Message-ID: <34721asstr$1011060603@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Message-ID: <20020114175631.85439.qmail@web10303.mail.yahoo.com> From: One Gallus X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Mon, 14 Jan 2002 09:56:31 -0800 (PST) Subject: {ASSM} Ernest Ernestine 1 (Fm, inc) Date: Mon, 14 Jan 2002 21:10:03 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, newsman __________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Send FREE video emails in Yahoo! Mail! http://promo.yahoo.com/videomail/ <1st attachment, "Ernest 1.txt" begin> Disclaimer: Persons under eighteen years of age are not permitted to read this work. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely co-incidental. You are not permitted to change this work in any way. You are not permitted to use this work on any site without obtaining permission from the author. This work may not be sold without the author's permission. Ernest Ernestine Part 1 Ernie was only eleven and I felt so sorry for him when his dad, withering under Lucille's prudery, fell apart and was about to beat on him with his belt. Lucille and George, her husband, used to be our friends before then. Lucille was Lottie's mother and Lottie was nine. All Ernie and Lottie had done was what most little folks do. They were exploring, exploring each other out there in that refrigerator box where they were playing house. From Lucille's reaction one would have concluded that Ernie was a twenty-one year old pedophile. He was only eleven. Lucille demanded that Tom take a strap to Ernie right then and there. Tom was fumbling for his belt when I stepped in and said, "That'll be enough of that Lucille. We'll punish Ernie when we see fit. You take you family and go now." All three of them went without eating the meal I had prepared. George was silent, but Lucille snorted and sniffed and whimpered out the door. Lottie, the poor "victim" of Ernie's "perversion" left the house with a peculiar cupid's bow of a smile. After they had gone, Tom began pulling his belt from its loops. I said, "Tom, let's go back in the bedroom, I need to ask you something before you get started with Ernie's punishment." In the bedroom, I was careful not to encroach on Tom's authority as a father. I supposed one could say I sweet-talked him. "Didn't you do the same thing when you were a kid?" I asked gently. "Yes, but my Dad raised a few welts on my backside." "And all that it taught you to do was raise some welts on Ernie's backside. Tom, he doesn't know about sex. He's a little boy. Talk to him! Don't whop him!" "You do the talking, sweetheart, I'll do the whoppin'. He need's his rear-end tanned. He needs to know that what he did was wrong. Anyway, he's too young for a man to talk with him." "Well I know it's a good idea to punish him," I was nodding, "But since he didn't really know what he was doing, why not just take the television away from him for a week. That's the worst thing you can do to him right now. I'll talk with him, tell him about sex, not too much, but enough that he'll know right and wrong. I'll talk to him good," I said. " I'm a woman, and he needs to know about sex from my standpoint at this age. Your right, he's too young to have a man handle it. If he's defiant, then I'll let you know and you can whop him." Tom understood when I put in these simple terms. Actually I had long since talked to Ernie about how babies were born. Tom didn't know that, but this was the only way I knew to divert him from his violent purpose. Besides, I had only told Ernie the minimum since his questions were minimal and he did need to be upgraded. "Right," said Tom, as if it had been his idea, surprising me. I knew he'd give in and let me handle it, but it came more quickly than I'd anticipated. "Right," I said, "I'll talk with him tomorrow." "I'm gonna tell him," Tom said, "that since he didn't know nothing about sex, I've changed my mind about whipping, you know." "Yes," I nodded, trying not to smile. "I'll say that you're gonna talk to him pretty soon about it and then I'll tell him more when he's old enough to understand. I'll tell him he needs know that what he did was very bad, so I'm gonna take the television away from him for two weeks." Tom's index finger was chopping the air as he listed what he was going to do. "But didn't you say one week?" "Yes, but now, as I think about it, too easy. He needs at least two whole weeks." Tom's voice was deep and decisive. "Good idea" I said. I knew he would at least double the punishment I suggested. Tom stroked his chin a moment. "Don't you think we ought to get Ernie in church? Maybe they could do some of this for us." "Probably." "You think you could look around for one, maybe in the yellow pages?" he asked. "I'll do that tomorrow." "You could call up the pastor; ask his advice on this sort of thing." "Good idea," I said, knowing I wouldn't do it. I remembered how my father had caught my older brother and me naked in the barn and how he had made me stand outside the cow stall, nude, breastless and hairless, shivering while he whacked Roland around with a one-by-four. He then sent Roland to the house, carrying his clothes over his arm and it was my turn to enter the stall. All I had done was to show Roland my "privates" and hold his penis while he urinated in the corner of the barn. I can still remember the sensation of the water gushing through the fleshy tube on the underside of his penis. I remembered the giddy sensation of having done something "really bad." Papa told me that since I was a girl and younger than Roland (I was seven), he wasn't going to use the board on me. He bent me over his knee and spanked me with his bare hand on my naked butt, making my skin sting. At first it wasn't bad, but he prolonged the spanking until my rear end was aching and sore. Then he told me how I would go to hell for doing such things and that I was to pray and ask forgiveness. He told Mama about it and she refused to talk to me for a month. I wasn't going to let that happen with my son if I could help it, and I did help it. The next morning after the incident Tom had left for work at 6:30. I lay down for an hour before my own breakfast and napped, which was my usual routine. When I woke, I padded toward the kitchen, still in my nightgown, to get some coffee that I had made earlier. On my way, I passed the living room and I found Ernie there, eating a bowl of cereal and watching television. Good morning Ernie." "Uh . . . Hi, Mom." I continued to the kitchen, poured my coffee and took a sip. I carried it back to the living room with me. He was in the floor, sitting cross-legged and dressed in just what he slept in, his jockey shorts. I stood in the doorway and sipped my coffee. "Turn off the television, Ernie." "Aw Mom! It's my favorite . . ." "Remember, it's your punishment." Ernie frowned, reached over and turned it off and looked at me innocently. "Finish your cereal and then go rinse the bowl in the kitchen sink. Then come back to my bedroom. I'm supposed to talk to you. Remember, you agreed to all this." "Okay," he whined, and looked down at his cereal, which had soaked up so much milk by this time it was sickeningly soggy, the way Ernie liked it. I turned to go as just as he was lifting a spoon of the disgusting Frosted Flakes toward his mouth. I carried my coffee back with me and made my way down the hall passed Ernie's room. The hallway then turns at a right angle and goes by another bathroom, another bedroom and then straight into the large master bedroom. I paused as soon as I was around the corner and out of sight. I stood silently. After a few seconds, the television came back on, the volume lowered and I could hardly hear it. I smiled and continued on to my bedroom. When I got there, I went into my bathroom, which was off the bedroom but down a short corridor from the room itself. After a couple of sips of coffee, I stripped, showered, and dried. I put on a light cotton robe and brushed my hair. I picked up my toothbrush and loaded it with Crest. While I was brushing my teeth, Ernie came in and sat down on the toilet seat, watching. I was bent over the sink brushing and eventually I became conscious that my butt was oscillating back and forth with every stroke of the brush and Ernie was watching. I turned around and sputtered through my bubbles, "What? What are you looking at?" "Uh, uh, I like to watch you brush your teeth. You get toothpaste all over your mouth and chin." he grinned. I let him watch. The boy was curious. It wouldn't hurt. I wasn't wearing panties or bra underneath, but the robe was fairly opaque with a faint floral pattern. I finished up, and said, "Okay, follow me." He walked behind me out into the bedroom and I crawled up in bed, moved over close to the wall and patted the space beside me. Ernie climbed into the bed and lay on his side facing me on my side. I reached over to him and hugged him. I didn't really think at the time of any negative affect I might be having on him, but I pulled his head to my breasts, just a gentle hug, the thin cotton bodice covered my nipples, of course. I suppose his ear might have been on my cleavage, but I only cradled him there and rocked back a forth a little. "Honey, I love you more than anything in this world. Do you know that?" He nodded his head, and I noticed the movement on my bare skin of his cheek and ear. "You know about where babies come from." He nodded again. "I want to tell you a little more about how they get there." I knew he must have picked up a good deal at school, but I also knew that much of it would be inaccurate and crass. The talk we had was very sweet. I handled it well, I thought, but when I sent him back to his room to get dressed, I noticed his jockey shorts standing out. On top of this little tent, a faint trace of yellow stain showed through. I got out bed and walked to his bedroom. I opened the door and he was just pulling on a fresh pair of underwear. The dirty briefs were in a tumble in front of him. "Ernie, you need to take a shower," I said. "Aw, Mom!" he frowned. "Ernie, look at the front of those shorts!" "Yes, but I already have on clean shorts." "Do it anyway. Get another pair." Ernie went to his chest of drawers, looked in and said triumphantly, "That was the last pair." "You go on then, get your shower. I'll get you a fresh pair out of the dryer." "But it's chilly this morning, I'll freeze." "Ernie!" I said, my exasperation showing. "Use my shower. It's already steamy and warm." I retrieved the fresh underpants and took them back to my bathroom. Ernie stepped out of shower as I was laying them on top of the hamper. I got a fluffy bath towel out of the cabinet under the sink. I draped the towel across Ernie's back and although he could have handled it himself, I started drying him off, his shoulders, waist, and below the waist. As I dried him, I began to admire his developing body. I was overwhelmed with his beauty and youth. I saw his little penis harden and bounce back when I pushed it down to dry it. I was operating under the cloak of drying him and he said nothing about it. I justified all this to myself by thinking, I'm his mother; I'm interested in his growth and development. Why should I not observe his progress? It's only right to feel this way. Go to Part Two OneGallus@Yahoo.com <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. 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