Pantsing and Stripping Forums

In my quest for a classic "ENF" story, I would like to post this original story - not posted on SOL. I do have illustrations for it, but I don't know how to attach them here. I'll make this attempt, if someone can tell me if it works, please.



The codes are minimal - it's truly a get back to basic story.

I would love to get suggestions and advice on where to go, but I think it's intended as a short story about a single day.

“Wake up, sleepy head!!” my mom poked me in my bed. “I know you are pretending to sleep, and the tickle monster will come out if you don’t get up!”

I continued to lay there like a lump. I knew it wouldn’t work; my mom wasn’t going anywhere. She lived for today!!

Today is the day that I dread all year long.

I didn’t used to dread my birthday. We’ve had a long-standing family tradition since I was a little girl on my birthday that has always been fun, but it is a little racy. As I started to go through puberty, it started to get much racier.

I can’t remember when it began, but it seems like we’ve always been doing this. It was probably my idea because I was always a bit of an extrovert as a little girl and a tomboy. I loved to play in the sprinklers in just panties and run around naked whenever I could.

My mom told me I couldn’t keep doing that one day because the neighbors were watching. I didn’t care and said something along the lines of “On my birthday, I can!!”

“Yep, Taylor! You can strip down to your birthday suit on your birthday!” she promised.

I never forgot, and when my birthday came along, I insisted on appearing completely naked in front of friends and family. I didn’t mean anything sexual by it, and I got a TON of laughs and attention, and I liked that very much. My mom gave me a “Birthday spanking” for every year that I’d been alive; my Dad did it, and so did everyone else at my party.

My brothers were not even born yet, or they were babies, but by the time they were old enough to attend my birthday party, they gave me very light little birthday swats on the butt. It was all in good fun.

I don’t know how I talked my mom into it or if it was my Dad who convinced her to try it. My mother is a bit of an extrovert as well, and she’s a very attractive woman. However, at some point early on, it became a tradition for HER to get birthday spankings.

She didn’t spend the whole day naked like I did, and she didn’t get spanked on the bare ass. She got spanked over her tight-fitting jeans. She was a good sport about it and pretended to yelp when me and my brothers spanked her. I doubt our mother could hardly feel our little slaps. My father though he could smack the bejeezus out of my mom’s butt. She’d blush and found it amusing.

Around that same time, we also started getting each other gag gifts. I didn’t have any money, so I made her a card on green construction paper with a “Coupon for your Birthday” inside. My mom was touched, but when she opened it, the caption read, “One big dog poop from Taylor! HAHA!”

What followed year after year was an actual contest of who could get the BEST gag gift for the other. It had to be something embarrassing that would make our jaws drop. The entire family judged the best gift. As my brothers got older, they started giving us gag gifts, and so did my father.

We’d invite over friends and family, but usually, the spankings were performed in private as I started to develop. However, at times, I’ve had friends over who think I am the weirdest, freakiest person ever for the tradition.

What drove me to participate and keep escalating every year was not only my competitive nature with my mother but also the accolades of my brothers and father for clever little pranks and gags on my mother’s birthday. It was always fun and exciting, and every year, it seemed like it became a little more elaborate and a little raunchier.

There was one year that I got her into a bra and panties for her spanking, and she got me back the following year by setting up an elaborate day where I had to wear little a Bo-Peep hat and dress and dance around singing songs like “I am a little teacup”.

I don’t think we had any official rules for the Birthday Games; at least, we never talked about them. It was just silly stuff. A few years ago, we started early in the morning at the crack of dawn, and Mom insisted that I do everything she told me, and she planned the entire day. Naturally, when it was my turn on her birthday, I did the same thing and finally got her into her birthday suit for not only her spanking but to eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner and open her gag gifts.

Some of the gifts were a little perverted, the kind of stuff you buy at Spencer’s in the Mall when that store was still open. Naughty dice games and perverted cards drawn on construction paper. It was all for a laugh.

Today, I am eighteen years old, and I’ve known this day was coming for a while. I’ve graduated high school, and my parents are pretty much ready for me to find a job and move out on my own. I’ve been dating a boy, but I am not ready to shack up with him, and I haven’t saved up enough. I knew that Mom would pull out all the stops today, and boy, was I right.

“Times up, Tickle monster deployed,” Mom descended on me and started tickling my ribs, forcing me to drop my ruse and laugh out loud as she began to strip me of my tank top and panties. I hadn’t worn much to bed, but I had worn enough that Mom would have to put a little effort into getting me out.

“C’mon, I am eighteen, it’s time we stop!”

“Oh? Do you think I forgot your age? Check out your sash!” Mom said as she drove me crazy with hysterical laughter through her unrelenting tickles.

She had a custom sash like beauty queens made that read “Eighteen and Ready To Be Spanked!”

“Aieee, stop! I’ll get up, I’ll get up,” I finally surrendered and assured her that I might pee myself if she didn’t stop immediately. Mom kept up the tickles a few moments more before allowing me a chance to pop out of bed.

I made one last joking attempt to hide under the covers before she pulled those off, which made me strip off completely and put on my sash and tiara. “Okay, I look pretty silly!”

“How do you think I’ve last year? Didn’t you get me a pair of panties that said “I am Forty but ready for Nine” on the front and make me wear them to breakfast?

“At least I let you wear panties,” I was already blushing as I checked myself out in the mirror. I hadn’t put on my face, and I needed time to shower and get my makeup on.

“Not for long, and then what was the flavor of my breakfast cake?”

“Pickles,” I admitted with a grin. That WAS funny watching her bite into it.

“With Ranch dressing as my icing? I thought it was a genuine vanilla cake!”

“Okay, okay, fine, payback is fair,” I laughed. That was really clever. I was proud of that idea. I begged her to let me take a shower and put on my makeup, but my mom wasn’t having it.

“You are just going to get messy, and the boys are already downstairs setting up your morning party.”



I should mention that this tradition has morphed into several parties that last all day long. The first was the breakfast party, and that was probably my idea in the first place.

Mom led me by my hand downstairs, singing, “Here she comes, Miss Taylor Welton, Birthday girl, celebrating eighteen happy and long years on this planet, naked as the day she was born!”

My brothers Kevin and Josh were thrilled, and they sang along with my mother as I was paraded around the kitchen table like a silly model. I used to preen and walk like I was on the catwalk, but now I’ve sort of blossomed, and my tits are huge, and my ass is just as big.

“Happy birthday, Sis!” Kevin smiled and smacked my bottom very lightly.

“Hey, no spankings yet!” Mom smacked his hand away. I had to do eighteen laps around the breakfast table while the boys sang various songs, like Happy Birthday, Birthday song by the Beatles, and silly nursery rhymes that have become a tradition.

Frère Jacques
Frère Jacques
Dormez-vous?
Dormez-vous?
Sonnez les matines
Sonnez les matines
Ding-ding-dong
Ding-ding-dong

That’s when my brothers start grabbing their crotches and emphasizing “Ding Dongs!”

Mom prompted me by lifting my hands up. I had to sing the rest of the song by swinging my boobs like a bell and not cracking up.

This was another of my brilliant ideas, back before my tits blossomed into full-size knockers. When they first sprouted, I was so proud and wanted to show them off, so a lot of my ideas involved grabbing my own boobies and cupping them with my hands while shaking around or dancing.

It's gotten much more difficult now to keep them swinging like that.

“You are going to pay for this next year, Mom,” I whispered playfully as my father joined us.

“Oh no, I missed it,” he feigned surprise as he wiped the sleep from his eyes. He was dressed in his robe, and he laughed and suggested that I do my entrance all over again. An idea my brothers and mother thought were all too funny.

“No, no, c’mon, let’s be a little fair to the birthday girl,” I pleaded while they egged me on and teased me. “Fine,” I relented and followed my mother upstairs so that I could repeat the same grand entrance and make eighteen laps around the breakfast table as my father joined in on the singing and frivolity.

The sash and tiara didn’t stay on long. My mom made me take those off for breakfast, which was my first sign things would probably get messy. I frowned as I handed them over.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get these back, cutie pie!” Mom lovingly placed my birthday sash and tiara off to the side. I’ve worn the tiara with pride since I was a little girl, but now it feels a little more like a dunce cap.

“Alright, cake, cake, cake, cake!” eventually Kevin and Josh started getting antsy, waiting for things to begin. My mom was only too happy to oblige. She removed my breakfast cake from the fridge. I was afraid to ask what it was. It looked like chocolate, but I was certain it wasn’t.

Over the years, we’ve done many gag cakes, including erotic-shaped cakes. My family has a raunchy sense of humor; it isn’t intended to be sexual. Dad always says, “You only get the jokes you are supposed to get,” so a boobie cake to him is not a big deal because if you know what it’s supposed to look like, then you have seen boobs.

This year, it was shaped like a heart, but I suddenly realized it was supposed to be a life-sized replica of my bottom. “Mom, really!!”

“Oh, that’s enough cake to feed the whole neighborhood,” Dad joked about the size of the cake and the size of my butt.

“Maybe we should invite everyone over? Want Josh and me to go door-to-door and start inviting people?” Kevin teased. He’s the oldest of the two, but they are close enough in age to be about the same size.

“That’s very thoughtful, fart face!” I frowned at him as my mom held the cake. There were no candles on it, and that surprised me. Normally, the idea is that whoever is blowing out the candles has her face pushed down into the cake while she is trying, and then the first round of spankings begins.

“Not today, dear! I thought we were past the old cake-in-the-face gag,” Mom said.

“Thank you, Mom! I’d like to actually TASTE my cake this time,” I expressed gratitude.

Little did I know that Mom intended to make me sit on the cake. She pressed the entire cake into my butt cheeks relative to the position of my bottom and then twisted it back and forth to make sure the oeey-gooey fudge inside made its way through my butt crack. Raucous laughter exploded from the guys at the table as she offered me a seat on the tile floor.

I folded my arms and pouted as I obliged and sat on the floor. That’s when the pictures began. In the old days, my mom would be satisfied with a single instant camera and maybe 24 shots. In the age of cell phones, boys all had their cameras to take snapshots of their big sister getting humiliated and snapped away.

“Fine, go ahead,” I raised my hands in the air to indicate that I may as well accept that embarrassment as well. The deal was obviously not to share those pictures outside of the family, but the best ones usually made their way into gag gifts in cards and memorabilia.

I used my finger to taste the cake I was sitting on. I was hoping it was fudge because it felt like fudge. “What even is this?”

“It’s supposed to be coffee and mocha,” My mom replied.

“It looks like DOO-DOO,” Josh laughed, and the guys had a chuckle. He loves poop jokes. I guess all the guys in the family do.

“Well, it tastes like tires and mahogany,” I complained and offered a little to my mom to try.

She took the bait, bent over, and opened her mouth to suck the icing off of my finger. SPLAT – I hit her with a big chunk of the cake under my thigh. It was a class mom move, and I fooled her with it. I tasted the Chocolate Mocha, and my main complaint about was that it was a waste of a delicious cake.

“You brat!” Mom smirked and wiped it off, then dropped some of the cake from her face on my head. “I was going to make you your favorite sausage, pancakes, and hash browns, but you got that in my eye!”

“I am sorry, Mom,” I apologized.

“Make her eat on the floor! Make her eat on the floor!” Josh and Kevin began to chant.

It may not seem like it, but we actually love each other deeply because we can be so cruel to each other during the birthday games. It was good that my mom was the only one who was technically allowed to boss me around on my birthday. My pervy brothers would probably have me eating their boogers and barking like a dog and eating like one, too.

“Guys, don’t be so cruel. It's your sister’s birthday,” Dad quieted the boys down and asked them to be a little more considerate on my special day.

“I wouldn’t make you eat on the floor, Dear,” Mom assured me softly and sweetly. “Now, I will make you sit on the cake and have a nice breakfast with the rest of us while I hand-feed you biscuits. Do you remember when you made me BREAKFAST IN BED?”

“Okay, that was a little overboard,” I admitted. I would never live that particular episode down. One year, I got the great idea to serve my mother “Breakfast in bed” for her birthday. I poured wet pancake mix, cracked eggs, and flour all over her while she was sleeping, and I got her satin sheets dirty in the process.

My mom did actually make my favorite breakfast, and she laughed and joked about how much fun we would have while she worked in the kitchen. The boys frequently took snaps of me and occasionally dashed a finger into the cake that I was sitting on.

“Hey, it DOES taste like mocha and coffee!”

“Cut it out, Kevin!”

“C’mon, Sis, let me have a little of your cake!” Kevin teased as he dared to snag a little more of it and put it in his mouth.

“Mom, what if you put Ex-lax into that cake?” Josh asked as he watched me and his older brother spat back and forth as I protected my squishy cake seat from his errant fingers.

“Oh, that would probably be a messy situation, Son,” Dad quipped.

“Now come on, whatever I do to Miss Eighteen here is going to be visited back upon me in a few months when it’s my turn to have a birthday,” Mom assured them that Ex-lax was a little too explosive for her tastes.

“I wish your birthdays fell on the same day,” Josh made a funny face.

“Oh, why is that?” my mom licked some pancake syrup from the whisk as she turned around.

“That way, you would both be naked on the same day,” Josh mused.

“Oh c’mon, you don’t want to see your mom’s saggy boobies and blue veins jiggle-jiggling around the kitchen, anyway,” Mom teased him and remained humble. She was actually quite a looker and had a hotter body than I ever would. She worked out and did Pilates, and I did bon-bons and potato chips.

“Even better,” Kevin joined in with an idea of his own “You would both have to be naked TWICE a year and get TWICE as many spankings!”

“Now, what did I ever do to you, Kevin Welton, to deserve such a naughty son who wants to spank his poor mommy’s bum twice a year?” Mom grinned innocently. She always took her lumps on her birthday with a lot more class and grace than I did. She would laugh and sometimes beg us to stop teasing or snapping pictures of her, but she wasn’t as reluctant as I had become. My mother loved adventure, and she just had fun with it.

I was never mean-spirited or sadistic about my commands of my mother on her birthday. They were profoundly embarrassing and humiliating, but that was the game. She wasn’t with me, either. However, I got the impression that Kevin, in particular, would make the game a little darker, and Josh would make it a little disgusting and filthy.

They were both in puberty and while neither had a girlfriend yet, they were definitely porn-obsessed and girl-obsessed. I am sure they learned a little about the female anatomy from watching me and Mom over the years, but you would think by now they would stop staring so much.

Josh and Kevin loved it when my boobs jiggled while I was naked. I had no bra to steady my tits, and they swayed when I laughed and jiggled a little when I spoke. There were times I thought they spoke to me on my birthday just to stare at my jugs.
“Now, Josh and Kevin,” My mom asked sweetly, “If your mom was down there on the floor rolling around in a butt cake like your sister, then who would make breakfast for the family? You? Your dad?”

Dad was a notoriously bad cook. The boys couldn’t even make toast and tomato soup, and I had to make that for them when they wanted lunch on the weekends.

“You would!” Josh decided, “You could wear your apron, but nothing else!”

“Oh, so at least I’d be provided a cute little apron?” Mom curtsied playfully, and let her apron drop down again. She was fully dressed under the apron. “I think I’ll pass, as fun as that sounds. I don’t want you two banging on my butt like you are playing the bongos for a few more months!”

My brothers have a tendency to get bored with individual slaps to the ass, and start a drum solo on our butts, quickly losing count and we call it “playing the bongos”.

Josh dashed up to my mom, began to hammer on her buttocks through her pajama bottoms and about the third slap to her butt, she grabbed him by the scruff of his collar, and scolded him sternly. “Now, that’s naughty! You go sit down and keep your hands to yourself. Today is not my day to be your little bongo drum!”

“Yes, Mommy,” Josh blushed, and like a dog with his tail between his legs returned to his seat.

“Mom, how come us guys don’t get naked on their birthday?” Kevin asked. I was glad he asked that question. It had never really come up that my little brothers should play the game. I was all for it. I’d visit upon them some serious payback.

“It’s a game your sister and I play on our birthdays, and you can participate, but I think boys shouldn’t get bare bottom spankings for their birthdays.”

“Why?” Kevin asked immediately.

“Just because,” Mom blushed and looked down a little.

The subject would have dropped, but Dad as Mom brought my father his coffee, he grabbed her and pulled her close for a French kiss. “Tell him why boys don’t play the birthday game, dear?”

“Um,” Mom seemed nervous and tongue tied, which was unusual for her. “Boys are just built differently,” Mom grappled with an explanation. She tried to pull away to return to the stove, but my father held her by her hips for a moment to press her to answer.

"you don't go naked because your little hard-ons would be showing; like those tents in your pants
right now!”

Dad let the matter drop. It was the boy's turn to be embarrassed. There was no way they could see a bunch of naked boobs and breasts and not get a hard-on through their pants. It would have been flattering if they weren’t my little brothers.

Mom served up the freshly cooked food as quickly as she could. She didn’t set down a plate for me on the floor. Instead, she put it next to hers and sat down in front of me. “Don’t worry dear, I’ll make sure you have a full tummy for your big day, want some biscuit?” she ripped a bit and gave me a nibble.

When I tried to take the food from her hand, Mom popped my fingers playfully and made me take it from her hand with my mouth. I was already blushing, and it was still very early.

Mom, how come me guys don’t get naked on their birthday? Did you mean
Mom, how come us guys don’t get naked on our birthday?

Thanks, it's a work in progress, so editing will happen. I am open to suggestions as well. I don't want to go too far over the top with this one. Can you see the pics?


“We don’t get boners from watching Sis get naked, Mom!” Kevin blustered. The funny thing is that nobody was still talking about his erection, and we had fully moved on. We were laughing and joking around and talking about my birthday.

“Honey,” our mom addressed Kevin patiently. Her eyes glanced down at his lap to see his little bulge in his pants, and then back at him. “We can see it through your pants. It’s perfectly normal and healthy for boys to get erections. There is nothing to be ashamed about.”

“Sure, but we aren’t getting them from looking at our SISTER,” Kevin insisted as if I was chopped liver and butt ugly. “We just get morning wood sometimes.”

“Okay, Kevin, I am sure,” Mom pursed her lips in amused smirk, and tried to change the subject.

Dad wouldn’t though. “Why don’t you go take care of your morning wood then instead of walking around with it?”

Dad seemed serious, but from his tone it seemed like he was just messing with Kevin.

“Why doesn’t Taylor have to do something about her pointy booby tips?” Kevin was flustered, and felt backed into a corner as if Mom and Dad were ganging up on him.

“You mean my NIPPLES?” I lifted one of my big fat boobs and pointed my big engorged nipple at him like it was a water gun. There wasn’t much I could do about my extremely thick nipples. It was cold, and being naked always made them hard. I felt I may as well just own up to the fact that they were big.

“Yeah, isn’t that like a boner? Why can she walk around with her tits hard as a rock?”

“KEVIN!” my mom feigned outrage. I have heard her cuss like a sailor before. “That’s not nice to say around the kitchen table.”

“Why not? We are looking right at them,” Kevin got defensive. “You tease her about her body on her birthday!”

“That’s different,” Mom added. “I make fun of her tummy and big buffalo butt,” Mom laughed and admitted that wasn’t really that different at all with the expression on her face. “You boys are growing up so fast. I am starting to think that you may be making this naughtier than it really is. You’ve seen both of us nude for years. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal to you.”

“It’s just fun, Mom!” Josh defended his big brother.

“It is fun, but I wouldn’t say your sister has ENGORGED nipples,” my mom reached down playfully and pinched my nipple as hard as she could. I winced. She used her nails to really bite into the flesh. “They are just fat and fluffy, and they don’t get hard because she is having perverted thoughts. They get hard because it’s cold or someone pinches them like this,” she snickered at me and let go.

She hadn’t intended to cause pain. My mother’s quick demonstration left my left nipple tingling a little.

“Can we do that?” Josh asked with excitement.

“Most certainly not!” I covered my boobs with my hands as much as possible, cupping the nipples to protect them from their little grabby hands. I blushed at the very thought.

“Why? We get to spank you later, and that makes your butt turn pink!” Kevin echoed his brother’s wish. The thought of my brother’s being able to pinch the snot out of my nipples at will terrified me.

“Birthday spankings are a tradition and your sister has a lot of cushion just like I do, she gets eighteen from each of us this morning,” Mom assured them that was okay, but nipple pinches were off-limits.

“That sucks,” Kevin complained. He was lucky to get to touch me at all, from my perspective!

“Yeah, she obviously has padding around the boobies too,” Josh pointed out my titties were fat and pendulous.

“Take your hands away from your boobs, Taylor,” my mom chided me and ignored Josh’s comment. “You know that you aren’t allowed to use your hands to cover your body. That’s a no-no, when it’s birthday suit day. Don’t you remember telling me that the time I did it?”

I did as I was told, and released my tits. They bounced back down my chest and flopped into place. One nipple still a little harder than the other. “I do,” I sighed.

“What did you make me do last time when I accidentally covered myself after our neighbor Mr. Johnson came over?” Mom feigned amnesia, and placed her finger on her lip as if struggling to recall. She knew perfectly will what I did.

“You didn’t ACCIDENTALLY do it, you knew full well Mister Johnson was looking at you, and you covered up your vagina, not your boobs,” I said.

“You didn’t accidentally cover your boobs, you were afraid your brothers were going to be little meanie butts this morning and so, you know where you need to go?” she pointed to the corner near the trash can.

“Aww,” I groaned as I got to my feet. I still had cake sticking to my backside. “I am going to get cake everywhere.”

“You should make her brush it off and eat it, Mom!” Josh insisted.

Mom cleaned me up quickly with a paper towel and then tasted the cake again, calling it delicious, before allowing me to finish off some sausage. “Corner time, Birthday girl!”

“Some birthday,” I harumphed, and walked over to the corner. I could still feel the moistness of the cake as I placed my nose in the corner and pressed my tits firmly into the corner.

“Hands on the top of your head, and look straight. You’ve got fifteen minutes, that will teach you that you are the birthday girl today, won’t it?”

I made a sour face, thankful my mom couldn’t see me.

“I see that sour face you are making,” Mom called me out. She couldn’t possibly have seen, she just knew me well. I turned my head around slightly and smiled at them with a big, fake, goofy smiled.

I heard the boys snap a few pictures of me standing in the corner.

“I am just thankful I am not in school any longer; I couldn’t bear it if these photos ever got out,” I murmured.

“Boys, you know you are free to take pictures of us or with us on our Birthday, but if I EVER find out you are showing them to your friends or posting them online, I might just make everyday a birthday for you,” Mom promised them.

My brothers knew that, and as far as I know, no one saw my pictures at school, at least no one had ever told me they saw the hundreds of humiliating pictures of me standing flat-footed in the corner like a bratty girl that was being punished.







“Ooh, take a picture of me, Kevin!” Josh had an idea. He ran over to my butt cheek and posed next to it with his grinning face. His entire head was the size of my left ass cheek.

“Watch out, Sis will fart on you if you get too close,” Kevin teased as he snapped the picture. I just had to grin and bear it.

“How come when you stand up straight like that, I can’t see your dookie hole, but I can see the two little bumps at the bottom from your front side?” Josh asked me as he stood bent over, looking intently at my rear from only an inch away. I could feel his warm breath on my backside. “Then when you aren’t standing straight, I can see your fart maker again.”

I felt a cringe run through me at his observation. I was never sure how much of my butthole was visible from behind.

My mom nearly choked on her orange juice when her youngest son asked such a audacious question. My father was about to say something, but Kevin spoke first.

“You dipwad, the little bumps on the front are like the butt crack in the front, and she has her LEGS together, so of course you can see her dookie hole now.”

God, I was so mortified that my brothers knew what my “dookie hole” looked like.

“Guys, what you are seeing is a labia; turn around Taylor,” my mom composed herself and explained.

“This is a birthday, not show and tell,” I complained as I did as I was told, bringing my hands down to my side.

“No one told you to remove your hands from your head,” Mom scolded me. She remained seated but pointed out that what they saw from behind was my labia.

“I thought those are called pussy lips?” Kevin asked.

“KEVIN!” my mom guffawed, but I heard Josh and Dad chuckle, my father much more softly than Josh.

“What? that’s what they are called, right?”

“Yes, those are pussy lips, and on your sister they hang down. Have a good look, you’ve seen her since you were little. Get it out of your system, okay? It’s just skin, no different than balls on a boy,” she explained.

Saying “balls” only made them laugh hysterically and did nothing to satisfy their perverted curiosity about the female anatomy.

“If they are lips, is there a tongue inside?” Josh asked.

I shook my head no adamantly.

“Of sorts,” My mom was clearly blushing a little as well as she wrestled with telling them the truth. “Inside there is a little clit hood, that looks kind of like a tongue,” she indicated my slit.

“I want to see, I want to see!” Josh and Kevin insisted.

“No,” my mom decided. I sighed a breath of relief that I wasn’t going to have to pull it out and let them have a look at that as well. Naturally, Kevin and Josh felt a little cheated by that and whined.

“Your sister’s clit plays peekaboo sometimes, so if you look closely then it may pop out, but I am not going to make your sister pull it out for you. Would you like it if I made you pull your tongue out and show her?”

Josh grabbed his own tongue, yanked it hard and showed us all.

We laughed a little at his funny face.

“That’s cute, but you chose to pull yours out, and Taylor didn’t,” My mom clarified. I was thankful for that.

“How come your pussy lips are a different shape?” Kevin asked.

“Wow, you boys are really curious this morning,” Dad took a sip from his coffee. My brothers have always been insatiably curious about things, but today they were being more annoying than they were curious from my point of view.

“Most women have different shapes and sizes, and you won’t find any two that are exactly alike,” Mom explained it well enough before directing me to turn back around and face the wall as I had been.

“Like fingerprints,” Kevin surmised, and my mom confirmed that.

“So, how about dookie holes, are they always different on girls?” Josh asked.

“Josh, I really wished you would say bottom, or backside, or even butthole, but Dookie hole is kind of disgusting during breakfast,” Mom suggested patiently.

“What about during lunch, can I say it then?” Josh was clearly being facetious.

“Boys, I am willing to answer genuine questions, if you really want to know things, but today is a fun day, it’s your sister’s day. We have all kinds of activities and games planned today. Can we not talk about dookie holes, I mean buttholes, please?”

“What kind of games, Mom?” Josh sat down at the kitchen table to finish his food. It smelled so warm and delicious. I could smell the ham, bacon, eggs, pancakes and southern biscuits on the table.

“I was thinking we would do hula hoops first, probably break with some early morning gifts, deliver breakfast spankings, and maybe give your sister a little break?”

“What about if we play pin the tail on the donkey?” Josh suggested.

I assumed he was joking, because I was probably the donkey.

“How would that be played?” My mom seemed poised to tell him absolutely not, but she was curious.

“You said that Taylor has padding on her behind, and she can handle spankings no problem, how about if we use blindfolds, spin ourselves around and try to pin a little tail on her backside?”

There was laughter, but my mom told him absolutely not. “That might draw blood, Josh!”

“You said she has thick padding,” Josh countered. I could already imagine the pin prick pushing into my soft, warm, fleshy ass.

“Padding, not leather cow hide,” Mom assured him. “I am open to new games this year, but that’s a bit much, don’t you think Josh?”

“So, hanging Taylor in the backyard like a pinata and batting her with a rod until Candy falls out is off the table then?” Kevin’s joke was so deadpan, that it was hilarious and even I laughed until I sneezed.

“I am not sure, maybe if it was a soft tube of cardboard,” Mom was kidding, but fear wafted through me to the point that I shook. I love rollercoasters, thrill rides, scary movies and haunted houses, and sometimes when the sexy co-ed is running from the killer, I get turned on. This was a moment when my pussy started to drip, and I couldn’t wipe it away quickly because my hands were flat on top of my head.

I was just thankful that I was standing in the corner and could cool down before I had to turn back around and reveal the slickness of my pussy. I could feel my ooze dripping down my thigh slowly and it was making me even more horny.

“Taylor? Come away from the wall now, please,” Mom abruptly said.

“But it’s supposed to be fifteen minutes,” I complained. I felt I had only been there about eight minutes, and I needed some time to compose myself so that I wouldn’t be seen leaking pussy juice.

“That’s a first, you like being stood in the corner?” My mom laughed in a regal tone, like a Queen laughing at a peasant who likes hitting their head on a stump in the mud.

I whirled around, brought my arms down and hoped no one would notice that my pussy resembled a jelly glazed donut and viscous fluid was dripping from the opening.

My mother is extremely observant, so obviously she noticed. I could tell from the incredulous look she gave me. I wasn’t surprised but thankful that she didn’t call me out about it, the way she had the boys’ erections.

I wasn’t sure about the others. If the guys noticed my wet pussy, they didn’t tease me, and I assumed Kevin and Josh might.

“Come and eat the rest of your breakfast before it gets cold, dear,” Mom pointed to my plate on the table. Everyone else was finished with their food.

I walked over and took my seat, but mom said that she never said I could sit. “You don’t have to sit on your cake, but I liked hand feeding you,” she offered me some bacon, and I had to take it from her fingers.

“Ooh, put it over her head and make her jump for it,” Kevin suggested eagerly.

“I am not tall enough, Kevin!” Mom snickered as she fed me some biscuit. I tried to say something snarky back to my little brother, but she chided me and told me, “Don’t eat with your mouthful, dear.”


My brother had the brilliant idea to stand on a chair, grab a piece of my bacon and dangle it over my head, just out of reach.

“I am not doing that,” I shook my head no.

“Kevin, get down from the chair, you could fall off,” Mom scolded Kevin, and then stood up and told me to drop down on my knees. I did as I was told, even though the tile floor was hard on them. She playfully fed me, pulling it away quickly sometimes and telling me I was too slow.

Josh and Kevin enjoyed the teasing, and so did Dad.

“I am definitely doing this to you next birthday,” I swore after I finished my food in the most humiliating fashion I had since the inception of the Birthday games.


“We don’t get boners from watching Sis get naked, Mom!” Kevin blustered. The funny thing is that nobody was still talking about his erection, and we had fully moved on. We were laughing and joking around and talking about my birthday.

“Honey,” our mom addressed Kevin patiently. Her eyes glanced down at his lap to see his little bulge in his pants and then back at him. “We can see it through your pants. It’s perfectly normal and healthy for boys to get erections. There is nothing to be ashamed about.”

“Sure, but we aren’t getting them from looking at our SISTER,” Kevin insisted as if I was chopped liver and butt ugly. “We just get morning wood sometimes.”

“Okay, Kevin, I am sure,” Mom pursed her lips in an amused smirk and tried to change the subject.

Dad wouldn’t, though. “Why don’t you go take care of your morning wood then instead of walking around with it?”

Dad seemed serious, but from his tone, it seemed like he was just messing with Kevin.

“Why doesn’t Taylor have to do something about her pointy booby tips?” Kevin was flustered and felt backed into a corner as if Mom and Dad were ganging up on him.

“You mean my NIPPLES?” I lifted one of my big fat boobs and pointed my big, engorged nipple at him like it was a water gun. There wasn’t much I could do about my extremely thick nipples. It was cold, and being naked always made them hard. I felt I might as well just own up to the fact that they were big.

“Yeah, isn’t that like a boner? Why can she walk around with her tits hard as a rock?”

“KEVIN!” my mom feigned outrage. I have heard her cuss like a sailor before. “That’s not nice to say around the kitchen table.”

“Why not? “We are looking right at them,” Kevin got defensive. “You tease her about her body on her birthday!”

“That’s different,” Mom added. “I make fun of her tummy and big buffalo butt,” Mom laughed and admitted that it wasn’t really that different at all with the expression on her face. “You boys are growing up so fast. I am starting to think that you may be making this naughtier than it really is. You’ve seen both of us nude for years. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal to you.”

“It’s just fun, Mom!” Josh defended his big brother.

“It is fun, but I wouldn’t say your sister has ENGORGED nipples,” my mom reached down playfully and pinched my nipple as hard as she could. I winced. She used her nails to really bite into the flesh. “They are just fat and fluffy, and they don’t get hard because she is having perverted thoughts. They get hard because it’s cold or someone pinches them like this,” she snickered at me and let go.

She hadn’t intended to cause pain. My mother’s quick demonstration left my left nipple tingling a little.

“Can we do that?” Josh asked with excitement.

“Most certainly not!” I covered my boobs with my hands as much as possible, cupping the nipples to protect them from their little grabby hands. I blushed at the very thought.

“Why? We get to spank you later, and that makes your butt turn pink!” Kevin echoed his brother’s wish. The thought of my brother’s being able to pinch the snot out of my nipples at will terrify me.

“Birthday spankings are a tradition, and your sister has a lot of cushion on her bum just like I do; she gets eighteen from each of us this morning,” Mom assured them that was okay, but nipple pinches were off-limits.

“That sucks,” Kevin complained. From my perspective, he was lucky to get to touch me at all!

“Yeah, she obviously has padding around the boobies, too,” Josh pointed out. My titties were fat and pendulous.

“Take your hands away from your boobs, Taylor,” my mom chided me and ignored Josh’s comment. “You know that you aren’t allowed to use your hands to cover your body. That’s a no-no when it’s birthday suit day. Don’t you remember telling me that the time I did it?”

I did as I was told and released my tits. They bounced back down my chest and flopped into place. One nipple still a little harder than the other. “I do,” I sighed.

“What did you make me do last time when I accidentally covered myself after our neighbor Mr. Johnson came over?” Mom feigned amnesia and placed her finger on her lip as if struggling to recall. She knew perfectly well what I did.

“You didn’t ACCIDENTALLY do it; you knew full well Mister Johnson was looking at you, and you covered up your vagina, not your boobs,” I said.

“You didn’t accidentally cover your boobs; you were afraid your brothers were going to be little meanie butts this morning, and so, you know where you need to go?” she pointed to the corner near the trash can.

“Aww,” I groaned as I got to my feet. I still had cake sticking to my backside. “I am going to get cake everywhere.”

“You should make her brush it off and eat it, Mom!” Josh insisted.

Mom cleaned me up quickly with a paper towel and then tasted the cake again, calling it delicious, before allowing me to finish off some sausage. “Corner time, Birthday girl!”

“Some birthday,” I harumphed, and walked over to the corner. I could still feel the moistness of the cake as I placed my nose in the corner and pressed my tits firmly into the corner.

“Hands on the top of your head and look straight. You’ve got fifteen minutes that will teach you that you are the birthday girl today, won’t it?”

I made a sour face; thankful my mom couldn’t see me.

“I see that sour face you are making,” Mom called me out. She couldn’t possibly have seen it; she just knew me well. I turned my head around slightly and smiled at them with a big, fake, goofy smile.

I heard the boys snap a few pictures of me standing in the corner.

“I am just thankful I am not in school any longer; I couldn’t bear it if these photos ever got out,” I murmured.

“Boys, you know you are free to take pictures of us or with us on our Birthday, but if I EVER find out you are showing them to your friends or posting them online, I might just make every day a birthday for you,” Mom promised them.

My brothers knew that, and as far as I know, no one saw my pictures at school; at least no one had ever told me they saw the hundreds of humiliating pictures of me standing flat-footed in the corner like a bratty girl who was being punished.



[[[ image 01_corner.jpg goes here centered]]]

“Ooh, take a picture of me, Kevin!” Josh had an idea. He ran over to my butt cheek and posed next to it with his grinning face. His entire head was the size of my left ass cheek.

“Watch out, Sis will fart on you if you get too close,” Kevin teased as he snapped the picture. I just had to grin and bear it.

“How come when you stand up straight like that, I can’t see your dookie hole, but I can see the two little bumps at the bottom from your front side?” Josh asked me as he stood bent over, looking intently at my rear from only an inch away. I could feel his warm breath on my backside. “Then, when you aren’t standing straight, I can see your fart maker again.”

I felt a cringe run through me at his observation. I was never sure how much of my butthole was visible from behind.

My mom nearly choked on her orange juice when her youngest son asked such an audacious question. My father was about to say something, but Kevin spoke first.

“You dipwad, the little bumps on the front are like the butt crack in the front, and she has her LEGS together, so of course you can see her dookie hole now.”

God, I was so mortified that my brothers knew what my “dookie hole” looked like.

“Guys, what you are seeing is a labia; turn around, Taylor,” my mom composed herself and explained.

“This is a birthday, not show and tell,” I complained as I did as I was told, bringing my hands down to my side.

“No one told you to remove your hands from your head,” Mom scolded me. She remained seated but pointed out that what they saw from behind was my labia.

“I thought those are called pussy lips?” Kevin asked.

“KEVIN!” my mom guffawed, but I heard Josh and Dad chuckle, my father much more softly than Josh.

“What? That’s what they are called, right?”

“Yes, those are pussy lips, and on your sister, they hang down. Have a good look, you’ve seen her since you were little. Get it out of your system, okay? It’s just skin, no different than balls on a boy,” she explained.

Saying “balls” only made them laugh hysterically and did nothing to satisfy their perverted curiosity about the female anatomy.

“If they are lips, is there a tongue inside?” Josh asked.

I shook my head no adamantly.

“Of sorts,” My mom was clearly blushing a little as well as she wrestled with telling them the truth. “Inside there is a little clit hood, which looks kind of like a tongue,” she indicated my slit.

“I want to see; I want to see!” Josh and Kevin insisted.

“No,” my mom decided. I sighed a breath of relief that I wasn’t going to have to pull it out and let them have a look at that as well. Naturally, Kevin and Josh felt a little cheated by that and whined.

“Your sister’s clit plays peekaboo sometimes, so if you look closely, then it may pop out, but I am not going to make your sister pull it out for you. Would you like it if I made you pull your tongue out and show her?”

Josh grabbed his own tongue, yanked it hard, and showed us all.

We laughed a little at his funny face.

“That’s cute, but you chose to pull yours out, and Taylor didn’t,” My mom clarified. I was thankful for that.

“How come your pussy lips are a different shape?” Kevin asked.

“Wow, you boys are really curious this morning,” Dad took a sip of his coffee. My brothers have always been insatiably curious about things, but today, they were being more annoying than they were curious from my point of view.

“Most women have different shapes and sizes, and you won’t find any two that are exactly alike,” Mom explained it well enough before directing me to turn back around and face the wall as I had been.

“Like fingerprints,” Kevin surmised, and my mom confirmed that.

“So, how about dookie holes? Are they always different on girls?” Josh asked.

“Josh, I really wished you would say bottom, or backside, or even butthole, but Dookie hole is kind of disgusting during breakfast,” Mom suggested patiently.

“What about during lunch, can I say it then?” Josh was clearly being facetious.

“Boys, I am willing to answer genuine questions if you really want to know things, but today is a fun day; it’s your sister’s day. We have all kinds of activities and games planned today. Can we not talk about dookie holes, I mean buttholes, please?”

“What kind of games, Mom?” Josh sat down at the kitchen table to finish his food. It smelled so warm and delicious. I could smell the ham, bacon, eggs, pancakes, and southern biscuits on the table.

“I was thinking we would do hula hoops first, probably break with some early morning gifts, deliver breakfast spankings, and maybe give your sister a little break?”

“What about if we play pin the tail on the donkey?” Josh suggested.

I assumed he was joking because I was probably the donkey.

“How would that be played?” My mom seemed poised to tell him absolutely not, but she was curious.

“You said that Taylor has padding on her behind, and she can handle spankings, no problem. How about if we use blindfolds, spin ourselves around, and try to pin a little tail on her backside?”

There was laughter, but my mom told him absolutely not. “That might draw blood, Josh!”

“You said she has thick padding,” Josh countered. I could already imagine the pinprick pushing into my soft, warm, fleshy ass.

“Padding, not leather cowhide,” Mom assured him. “I am open to new games this year, but that’s a bit much, don’t you think Josh?”

“So, hanging Taylor in the backyard like a pinata and batting her with a rod until Candy falls out is off the table, then?” Kevin’s joke was so deadpan that it was hilarious, and even I laughed until I sneezed.

“I am not sure, maybe if it was a soft tube of cardboard,” Mom was kidding, but fear wafted through me to the point that I shook. I love rollercoasters, thrill rides, scary movies, and haunted houses, and sometimes, when the sexy co-ed is running from the killer, I get turned on. This was a moment when my pussy started to drip, and I couldn’t wipe it away quickly because my hands were flat on top of my head.

I was just thankful that I was standing in the corner and could cool down before I had to turn back around and reveal the slickness of my pussy. I could feel my ooze dripping down my thigh slowly, and it was making me even more horny.

“Taylor? Come away from the wall now, please,” Mom abruptly said.

“But it’s supposed to be fifteen minutes,” I complained. I felt I had only been there about eight minutes, and I needed some time to compose myself so that I wouldn’t be seen leaking pussy juice.

“That’s a first. Do you like being stood in the corner?” My mom laughed in a regal tone, like a Queen laughing at a peasant who likes hitting their head on a stump in the mud.

I whirled around, brought my arms down, and hoped no one would notice that my pussy resembled a jelly-glazed donut and viscous fluid was dripping from the opening.

My mother is extremely observant, so obviously she did. I wasn’t sure about the others. If the guys noticed my wet pussy, they didn’t tease me, and I assumed Kevin and Josh might.

“Come and eat the rest of your breakfast before it gets cold, dear,” Mom pointed to my plate on the table. Everyone else was finished with their food.

I walked over and took my seat, but Mom said that she never said I could sit. “You don’t have to sit on your cake, but I liked handfeeding you,” she offered me some bacon, and I had to take it from her fingers.

“Ooh, put it over her head and make her jump for it,” Kevin suggested eagerly.

“I am not tall enough, Kevin!” Mom snickered as she fed me some biscuits. I tried to say something snarky back to my little brother, but she chided me and told me, “Don’t eat with your mouthful, dear.”


My brother had the brilliant idea to stand on a chair, grab a piece of my bacon, and dangle it over my head, just out of reach.

“I am not doing that,” I shook my head no.

“Kevin, get down from the chair. ” Mom scolded Kevin and then stood up and told me to drop down on my knees. I did as I was told, even though the tile floor was hard on them. She playfully fed me, pulling it away quickly sometimes and telling me I was too slow.

Josh and Kevin enjoyed the teasing, and so did Dad.

“I am definitely doing this to you next birthday,” I swore after I finished my food in the most humiliating fashion I had since the inception of the Birthday games.

(Are people enjoying this, am I capturing ENF? it's my first story I wrote specifically for this forum. I am adding a twist which may or may not work, so I could really use collaborative feedback. I've done some "free-writing" so you will probably see some grammatical mistakes until I clean it up and am happy with the direction. I am trying to break with my normal style).

Chapter Two?
The next birthday activity was in the living room. It’s very familiar to me, as it’s been a standard since I was a little girl. I was obsessed with hula hoops and mastered spinning them around my waist and simultaneously spinning them with my leg, and arms. It’s all about getting into a rhythm and turning off your brain.

Naturally, I wasn’t as shapely as a little girl, so now it’s a little bit like a parody, because as Mom starts adding more and more hoops for me to spin, my tits begin to swing from side to side, my ass cheeks start to clap and my pussy lips even begin to open and close slightly as I try to keep up the pace.

My mother opened the drapes wipe in the living room, “Let’s let some light in here,” she snickered.

She knew full well that from the sidewalk in front of our house, people passing by might be able to see in the house. That’s because I’ve done that trick to her many times, and she knows many more people in the neighborhood who might be out walking their dogs at this time of morning than I would.

We have an old record player that can play at 78, 45 and 33 RPM speed. We don’t have many records. We have a Kiss record from the 1980s. I’ve never listened to it, but apparently it’s from “Casablanca” and the art work on the record looks like something from the desert.

We some old 45 records from the 1960s and 70s, like the “Swinging Medallions”. Mom loves to play that one when I am hula hooping. It’s not my kind of music. It has an old timey beat, like Rockabilly which breaks down into them moaning and groaning at one point. I am sure it used to be considered risque’ but now it seems just corny.

My mother cranked it up, and started the scratchy record. I heard it hiss and pop and the familiar lyrics

Woke up this morning, my head was so bad
The worst hangover that I ever had
What happened to me last night
That girl of mine, she loved me so right (yeah!) (oh, oh)

Josh and Kevin began to air guitar and bounce around, as my mother passed me over hula hoops, and I started out with two around my waist. It’s important to layer and build up. Shaking my hips and dancing is exhausting, and it’s MY birthday, but this is a big part of the tradition.

There is no way to “win” and it’s not really a contest. Mom just keeps loading me up, so that soon I’ve got a Hula Hoop on my wrists, and one around my ankle as I stick my foot up in the air and try to keep it going. Then finally, she’ll get one going around my neck for me.

The guys snap a few photos, sometimes imitating me, that usually makes me laugh and fall over.

At some point, my mom cranks up the speed, so that the guys start singing like the Chipmunks.
Double shot of my baby's love, yeah yeah, yeah
A potion that I had too much of
It was a double shot of my baby's love
It was such a thrill it was hurtin' me (ooh!)
I was sufferin' in ecstasy

That’s when Josh starts his solo in a high pitched voice, like Alvin from the Chipmunks, but he doesn’t know the lyrics so he makes it up as he goes.

“Butt, Butt, Bomp-a-bomp, bomp! Come on, One night a week is-a plenty enough It's a good thing. Shama-Lama-ding-dong, wanna, wanna, well the bird is the word, bird, bird, Double shot of my babies love!”

It's kind of fun performing with my little brother accompanying me.

There is no penalty, when I finally double over laughing and mess up, it’s just a goofy little game, which is’how it sort of ends.

“Okay, presents?” I clapped my hands together, and pointed to the drapes. “Can I have the drapes closed, please? Can that be one of my morning presents?”

Morning presents, Afternoon Presents, Evening Presents. When I first started this tradition, there was only one set of presents. However, it was such fun doing gift exchanges we expanded it. As a goofy, precocious little girl, who doesn’t love presents, right? So somehow I talked my way into three rounds of presents and we’ve been doing it ever since.

The presents usually get better as the day goes on..

“How will you see your presents, dear?” Mom said cavalierly, while closing the blinds, but leaving them slightly open with a wink.

I sat down on the couch, even though I had a bare bottom.

“Oh no, nope, not on my couch,” Mom immediately scolded me. I gave her an innocent look. “You know why!”

That prompted an immediately “Why?” from my brothers as I stood back up.

“I don’t want her bottom on my good couch,” Mom left it at that. I was still dripping wet and I actually understood that.

“Sweaty butt,” Kevin didn’t. He teased me and said I’d have to sit on the floor like a dog.

“No, you can sit on the floor, anyway you want dear,” Mom assured me, and patted my head. “What present do you want to open first?”

Dad brought in four presents and took a seat on the couch where I had been sitting.

“Surprise me,” I said.

Mom didn’t like that, she liked me to pick. She told me to open up one of the boys presents. They were all wrapped with the same paper, and had the same handwriting on the tags. I knew mom had wrapped all of these for them.

“No card? I am hurt,” I said as I selected Kevin’s package.

“Later,” Kevin shrugged and admitted he hadn’t made it yet.

“Kevin Welton, I reminded you yesterday to make cards for your sister’s birthday!” My mom frowned at him, before telling me to go ahead and unwrap it. “I am sure you will love it.”

“I am sure I won’t,” I promised. I’ve got an entire shelf, and half a closet full of gag gifts and goofy presents, some of which are raunchy, others are gross, many are just plain stupid. As ridiculous as it is though I know this is a gesture of love from my family and I haven’t gotten rid of any.

“First class asshole?” I held up a small trophy with the words engraved on a bronze plaque. I frowned. It was cheap and looked like he bought it at a dollar store pre-made.

“Turn it over,” Kevin smiled.

On the bottom was a sticker that just said “Made you look!”

I laughed, and put it down. It would go on my dresser.

“What do you say?” my mom asked.

Another tradition is the expression of gratitude. You have to heap it on in spades, it’s sort of required. I think it’s helpful so there are no hard feelings, and honestly I don’t’ know why we started going over the top with it.

“Oh Kevin, this is exactly what my heart desired, a tiny dollar store trophy with the words world’s greatest asshole, now I will truly know that mine is the greatest of all, and it’s all because of your magnificent generosity. The addition of the made you look sticker, must have taken you hours and days of pondering the right words to say, and from the deepest pit of my heart, and with all the love and gratitude that I can muster, I cannot thank you enough,” I bowed deeply to my brother and tried to keep a straight face as I obsequiously thanked him for a fairly pointless gag gift that was much like many of my other trophies for similar things.

“It’s FIRST CLASS asshole, not WORLD’S GREATEST,” Kevin pretended he was going to take it back, so I snatched the trophy and corrected myself. “It’s even better! Kevin! This is outstanding, I am no longer a second class asshole. I’ve attained the rank of first class asshole, and soon I may even rival your standing in the International ranking of ultimate assholes!!”


Kevin laughed the loudest and wasn’t offended.

“How come they can cuss, but I can’t say dookie hole?” Josh interrupted.

“For one, when your brother says asshole he means that your sister is a jerk, not her bottom is first class,” My mom replied patiently with a slight purse of her lips.

“Actually, I meant both,” Kevin held up a finger with a wry smile.

Mom glanced at him, “Secondly, when you say dookie, you actually mean poop and it’s disgusting to hear in the morning at the table. I don’t mind asshole as much.”

“But dookie is what comes out of it, isn’t the reason you don’t want Taylor on the couch because she may not have wiped really well?” Josh said.

God, I couldn’t help it, I turned so red from ear to ear. Just the implication that I may not have wiped my ass well, was enough to embarrass me.

“No silly, it’s because of the white stuff leaking out of the front,” Josh said.

My mom nodded and said it is a bit of both. “Girls have open plumbing and we get a little sticky, and when it’s my birthday, you have NEVER seen me sit on that nice couch, have you?” Mom’s question was rhetorical. She asked me to open Josh’s present next.

I tore off the wrapping paper, and inside was a shoe box. “This isn’t going to be a dead bug or something is it?” I scrunched my nose in disgust. My brother shook his head no and remained quiet.

Inside the box was a green piece of construction paper, and the words “Open the box inside the box”

I did, and inside that box, was another box, with another card, with another instruction to open the next box. After three boxes, I finally got a message that said “You are a first class asshole, and my brother stole the trophy that I was going to put in here, made you look! Also, I farted inside this box.”

I had to laugh, Josh’s gifts were usually quite sincere, crude, and very cheap.

“I didn’t steal it, I won it from you playing counterstrike,” Kevin added defensively. I didn’t mind I hugged my little brother, even though I could feel his boner through his pants.

“Josh, that was the most amazing gift, a box within a box, within a box, within a box and a card that confirms, I am indeed the first class asshole, and that my asshole itself is first class, you have touched me deeply in a way that no one has ever reached my soul and brought me exultant joy that I’ve never before experienced, you will have my eternal love and devotion for this day and all days to come!!”

A soft clap followed from my family about my performance of gratitude.

“Actually, I didn’t mean you were not a nice person though,” Josh clarified.

“So, just that Taylor has a first class asshole?” Kevin snickered. Josh looked down.

I was embaressed to know my brothers were talking about a part of my body that I normally shared intimately with my boyfriend. If Brian could see me now on the floor accepting gifts like this, he would probably think I was the craziest bitch in the world.

“What’s next, Mommy?” I asked.

“Your father’s present next, dear!” Mom handed me my dady’s present.

There were time my father got me something practical, and sometimes he got me something that wasn’t even a gag gift at all. It took some of the fun out of it, when he did that for mom. One year, he got her a single diamond stud, but I have never seen her wear it.

“I can’t wait to see what it is,” I began tearing the wrapping paper with enthusiasm. It was a t-shirt with the words “With tits like these, who needs brains?”

My jaw dropped open, and everyone laughed because I hadn’t expected it. The goal of the gag gift game is often to really surprise or shock you. He must have put some effort into finding that caption.

“Daddy, while I may never wear this shirt, because it is truly myosgonistic, twisted, perverted and sets women back for fifty years, the thought you must have put into buying an off the shelf t-shirt with this caption that presumes since I have tits, I can’t have brains, must have required you to go to at least TWO of the finest flea markets in the area, and for that you should be commended as Father of the Year, no Father of the Decade, I would go so far as Father of the Bi-Centennial, but I’ll stop short of Father of the Century, simply because I have not yet seen what brilliant, and insulting gift you have for me later today! This is quite literally the finest shirt that I have seen in the last two minutes of my existence!”

He nodded with a curt smile and shot me a humble look.

“Mother, can you top this outstanding shirt? Perhaps a pair of shorts that with an ass like this, I don’t need the huge tits that I also have?” I asked playfully. It was fun to get into the spirit of the game, and now that I was awake and already doing it, it was easier.

“I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised by what I got you, It’s kind of a gift for you AND Brian,” she said.

“Oh my, I’ve only been dating him for three months? Is it our very own starter house? Perhaps a car?”

Mom only laughed as I tore into the package and began to unwrap it.

Sex toys, aren’t completely off-limits, but we’ve been pretty conservative during gift exchanges on them over the years. Mom knows I masturbate, I know she masturbates, everybody does. An electric tooth brush that looks phallic, a spring loaded can of peanuts with a giant dick that pops out when you open it. It’s pretty low key.

What I saw staring at me, was the real deal. It was stainless steel, about six inches in length, very fat and quite obviously a butt plug.

“I didn’t know if you had one,” she smiled excitedly as she picked up the bullet shaped sex toy and pointed the base at me. “It lights up!”

She squeezed something near the base and kaleidoscope lights began to glow in the circular base.

“What is it?” Josh asked.

I couldn’t speak. I was so utterly mortified that I was unable to utter an intelligible word.

“Oh C’mon, Taylor. You are eighteen. I am sure you have dildos in your room. Don’t act like you don’t know what it is. I assumed you didn’t have one?”

Josh asked again for clarity on what it was.

“It’s a butt plug, Josh,” My mother said to him, and I could sense Josh’s brain start turning and could almost hear the tiny little wheels turning in his mind as he tried to make sense of what that object may be for.

“It plugs up your butt? Why would you want to do that?” Josh asked.

My mom decided to respond by asking why Josh thought a woman might wear one.

“So, when you are naked, boys can’t see the wrinkled circle around the dark hole part where the toots come out?”

“Maybe,” Mom snickered. She told me she was waiting for my gratitude.

I put my hand down, and held the plug. It must have weighed about a pound and a half. I had never worn one in my ass before but I had a good idea of what it was for. I was at a loss for words.

“Go ahead, dear. You can express your gratitude, now.”

“Dearest mommy, apple of my eye, greatest of mothers, role model extra-ordinaire, in your unfathomable wisdom, you chose to provide me with a sex toy in front of my little brothers, that goes into my anus, and looks like it may be painful, perhaps the most costly of all the presents I have received, it lights up, I don’t know what purpose that will serve, so I shall keep it gathering dust amongst the many trashy, and often inappropriate gifts you have so carefully chosen for me over the years,” I said.

“If you had it in your butt when you went running, you could signal to cars,” Kevin suggested. That got a big laugh.

“I am sorry, Dear. I thought this year was your eighteenth, and you were ready for something a little more mature, perhaps I should have farted in a shoe box?” Mom asked. Her feelings appeared hurt.

“No, I am just shocked. This kind of takes the game to a whole nother level,” I admit it.

Mom smiled enthusiastically and asked in a coy manner “Does it?”

“Are you ready to get one of these in your tail pipe for your birthday?” I asked.

“I already have one,” Mom smiled and assured me.

“I want to see you wearing it!” Josh said excitedly.

“It’s not my birthday, Dear, and it’s a toy for the bedroom, not for the living room,” Mom assured my disappointed little brother. Kevin also seemed to think that was not fair.

Often times, we have demonstrated practical gifts that can be used. We call it wear and share. As an example, Dad once got my mom a “Chop Chop Bitch” cutting board, and she used it to make dinner before putting it up out of sight where nobody could see it. Over the years, little wooden paddles with our names on it were gifts and we ended up getting our spankings with them. We usually pose with them for pictures and have to smile like they are the greatest things ever.

“Now, are you ready for morning spankings and then you can take a little break,” My mother asked.

“Wait, what about wear and share,” Josh reminded my mother.

“Oh, that’s right,” Mom snapped her fingers like she forgot and was angry at herself, but it was obvious to me that she hadn’t and was being facetious. “Let’s get a picture of you holding up your little brother’s gift of a trophy!”

I smiled broadly, put the trophy calling myself a first class asshole next to my face, and let them take a picture like I thought I was a genuine winner of an award.

“Turn around and let’s take one of it by your butt too, since its for that!” Kevin insisted.

My mom dismissed him, and said that one picture was enough. She made me take a similar picture with the empty shoe boxes. For this one, I pretended to look mystified and dumbfounded as I was surrounded by shoe boxes.

“That’s a good one for the photo album,” Mom assured me with a thumbs up once she snapped the picture. Did I tell you, we’ve been doing this so long we actually print out the best pictures and put them in the photo album we’ve kept since mom used to get the film developed at a department store?

They usually don’t process nude pictures, so back then mom used to make sure the photos were cheesecake but didn’t show any actual genitalia, but now they take pictures of whatever.

I had to pose in Dad’s shirt, and I acted like I was going to look for a job, and a few action poses, with the shirt pulled down just over the top of my thighs. “You can probably go out in the front yard in that, Taylor!”

“I could probably go, but I am not,” I assured her.

“You most certainly are, birthday girl. You told your father, that this was the best shirt that you have ever seen.”

“It was the only shirt I had seen in the last two minutes,” I frowned. I was already heading for the door. It's not uncommon for birthdays to spill outside of the house for different reasons. I didn’t argue with my mother’s decision to snap a few pictures of me on the sidewalk to our house in just a black shirt that reads “With tits like this, who needs brains?”

“You know when it’s YOUR birthday, I am going to amp things up, I am thinking maybe a kiddie pool, with a swimsuit that looks like dental floss down by the mailbox,” I pointed to the edge of our yard where people usually pass by on the sidewalk.

It was still early, and while it was broad daylight, and there was a possibility a car or someone would walk by, we were outside without anyone noticing us.

“I think you ARE ready to amp it up, bring it, I can always use another swimsuit,” My mom teased. She always talked a big game, but once she was put on the spot during her birthday, she’d wheedle, whine, beg, plead and outright tell me absolutely not the same way I often did. She’d always go through with everything I demanded, but like her I showed some restraint.

My mom had a full green pair of flannel pajamas, both bottoms and top. I was in almost nothing and the shirt I had on felt like it kept riding up so that the tip of my labia was exposed, or my ass crack in the back.

“Now, show your father your picture, ask him if he wants you to snap another, and then I want to see you wearing the butt plug that I bought you,” My mom said to me while we were outside alone together.

“Maw-awwm, I can’t wear that around my brothers.”

“I am not going to make you insert it in the living room, but they’ve already seen it, they know what it’s for, and wearing it is better than having them look at the crinkling part of the dark hole,” Mom seemed amused by that.

“How would I even get this up my butt?” I asked.

“Oh for heaven sakes, with a behind like yours Taylor, you’ve never done anal sex?” My mom seemed to think that I was just being silly.

“I have, but not something as big as that thing,” I insisted.

“Goodness gracious, is Brian really small?” My mom asked with sympathy in her voice.

“Mom, I am not going to discuss Brian’s penis size with you,” I admitted.

“Oh my gosh, you are acting like a little prude today. You used to be such a little firecracker, and fearless, now you whine and turn your nose up at everything.”

“I am outside with my ass crack sticking about two inches out of the back of my shirt,” I looked to my left and saw one of our neighbors slowly walking up. I pulled my shirt down as far as it would go and asked if I could go inside.

“You don’t have the stones to make me go down to the mailbox and put on a skimpy swimsuit because you are afraid that dirty old man will think you are dirty, don’t you?”

“No, I will do that for your next birthday, wait and see!”

“I am game to amp things up if you are, but you can’t expect me to keep things in low gear, and then make me do something like that!”

“This is low gear? Mom, I am stark naked under this shirt with a dirty caption, and a neighbor I’ve known since grade school is almost thirty feet away, how is that low gear?”

“I’ll show you, dear,” Mom grabbed me by my hand and led me over to Mister Berke. He’s a nice old man that probably hails from New York city or something. I didn’t resist, but as we walked my huge tits flopped bra-less under the shirt.

Mister Berke has never been to my birthday parties, and as far as he knows I am a clean cut, ordinary girl next door type who once sold him cub scout cookies.

“My, you have really grown, Taylor, isn’t it?”

“Hello Mister Berke,” I waved nervously.

He greeted my mother and then mumble read my t-shirt to himself and said something like “Oh my!”

“It’s a funny t-shirt, isn’t it? Her father got it for her for her birthday,” my mom smiled politely like this exchange was the most perfectly normal and mundane thing in the world.

“It certainly says it all,” Mister Berke’s eyes were wide, and he stared at my pokey nipples through the material. Which was good, because it meant he didn’t notice my fingers grabbing the seam on the bottom of the shirt and continue pulling it down a little so it didn’t rise up.

“Show him the panties you have on, that’s even funnier,” My mom turned me around, lifted my shirt and exposed my bareass to not only Mister Burke but my entire neighborhood. Granted, no one was out in their yards, but someone might have seen.

This was an all-new and EXTREME humiliation that went well beyond going outside in skimpy outfits.

“What? where are the panties that I bought you? are they in the crack of your butt?” My mom pretended to check by lifting my shirt a second time, this time for a full six seconds and exposing my bare crack to this nice old man. I stood there, face turning red. I noticed my brothers watching and giggling through the crack in the curtain.

“Did you decide not to wear panties again? Taylor, you are OUTSIDE in a skimpy little shirt, have you no shame at all?” My mom blamed me for exposing myself – even though she had lifted my shirt. “Do you know how embarrassing it is for me to know that Mister Berke knows you are a little slutty extrovert?”

“Well, I um,” Mister Berke stood there holding the leash of his white dog. The dog kept smelling my ankles and sniffing around. I barely even noticed, because it was so well behaved.

“Apologize to Mister Berke for not wearing panties right this minute and tell him what they actually said.”

There were no panties. My mom was lying, and I was on the spot. I lied too.

“Um, I am sorry Mister Berke, that you saw me without panties, um, the caption, said that I had a first class asshole.”

It was the first thing that I could think of, and I was more embaressed and humiliated having said something as outrageous as that then I might have been if I had said something clever like when I was inside.

“Not a problem, it happens, my dear,” Mister Berke was kind, but he also ogled me and allowed his dog to sniff me, sometimes allowing it to rise up and angle for my crotch.

“Oh no, that simply won’t do,” My mother said. “It’s your BIRTHDAY, and when you get a gift, you give a magnimous expression of gratitude, I expect you to do the same when you apologize, Pumpkin,” she said.

“Well, um,” I tried to clear my mind, and think. I had a thousand expressions of gratitude given over more than a decade. I could mix and match a dozen different sentiments from various gifts, and speak glibly off the cuff, but now I was being asked to apologize to a man I’ve barely spoken to since I sold him some Lemon Mints and Thin Mints.

I only remember that because at the time, they were the yuckiest cookies that Girl Scouts made and it seemed odd to me anyone would specifically order only those cookies.

“We’re waiting, do you just like standing here? I bet you have no bra underneath that shirt either, do you?”

“No, I don’t Mommy, I just wore the shirt outside, and I forgot my bra and panties, because I was in such a hurry to walk out into the yard, and show my big fat butt to Mister Berke, because I’ve always had a crush on him since I was a little girl and sold him two boxes of thin-mints and a box of Lemon-ups,” I answered in a sort of gracious and obsequious manner.

Mister Berke nodded in recognition, for remembering his order so many years ago. “That sounds like what I would have ordered,” he admitted.

“Mister Berke, I am so sorry, you had to see my bare rump not once, but twice, and I was very naughty to go outside in only this shirt, I shall learn from my mistake, and obtain appropriate undergarments, perhaps festooned with the wisdom of ancient mysogonists, who shall declare that they wish that I was a beer, or that while I may be ugly, I do give amazing head. So that when my mother checks my panties again the next time you are walking your dogs, and we are outside, you shall see something far more amusing than my first class award winning asshole,” I said with sincerity and as little sarcasm as I could muster.

Mister Berke stood there wondering if he were being pranked, before accepting the apology politely and walking away.

“Now, that was very good,” Mom seemed pleased with my response. She led me back inside the house, but just about halfway to the door, she flipped my shirt up in the back and exposed my bare ass to the neighborhood. There may have been someone passing by, I didn’t turn around and look.

When we got inside, Dad was laughing, and so were the boys. My mom told them a short version of the story, and Dad suggested that Mom should have invited Mister Berke over for the birthday party today.

Mom snapped her fingers, and genuinely seemed to regret not doing that. “I am sure he would have loved that,” Mom said as he looked to me for confirmation.

I rolled my eyes.

“Okay, what are you going to do on your birthday if I make you walk the length of the neighborhood with your shirt riding up in the back,” I countered with a little seething anger.

“I am not,” My mom decided firmly.

“See? You can dish it, but you can’t handle it,” I teased my mother.

“No, quite the opposite, you were mortified, ghost white and all you had to do was show a tiny sliver of butt crack to a dirty old man. You’d never turn the heat up enough to warrant being able to make me do a birthday walk down the street.”

“Do I detect a challenge?” My dad smiled and whistled good naturedly. Mom was letting him look at the pictures she took of me in the shirt he bought me on her phone.

“I mean, I think we kind of take things pretty far now,” I suggested.

“Oh good, prove it. Get that shirt off right now and get into your birthday suit,” My mom had closed the door and I was standing in the foyer. I undressed quickly, and happily. I absolutely loathed the mindset behind the shirt I had been wearing. It was an excellent gag gift, but I didn’t like it because it implied women with big boobs were dimwits.

“Now, go put this in, and I want to see you light up the room,” My mom held up the butt plug. My brothers were ecstatic, high-five, Dad even smiled. Mom stared at me as if daring me to go that far.

“I can’t put this in, and I wouldn’t be able to light up the light with my butt!” I insisted. I squeezed the little button around the base and showed her how it required pressure to make it light up.

“Oh my god! You baby,” She popped the butt plug gift she had given me into her mouth, and got it extremely wet with her own saliva. It looked like she was sucking a cock or a baby’s bottle lovingly, Josh and Kevin clearly noticed, and my dad kind of swooned. She lit it up by pressing her mouth, so that it looks like her mouth was fully illuminated.

Kevin and Josh laughed.

She pulled it out and handed the plug to me by the tip so that I could hold it. I was not about to put my mother’s spit and the butt plug into my mouth. She didn’t wait for me to do it either.

Instead, she surprised everyone. Mom was wearing her green flannel pajamas, and she whipped off her slippers and bottoms. She didn’t have on panties, and her pussy was freshly shaved. My mother had NEVER undressed on MY birthday before. This was completely new territory.

She took the plug back, felt behind herself with it, looked up and to the left, and then made a motion that suggested she was making a twisting motion. “Voila, it’s so easy,” she turned around, and turned the light on with the power of only her ass muscles.

My brothers were laughing it up, in disbelief at this magic trick. My mother didn’t demonstrate for long. She strobed it, while it was in her ass and made the light stay on. Then she flickered it with just the power of her sphincter and everyone laughed hysterically. She slapped her butt twice, plucked it out of her ass easily with a pop. Mom said “It’s your birthday, now you can go wash it, go in the other room and put it in. You don’t have to slide it in here in the living room.”

She was giving me explicit permission not to have to let my brothers and father see me try to stick it up my butt, but I still didn’t want to do it.

“I am not putting that up my butt after it’s been in your butt,” I insisted.

“Oh my gosh, Taylor. Are you afraid you’ll transfer cooties to you?”

“Mom, Taylor has a FIRST class asshole, she can’t take the risk that your second class poop will accidentally pollute her first class poop container,” Kevin said.

My mom offered him a wintry smile, and shook her head. “You are a silly boy, but I love you, Kevin. That’s the weirdest thing anyone has ever said to me,” she admitted with a straight face. She held up the plug she was pinching between two fingers and showed it to us.

My brothers and I groaned, because we thought we’d see a little poopie smeared on the outside of the plug, but it was incredibly clean. “I don’t walk around with a nasty ass,” Mom assured us. “If you can’t handle it, you can’t handle it, I just thought this year since you were eighteen you could be a little more like you used to be when we first started.”

“I never stuck things up my butt,” I assured my mother.

“Actually, that’s not true, one time you stuck a whole container of raisins up your butthole, ” Josh said and added “one at a time.”

“Honey, that was you,” My mom reminded him. Josh nodded and admitted that he may have mis-remembered that.

“Fine, okay, I am game, but is it going to hurt?” I asked my mother.

“You have padding, remember?” Kevin assured me. I ignored him.

“Not if you get it good and wet first, use a few fingers, you can go in the bathroom and I’ll help you,” Mom assured me. I took the used butt plug from my mother’s fingers and held it in my finger tip so as not to get germs on them.

“How did you get it in your butt, without any practice or anything?” Kevin asked.

My mom has a tendency to be honest about things when we ask questions, and she has often said don’t ask questions if you don’t want to know. If they ask facetious silly questions, she’ll treat them facetious and silly. “I am used to it, baby. I sometimes wear one even when it’s not my birthday.”

“Will you wear one today?” Kevin asked.

“It’s not my birthday, but maybe I’ll get mine if your sister wears the one I got her, and wear it under my jammies, and light up the room now and then, okay?” she smiled at him.

“No, you may as well stay naked, you are naked already,” Kevin insisted.

“I am just bottomless, Kevin, and we already established that I won’t be doing birthday nudity twice a year. I am not the birthday girl, this is your sister’s day, not mine. I was just demonstrating how to play with her birthday present.”

(This is sort of rough draft/unedited format, In this chapter I diverge a bit from my original course because the characters are leading me this way, but I could go back to a straight day if you don't like the twist.

Chapter 3ish...
My mother was adamant about not being in her birthday suit twice a year. That’s when I decided to double down.

“I will if you will,” I said.

“I already said I’d probably go put my plug in while you work on yours,” Mom replied.

“No, I will strip to my birthday suit on your birthday and my own.”

Mom seemed intrigued, and she stood there thinking, hips akimbo, no pants, but her top was on.

“How would that even work?” Mom pondered. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, you said you think you can handle ramping things up, but that’s what you say on my birthday when yours is three months away. You’d sing a different tune if you have to be naked on my birthday, too.”

“That’s really not a big deal, so I have to be naked. I don’t think I would mind that at all. Is that what you thought I meant by ramping it up?”

“No, but Josh and Kevin wanted you naked today, so for my birthday wish, I want you naked today,” I said.

Birthday wish was something I hadn’t invoked in a while. It’s because I used to wish for practical things, and then at some point, I started wishing for ponies, cars, trips to the Riveria.

“Yeah, and you get birthday spanks too!” Kevin added.

“It’s your sister’s birthday. She gets spankings today, and all the presents are for her; the cakes, it’s all for her,” My mom said.

“You could share,” Josh suggested.

That wasn’t a bad idea, half the spanks, half the presents, half the humiliation, and my mom would have to share it with me – I was on board with that.

“That maybe something we could try in another year, I put a lot of thought into the party games, Taylor,” my mom disagreed.

“Okay, forget it for now then, but if you aren’t going to strip and wear this thing, I am not putting this ucky thing up my butt.”

“I never said I wouldn’t strip,” Mom began to unfasten her buttons on her pajamas. I had noticed her hard nipples through the material and knew she didn’t sleep in a bra. It still seemed a little surprising when she unveiled her tits. They used to seem massive to me, until mine began to dwarf hers.

In that moment, we noticed as she stood with her legs apart, that there was a diamond stud dangling from a little chain hanging from inside her pussy.

“What the fuck is that?” Kevin blurted out.

“Kevin! Language!”

“I am sorry, mom, but your pussy has jewelry, I think it warranted the word,” he said.

“Okay, do you remember a few years ago, your father bought me this gag gift?” My mom removed the last stitch of clothes she had on, set it down, and lifted her clitoral hood to show that the diamond was hanging from inside of it.

“What is that? it looks like a sausage,” Kevin was mystified. He clearly meant the fold of greyish flappy skin that was covering the piercing and her clit.

“This is that tongue you were asking about,” my mom flipped the diamond up and down a few times and let it fall. Everyone watched the pendulum swing.

“Why is it protruding like that?” Kevin asked.

My mother’s pussy was always a different shape than mine, but I had never seen her labia appear to be so folded open like this, it was like she had a flower blossom that had fully matured on her pussy.

“The diamond stud is attached to my clit, and it sort of forces the hood to stick out,” my mom explained with a slight amount of humiliation spreading across her face.

“What is a clit exactly then if it’s not the folding part on the outside?” Kevin asked.

My mom sighed and lifted it up, revealing what appeared to be a tiny little penis. In the base of the penis at the tip, just where the vein met, was a clip that had tiny rigid teeth that seemed to be gripping the delicate skin.

“Does that hurt?”

“A little bit,” Mom held the flap up just a little longer before dropping it. “I wear this sometimes when it’s not my birthday as well,” she admitted.

Kevin and Josh seemed wholly overwhelmed and looked at my mother in awe. “You will wear it today?” they asked.

“Maybe,” my mom said.

“What if Taylor told you that you have to?”

“She’s the birthday girl, so she does what I tell her, and I’ll wear it if she tells me to on my birthday,” My mom agreed.

It was nice to have that kind of authority over my mom. We had an unspoken understanding of sorts, but things had never escalated quite like this before.

“Yes, but if you are naked, then you have to do what she tells you, and she has to do what you tell her?” Josh suggested.

“I don’t think that would work, Josh, I am just going to walk around and be naked, but I don’t think it would work where the birthday girl tells me what to do, because she tells me to stop telling her what to do.”

“What if you make a rule where that’s the one, she can’t tell you?” Josh suggested as if he were negotiating with my mom.

“We really don’t have rules, Josh. It’s more like a game, and I am the Birthday hostess, I plan the party. I am not the birthday girl. Your sister is the birthday girl, and we flip flop, that’s how we’ve always played,” mom explained.

It was the first time I ever heard her acknowledge we played a “Birthday game”. Up until this point, it had always been unspoken about why we did it this way. It had evolved organically, out of our competitive nature with each other. I think I was born an extrovert, and my mom has always been kind of open minded, and things just progressed to where we are.

I’ve always known people would find what we do unsettling and weird, but it’s never been a sex thing between us. It’s just kind of naughty, and provocative, but always around fun. Even with being hit in the face (or having it splatted on my bare ass), the humiliation was always in jest. The reason we COULD do that to each other, was we all know how much we love one another.

Yet, we never actually talked about the reasons we did it, the boundaries. We never took things too far with one another, but we also always pushed things every year to top the previous year.

“Why don’t you let Dad be the host and you two be guests?” Kevin offered.

My Dad flat out refused. He didn’t do it in a negative way; he just shook his head with a confident smile. “Nope, Sport. This is your mother and sister’s thing, it’s always been that way. I just enjoy a good spanking and gag gift.”

“Let me and Kevin be the host,” Josh suggested.

It wasn’t the first time Kevin and Josh wanted a part to play. They used to keep score when we played certain games and help out by cleaning up after the unwrapping was done. As they got older, they become more like they were now – observers that make wise cracks.

“No can do, boys. You’d run mommy ragged, and your sister is sort of grappling with just wearing a butt plug, so if you told her to put a box of raisins in her butt one a time, I think she’d have a full-on rebellion. I don’t think that is something you are ready to do.”

“Come on, Mom!” Kevin and Josh pleaded, but my mother wouldn’t budge.

I bit my lip, took the plunge, and still holding the spittle-covered butt plug that had been in my mother’s ass, I began to reach around my backside and try to find the entrance.

“Oh honey, I won’t make you do that out here; you should go to the bathroom,” Mom said.

“I am game if you are,” I agreed.

“I already stuck a plug up my butt in front of your brothers. I can do it quick, and easily. You are going to have to work at it a little and probably prime it,” Mom held up two fingers in the universal symbol of female masturbation. If my brothers understood, they didn’t say anything.

I seated the plug into my ass, turned it like I was closing a high school locker and wanted to make sure it wouldn’t snap open. Then I adjusted myself by pinching my labia a little. The pain helped me to process the sensation of the thick plug in my butt.

Mom’s face was colored impressed. That was somewhat validating. I liked impressing my mother, I always have.

She insisted that I turn around, bend over and show everyone. I did as I instructed, bowing deeply and exposing my bare pussy and plugged ass. Fresh traces of humiliation washed across my face as I was asked to strobe it like my mother.

I had no idea how to do that, and they were quite disappointed that I could not make it light up.

“Don’t poop yourself, Sis!” Kevin laughed when it was obvious that I didn’t have the same control that my mother did.
“That’s okay, you can stand up now. You were a good sport, and game to try the plug, so that’s something,” Mom sounded disappointed but conciliatory toward me for putting in the effort to accept my booby prize gag gift.

“That’s not what I meant by game, I meant I am game that the guys be the hosts,” I challenged my mother to amp up the game. Naturally, Josh and Kevin were excited. My mom was perplexed, and Dad seemed mildly amused, but non-committal either way.

“Yes, we could be the hosts!” Kevin and Josh hopped around.

“I am telling you that I am not the birthday girl, and your father and brothers have never been more than participants. I’ve got today all planned out, let’s just have fun. You aren’t ready for something like that, anyway.”

“Oh, but you are?” I challenged her.

“Honey, think about what you are asking to do,” my mom smiled at me graciously, as if I we remaking a huge and very hasty decision – which I was. I needed to do it so that I wouldn’t overthink it. It seemed like when I was little, I truly was fearless, and I channeled my early daredevil, extroverted self. I didn’t want to let my brothers boss me around. I was bluffing to see if my mom would back down.”

“So, you can’t do it?” I asked again.

“I can, but I think the boys are a little unseasoned to be hosts, and your father isn’t interested,” Mom was the voice of reason. “Let’s just play the birthday game.”

I was secretly relieved. I was already having doubts about what I said, and Kevin and Josh were total weirdos. I was satisfied that I bluffed my mother, bought myself some credibility for being willing to challenge her, and would watch her back down.

“Here is what we can do, I will remain the host, but I’ll remain in my birthday suit no matter who drops by and so will you. if you are truly willing to amp it up, you’ll do the same on my birthday.”

I was ready to dismiss that as weak and not all that exciting, but Kevin and Josh would have been satisfied with the one wrinkle. My father seemed pleased as well with whatever was happening.

“If you cup your hands over your boobs, cover your tits, or anything like that, you’ll stand in the corner for fifteen minutes too, though right?” I asked.

“Sure, that’s only fair,” my mom shrugged as if she had assumed that was going to be included.

“We’ve never really had any sort of actual rules, but Josh and Kevin can be my helpers today. That means that they can give you birthday commands, unless I overrule them, and on my birthday, they can do the same to me. You and your father will be the only one who can overrule them, and we’ll see if you can handle twice a year birthday games.”

“How come Dad gets to overrule mine, but not yours,” I noticed she had stipulated my father had a veto power for my brothers when it was my turn to be in charge, but not for her.

Mom looked at my dad, as if silently communicating with just a look. “Your father just likes to watch, but if your brothers ignore your authority on my birthday, I want him to help you out. That’s all.”

“You never needed Dad to intervene before, when it’s your birthday,” I countered.

“It’s fine, I’ll stay out of it, this is really between you two anyway,” Dad replied. He was a confident guy with an easy nature about him. He didn’t seem dejected or to have any hard feelings about it.

“Okay, then that’s decided, so is everybody happy?” My mom asked excitedly now that everything was settled. My family cheered, and so did I. “Well, then let’s play a game!”

My mom decided we really WERE going to play pin the tail on the donkey – and I was the donkey.

“Place your palms flat against the wall, Donkey girl and stick your cute little butt out, and just wait. That’s all you have to do,” she told me. I had some trepidation about being jabbed with a pin, but I trusted my mother and she really didn’t seem like she was in the mood to negotiate after the long conversation we just had. I stood that way in our living room and waited while my mother got the supplies she needed.

“Donkey butt!” Josh laughed while mom retrieved whatever she needed. We’ve played all sorts of birthday games over the years, including Twister. This one was new, and I was always a little nervous – especially since someone would be possibly sticking me with a pin. I tried to calm myself.

My brothers would NEVER tease me any other day of the year, and they would be in trouble for calling me a name like “Donkey Butt” if they ever dared to do it any other day. On my birthday, though, the rules are lax, and I just have to grin and bear it. I even whinnied for them, which caused some tittering laughter.

“Do it again,” Kevin said.

“No,” I replied instinctively.

“Do what your brother tells you, remember he can give you birthday commands, and that was YOUR idea, Taylor,” Mom called to us from the other room. She was busy using scissors to cut a tail from construction paper for the game.

“Sorry, I forgot,” I yelled to her, and whinnied for my brother’s amusement.

Mom stuck her head back in the room, and said “That didn’t sound like the magnificent and highly articulate apology expressing your deep sorrow you didn’t wear any panties and exposed your bare bottom to our neighbor you gave earlier. What did I tell you about that?”

I didn’t answer her. Instead, I began a “proper” apology in the same style as we express gratitude for our birthday gifts. “Oh woe is me, Kevin, for I, your lowly donkey butt failed to recognize you are our mother’s helper, and did not whinny as instructed, in order to add more realism to this game, allow me to offer you my greatest and most sincere apology, that you may forgive me one day, perhaps not today, perhaps not in a decade, but in this life or the next, for failing to whinny,” and then I made the whinny sound that I had done earlier.

Kevin came up and spanked me hard on my ass – left butt cheek to be precise.

“Ouch, we aren’t even doing birthday spanks,” I complained as I kept my palms flat against the wall.

My mom overheard that as she returned with the needed supplies. “Kevin, you can be my helper, but you can’t just wail on your sister.”

“I was punishing her for failing to follow my instructions,” Kevin decided. My mouth opened into a pout automatically. That wasn’t what I agreed upon.

I didn’t have to say anything though.

“This is why I was reluctant to let you two be my helpers in the first place. I said you can give your sister birthday commands. I never said anything about punishing her, and birthday spanks on her birthday are a gift – not a punishment. So, now I want you to apologize to her – and I want you to make it grand like she did.”

“Oh, great Donkey Butt, who is my older sister Taylor, I Kevin Welton do hereby apologize for planting a smackerino on your butt, I got carried away because you denied my first request, and now I shall never get over my shameful regret,” he said.

“That’s not bad,” Mom admitted with a churlish grin. The boys don’t normally participate in the deep expression of gratitude, but they’ve been listening to me and mom lay it on thick for long enough that Kevin was able to fudge it. It definitely didn’t sound like he was actually sorry, though, because he was grinning and laughing the entire time, and he called me Donkey Butt.

Mom was satisfied and explained the rules to my brothers and father.

“First, you will be blindfolded, and we’ll spin you round and round,” Mom explained. She blindfolded Kevin first and spun him in circles until he was incredibly dizzy. She placed the “tail” in his hands. It was just a sheet of paper with a long piece of scotch tape hanging off the tail. She had made four of them – one for each member of the family to “pin” on me with the tape.

I didn’t know that at the time, so I braced myself for the pinch of a thumb tack.

“Whoever gets it close enough wins!” she said as she released my spinning brother. He spun around and around in circles, making woozy “Oh, oh, oh, oh,” sounds and almost tripped over the coffee table. Then he managed to feel his way to my back. He was able to guess the location of my butt, and he slapped it on my ass cheek -almost as hard as he had spanked me.

When he removed his blindfold, he was proud of the job he did.

Mom placed her finger on her lip as she thought about what we might be doing wrong. She moved the furniture out of the way and then said that if they touch me without dropping the tail that it’s automatically a disqualification. “If you reach for her back, you’ll know how far you have to go down, so just try to drop the tail on what you think is the Donkey’s tail.”

It was Josh’s turn, and she spun him round and round. Mom started singing, “You spin me right round baby, right round,” and then released him. Josh was lost, bumbling around like a bee that had no idea where he was going.

My parents started telling him “Warmer, Colder, Warm, warmer, Hot!” and that helped him find me. Kevin complained a little, but mom warned him that it’s a new game and she was still figuring out how the rules worked.

“Get it as close to the target as possible,” Dad reminded my little brother and encouraged him.

“What is the target?” Josh asked naively.

“Her BUTTHOLE,” Kevin yelled.

It was at that moment; it dawned on me that WAS the target for this game. At the same time, Josh managed to find me, and he reached up and under my legs with the tape. Josh grabbed a handful of my pussy and attached the tape – goosing me in the process.

“OOHHH,” I called out, rising up on the balls of my feet and glaring at my mother.

My parents’ reaction was shock, and an exasperated “OOPS!”

“JOSH!” Kevin chided him. “That’s not the BUTT hole, that’s the PEE hole,” he yelled.

Josh, for his part, probably didn’t register that meant his sister’s pussy, and just heard the word pee. He backed away quickly, pulling his mask off, just as he tripped and fell on his butt.

“Hmm, this game needs a little tweaking,” My mom decided with chagrin, and scratched her head. “Are you okay, Donkey? Can we continue, or was that a little much?”

Before I could answer, Josh looked up at what he had done. The tail he was using was hanging from my pussy lips between my legs, and he seemed quite proud of himself. “That’s not a pee hole, that’s the front butt part, the labia,” he said.

“That’s right, Josh,” Mom explained patiently that it wasn’t called pin the tail on the Donkey’s labia. She repeated her question to me if I was okay to continue.

“I mean, I am okay, but um, I am just glad that this wasn’t actual thumbtacks,” I said.

“Oh honey, I would never let the boys prick you with thumbtacks. I know you are tough, but that’s a bit much. “Now, your father and I may,” she laughed, and asked my Dad if he was ready to take his turn.

“If Taylor is okay with it, I’ll give it a go,” Dad said.

I shrugged and looked straight ahead.

“I think we’ll call her Donkey Butt when she is the subject of the game, and Donkey Butt’s whinny between rounds, so you’ll whinny to signal that we can begin,” My mom said.

I whinnied, and everyone had a fun laugh (except me). I felt a little embarrassed. I wanted to suggest at least calling me only “Donkey” and that Donkey Butt was a little much.

Mom made a big show of spinning around her husband, grabbing his broad shoulders and teasing him while he was blindfolded, sending my father stumbling forward. My father had little trouble finding his way over to me, he patted the tail on my butt, just next to my ass crack.

“Very close, but no bullseye, okay who wants to spin their mom around?” Mom asked, clearly asking Kevin or Josh to do the honors, as she put on the blindfold and held the last of the taped tails.

Since Josh and Kevin were both eager to spin her around, mom decided they should do it together. The boys get a little handsy when we are naked. When I was little, I seldom thought about it, but Kevin’s hands went straight to mom’s boobs like handholds, and Josh grabbed her butt cheeks.

She started to spin and make a whirling sort of noise. Mom scolded my brothers “Okay now, it’s not hang on to your mom’s boobies, it’s spin me around, if you are going to do it, grab my waist, that’s it, now sing something! Make it fun!”

Josh started it, and Kevin joined in. It seemed corny.

“London Bridge is falling down.
Falling down, falling down
London Bridge is falling down.
My fair lady!”

Mom groaned a little and said it was okay to stop spinning her, but the guys wanted to go another verse. The problem was they forgot the words, so they went a little like this.

“London Bridge is falling down,
Mama’s boobs are falling out,
Spin and spin around,
My fair boobies!!”

They laughed and released my mom forward; she was so dizzy that she stumbled drunkly forward and planted the tail in my hair. “Oopsie,” mom lifted the blindfold so she could see where she slapped the sticky tape – right in my hair.
“So, who won?” Josh asked.

“Not you,” Kevin remarked, that he and Dad both got the tail on my rump, so they won.

“I guess so,” Mom didn’t seem too sure of herself, she was still catching her breath and composing herself after a dizzy spin. “You both got it pretty close!”

“What do we win?” Kevin asked excitedly.

Most of our games are played for fun, there isn’t a particular winner and usually no prize, but Kevin and Josh are as competitive with each other as my mother, and I are with one another.

“I don’t know,” Mom admitted with a shrug, and she asked Kevin what he thought would be fair.

“Double morning spanks?” he asked. Usually, we get spanked by everyone in the family for the number of years corresponding to our current birthday, and then “one extra to grow on!”. Everyone in the family, including any guests, is invited to spank us on the butt and it’s usually more humiliating than it is painful.

There have been a few rare occasions, where for some reason we allowed double spanks as some compensation for something that happened – like spilling cake that was meant for my face all over the party guest’s lap. Kevin and Josh never forgot that rare exception and frequently ask for it.

“I don’t know, that seems like a lot just for draping a piece of tape on your sister’s Heiney,” My mom countered. “Plus, when it’s my turn, that’s a LOT of spanks!”

Meanwhile, I had to remain face toward the wall, palms flat with paper donkey tails hanging from my butt, labia, and hair. I was more worried about getting the tape out of my hair without losing a chunk of it than I was the others.

My mother asked my father what he thought he should win. No one consulted me on what I was willing to do for the winner.

“Are we doing the spanking next? Or are you taking a turn as the donkey?” my father asked and didn’t answer the question.

“I am not the birthday girl,” Mom reminded him that this was my day and not hers.

Kevin and Josh picked up on that and began to yammer and plead that our mother take a turn as the donkey.

“Hang on, hang on,” Mom smiled as she was flattered that suddenly they wanted her to play the silly game, but continued to explain that even though she was naked, she wasn’t the source of games today. “If everyone still wants to play, then I’ll be the donkey butt on my birthday,” she promised.

“The reason I ask is because you are already naked. The game could be the two of you against the wall. That way, whoever’s butt we happen to tag scores the point, and instead of us being winners, it’s whichever of you has the most tails on you, and maybe you score two points if it lands on your donkey butt, and 1 point anywhere else.”

Kevin and Josh didn’t like that idea. They both wanted to win something, even though Josh had already lost the game. He just took his brother’s side automatically.

“Hmm,” Mom seemed intrigued. “and what exactly would we win?”

“Double spanks,” Kevin yelled out. Mom glanced at him with a sidelong glare that suggested he allow his father to answer because she was asking him.

“I don’t know,” my father was clearly brainstorming as he thought about a possible outcome. “I guess I hadn’t thought it out that far. You guys just seem to like to compete in games and dares, so I was making a suggestion.”

“The loser has to write donkey on her own butt and go outside and bray around like a jackass for an hour in the backyard,” Kevin suggested.

Mom frowned. “We are going to do spankings right after this game, and that’s pretty extreme Kevin. Magic marker doesn’t wipe off very easily. I was thinking more of a reward for the winner,” she added.

“How about the winner gets to take the dookie plug out of her bum,” Josh suggested.

My mom scrunched her nose up in disgust when my little brother said that. “It’s a butt plug, Josh, not a dookie plug,” She explained patiently.

“It goes where the dookie goes and plugs it up,” Josh began to laugh at his own joke.

“Is the plug bothering you, Taylor?” my mom asked, finally acknowledging that I had been waiting with my tits pressed to the wall, ass sticking out and palms against the wall.

“Whinny,” I brayed in response.

“Oh right, good job,” Mom snickered. “Donkey butt, you can stop now,” she smiled and then asked me as Taylor) the same question.

I had actually forgotten I even had it in. I reached behind myself, tapped the metallic lid, tried to squeeze my ass cheeks together to make it light up and sighed that I probably failed.

(I was hoping to get more feedback, but here is the rough draft of chapter four - it's a long one)

“I think I am okay, Mom,” I admitted that I could keep it in for now. My Mom said that I might even grow to like it.

My brothers laughed, whistled, and made “woooooo!” sounds. Dad even joined in by joking that Brian may have competition soon.

“Yeah, who needs a boy when you have batteries,” Mom playfully stroked my father’s arm.

That joke went completely over my brothers’ heads but I got it.

“I wouldn’t mind playing the game, but I need to give some thought to party favors and gifts, and the rules, so maybe next time. We need to start breakfast spanks before it’s already lunchtime spanks,” Mom chuckled.

I had already spent the last thirty minutes holding up the wall with the palm of my hands. “How do you want me? Like this?” I asked returning to the wall, placing my palms flat, sticking my ass out, and spreading my legs. That’s a pretty common way to spank our butts for our birthdays.

“Over the knee, over the knee,” Josh chanted. He likes it when I try to go over his knee, because I am so much bigger than him. I am fully developed and he’s still a munchkin, so my tits end up on the floor and my ass goes flying. He also just likes being able to look down and see my pussy presented like a target to him. He’s spanked that more times than I care to remember.

“No, your sister is too big for you to do over the knee, and so am I,” Mom assured him. We’ve both tried it and it’s very uncomfortable with my little brothers. I fit pretty nicely on my father and mother’s lap though.

The other most common spanking position for my birthday is bent over the kitchen table, face down in my own birthday cake, ass presented like a huge target. I’d already sat in my morning cake, so that wasn’t going to be an option. It’s usually a huge surprise when my face gets pushed into it while I am blowing out the candles, but lately I’ve been anticipating it.

“Kneeling on a chair, touching her toes, let’s do something different,” Mom asked my family what they preferred for this round of birthday spankings. I took a mental note to do the same to her when it her birthday. I got the genius idea to make a chart on the wall and let them throw darts at it to determine the position.

“I know, what about like a wheelbarrow?” Kevin sat on the couch, and stuck his legs out flat onto the ottoman. He put his arms forward and described a new position.

Mom seemed intrigued, and even Dad was curious. “A wheelbarrow? Which way would your sister be facing?”

“Butt facing this way, so it’s not over our knee, but the whole body goes long ways,” Kevin explained excitedly. He’s immature but really smart too.

“Show us,” Mom pointed to me, and volunteered me to get up on my brother’s lap. It was awkward because he has bony knees. I faced away from him toward his feet, and tried not to allow all of my weight to crush him. I awkwardly climbed into a position where I wasn’t quite in the “69” position because my face was next to his sneakers, and my nipples were pressed into his knees.

“This is not fun,” I said.

“Hush,” Mom pish-toshed me and asked Kevin to show us what he meant.

Kevin grabbed my legs by the ankles and held them. At first I resisted, but I relented when he pulled them both like he was holding the handles to a wheelbarrow, as he forced me up so that my ass faced him. He swung his hand at my ass and hurt it.

“Ouchie, is the butt plug going to be in there the entire time,” he said.

“Good,” I said. “You always aim for my butt hole, and not my butt cheeks, Kevin! I am about to fall off your knees anyway, this is not working.”

Dad told Kevin it was a nice try, as he helped me off of my brother and stood me back up.

“I got one,” Josh wanted to try something. At first, my Mom wanted to just go back to what she called the old fashioned tried and true methods. However, Josh reminded her he was a helper.

“Okay, funny face, what do you got for us?”

“Okay, like this,” Kevin got down on the carpet and laid on his back, pulled his own legs above his head, and lifted his butt off the ground somewhat to present it. I felt my pulse quicken – that seemed more like it exposed my pussy than it did my ass.

“What are you going to do, kick a soccer ball at Taylor’s butt?” Kevin scoffed at the idea.

“No, see?” he stopped holding his ankles, and left his feet above his head. He played the bongos on his own tiny little bird butt over his jeans by slapping his bottom playfully.

“That seems more like are going to spank my pussy from that angle,” I scoffed, and said that I would prefer the wall again.

“You tried it for Kevin, try it for me, I am a helper,” Josh pleaded. I didn’t have to look at my Mom to know that she was silently nodding that I needed to do the same for Josh as I had for Kevin.

“This wasn’t even my idea,” I lamented as I laid down on my back. I wasn’t quite as limber as the my little brother. I lifted my ankles and rolled back, so that I brought them above my head – exposing my pussy and the light accidentally went off in my butt plug.

“Oh goodie, it lit up!” Josh was delighted. Everyone else applauded and laughed. He asked me to do it again, but I wasn’t sure how I did.

Mom directed me to drop my ankles, bring my legs down and assume the position again. When I did, for a brief instant the light inside the base of the butt plug lit up. Mom told me to just flex whatever muscle I flexed and it will light up on command.

I was so embarrassed, and the worst part was that I getting incredibly wet again – uncontrollably so. This is a position to get fucked In, not spanked in.

My little brother Josh knelt down in front of my pussy, and rapidly played the bongos on my butt cheeks, while staring into my pussy. It didn’t hurt, but it was quite annoying and mortifying. He managed to spank my actual pussy a few times and got his fingers sticky. He stopped as soon as he realized what had happened and withdrew his hands.

“Serves you right, you aren’t supposed to spank pussies,” I pouted as I started to get up.

“Wait a minute, who told you to get up?” My Mom asked.

“You saw that position. It doesn’t work,” I complained.

“Okay, but I never said you can get up,” Mom insisted.

“I am so very sorry Mrs. Welton, Birthday hostess with the mostest, I implore thee to gift me with forgiveness for I was not wise enough to know that on my birthday, you make the rules, but when it’s THY birthday, I shall introduce a drumming competition in which you are the bongos from that very position,” I joked.

Mom chuckled, and admitted that was a good apology. She wasn’t mad that I stood up.

“I don’t like these new apologies, they don’t sound sincere at all,” Dad admitted. He rarely comments on anything, and his feedback is almost always that things were fine or okay, and he doesn’t usually show favoritism to one particular thing. He is the same way when it’s my Mom’s birthday, and he tends to just be neutral about everything, so it’s rare for him to express an opinion.


“It’s like the infinite gratitude. Someone took the time to buy a gag gift, and the least we can do is thank them in a very elaborate way for the effort, even if the gift is kind of silly, Chris,” Mom admitted. “I just don’t want to hear a one-word apology. It’s cute.”

“Yeah, but not sincere,” Dad lamented.

“Well, it’s not a sincere game; I am sure Taylor isn’t actually sorry she stood up. She knew I wouldn’t let her brother spank her pussy, and if she stayed that way, she’d probably gush all over my carpet. I just didn’t want her getting up and deciding the game was over before I did,” Mom admitted.

It was so rare for Mom to ever even talk about the reasons for any of the weird rules we’ve made up over the years. We never codified them, and sometimes I am not sure whose idea it was in the first place.

“I understand facetious gratitude for a joke gift, but it just seems like if you really want to be sorry for something you should do it. What if Taylor was genuinely being a bully and rude, and you told her to apologize in that half-ass way? That would hurt the person she hurts feelings more.”

“I am not going to bully anyone, Daddy,” I added defensively.

My father told me not to interrupt because he was talking to my mother.

“What would you have me do, baby?” Mom asked sweetly.

“I don’t know, you know me. I don’t have a lot of ideas; I guess something where you actually admit what you did wrong, swear you aren’t going to do it again, apologize for any harm done, and ask for some contrition.”

“Contrition?” Josh asked what all of us were wondering. I had never heard that word.

“Okay, I see what you are putting down,” Mom nodded with an understanding grin. “So, for this example, should Taylor have returned to the position she was in, admitted she shouldn’t have ridiculed his idea, swear she won’t ridicule him again, even though we all know she would, and genuinely apologize for hurting his feelings, and then beg him to play bongos on her pussy instead of her ass to teach her a lesson?”

Mom’s question dripping with sarcasm. It was rare she got snarky with our father.

“This is why I don’t put forward ideas,” Dad shrugged innocently. “I don’t understand how the game is played and when I make suggestions you guys do something else. I was thinking she’d have to apologize to YOU because she got up without permission.”

“I am sorry, sweetheart, that was rude of me. I won’t do it again,” my mother replied in a heartfelt apology. I almost didn’t realize what she was doing until she fell to her knees before my father and begged his forgiveness “I am sorry if I made you frustrated, would you please spank my bottom hard to teach me a lesson never to be sarcastic to you again?”

“Clever,” Dad smiled broadly. He doted on my mother, and they were very passionate lovers. She was about to stand up, when he gently laid her on her back, pulled her legs up over her head and looked down at my mother’s face. My Mom just melted and swooned.

Dad lifted my Mom’s butt up and laid down ten REALLY hard swats on her ass. These were powerful cracks that shook my mother’s body. She groaned and gasped and despite the powerful shock of my father’s flat palm, seemed to be getting a lot of pleasure.

We stood there watching them with our mouths agape, somewhat stunned by the activity on our living room floor.

“How come you didn’t count?” Josh asked when my Mom and dad were finished. We are supposed to count birthday spanks out and if we lose count we start over.

“That wasn’t a birthday spank,” my Mom rubbed her rosy pink ass, and smiled like she truly enjoyed it.

“It wasn’t a punishment either,” Kevin chuckled under his breath. My Mom likes being spanked, and that’s been obvious for a long time. She likes certain kind of spanking anyway, but not the silly stuff like having bongos played on her ass.

“It hurt, Kevin. It was a punishment because I misbehaved,” Mom harumphed, and changed the subject.

“Okay, obviously that position CAN work, and Josh, you did a good job, but I think it may be too intense for your sister. How about we just have her kneel in a chair, and continue with the program,” Mom suggested.

That was my turn to speak up.

“Oh no, if you can do it, I’ll do it,” I said. I like to be spanked, too – certain ways. My boyfriend has no idea. I asked him to spank me with a hairbrush once when I was really horny and he thought I was nuts, so I never brought it up again.

“Someone just has to hold my legs above my head a little higher than I can,” I suggested.

“And take out the butt plug, it hurts my hand,” Kevin complained.

“You don’t have to aim for the butt hole, just get her good on the left or right cheek, Kevin. We can use rulers for this one,” Mom suggested. She had a drawer full of little rods, paddles and rulers for just such occasions.

“I’d like to get spanked with the flat of your hands like you did,” I smiled as I dropped down on my back, lifted my legs up over my head, held them apart like I was in a “V” position with my ankles kicked over my head.

“I am sure you would, but you don’t make the rules on your birthday,” Mom stubbed her bare toe against my butt plug and made it light up while I lifted my ass up.

I sighed, I seldom get to achieve any kind of orgasm or deep sexual pleasure during my birthday. It’s mostly where I am on the edge of getting excited, and just about to really cum.

“How does this feel?” she asked as she spanked my ass with a ruler.

“Like a ruler,” I admitted.

Mom told me that I’d have to get off the floor, and on my hands and knees if I want flat of the palm spanks, otherwise, I’d be getting the ruler. I ultimately chose to get on my hands and knees. Josh was up first. He’s the biggest lightweight.

I have to count each one, while he basically grabs a big chunk of my ass, and squeezes, or slaps it really hard and then he cries out because he hurts his palm. He can turn my butt rosy pink, but it doesn’t sting in a good way.

After Dad or Mom get done spanking me, the endorphins usually start to tingle and throb, and honestly that’s probably why I’ve been doing this for all these years. I kind of like that feeling a lot. I just hate to admit it. I am sure my Mom and dad know though.

After I counted to eighteen, Josh made a big deal about winding up his final swat and counted out “One to grow on.”

Kevin was up next. He wanted to use his baseball bat. He always wants to hit me with a bat every year, and every year we tell him that there is no way he can do that. He settled for spanking my ass, like it was a door prize at Bingo. I was the one who had to show my bare ass and allow him to touch me nineteen times while stinging my ass. He acted like it was a big chore for him, and some kind of present for me.

This time Kevin began swinging between my legs and up. I’ve been spanked on the pussy accidentally many times by friends and family. It’s usually quite embarrassing because I am wet, and their hand gets wet. It’s another unwritten rule that spanks are limited to the ass – and really it’s not supposed to be on the asshole, but Kevin likes to aim for the center of my crack and not the sides like Josh.

“That’s THREE! Kevin! Birthday spanks are supposed to go on the butt, not the pussy!” I shouted after the third time he swatted my pussy. I was dripping and I was sure his hand was sticky. Usually MomMom puts a stop to it after she notices the boys intentionally missing the target.

“I don’t want to hurt the palm of my hand on your butt plug,” he complained.

“You don’t need to aim for my HOLE, Kevin. Just be nice, please,” I begged politely, but when he swung under my legs a fourth time, I stopped counting and cried out for my Mom to act as the referee.

“Oh, sorry,” Mom seemed to be lost in her own little space. “Um, yes, we don’t spank the birthday girl’s pussy, Kevin. That’s very naughty,” she scolded him but not very sternly. Then she told me to remove my butt plug and give him a better target.

“Mom, I don’t want to take it while I am on all fours,” I begged.

“Why? Are you afraid there is dookie on your plug?” Josh teased me, and Kevin giggled while massaging my bottom. The boys like to massage our bottoms between swings. I tend to think they are resting their palms so they don’t hurt them for a few seconds. The gentle circular rubbing feels kind of nice so I don’t say anything about it. It feels like they are sort of warming me up.

“I don’t know what it’s going to look like,” I admitted nervously and bit my lip. I didn’t have a chance to say anything else, because all of a sudden it felt like my asshole sucked wind. I was using my hands to hold myself up off the floor on all fours, so I could only use one arm to reach behind myself to see what had happened.

Kevin pulled the plug out of my butt the way someone would remove a drain plug from a bathtub. I heard a lot of wicked giggling and felt like my asshole was three inches wide.

“Kevin!!” I reached behind myself and started to cover my butthole. I could feel the gape with my fingers, but not see it and I imagined a grand canyon deep into my bowels allowing the boys to see deep inside me.

“I can see what you had for breakfast, sis!” Kevin chuckled.

Those words are etched into my mind as the moment that I reached peak mortification.

“Kevin, you don’t take out your sister’s butt plug,” My Mom scolded him quite sternly this time!

Those words are etched in my mind as the weirdest thing a mother can say to your younger brother while you are naked on the floor presenting your ass to your entire family for spankings.

“What? she wasn’t going to do it, and you wanted me to stop spanking her pussy!”

“Kevin!! That’s very naughty, give me that,” Mom took the plug from her and examined it before holding it to her side.

“I am genuinely sorry about that,” My mother began and I was still reeling from the deep-rooted humiliation of the situation to register that she was talking to me. “I should not have escalated things so quickly and I wasn’t paying attention to your spanking because I was distracted with my own naughty thoughts. I ask for your forgiveness Taylor,” My Mom said flatly.

I turned my head over my shoulder to see my Mom kneeling down behind me next to my little brother. I hadn’t realized she was talking to me until I heard my name. She never apologized to me during the birthday game. It just wasn’t done.

It may seem cruel to be subjected to spankings and have cake smashed in your face, and even though I dreaded today this morning, I also enjoyed a lot of this. I was stunned into silence.

“Please accept my apology, and allow me to accept your remaining birthday spankings as an act of contrition to demonstrate my sincere regret, and teach me a lesson to be a better a hostess.”

It was so novel that I was almost willing to accept her offer. Then I realized that the only one who hadn’t spanked me yet was my father and her, and Kevin only had about 15 left to give me.

“They can even spank me underhanded,” Mom added that since she wasn’t paying attention during my spanking that she should have to endure the same type of spanking.

I realized that my Mom was angling for a round two with my father, but I didn’t want to call her out in front of the others. It was kind of an open secret between us that we both got a vicarious thrill out of this game. We’d often beg and plead, but we were eager to play every year.

“Um, wow, but you aren’t the birthday girl,” I said calmly without looking at my mother. I could sense from her silence that she was crestfallen.

“I am not, but I like your father’s idea that an apology should come with a sacrifice and I think it’s only fair, so why don’t you go wash your plug in the sink and I’ll take your place, Dear.”

My mother was already right beside me, on all fours ass up, and looking over at me, like the decision had been made.

“So you only have the fifteen I had coming from Kevin, and then Nineteen from Daddy?” I asked sweetly while staying in place. I had removed my hand from my ass, even though I was sure I was gaping wide open. I took the butt plug she offered me and held it between two fingers, playfully lighting it up over and over.

“I am game if you want me to start all over? That’s fair,” Mom offered graciously.

“Would I get a turn to spank you?”

“Well, you are the birthday girl, so no, you would not,” Mom insisted.

“Except, you get a turn to deliver birthday spanks to me, and I am going to miss out on over half of my morning swats. How is that fair?”

“Sure, you could get them with me if that is your desire, dear. I was just concerned you were embarrassed about having your plug popped out. Don’t worry, it’s a little stretched but it will shrink back tight soon.”

My mother was being quite conciliatory, which was not like her on my Birthday.

“It’s my birthday wish, that we do it together, starting over. Dad starts on me, Kevin starts on you and we rotate, except I get a turn on you and you get a turn on me.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” Mom seemed agreeable enough.

“Also, Kevin gets to pop your butt plug out,” I added.

“No, that’s not nice, and I wont abide the boys yanking our plugs out whenever they like. It’s not a toy like that. I don’t want to encourage that behavior.”

“Yes, except you were in charge, and you weren’t paying attention and he did. If it happens to you, you may want to be a little more vigilant?”

Mom groaned in disgust, and told Kevin “Lift it out and twist, don’t yank, and don’t do this to me randomly around the house, it’s just to make Taylor and me even.”

I heard a popping sound, and the guys gasped in disgust and awe.

“Whoa!” Kevin held it up and looked at my mother’s asshole. I couldn’t see because we were side by side on the floor.

“Don’t sniff it!!” Mom chided him.

“I wasn’t, gross, Mom,” Kevin flung it onto the carpet a few feet away.

“Okay are you satisfied?” Mom asked me. I nodded. “Are you happy?”

I said excitedly yes. She asked the entire family “IS EVERYBODY HAPPY?” and on cue we all agreed – which was something we often did to bring levity and add a little festive mood back to things.

My father slide down to where I was, and he pounded the back of my ass nice and hard. I could feel the callouses on his hand. He knows how to twist his wrist at just the right turn to really make it sting and I won’t kid you – it hurts like the dickens.

It's just that when he finishes delivering the swats, my pulse quickens, my heartbeat races, and I begin to get these electric tingles where he hit me that send all these delightful sensations of dopamine to my brain. I don’t have the hots for my dad and want to fuck him, but my pussy gets delightly juicy and I’ve orgasmed like this several times.

The first sensational clap of my father’s hand left a red handprint, made a loud sound, and I counted out “ONE!”

Meanwhile, Kevin was hitting my mother’s pussy underhand between her legs, avoiding her ass altogether. “Mind the chain, Kevin!” Mom endured it with a stoic expression and a stiff upper lip and counted “ONE!”

Dad was much more slower and methodical, so by the time my Mom reached one to grow on with Kevin, I was up to twelve years old and working on my thirteenth birthday spanking.

“You are not supposed to enjoy these, pumpkin,” Dad warned me as he laid the holy hand of doom on me and made my body shiver.

“I am not,” I insisted.

“You are smiling,” he observed with a grin.

“I am gritting my teeth,” I lied. Dad let it drop.

Josh had already taken over for Kevin and he was waiting his turn to start over on me. He’d be fast compared to Dad. I was confident I wouldn’t mind Kevin’s little boy slaps that much, and I’d be able to luxuriate through them with a mild orgasm.

My little brother Josh began slapping his mother’s pussy underhand, and she also had to remind him to mind her diamond stud, as she endured pussy spank after pussy spank.

“Dad, hurry up,” Kevin rushed my father.

Dad ignored him and eventually turned his head up to look at Kevin strangely. Kevin backed off and waited his turn.

When Dad gave me my one to grow on, I was wishing I was twenty-seven. I needed about eight more, and I would be right in the zone. I thanked him meekly. My ass was red, and the pain was throbbing through my body but I knew I’d soon be feeling tingles.

That was until Kevin squatted down behind me. He uppercutted my pussy with the flat of his hand like he had my mother, nice and hard – ruining my vibe, and getting his hand full on sticky in the process.

“Jesus, just spank my ass, Kevin! ONE!” I cried out.

“Mom said we could spank under hand,” he did it again and this time I was about to swing back and knock his block off. I was much bigger than Kevin and I could have flattened him.

“I did say that, Dear,” my Mom counted twelve and made a funny face as Josh slapped her pussy from under her legs. “You wanted us to both get it.”

“Dad didn’t do it,” I gasped and counted three, seething at my brother’s audacity to slap my pussy so hard that he crushed my labia with his hand.

“It’s optional, nobody HAS to spank you at all. I wouldn’t make the boys do it if they are uncomfortable, but he could,” Mom held her breath as she endured another, breathed out hard, and then counted again for Josh. “Are you not able to handle getting an underhanded spanking?”

My only consolation was that I was only eighteen. If this happened during my mother’s birthday I’d have more than double the swats, and the boys finish fast. Kevin doesn’t slap my ass hard, but the same amount of impact against my pussy lips was a killer. I wondered if I would have the courage to make the same offer my Mom did when it’s her birthday if I messed something up.

I definitely didn’t like having my pussy slapped hard, and make no mistake – this wasn’t spanking. It wasn’t spanking as I knew it. It was just slapping my pussy, sometimes even grabbing my pussy lips. I was surprised my brother didn’t try to get a finger between my labia. I was worried his hang nails might scratch me, but thankfully he kept his palm upraised.

The most degrading part of it, was that I was getting turned on by my little brother and that never happened. It wasn’t the same kind of familiar endorphin released on my bottom after a power spanking from Daddy either. It wasn’t the same kind of orgasm after a good fuck, either.

It was indescribable – and excruciating at the same time. I felt like I almost had to pee, because my pussy was so juicy and wet, and the constant slapping was making my pussy sore – but teasing it. Yes, teasing it in a way that was turning me on but not in a good way. I had no control. I felt like such a dirty, naughty girl for letting my little brother spank my pussy.

I know that sounds weird, after all I’ve been letting him spank me since he could talk and I was still playing with Barbies. Yet, this was all new and while I wouldn’t say I was enjoying it at all, because it stung – I couldn’t stop feeling inscrutably horny. It took all of my effort to concentrate on counting.

Just over and over over, he slapped and slapped without a break. My father takes long pauses to let the pain sink in, and the shock wave dissipates. Kevin is rapid-fire like a boxer on a speed bag. Bap-bap-bap, and god, it was rocking my world and there was no way I could admit that to anyone.

“I asked are you able to handle an underhanded spanking, SIXTEEN,” Mom groaned. I had almost lost count and I shouted sixteen. I don’t even know if that was right. Kevin just continued on and so I assumed as much because if I lost count then he could start over.

“I can if you can,” I admitted and counted seventeen, and then said “But it’s not going to be underhanded all the time, right? EIGHTEEN!”

It was at that point, Kevin dropped a “one to grow on” hard slap on my pussy lips, leaving my pussy feeling like like smashed warm, pink, roast beef.

I breathed a sigh of relief and thanked my brother. It’s polite to thank the person giving you birthday swats, and Mom can let them do it over again if you forget.

Josh needed a little break after finishing my mother before he moved over to kneel behind me. Dad dropped down behind my Mom and she gave him a toothy smile as she looked over her shoulder at him.

“I said spanking on the pussy, is that allowed now all the time?” I asked. Josh massaged my ass. I was thankful for that – compared to other humiliations, allowing my brother to cool me down was a sensation.

“It’s an underhanded spank,” Mom corrected.

“Well, it’s done on the pussy,” I explained. I started to feel this strange sense wash over me as the excitement started to wane. The rapid fire of the slaps wasn’t bringing me endorphins, and it felt like I needed to them to get started again to feel the same weird horniness.

“Spanking can be done on any part of the body,” Mom’s back arched, and she flinched a little when Dad laid down a really hard swat on her ass with the flat of his hand. “Ass, pussy, even boobs.”

“Boobs?” I scrunched my nose in disgust. I have huge sensitive nipples, I couldn’t imagine what that would feel like. My clit is far more sensitive though, so I assumed I could handle it if it came to that. I just have big knockers and some of the birthday games that already involved boobs were very naughty.

I’ve had balloons tied to my nipples by string, and then the boys had to pop them to find a paper with the word “winner” in side to get a prize, for example.

“You could be spanked anywhere, really, but birthday spanks are on the butt, okay? Josh, spank your sister on the bottom, she can’t handle the underhanded ones..”

“Aww, but Kevin got to do it,” Josh whined as he delicately rubbed my pussy. I was eager for Josh to start doing anything, because I could feel the horny buzz I had working rapidly dissipating.

“Sorry, your sister is not used to that,” she said. Which implied that she was – and I hated that.

“I said it’s okay this time,” I lied. I hadn’t said any such thing, in fact I protested. “I just wanted to know if the guys can do it to me anytime for birthday spanks.”

“TWO! Oooh, let’s talk about it after,” Mom ignored me, and got into the groove, backing her ass into my father’s hand and letting him power slowly.

“Do you mind if I do underhanded spanks, Taylor?” Josh asked my permission – which was nice of him. He had never done that. He always just joined in when it was birthday spanking time.

“Go ahead, Josh,” I said.

“I’ll try not to make them hurt,” he said, and he meant it. Unfortunately, slow, light taps didn’t do it for me. In fact, if anything, Josh was slipping the tips of his fingers in me, and lingering when he brought his hand up, almost stopping.

“Just slap, don’t do whatever that is,” I wiggled my butt uncomfortably and adjusted myself. I had to reach between my legs and adjust my dripping pussy, because I was frustrated and horny.

Josh’s slaps didn’t hurt at all, and they were so light that I barely felt them. There was a point where Kevin’s slaps had felt like torture and pleasure mixed into one, and I couldn’t process my feelings. I felt guilty I had enjoyed it, and confused that I wished Josh would punish my pussy the same way.

When he was done, I was relieved and thanked my little brother as I always did.

Mom was nearly finished with hers, and she seemed much more content and pleased. Dad had used the traditional overhand method on her ass, and he seemed rather proud of the red marks on her ass.

“Thank you, Dear. That was illuminating,” Mom turned her entire body and kissed him before standing up and taking a position behind me. “Okay, I’ll do you first, and then you do me,” she promised.

“How come my hand is so sticky?” Josh asked as he sniffed it, and made a disgusted face.

We stopped and looked up at him, my father was making his way back to the couch. He glanced over at Josh knowingly but said nothing. These kinds of explanations were my mother’s territory. Even when it was her birthday, she usually explained what might be considered “Birds and Bees” to my brothers.

‘There is a primal signal in a woman’s brain that’s been there for centuries since the first people. When you slap underhanded, it sends a signal to our brains. The brain doesn’t know exactly what’s going on but since it thinks we may be about to have sex, it starts making our pussies lubricate and you have that on your hand. You’ve seen your sister and me be wet before. We’ve talked about this, Josh.”

“Yeah, but this is like pee or something,” Josh smelled his fingers again and appeared disgusted. That was MY pussy he was insinuating stunk.

My Mom began to spank me, underhanded – nice and hard – powerful slap and I counted.

“Not likely, if your sister had to pee, she’d have told you, or had an accident on the carpet. That’s wetness, Josh. If you are going to slap underhanded, you are going to get us wet.”

“TWO!” I made an oof sound, my mother’s slap was deliberate, pain-inducing, labia crushing.

“Gross, I am glad that can’t happen to guys!” Josh laughed, implying girls were inferior because we had biological triggers.

“THREE!” I had a biological trigger, but it wasn’t the horny tease feeling from the rapid-fire spanking, I felt terrified. My mother really beat my pussy hard and crushed my clit with the flat of her hand.

“It’s kind of the same with boys, do you know how sometimes you get a little hard-on, even though you aren’t going to have sex?” my Mom asked.
“Yeah, so?” Josh didn’t see the connection. I wished he would stop talking. Despite the pain, and humiliation I was hoping this was going to excite me and thrill me. It wasn’t doing that so far. It was just inducing pain – my pussy would be red and sore tomorrow!

I shouted FOUR, and nearly spit at the same time.

“Breathe dear, breathe in deeply before I hit, and breathe out deeply on the count,” Mom advised before slapping me again. She turned to look at Josh while slapping me again and making me count. “That hard-on is a primal signal. Your brain doesn’t know if it will have sex, but maybe you see a naked woman, even your Mom or sister, and signals get sent to the boner to start producing semen and get you hard in case.”

“OFFF, DANG! SIX!”

“That’s absurd, boners are just because we are boys. It has nothing to do with what we see. I get hard when I am completely alone and doing my homework,” Josh admitted. He was quite skeptical of my mother’s advice.

My dad found his son’s confident theories amusing, but Mom didn’t.

“Josh, I am not lying to you. I know a thing or two about boy’s bodies. You probably think about sex all the time, so you do get random hard-ons without any stimulus, and that’s normal for boy’s your age.”

WAP – My Mom’s slaps were killing me, and I wanted to double over and just protect my pussy from more pain. I wouldn’t call it fire – I had no frame of reference for the sensation – just pain. I counted seven.

“If someone, anyone, were to start pulling on your penis, stroking it up and down, in a pleasing fashion,” Mom took her hand away from my pussy long enough to simulate a jerking off motion “It would signal to your brain to get hard. It doesn’t matter what they look like, or who they are. It’s a biological stimulus, and your brain thinks you MAY have sex, so it gets ready.”

Then she slapped me again, and I counted eight. Pain ran from my pussy through my body, I felt it in my armpits – that’s how agonizing this was. I counted nine.

“I don’t think if an eight foot black man were to do it, I’d think I was going to have sex with him,” Josh countered argumentively.

My mother’s frustration with Josh’s stubbornly silly questions, drove her to hit me even harder. I yelped and counted ten.

“Too hard?” she asked.

“I can take it,” I groaned in a bull-headed manner to prove I could take what she was dishing out.

“Good,” my mother seemed pleased by my response. She looked up at Josh. She was kneeling naked in the living room behind me, and driving her hand upward between my leg to crush my clit with her palm over and over and we were barely half finished. I was gutted by the pain but resolved to endure it to the end and not give up.

“Josh, there aren’t any eight foot tall black men that are going to stroke your penis, but I can assure you that some conditions are going to create an automatic boner, and that’s why your father never say anything when you and your brother walk around with big bulges in your shorts as long as you don’t make a big deal out of it. You have as much control over it as we did when you spanked us underhanded, or when our nipples get hard and start poking out of our shirts.”

I was onto Eleven by this point, hoping that Mom would finish soon.

“What makes nipples get engorged?” Josh asked.

My Mom stopped, leaned forward, reached under my body, grabbed my nipple and tweaked it. “Well, possibly getting spanked underhanded for one,” she announced to my family that my nipples were fully erect. “Ice cubes can do it, too,” she said as she returned to pounding my pussy with the flat of her palm.

“Ice cubes? Why? That’s crazy,” Josh said in disbelief.

“I might show you later, but I am trying to finish this, Josh,” Mom gave me another crushing blow on my pussy and I counted fourteen.

“HEY!!” Kevin was sitting on the couch and suddenly barked out like he just saw the greatest injustice of all time. My Mom abruptly stopped what she was doing. “She counted fourteen twice!! Taylor counted fourteen twice.”

“Did you, Taylor?” Mom asked me, with a look of incredulous disbelief. I almost never do that. She asked my father if he was keeping track.

“I really wasn’t,” Dad said as he looked at his phone. She looked at Josh, and he had no clue because he was busy talking with her.

“I am not going to start over, but if you do it again, I will have to,” Mom assured me. She finished with one to grow on, even pulling the final slap and leaving me only flinching and throbbing.

“Okay, are you able to do me next? Or do you need to take a break, dear?” My mother noticed that I was clutching my pussy and my eyes were wide with the shock of what she had done to my most delicate lady parts.

I was insistent on getting up and switching positions. My mother simply had to roll forward a little and adopt an all fours position. I stood up to kneel behind her.

“Holy shit!!” Kevin was the first to notice, then Josh yelled out an obscenity, and even Dad looked concerned.

“Language, boys!” Mom chided them and then she looked up at my pussy.

It was distended and engorged, bright red, and the labia that were normally tucked in and hiding my clit were bruised, and my clit was peeking out. I was dripping wet, and it looked like I had been fucked by a dozen men (not that I ever have) but I could imagine.

“That’s a snapper,” Mom shook her head in disbelief as she examined my wounded pussy. “You asked to be spanked underhanded, and I did it the right way. It was supposed to sting, not bruise you up like that though. I am sorry, sweetheart. Do you want me to put ice on it?”

“Won’t that make it get hard like a penis?” Josh asked. His naïve question made me laugh, but I groaned and held my pussy in my hands anyway.

“Take your hands away, your fingers don’t have any medical properties,” Mom warned, and said that she’d hate to make me stand in the corner after that pounding. “You probably need a bath, and a good soak. We can take a break and maybe skip lunch spankings all together today. We’ll still play games, but I am afraid you aren’t ready for something quite that intense and I didn’t mean to hurt you, baby.”

“Dang, did you punch her pussy, Mom?” Kevin asked as he admired the bruising. The red was starting to turn orange, and my pussy was starting to spread and unravel like a butterfly with big thick wings.

Josh asked me if I was glad that my father hadn’t spanked underhanded, because it would be even worse. IT probably would have been – I had never seen my pussy look like that before – beat up and bruised.

“No, it’s fine, let me just uh, wipe off a little and then I want to do the same thing to you, or are you afraid you can’t handle it?” I asked. I was genuinely in pain, but I did want a little revenge on my mother. I felt like she might even know that and be afraid.

“Honey, it’s your birthday. These spanks aren’t a punishment. It’s supposed to be all in fun, and your pussy looks raw,” Mom had empathy for my pain, but I was intent on making her feel it as well.

“Can you handle it?” I asked, as I got behind her.

My Mom adjusted herself so that she could receive the underhanded spanks. I even scooted her knees a little further apart.

“I think so, and I was actually getting punished because I wasn’t paying attention,” Mom said.

I slapped as hard as I could, and made a nice slapping sound against my Mom’s pussy. She didn’t bat an eye, she simply counted one and waited.

“It’s not punishment, right? It’s just you begging for an act you can do to prove you were sorry?” I asked as I slapped her clit again, this time making a nice clapping sound, but not making my mom wince or rock her body the way I had. She counted a frustrating two. She looked at me over her shoulder as if she felt sorry for me, and after eight swats I hadn’t managed to do much of anything except get her to count.

It dawned on me I had to try another technique. I tried to do what my father did to my ass, except in reverse. I flipped my wrist, and tried to put torque on it like I was hitting a ball with a tennis racket. That’s the only way I can describe what it feels like when my father spanks my butt.

My Mom does it too sometimes, but not like my father.

“Oooh,” Mom seemed a little amused by the change in pace and counted nine.

That wasn’t the reaction that I wanted. I spanked her under her legs and this time I caught my hand on her diamond and yanked it, and she yelped and said “Mind the clip!” before counting.

Instead, I tried it again and aimed for the diamond chain on her clit, and she complained. “Hang on, please.”

Mom held up a finger, and rolled over on her back. At first, I was impatient and assumed this was some sort of way to get out of what she had coming. I wanted to punish her pussy, make it red like mine.

“Boys, you may want to look away, I have to remove my diamond chain,” she warned. Naturally, my brothers looked all the more intently.

My Mom pulled her clit out with one finger lifting the clit hood, and then pinched so that the little clips biting into her pussy opened and she could remove it safely. I was disappointed. The only way I could compete with the avalanche of pain that my mother had delivered on my pussy was to yank her little chain and she took that away from me.

I was surprised, that my Mom spread her legs wide and kicked them up over her head, so that her ankles were above her head. Unlike before, she didn’t raise her ass off the carpet at all. Instead, she presented her pussy, clit extended, without the hood in the way.

“Here, you will probably find that you can get a little more leverage if you slap down like you are hitting me on the butt.”

I was reluctant. My Mom was completely vulnerable, her delicate pink clit reminded me of a tiny penis or maybe a peeled shrimp, and I wasn’t sure if I was going to crush it.

“Go ahead, if you are trying to embarrass me by making me wait like this, I don’t mind being naked around my sons, but I’ve usually kept my clit hidden. They’ve already seen it today and seen what happens when you pluck a butt plug out of a butt.”

I wasn’t trying to embarrass her. I knew how hard that was to do. I was just thinking about what she was allowing me to do and whether I could inflict that kind of pain on my Mom. I wanted revenge for how she spanked me. We always got even with each other during our little games. I usually had to wait until her birthday to get mine. I wanted to make her pussy look like mine, but I didn’t really want to hurt my mother. The way she presented her pussy – seemed so exposed that it was beyond her normal nudity. It was like I was looking deep inside her pee hole and further as she waited with legs up and over her head.

“I am not trying to do that,” I assured her. “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

“That’s sweet, you get eighteen and one to groan on, fair is fair, I put a real stinger on you, go ahead,” Mom assured me. Kevin and Josh laughed, but Mom has told that joke about “one to groan on” many times before instead of saying “one to grow on.”

I popped her nice and hard, and my mother jerked up, slightly, mouth opened and she sucked wind, and called out one.

“I had already given you nine,” I reminded her.

“I barely noticed those, you hit softer than Josh did, go ahead, give me your best shot,” Mom dared me.

.

I am writing this hot off the presses, so the grammar/spelling may be off.

My mom didn’t smile like she often did through spankings. She looked at me with stern eyes and a flat expression as if she opened her body to me completely and let me slap down on her pussy as hard as I could.

With the combination of my father’s torque method, at least what I thought he was doing, and just my natural arm strength, I thought I was slapping the shit out of her pussy and by three, she was breathing through her mouth and sucking in wind.

“Keep going, you can go harder if you want,” Mom said calmly. It wasn’t the normal flippant, devil-may-care, daring style where she tells Josh that he can go ham on her (because he’s barely registering a smack).

It was more like she was gauging what she could take. Her lower abdomen quivered, and on the fifth slap, she reached down quickly, pulled her clit hood up, and re-exposed her clit. “Go ahead, right on the little mushroom.”

“It DOES look like a mushroom,” Josh and Kevin were watching intently like they might their favorite streamer on twitch.

Dad, for his part, was sitting on the couching minding his own business. He seemed neither inclined to help his wife, or stop her suffering and just let my mom endure whatever I could throw at her.

This time by the eighth swat, I saw my mom wince, and tell me that I was doing much better. “You are turning your wrist when you bring it down, that’s new,” she noticed. Dad looked up with a look of pride on his face and then back at his phone.

I swung down again on my mother’s pussy, now her juices were flowing and I knew that I was making her really feel it. My mom and I have thick butts with a lot of fatty padding that protects us. The slap on my mother’s clit flattened it, almost crushed it, and then I did it again and again.

My mom called out the number rapid-fire. I remembered how when Kevin kept slapping my pussy, he wasn’t hitting hard. He was just doing it so fast and savagely that it turned me on, but not in a sexy or loving way. It was just kind of animalistic. I decided to try shooting my shot and just going completely rapid-fire.

“Eleven, Twelve, Thirteeeeen, Fourteeen, oooh,” Mom counted, and clearly was feeling it. I stopped on sixteen when her clit fell back under the hood. It was like it was retreating back under it’s shell for safety. She reached down to expose it for me, but I reached out first and flipped it back up. Mom nodded approvingly and withdrew her hand.

I was surprised she allowed me to do that. It felt like she had exposed the clit for me, but doing it myself might be overstepping things. She just nodded and let me continue. I started up rapid fire again and by the time I was done, she was breathing heavy and had a small tear in her eye.

Unfortunately, for me – her pussy wasn’t red and puffy like mine. It didn’t look bruised and worn out. I wanted it to look like mine.

The weird part is that the throbbing in mine had already gone away, and hadn’t even noticed it because I was so distracted.

“Okay, are we good?” she asked as she reached up her hand for me to help her to her feet. I took my mother’s hand and nodded.

“Can we spank your clit?” Kevin asked my mom.

My mom looked at Kevin like he couldn’t be seriously asking this right now as she composed herself, bent over, put her hands on her knees like a runner that ran a marathon and collected herself. “That was a one-time thing to give your sister some payback, Josh. I kind of underestimated my own strength and destroyed her pussy. That’s why I don’t mind little games, but I don’t want anyone to hate each other after this is over.”

“I don’t hate you Mom, I love you,” I assured her.

My mother and I hugged. It was a perfectly natural, non sexual act, but upon realizing my engorged nipples were touching hers, I realized it may look like we were making out in the living room. I heard a car honk as it drove by our house.

Without releasing my mother, and looking toward the curtains in the front room, I asked “You closed the curtains all the way, right?”

She laughed, and it broke the tension. We did have our curtains partly open, so it’s very possible that drive got a quick flash as he rode past.

My pussy was still bright red, and it looked sort of discombobulated, but it no longer stung like it had before. My mother’s pussy barely looked touched, and I was disappointed in my handiwork.

“Why don’t you go take a nice long bath, do what you need to do, and then I’ll have lunch ready, and we can play some more games, okay, hon? That was kind of intense,” Mom wiped her hair out of her face and composed herself.

“Don’t you need to take a bath and relax?”

“Someone needs to make lunch, and its your birthday,” Mom said rather stoically. She’s a very giving woman, even though sometimes she can be mischievous.

My brothers offered to do it, but mom said they would probably burn the house down and we laughed about that. Dad was not a good cook. However, he offered to take us out to eat.

“But, it’s your daughter’s birthday, honey. We never go out to eat on our birthdays. How can we play games?”

“I don’t know,” Dad shrugged before adding that she can figure out a way or just put it on pause for a while.

I went to the bathroom and had a really long soak. I was probably in there for an hour. At the end, I shaved my pussy, and was masturbating myself to a frenzy. We had some pretty wild and intense encounters -so many new experiences and I kind of needed a little release.

My mother knocked quickly on the door but didn’t wait for permission to enter. She walked in while I was playing with myself.

“MOM!” I abruptly stopped as she closed the door behind herself. She was fully dressed, and that disturbed me. I was going to complain about it, but she obviously had something she wanted to talk about first.

“You can continue, honey. I think we kind of are past that. You adjusted my clit today in front of your brothers. I know you play with yourself, I play with myself. It’s not a biggie. I wanted to talk to you about what happened downstairs alone, if that’s okay?”

I felt like I had no choice, and I was curious. I stopped masturbating.
“You can seriously keep going, it’s not going to bother me. Do you know how many times I’ve walked in on Josh or Kevin bopping their bologna?”

“Together?” I scrunched my nose in disgust.

Mom made a funny face like she found that amusing, and shook her head no. “Individually,” she explained.

“Do you just stand there and talk to them while they continue?”

“Hah, no,” Mom said that she gives them privacy. “I just pretend that I didn’t see it and smile. I know what they do in their socks and hand towels. I do the laundry. It’s kind of a waste.”

“A waste?”

“Oh, um, never mind about that,” Mom said cryptically, leaving me puzzling about what she meant. “I wanted to really apologize about everything today.”

“Oh god, no! Is this going to lead to you offering to get spanked on the face and me with you?”

“Spanked on the face?” Mom asked incredulously where I got that idea.

“You said we could be spanked anywhere, I was just thinking of a worst place to get it than on the pussy,” I shrugged.

She laughed at me, and said that she’d been spanked on the face, at least not with a hand. “Look, honey. I am not going to make you get spanked on the face or anywhere. I was talking with your father about what you said this morning. You are eighteen now, you may have outgrown the game. You started this as a little girl. It’s getting really weird now. Your brothers were always a little horny and curious, but now they are getting a lot more grabby, and it may not be healthy to tease them constantly.”

My brothers? She was worried about them? What about me?”

“You were a real trooper today; you played along with the neighbor, and you took your lumps alongside me and gave me back as good as you got,” she explained that she was impressed that I accepted the pussy spanks well and inflicted them on her well.

“I’ll be feeling this tomorrow,” she pointed to her pussy. “You’ll be feeling yours until next week. I sort of dragged you out of bed this morning, and made you play along because I always had such fun when you guys were younger, but it’s a little less innocent now, and maybe it’s time we put it past us. Your father wants to take us to a nice restaurant, and so maybe we should create a new birthday tradition?”

“Do humiliating dares at a Denny’s?”

“First of all, I don’t think we are going to Denny’s, and no, I was thinking maybe we just do ONE cake, and normal gifts, the same way we do for the rest of the family. We give your brothers one cake, no birthday spanks, and actual gifts worth something. Wouldn’t you like to have one normal birthday before you eventually start your own life and move out?”

“This is my normal birthday, except normally you’d make me shower in ice cold water, or the garden hose in the backyard,” I said.

Mom smiled wickedly as she remembered those days. “As I recall, you LOVED showing off and dancing in the sprinklers, and I am not sure why I made you take a cold shower. I think I just like being a little cruel sometimes. You remind me of me so much that I just sort of forget you are not me.”

“What does that even mean?” I was baffled by my mother’s comment.

“Honey, by now you probably have some idea that I like to do naughty stuff, and I’ve always had a streak like that since I was the age you were when you started coming to me with these birthday games. A normal mom would have told you no and said that it was inappropriate to shake your bare ass and pretend to be a chicken at your birthday party. I made you do the chicken dance in front of your friends and squawk and flap your arms like they were wings.”

I remembered that. it was funny. I didn’t see what she was getting at, though.

“I kind of encouraged you to be wild like me, and I found a partner in crime with you. You were like my little buddy, who was always ready to go on another adventure with mom. You were my mini-me and it felt like it was you and me against the world.”

That was sweet and I could agree with that. I almost teared up with nostalgia for my childhood.

“The thing is, I was the adult, so even if it was your idea to do three cakes a day because you’d end up wearing them all and you wanted cake, it was me who bought them.”

“Dad was part of it as well,” I said.

“Your father warned me not to do the birthdays, and he made a few rules,” she explained.

“Like?”

“Well, he just didn’t want it to get too raunchy, so for instance only bare-ass spankings. That was in place since the very start.”

“Okay, and now I am eighteen, so we evolved a little. Every year, we try to top the last year,” I shrugged. That was normal – the game evolved constantly.

My mom seemed like she was going to cry. She sat down on the toilet.

“Oh thanks, how am I going to masturbate to THIS now?” I quipped sarcastically.

My mom laughed through her tears and thought that was funny. She dried her eye, and said “I got you the butt plug for your birthday, and a few other toys and items, because I thought you were a little more kinky than you really are. I assumed you were playing around with Brian and the butt plug would just be a fun addition to your toy chest. I can’t really explain why, but I got angry and frustrated today when you rejected the butt plug and made such a stink about it. I wanted to make you wear it, and I did.”

“Yeah, so?”

“well, Your father reminded me that a long time we agreed that everything had to be consensual and we can’t make any of you participate in the games.”

“Fuck that, you have been waking me up with water, or silly string, or yelling fire and scaring the shit out of me so I run downstairs, for years. You always make me do stuff, that’s how the game is played.”

“Yes, and that’s the funny thing about consent. I always felt like you knew you were going to do it as long as I made you, but today, I realized I pushed a little too far and too hard, and things got out of hand. I was lost in my own thoughts when Kevin or Josh yanked out your butt plug, and I am sure that was super humiliating.”

“That’s kind of the idea of the game, is to see if you can embarrass me,” I said.

“Yeah, well that’s part of it, and I know you think I can’t be humiliated, but you managed to do that to me many times over the years, I am just better at hiding it and acting like nothing can flap me. Anyway, gosh, you are going to make me say it.”

“What?” I was confused.

“Okay, I am embarrassed of this, no, that’s not the right word. The word is ashamed. Today, I suggested that Kevin and Josh be my helpers and be able to order you around.”

“Yeah, and when it’s my turn on your birthday, you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

“I already wish I hadn’t, Taylor.”

“Then tell them you changed your mind,” I shrugged. I wanted out of the tub. I don’t know why I felt I had to stay in the water instead of standing up naked around my mother.

“I am not explaining this well. It’s hard, but a mom shouldn’t do that to her sons. If it’s just me that’s the boss of you, I can ensure that I never make you do anything too freaky. I knew where to draw the line until today. Today, I exposed to you a guy you sold girl scout cookies. What if one day you want to have a conversation with him? It will be so weird.”

“Yeah, I’ll walk down memory lane with Mister Berke, an eighty year old man and reminisce about the day I sold him lemon-ups,” I said sarcastically.

“Stop,” Mom laughed so hard. “I am trying to admit I fucked up, honey,” Mom dried her eye. “I thought it would be fun to let the boys boss you around a little, and as long as I was there – I could overrule them. I shouldn’t have put them in that situation because you heard them this morning. They wanted you to bark like a dog or something at breakfast and eat off the floor.”

“You made me sit on the floor and eat from your hand, what’s the difference?” I reminded her.

Mom admitted that was not good parenting. “Okay, you got me. I showed incredibly bad judgment, but roping the boys into playing the game with us was taking it too far, and then letting them see me remove my body jewelery. That clit stud was attached by tiny little jagged pins, and I allowed my sons to watch me remove it, and to yank out my butt plug and see what was up my butt, honey. I put you in the same situation, and I think maybe you know you were right this morning. You outgrew it, the boys are a little too old to do this anymore. It was fun when they were naïve and didn’t really know what was happening, but now they are probably going to grow up thinking their mom is a total freak.”

“You are a total freak.”

“I deserve that,” Mom seemed hurt.

“No, I am saying that as a good thing. I wish I was a total freak. I don’t think I have the same adventurous spirit you do. You jump on life and ride it’s dick down to the balls. I admire you.”

“That’s because I raised you to think that was cool, but normal moms would raise their daughters to be more like ladies or something. I don’t know how to do that. I mean, I do- so that’s a cop-out. I can pass for a normal person in the real world. I should not have brought my bedroom stuff out into the living room and made it part of our family fun time. That make sense?”

I thought long and hard about my mother’s Mea Culpa.

“So, you are saying that you made a mistake, and now we can’t play the birthday game anymore?” I asked for clarification. I stood up and started to dry off. I was tired of sitting in the sudsy water.

“Yeah, I think we have to stop now. We’ve taken it pretty far, and I feel like I crossed the line with everybody. More importantly, I took normal birthdays from you, and that’s something I can give back.”

“So, why aren’t you down on your knees asking for contrition?”

My mother offered me a wintry smile and said that she was going to cover her bad behavior with more bad behavior. “That would just lead to us playing the game more and not be contrition. It’d be me roping you into participating again. We need to make a clean break.”

“And just be normal?”

“Try to be,” Mom shrugged.

“Fuck that, you aren’t normal and I am not normal.”

“True, and I take responsibility for that, honey. That’s ALL on me, and I would understand if you hate me, actually,” My mom was going to talk more but I cut her off.

“Okay, you are responsible, and so you feel the cure is that we just stop, pretend it never happened, and never speak of it again?”

“When you say it like that, it sounds terrible,” Mom admitted.

“That’s what it is. What did dad say about what you were going to do?”

“He supports whatever decision that I make, honey.”

“So, wouldn’t a NORMAL father have put a stop to them if they were so filthy? And doesn’t he bear some responsibility for not putting his foot down?”

“Your father is blameless. He tried to convince me to stop, I told him that it was all in fun, and we’d stop if you ever got tired of it – really tired of it. This morning, you were cowering in your sheets and terrified until I dragged you into it.”

“That’s fun! I’ve been hiding under my sheets and dreading my birthday for years, but I live for yours! It’s a day I won’t ever forget.”

Mom offered a wry grin and admitted that she could see my point.

“Do you care what I think about any of this, or are we done?”

“I Love you, and it meant the world to me today to hear you tell me you love me. It was weird, though, because when we hugged, it felt sexual, sweetheart. I care what you think, but I also think we have to be done, because when I pressed my body to yours, I didn’t feel a daughter, I felt like you were my playmate.”

That was weird to hear.

“I don’t want to be your playmate, I want to be your daughter,” I insisted.

“Done. That’s what we’ll go back to.”

“Good, then get your clothes off,” I said as I put my towel down.

“I am confused, honey. We are going out to eat.”

“Fine, but it’s my birthday ALL day, so I expect to play the game where we go eat.”

“Sweetheart, it’s not a healthy game. I know you like playing it, I do too, I love it.”

“Then play with me,” I begged. “I am going to wear that shirt that says with tits like these who needs brains and some sandals, okay?”

“Please don’t. We’ll get kicked out, and I just told you that I’d really like us to at least TRY to have a normal birthday for you before you grow up and move away?”

“I’ve already grown up, Mom. I am an adult.”

“Honey, you JUST turned eighteen two months ago. You’ve got a long way to go for that. You may be legally an adult, but you are still my little girl.”

“Your partner in crime and mini-me,” I assured her.

“Not so mini anymore,” Mom sniffled, dried her nose and noticed my honking big boobs.

“Have you told my brothers this yet?”

“No, I came up here after talking it over with your father. I wanted to talk to you first, obviously. Your brothers will understand. All good things come to an end.”

“This is my BIRTHDAY and I am the BIRTHDAY girl! You owe me a real birthday wish, right?”

“If I can grant it, then anything,” Mom admitted.

I slid the butt plug she gave me into my mouth and started sucking on it. She looked at me with a frown because she knew what I was going to propose without me saying it.

“I’ve already done part of the day as the birthday girl, and now you are going to rob me of running your birthday? No way.” I sucked on the plug a little more like it was a sucker.

“Your father said you’d insist we continue because you are so much like me. He said I could offer to do a few hours on my birthday for payback, and then we draw it to a close. Is that a fair deal? I can do morning until two P.M., and then we have a normal birthday for me.”

“No dice, birthdays last for how long, Mom?” I reached behind myself and lined up the plug to my asshole. I was surprised that with some effort, I was able to slide it in easily. My pussy still looked sore and red, but it too had stopped pulsing and throbbing.

I asked her again how long a birthday was, because she had drilled this into my head when I was little. There were times I wanted to stop, and she told me that birthdays lasted twenty-four hours. My mom admitted it.

“Okay, we can probably swing twenty-four hours, but I’d like to cut your brothers out of the game. It was long overdue. They can’t be your helpers, they can do spankings, but no underhanded ones.”

“Let’s call it what it was, a pussy spanking. You laid on your back and opened your legs,” I said.

“Fine, no pussy or booby spanking, definitely no face spanking whatever that may be, just good old fashioned on the butt cheek spanking, okay? I am game for that if you are.”

“No, I am game for occasional pussy and booby spanking and probably no face spanking,” I chuckled. “I’d like to keep going like we were.”

“Honey, it’s gone from naughty to sexual. You gave me a huge orgasm today, and I squirted a little.”

“What? when?”

“When you were adjusting my clit, and punishing my pussy, and it probably didn’t help that I let my husband thrill me while the boys watched me get spanked, so how long before I have a dildo down my throat and I make a game of deep throating it? Or introducing you to my Sybian!”

“What’s a Sybian?” I asked.

“Oh, honey. There is so much you don’t know,” Mom shook her head and explained it was a fucking machine that never stops or tires and can go all night.

“You can actually fuck ALL night?”

Mom smirked confidentally, and said she never met a man who could, but the Sybian can. “How many men have you been with at one time. Honestly?”

“Together? Like two guys at once?” I asked.

“Sure, yes, how many three-ways have you had? Roughly.”

“None,” I admitted. I had to think about what a three-way really even was. I’d only ever been with guys one at a time and a few girls when I was younger.

“Honey, I am a lot more experienced than you. You can’t keep up with me out there, and it’s not been fair because I’ve always made it that the rules for me are the rules for you. Today, I got frustrated and pushed you down a path that was twisted and demented.”
It was my turn to frown. “You mean making me sticka butt plug up my ass in front of my brothers?”

“I am not going to defend myself for that, but I will say that I asked you nicely to go into the bathroom and insert it because I assumed you would need to masturbate your asshole a little to loosen it up so you could get it in. That’s a medium sized plug, and you slid it right in.”

“You masturbate your asshole? Why? Does it make you cum?” I asked.

Mom told me that I sounded like Josh, which was a huge insult to me. “I don’t mean it as an insult, but sweetheart, are you telling me that you don’t even put your fingers in your butthole sometimes and play with it? It makes me feel even worse that I thought you could handle a medium butt plug without much anal experience.”

“I have it in now,” I spread my cheeks and showed her, I tried to light it up, but to no avail.

Mom told me that I was a trooper and that she was proud of how committed I could be to the game. “It’s a silly game, we never even had rules written down. It was made up as we went, and you always seemed to understand it. I never had to explain things to you like I do, Kevin and Josh. I think maybe you didn’t understand the game, and you were just trying to please me, so you pretended and I wanted to believe it.”

“Sheesh, you calling me a liar?” I asked.

“I am talking about when you were little. You were such a little firecracker. You were always willing to challenge authority and pop your top off or take a dare, and at first, it really was pretty innocent. I was raised in a time when things were a little different.”

I didn’t understand what that meant. ‘You played this game with your Mom?”

“God no, my mom thought I was a total satan worshipper, slut from hell. I thought I was going to be the cool non-judgmental mom, and let you grow up to be your own person, but I imprinted my personality on top of yours.”

“How do you know that I wouldn’t have grown up this way anyway, and my brain isn’t just wired like yours?”

“God help you if yours is, but the fact that you can’t point to any three ways and you are already eighteen tells me that you aren’t EXACTLY like me,” she said.

“Jesus Christ, Mom, how many dudes did you bang when you were in high school?”

“Guys, girls, old men, I was a party girl, and I like sex, sweetheart. It’s not an accident that spanking is a central theme to our game. You may think you thought of it, but I love getting spanked and I encouraged all of this. That’s why I am ashamed of myself.”

“Would you agree that you did me wrong?”

“I told you that, and I don’t blame you for hating me, Taylor.”

“I don’t hate you, I love you,” I assured her in a firm manner. “You owe me an apology then?”

“An apology won’t cut it. An apology would be the tip of the iceberg. There are no words that can express or bring back the childhood that I tarnished.”

“So, then you owe me an act of contrition, to make up for it?”

Mom half-smiled, but frowned. “I see what you are doing.”

“What am I doing?” I asked.

“You are using my logic against me.”

“In other words, I am using logic?” I replied.

“You are going to say that I owe you a contrition of giving you a birthday and being your birthday girl, and we keep the status quo?” Mom sighed as she sat there on the commode and gave that some thought.