiccup happened early on in my sobriety and that's the story
I write about now.  But first I want to thank my sponsor for all of his
help during the last eleven years.  For those who might not know, an
A.A. sponsor is a confidant and knows how the program works.  He's a guide
and a mentor to see that the "newbie" or as he calls me "pigeon" stays on
course and most importantly doesn't drink.  My sponsor is connected with
this so I thought I'd introduce him as "John", though that is not his real
name.

Now, more about me and my family.  When I began the A.A.  program I was 44
years old, married with two children and had a fairly decent job running my
own office cleaning company.  It wasn't high tech and I worked hard.  It
paid the bills and provided a nice comfortable life for myself, Margaret my
wife, and our two sons Josh and Peter.  Back then I employed John (who was
to become my sponsor) as well as young guy named Miguel.  Josh and Peter
also helped out whenever they were home from college.  Josh was the older
at 22 and was a senior about to graduate while Pete a freshman at 18.  John
was five years younger than me at 39 and had been my employee for four
years.  I knew he was a recovering alcoholic when I hired him because he
told me so and had been sober for a while.  For me it wasn't an issue, I
just thought John was someone who couldn't handle it.  For me drinking on
the job and partying hard after work in bars (usually without my wife) was
just normal behavior for a suburban dad.  Weekends were made for barbeques
and highballs, or so I believed at the time.

As I said earlier my journey into A.A. began eleven years ago.  How you
might well ask did I come to this?  I've told my story many times during AA
meetings, and while everything I've said publicly before now has been true,
I've kept some of the details to myself and my sponsor.  I'm now a sane and
sober man with a good message that helps people, but back then I was a
complete falling down drunk with a history of off-the-wall and wild
behavior that seems foreign to me now.  This led me to stupid decisions and
my family suffered with my business also going down the tubes.  At the end
I just didn't care and wanted nothing more than to feel numb with my
companion of choice Jack Daniels.

That's all common stuff for AA, and I won't bore you with the sordid
details.  Suffice it to say I was ripe for either another DUI or an
intervention and I was lucky enough to get the latter and this is the story
of how that went.

I arrived for work one Monday promptly at 8pm (we worked nights) with a
stupefying hangover from a weekend of drinking by the pool at home.  John
recognized it once again (this happened a lot) and though he was a younger
guy he knew he couldn't see me descend into the same pit from which he had
escaped.  The little shit was a saint, I suppose, or possibly a devil
looking back on it now.

"Hey Matt, got a second, I need to ask you something?"

Oh no, not this again, I thought.  But instead I said, "Sure, what's up?"

"Matt, your drinking is really out of control.  Your family is worried and
you fuck'in reek like a barroom.  You need to cut the shit."

Damned that little fucker ...again with my drinking.  I'll do what I
please, thank you very much.  "It's not your concern, aren't you scheduled
to go out with Josh for that office on Park Street?"  That ought to shut
him up, John was all business and who the fuck did he think he was anyway?
I'm the boss, afterall and could fire his ass on the spot for talking like
that.

"Josh is late, something about a girl.  I'll need some help to finish up by
morning what with those floors and all.  Want to come along and work off
some of that booze and get your flabby butt back to it?"

Ok, that flabby butt remark wasn't true.  I belonged to a gym and while I
hadn't been there in a couple of months I still had "tone" or so I usually
lied to myself when glancing at my big hairy butt in the mirror every day.
My wife didn't complain, and who the fuck cares about an old guy like me
anyway.  I was in good shape, with an emphasis on "was".

"Yeah, that Josh has been seeing a lot of his girl.  I'll help out this
once," deftly ignoring the remark about my fat ass.  "Get the truck and
I'll meet you there, I'll take my Harley."

Yeah, I ride bikes.  Though if I had dared to admit it, it was mostly the
bank's property with me somehow forgetting to make payments every now and
then.  It's funny how I could remember to get to the liquor store or stop
off at a bar after work in the morning, but couldn't remember to mail a
check once a month.

John left, and I grabbed my favorite leather jacket with the Harley logo on
the back and rode over to Park St.  Along the way, call me a dummy, I
stopped in for a drink which meant I was there for six and proceeded to the
office to meet John for work about two hours late.

What the hell?  The buffer equipment is right here in the lobby and I for
damned sure ain't doing floors.  "Hey John, where are you?"  I said into
the walkie-talkie.

"I'm finishing on five in the big office," Matt responded quickly.  "Why
don't you come up and bring the buffer with you."

"Right away, bossman," I snarked.  Why even bother owning a business and
hiring people I pitifully thought.  It's hard work being in charge all the
time, and I often wished I could just chuck it all in.

Arriving on five with a buffer in tow and huffing a bit and feeling a bit
woozy I stopped and stared when the elevator door opened.

There are times when you know something bad is going to happen, when you
know something isn't right with what you're seeing.  A disconnect, and a
shock.

"Matt, your son Josh and me want to talk to you."  They were both standing
in front of me with their arms crossed and looking like someone had died.
I felt a pang, oh no...not Margie.  Why are they so sad?

"Dad, you need to stop drinking," Josh intoned.  "Mom says don't come home
and John and I quit, we're not going to enable you anymore.  You can hire a
bunch of drunks to take our place and ruin your life that way but not with
our help."

Yeah, someone had died all right.  It was me.  As I learned much later in
A.A. there often comes a point in a serious alcoholic's life when they just
have had it and don't want the shit and pain and suffering and sheer
banality of it all.  I guess my time had come, desperation I suppose.  I
loved my wife and the shock of her throwing me out was enough.

"I need some help."  I bowed my head and for a moment, just a brief one, I
felt some relief at saying it.  Then I started to cry.  Huge ungodly sobs
and I couldn't stop.  Josh came over and I hugged him close weeping like a
drunken fool.  John stood there watching.

"Matt, have you had enough?" John asked.

"Yeah, I give up."

Those words still are clear in my mind today eleven years later.  What
wasn't clear at the time was that John had experience with drunks like me
who said one thing and did another over and over again.  He wasn't going to
let me off so easily.

"You need to come with me.  Josh got here after I called him when you
didn't show up and worked his butt to finish up.  We're done with the job.
Your wife is going to rip you a new one if we don't start this right away."

"Ok, I am so sorry, I'll never do it again."

"I know you won't, at least you won't today while I'm here.  Josh why don't
you go home and your dad and I will have a talk here where it's quiet."
Josh wheeled the buffer back into the elevator and with a sigh the door
closed and I was left with John alone in the hallway.

"Let's use the big office they have comfortable chairs where we can discuss
your problem," John said.

The office was really plush with carpeting and drapes and table lamps.  It
looked more like a living room with a huge mahogany desk and nice mini
conference table with chairs.  John took a seat in an arm chair and I sat
on the sofa.

"Matt, there's something called `surrender' in this program.  It means that
you've given up completely and turned your will over to a higher power.
I'll be your sponsor and show you how I work my program which adds a few
things on to the regular twelve steps and twelve traditions of A.A.  But
you need to trust me and consider me your higher power while we do this."

"What?"  What's this higher power shit, and Matt is about as much of a
higher power as a toad.  He's a skinny assed little runt and he might know
a few things but I'm the boss.  This won't work.  But I said instead, "I'll
try."

"Good Matt, willingness to be taught is a good sign.  Do you admit that you
are powerless over alcohol?  That your life has become unmanageable?"

Both of these were true, and I knew it.  "Yes".

"Part of the extra incentive I use for my pigeons, and that's what you are
Matt, a pigeon right now, is to give the message of AA and to enforce it
with rigorous feedback and coaching.  This was taught to me by my sponsor
and though AA doesn't have this in their twelve traditions, it's one that
works for the right sort of person who surrenders to another person.  AA
works when the higher power is God; this non-AA tradition gets you ready
for that."

"Are you willing to go to any lengths?"  There was look of deadly
seriousness on John's face.  "This is life or death for many people."

"I'll do what it takes, I can't continue with this, my life is a mess.
What do I have to do?"  I meant this only half-heartedly, I needed some
calm and peace and serenity in my life and the drink was ruining (has
ruined) my life, but not this.  I was prepared to at least fool John long
enough to get out of this situation with the wife, or so I thought at the
time.

"Good.  Let's start now.  I want you to stand up and take off all of your
clothes right now!"

Say what?  I didn't hear that right.  This isn't like AA I read about on
the internet when last I tried quitting the drink.  No.  This was weird,
take off my clothes?  Here?  Now!

"Matt, this is the pre-program to get you ready.  Trust me to know this.
You must be ready for the surrender to come, and this is the surrender to
me that you must endure to begin and is my way to lasting sobriety."

"You mean I have to do what you say because you're the boss?"  I'm the
boss, I inwardly screamed and you are fucking fired, I wanted to yell.

"You got it.  From now on you do what I say, you shut up, and you listen to
what I'm going to teach you.  Later we'll attend meetings and get you
started on the regular 12 step program, for now do as I say."

Holy shit!  I stood up to leave.  I had to get out of here!  I am not going
to listen to a guy five years younger than me telling me to take off my
clothes and get bareass naked in some strange office.  What's he going to
do next?

I walked to the door.  More like I ran to the door.  John was right behind
me, and put a hand on my shoulder gripping it tightly.  I stopped and
started to babble.  This can't be happening, I know I need to stop drinking
could this work?  Why is my dick hard?  Am I that perverted?  I strip all
the time in the locker room with other guys.  But this is too intimate here
in this office, and too goddamn bizarre to do it just because John says I
have to.

"Let me help you, Matt."  I turned to face him.  He had this calm demeanor
while I was panic stricken.  Like a deer caught in the headlights.  This
runt of a guy was staring at me intently, I was petrified.  Worse I could
feel something else besides my rock hard dick.  Was this surrender or
capitulation?

"I can't, John.  I can't take off my clothes in front of you, what are you
gay or something?"  There wasn't a gay bone in John's body that I could
tell, he was as straight as me.

"Get naked, Matt, or I'll do it for you."  He reached for my leather
jacket, and unzipped it.  "There now, I've started you, give me your
jacket."  With my hands trembling, and gosh knows what the fuck, I was
taking off my jacket and handing it over to him where he promptly dropped
it on the floor.

"Let me help you with that shirt."  He unbuttoned my shirt to the waist and
roughly pulled it pulled it off my shoulders spinning me around at the same
time and pulling it out of my trousers and off.  He turned me around again.
My eyes were everywhere darting about, I looked down at my hairy chest with
my love handles Margie likes so much.  I looked away and saw myself in a
mirror on the wall.  I blushed!  Matt pushed me down onto the sofa again
and knelt there untying my shoes and removing them and my socks.

"Stand up for me, Matt.  I need to get your pants off."

"I can do it, John."  Why did I say that?  I reached for my belt and
unclasped it and dropped my work pants down to my ankles lifting my feet to
disentangle them.  I could see me in the mirror in just my plaid boxers and
hairy legs and chest.  I was shaking, and I was still hard.  Why?

"Finish it, Matt, take off your underwear. "  I reached down and bent over
as I took off my last remaining bit of clothing.  I wasn't feeling too good
about John seeing me hard, and cupped myself as I stood back up so that
John wouldn't see my dick.  I'm sure my face was red and my teeth chattered
a bit.

"Matt, you are now about to begin a journey of discovery about yourself and
you are now the student.  You begin by losing your clothing, and you'll do
everything I say as your teacher.  You must be fully broken down before we
can begin to build you up again.  You are not to speak and you are not to
question me or my methods.  You are embarrassed right now.  You will be
even more embarrassed as we progress.  You will suffer the kinds of pain
and humiliation you inflicted on others while you were drunk.  You must
read aloud what is on this card."  John took a paper from his pocket and
extended it to me.

I reached over with one hand still shielding my dick and balls and shook
the paper to unfold it and began to read:

"I, Matthew G.am an alcoholic.  I surrender myself to John S. for the sole
purpose of getting me ready to proceed with the AA 12 steps.  I will do as
he asks even though I will often not wish to.  I do this for me and me
alone.  I am the student and will learn as best I am able.  This I solemnly
swear."

"Are you ready to sign this statement, Matt?"  I gulped and shook and
shivered and looked over at my naked reflection in the mirror.  Do I need
to be naked for this?  Why is my dick so hard?  I was in a cold sweat, what
would all of this mean?

"Yes, John."  He walked to the small table and produced a pen.  "Come sign
it over here."

I stumbled forward grasping by balls and holding the paper.  I signed it at
the table bending over slightly with my back to John while my hard dick
bobbed underneath.  I just wanted out of there, and yet I stayed while a
man took control of me.

SWAT!  John spanked my ass!  SWAT, SWAT, SWAT, SWAT!

I jumped up saying, "John, I signed it, lemme outta here, stop it!"

"You did indeed sign it, Matt.  Now bend right back over the table so I can
finish spanking you."

"I will NOT!  I never said I'd agree to that!"  My dick was bobbing now and
John looked at it while I scurried to find my boxers.  "This isn't for me,
I will not be spanked! " I shouted.

I had my boxers on and was putting my jeans on when John reached for his
walkie-talkie and said, "I need some help, come on in."

Immediately my son Josh rushed into the room with his younger brother Peter
following closely behind.  They must have been waiting outside the door and
listening in.  They caught me as I was buttoning my shirt.  My face was red
and hot...they must have heard me reading that!  Their old man stripped for
a guy at his command.

"Josh, Pete, what...lemme go you two!  What are you doing!"  The
unthinkable was happening.  While Josh held me strongly from behind, my
youngest was at my waist yanking my jeans and boxers down to my ankles.
Josh roughly turned me around and Pete stripped my shirt off with me
pressed against Josh face to face.  In less than 5 seconds I was naked
again, and crackinig a big fat one.

"Lift him up Josh so I can get his pants off his ankles."  Josh was strong
enough, built like me only no flab.  I was summarily relieved of the
clothing at my ankles and turned around to face John and Peter.  My hairy
body flushed red, my sons hadn't seen me naked in a long time and had never
seen their dad with a throbbing erection like I had now.

I was in embarrassed and in utter shock.  John walked over to sofa and sat
down beckoning Josh to manhandle me over to him.  I was marched over and
John grabbed my balls and hauled them and the rest of me over his lap.  I
struggled as hard as I could, twisting and shouting at them to let me go.
"Stop it boys!"  John had grabbed my hard dick and used it to hold me in
place.

SPANK, SPANK, SPANK.  "Dad, this is for your own good," Josh said as he and
Peter held me over John's lap.  This can't be happening!

SPANK, SPANK, SPANK, SPANK, SPANK, SPANK,SPANK,SPANK,SPANK!!

Blows from John's hand rained down on my quivering hairy butt while the
fruit of my loins watched their dear old drunk of a dad get his tail
spanked by his employee.

"Dad, you are going to change your ways, and we're going to help John do
it!"  I yelped and squirmed as the blows continued, my ass getting redder
and really hurting.  "You are going to shape up," Peter my youngest
chirped, "and your painful butt is going to get you ready for the program."

SPANK,SPANK,SPANK,SPANK, SPANK,SPANK,SPANK,SPANK, SPANK,SPANK,SPANK,SPANK!

On it went, even after I collapsed over John's lap.  Josh and Pete let me
go, and I just lay there taking more from John.  I started to sniffle and
my eyes got red.  This is too much, humiliated before my own sons like
this, crying with a painful ass.  I was truly a broken man, my dick had
lost its hardness and was trying to sneak back into my body, shrunken up
while I took my spankings.  Snot running from my nose mixed with tears of
humiliation.  John stopped.

"Ok, Matt, stand up and go get in that corner over there!"  John commanded
and I obeyed.  I lifted myself no longer caring about my nudity and
sniffled my way over to where Pete the shy younger image of me stood.  I
felt ashamed of my crying and blubbering with Peter pointing to the corner.
My face pressed nose to wall with a gentle nudge from him.

"Boy, your ass is red, dad," Pete said.  "Wait until mom sees it!"  I
moaned inwardly at the thought of my petite wife seeing her brawny husband
with a red ass.  What would she think of me?  How do I explain this?

"She told us to make sure you got a good one when John explained his
program to us.  She said it was about time you had your comeuppance and
learned that actions have consequences.  Your drinking days are over, and
when you get to AA you'll be all ready for their 12 step program."  She
knows!  Holy shit, my wife is in on this!

"I'm ready now for AA," I mumbled.  Pete patted my ass and said, "Not
quite.  John said we need instruction for seeing to it that you follow his
instructions when we're at home.  Pop, it'll be hard for you being the boss
of the family and also having to run the business.  John came up with a
good idea and mom agrees that while you are at home Josh and me will see to
it that you follow John's instructions.  We can go to school and take care
of you at the same time."

"What are you talking about," I nervously asked.

"We're going to spank you as surrogates for John," Josh piped in.  "And
since you cannot be trusted with the business, John will be in charge
there.  Your days as a dad are over, you're now the one with a curfew and a
red tail at bedtime whether you need it or not."

I was mortified.  "You can't be seriously thinking I'm going to agree to
this!  It's bad enough you seeing your dad get his butt roasted, but I'll
be damned if my kids are going to spank me!  John, help me out here!"

"Matt, you made your bed a long time ago, and this is the way it's going to
be.  As a demonstration, I want you to ask Josh to paddle your ass.
Believe me, you don't want me doing this right now; your son might be more
lenient than I am right now."

FUCK me, I'm screwed!

At the word "paddle" my dick gave a lurch.  With Josh, Pete, and John
noticing it chubbing up to full-on erection, my face reddened, my body was
blushing as red as my ass, and they all started laughing when I said,
"Josh, will you paddle me?"

"Dad, put your hands on your head and get your butt over to that table.
You're in for my frat paddle which I brought along special.  Now move it or
you get double! "  I scurried over to the table with my dick sticking
straight up to the ceiling, my face a mass of horror as my sons could now
plainly see my dick glistening.  I'm ashamed to admit it, but I was awash
in humiliation and submissiveness.

"Ok, Josh, don't hit me too hard, please!"

"Over you go dad, bend right over.  And while you're at it, pull your
cheeks apart I want to see the asshole of an asshole."  Gulp, unreal, and I
reached back and showed my eldest my most secret and private place.  My
hairy ass spread wide for my kid holding his frat paddle to use on his old
man.  I was into this, as degrading and shameful a thing as it was.
Drinking was forgotten while I felt the air waft into my deep hairy cleft.
"Wider, dad, spread it good so I can see that hole of yours.  You sure have
a hairy ass, dad.  Pete, get over here and check out dad's butthole!"

"Hey, I got an idea, Josh," my eager younger son exclaimed.  Let's shave
his ass before you paddle it!  I'll bet mom gets a kick of it.  What do you
think John?"

"I don't know boys, he's your dad and he's not a kid.  Men are supposed to
have hair in certain places and it wouldn't look right for him to have a
hairy body with a shaved butt.  Why don't you just shave all of his hair
off, and make him the boy of your family.  Take it all including his
goatee, but leave him the hair on his head and his mustache to remind him
he's got some growing up to do."

I released my cheeks, and immediately Josh let loose with the paddle!
SWAT, SWAT, SWAT,SWAT!  "You're getting ten dad, those were warm-ups.
Count off after each one!"  I was going to lose my hair, all of it.  Shaved
bare!

SWAT, "One" I grunted.  SWAT, "Two", SWAT "Three", SWAT "four", my voice
was rising...this hurt and all I could think of was my hard dick now
rubbing the surface of the table.  "FIVE"...AND ON IT WENT..."NINE", crying
now, SWAT "TEN"!  It was over.  I took ten swats, and perversely I felt
proud to have done it without crying out.

John walked over and examined my ass.  "Ok boys, that was good for him.  I
see his dick isn't so hard any more, but his butt is still as hairy as
ever.  You boys see to your dad while I fetch the clippers and razors from
my goody bag in the truck."

I lay there for a while, coming to grips with my situation.  All the while
Josh and Pete were discussing who would shave what body part.  My dick
lengthened once again into a stiffy underneath me, and by the time John
returned I guess I had surrendered enough to make it easier for my boys to
shave me.  I reached back and spread my cheeks of my own accord.  John
handed Pete the clippers and my eager son set to work mowing down the thick
hair in my crack and on my cheeks.  Pete also got the wisps on my lower
back.  Josh lathered me up back there and John used a straight razor to lop
off the stubble.  When my cheeks came together, I was a goner...the
smoothness of them rubbing together caused me to ejaculate onto the table.
My shame was complete, but the sexiness of it all and the way my cheeks
were so smoothly sliding over each other with no hairy hindrance left me
breathless and horny as hell.

"Flip over dad, Pete needs to shave your crotch and dick.  That ass of
yours looks like a baboon's!  Red as a tomato and no hair no where!"  I
flipped onto my back and watched while Pete delicately and rather shyly
picked up my hard dick and skillfully pruned my bush to nothing with the
clipper.  What followed was the shaving of course, and I gasped when Pete
grabbed my dick to move it this way and that.  I was made to hold my legs
to my chest while Pete shaved my balls and perineum.  Josh took over for my
hairy chest, and I admit that I cried a little when the clipper went right
through my chest forest.  The humiliation of it all got to me I guess and
when they were done with the shave, Josh and Peter stood back to admire the
view while John stepped up with scissors and took my goatee, finishing with
the straight razor.

"Off you go dad, go look in the mirror, boy," sniggered Josh.  I padded to
the wall mirror and the freakishness of my once manly body looked
ridiculous with a huge erection and whitish skin where the follicles once
proliferated.  I was unmanned completely and I nervously stood there
staring at myself knowing that both my kids now had more "man fur" than I
did.  I wanted to go home and hide.  I hoped Margie wouldn't laugh at me
too much.  I wouldn't be able to go the gym until it grew back, what would
the other dads say?

"Oh Matt there's one more thing.  You are not to have sex at all for the
next six weeks while you're under my tutelage.  To that end, there's one
more indignity you will need to endure."  John reached into his bag of
tricks and pulled out a box.  "This is a male chastity device which will
prevent you getting erections (or at least make them painful)."

"Hold him down boys while I restrain his cock.  Josh and Pete held my arms
while they hustled me back over to the table sitting my hot, shaved ass
down and spreading my legs wide apart.  My erection wouldn't go down by
itself, and as I felt the snaps of the device lock into place my last
remaining vestige of manhood was cajoled into shrinking.  Finally a lock
was placed, and as I looked down my proud 8 inches was reduced to a mere 3
locked into place with a padlock with Josh pocketing the key for Margie.

"Oh, God!"  Shorn, spanked, paddled and no possibility of an erection!

"Boys, the first six weeks are the hardest.  You'll have to monitor him,
and your mom will need to handle him with kit gloves.  She'll have the key
and it's up to her as to when he gets to have sex.  I must caution you
though.  A man needs to have his prostate drained periodically or there can
be medical consequences.  At least once every three days I want you to milk
your dad's prostate.  This can be done without him having an erection.  Let
me demonstrate."

I couldn't take this!  I knew exactly what he wanted to do to me, and
damned if I was going to let my sons finger fuck me to get to my prostate!
I jumped off the table and ran to the door while Josh and Pete got a
rundown of the "procedure."  I made it to the elevator, naked with butt
still blazing caged and stricken dumb with fear.  My dick tried to harden
but it hurt like hell.  I felt my son Josh's hand swat my ass and turned.
With tears in my eyes, I pleaded with him not to do this and begged as he
led me back to the room.  "I'll be good, I'll be good, don't do it!"

"Dad, for that you're getting another ten licks with your belt.  Bend over
grab your ankles, and spread your cheeks.  These are going right on your
shiny asshole!"

Suffice it to say, this sorry drunk of a dad was one sore blubbering mess
when Josh finished up with the tenth strike right on my flaming hole.  The
pain was incredible, I don't think I've ever felt anything like it and I
was screaming at the top of my lungs the entire time.

"Gee pop, that hole looks raw.  John here has a book on prostate massage
for wayward dads like you and how to get the fluid to flow.  Your butthole
looks kind of tender right now, so just hold it there while I lube you up
with some special ointment."  The indignity of it all!  How could I bend
over and let this happen?  My youngest son approached with a tube of
ointment for his old man's aching asshole.

I finally said, "Go ahead, Peter."  (My hole was flaming and I needed some
relief, fast!)

The cream or whatever it was felt like a blessed relief.  My son actually
coated me up pretty good back there and despite my caged cock's inability
to extend I started to feel something as Peter gently pushed his finger in
an out of my hole.  How do you thank someone for soothing your spanked
butthole?

"No, not like that, Pete."  Josh elbowed his brother out of the way and
asked John to hand him the plug.  Josh quickly squirted more ointment onto
the damned thing, and began twisting it around my hole, pushing and
retreating pushing and retreating.  I felt like a whore when I said, "Just
shove it in, Josh."  And he did, my hole stretched to accomodate the thing,
and when he switched it on it started to vibrate!

Son of a bitch!  What a jolt!  John came over and inspected my plugged ass
closely.  "You'll need to keep this in for the next day or so, and when you
need to evacuate you can have Margie take it out for you.

In the meantime it's back to the office for the rest of this shift.  Here's
your jacket, it's cold out there.

"What, what about my... my clothes?" I stammered.

"It's ok, the truck is high enough off the ground, and I don't think anyone
will see you.  You can't put jeans over that sore ass anyway."  And with
that John swatted by bare ass hitting the plug as I put my Harley jacket
back on.  Walking to the door I shuddered to think what anyone would say if
they saw my baboon butt with the knob of a buttplug humming there.


Will this nightmare ever end?


Author's Note:

This work is entirely fiction.  Any resemblance to people living or dead is
entirely accidental.  All of the names used are entirely fictitious.
Copyright, Brother Lalo, 2010.

If there are any dads suffering from substance abuse of any sort, don't
hesitate to contact me.  I want you to succeed, and I'd be happy to help
out.

BrotherLalo

Email: wtreat007@yahoo.com