"Well, I don't think this sort of behavior deserves to go unpunished." He grinned at me.
"What kind of punishment do you have in mind?" My eyes flashed with excitement. Just the thought of playing BDSM games in my childhood home was so deliciously taboo, it made my body tingle and my panties moistened instantly.
"You grew up here. You tell me. What fantasies did you have?" Ethan wanted to know. I only had to think about it for a moment before I knew the answer.
"Follow me," I whispered. We tiptoed down the hall to my room. It was the same room I had slept in as a child, and the same twin-sized bed made of Maplewood. My mother had decorated it with a pink bedspread and the same pink roses lined the ceilings with wallpaper trim that I used to stare at as I dreamed of my future.
I reached into the nightstand where I used to keep my childhood diary, wondering if it would still be there, and found what I'd been looking for: a wooden hairbrush, with a wide, flat head and a long, carved handle.
With my eyes gleaming with excitement, I handed it to Ethan, and whispered, "Spank me with this. I've always wondered what it would feel like, but I never had the courage to find out. I want to, tonight, with you."
"You are a naughty girl." His face beamed and he sat on the edge of my bed and patted his lap. "Bend over, naughty girl, and take what's coming to you."
I bent over his lap with my ass sticking high in the air, vulnerably exposed. He massaged my buttocks with his hand, caressing my round cheeks over my silky red panties."
"These are wet," he said tauntingly and pulled them from off my waist. "That will never do."
He wadded them into a tight ball and stuffed them into my mouth like a gag, saying to me. "That should keep you quiet, naughty girl."
I expected him to spank me then, but he fingered me instead, exploring my wet and sensitive folds with his long, probing fingers: massaging, caressing, fondling, and fucking me there while I moaned and panted with pleasure.
He held up the brush and gently caressed my buttocks with it, before suddenly and harshly bringing it down hard against my naked flesh. The impact made me cry out with surprise and pain, and my pussy rippled with pleasure.
Again and again, he smacked my ass with the flat side of the wide wooden brush, making my round butt cheeks vibrate, as well as my wet pussy. With every spank, I grew closer and closer to orgasm, even as tears of pain ran down my cheeks, while the juices of my own pleasure ran down my thighs.
Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the spanking stopped and Ethan took the long, ribbed handle of the brush and inserted inside my quivering tunnel. I was so wet, it slipped inside me easily, and so ready, it brought me to orgasm almost instantly. Luckily, my screams of pleasure were muted by the silk panties shoved into my mouth as I cried out in ecstasy.
I still lay draped across Ethan's lap, and as I orgasmed, I could feel his erection growing beneath him. As my climax started to ebb and I began to regain my breath, Ethan moved me to lay on my back on my bed and bent my legs up high so they were practically reaching my shoulders before plunging his hard dick into my still quivering pussy.
With my first orgasm not quite finished, I was instantly pulled into a second, even more powerful orgasm as he thrust powerfully with mighty strokes. I was thankful for the gag as my screams of euphoric ecstasy were completely uncontrollable under such extreme sexual pleasure. My orgasm seemed to last forever, until finally, it began to ebb. Ethan had climaxed along with me, and we now lay side-by-side, cuddled together on the tiny twin bed that had once seemed so large to me.
The sound of Tommy wheeling down the hall the next morning awoke us, and we realized with a start that we had accidentally fallen asleep in my bed together. Luckily, no one had seen and Ethan was able to slip back to the guest room unnoticed.
The rest of the weekend went off without a hitch. Ethan gave Junior a few simple lessons on how to ride a motorcycle, and afterwards, they took turns giving Tommy rides around the block.
When Tommy had to go in for his physical therapy, Ethan sat and talked business with my father. Paying for all of Tommy's medications and therapies was expensive, and Ethan was impressed at my father's ability to stretch a dollar to its very maximum.
"I should have you talk to my head of finance. You're smarter than a lot of men with masters’ in business," Ethan joked, but I wondered if there wasn't a grain of truth in what he had said, too. He seemed to genuinely admire my father.
It wasn't all business, though. Throughout the weekend, Ethan talked sports with Junior and found common ground with my mother discussing organic vegetables and the best way to cook them. He talked to Morgan about music and gave her some advice on surviving life at the University, and gave Emily tips on pushing forward with her playground initiative with the city planning board. Tommy peppered him constantly with questions, wanting to know everything there was to know about motorcycles, L.A., living in Beverly Hills, what famous people he'd met, and if he'd ever been in a serious crash. It was obvious he idolized Ethan, and Ethan was kind enough to indulge him, answering his questions as quickly as he could ask them.
"Do you think you'll ever develop a motorcycle for people like me?" Tommy asked, catching my attention from where I was helping Mom set the table for dinner.
"To be honest, it never would have occurred to me." Ethan didn't pull any punches, and I think that's part of what Tommy liked about him so much. He didn't treat him like a cripple he had to handle carefully. He treated him just like anyone else.
"I never would have thought to make the kind of designs you've thought of here, but I think there could be a great market for them, if not in commercial motorcycles, then in rehabilitation facilities or hospital programs. You have a gift, Tommy: a talented mind and the ability to see things no one else does. You'll do great things some day; just never quit trying."
"Yeah, now you sound like Mom and Dad." Tommy rolled his eyes as my mother kissed the top of his head, but my Dad gave Ethan a firm pat on the back.
"I knew I liked this guy. Ethan, you're all right," my father said, and it was the closest thing to a compliment anyone could hope for. A glowing endorsement by a man who gave out very few, and I felt my heart flip in my chest.
I knew Ethan would win my parents’ approval, and they seemed to have earned his as well, telling me one night as we secretly met to make love, "Your family is really great. I can see why they mean so much to you, and why you'd want to settle down and have one of your own."
My parents hosted a big party in the backyard the last night of our stay and invited all their friends. It seemed like half the town came. It was a terrific chance for me to make good to all the people who had laughed behind my back when I ran away to L.A., saying I'd never make it as a model.
Many of those people brought a copy of Speed Magazine with me on the cover, and asked me to sign it. When they found out Ethan was the owner, some of them asked for his autograph on the mag
azine, too. It was fun, and made us feel like a power couple. We were careful, though, not to take the limelight away from Dad, and Ethan made a very beautiful toast in his honor before the cake was cut, turning the full attention of all the guests back to the birthday boy.