Diddlin'

Diddlin'

Preface: There is no other name this story could have. It is yet another story inspired by a drawing by Ann. In this case however, I deviated from the script she suggested. The girls *do* get caught, and Ann pays the price for her illicit fun.

This story features the masturbation of a boy by two girls and a young girl getting spanked. If this is something that offends you, then please leave now.

Part I The Diddlin'

Pamela was the oldest kid on the block. She was barely 13, but to a 10-year-old like me she seemed like an adult. Whatever game Pamela wanted to play all the other kids would play. Her word was practically law, and the other kids sort of looked at her as a second mother.

In fact, she often played "mom" when we played house which we did almost all the time, much to the dismay of the boys who would prefer more "manly" games like cops and robbers. Occasionally we'd humor them, but since we outnumbered them 10 girls to 3 boys, they rarely got to play "boy" games. Not that there was all that much boy to go around anyway. Matt, the oldest, was only 11, his brother Ed was 5, and one of my friends, Emily had a 5-year-old brother as well.

I remember the day very well; it was Matt's 11th birthday. All us kids were invited to his birthday party. Among other things, Matt received a policeman's kit which contained a nightstick, a badge, a toy gun, a pair of toy handcuffs, a flashlight, and an assortment of small items that a policeman might carry.

Naturally, he was interested in playing with his new toys and pestered us girls. None of us were interested in playing unless Pam was also going to play. Initially, she said "no." Eventually all the other kids went home. Pam and I helped Matt's mom clean up after the party. "Thank you, girls," she said. "I have to drive Mrs. Henderson over the other side of town to pick up her car. Now I won't be so late."

After his mom left, Matt kept pestering us to play, and Pam finally said yes, but not until she got that funny glint in her eye like I saw her get whenever she thought of something particularly naughty to do.

"OK, we can play," she told Matt. "But we're going to play by my rules." (So what else is new, I thought). "I'm going to be the cop, and you're going to be the robber."

"OK" Matt agreed.

Pam looked at me and gave me a wink and a smile. I was sure she was up to something.

"OK, crook." Pam said, slipping into her role. "Put your hands behind your back."

Matt dutifully obeyed. She slapped the handcuffs on him.

"Ann, lead the way down the basement," she said to me. "We're taking this bad boy downtown for some questioning."

I paraded out in front feeling kind of funny, trying to figure out Pam's game. I knew it was going to be more than just cops and robbers. Matt followed me, and Pam brought up the rear.

Pam directed Matt to a bench in the basement. She told him, "You stand here. We have some questions to ask you."

She then pulled me aside and whispered in my ear, "You promise not to tell anyone what we're going to do?"

I whispered back, "What are we going to do?"

"You have to promise first, or we won't do anything," she countered.

"OK," I agreed.

Pam had some more questions for me. "Have you ever seen a boy?"

I looked back at her with such a blank stare that she knew I didn't know what she meant, so she repeated the question, "Did you ever see a boy's thing?" Boys have many "things, but I had no doubt as to which "thing" Pam was refering.

I nodded, "Sally Henderson and me saw her little brother make pee when we were in the second grade," I proudly announced.

"Good," Pam confirmed, "Then you know what one looks like."

I started to get excited, my mind jumped ahead in her game. We were going to see Matt's "thing." I knew it was called a penis, but I couldn't even make myself say the word in my head.

Pam continued, "Did you do anything with it?"

"Like what?" I asked in return.

"Like diddle it."

"Diddle?"

"Touch it and make it hard," she replied.

"I don't think so," I said uncertainly. I knew for a fact we didn't "do anything;" all we did was watch him pee. Period. He put it back in his fly, and that's the last time either of us (me for sure) had seen a penis.

"You want to do it now?" Pam asked.

I giggled.

"OK, remember, you can't tell absolutely anybody!" She warned.

"OK," I nodded.

"Good," she said aloud, "then it's settled."

Turning to Matt who had been standing by so patiently while all this was going on, she said, "Ann and I are going to strip search you to make sure you don't have any guns or knives hidden on you."

Matt's mouth opened and his lips waved a couple of times, but nothing coherent came out of it.

"You take his left side, and I'll take his right side." Pam said. I sat down on the bench and wrapped both my legs around his leg to hold him in place and keep him from walking off.

Pamela went to work on him as calmly as if she were undressing a doll. She opened up his belt, undid the button on his jeans, and pulled the zipper down. The pants simply slid down to his knees.

"Please don't" Matt pleaded.

"I'm sorry," Pam replied, "but we have to do this. It's all part of police procedure."

Pam looked over at me and said, "Are you ready?"

My mouth was too dry to respond so I merely nodded.

"Here goes," my girlfriend in crime said.

"NO" said Matt.

With that, she pulled down his underpants!

I saw his thing. I was surprised by what I saw. When I saw Sally's brother's penis, it was little. It almost looked like a pinkie sticking out. This was entirely different. Matt's penis was much larger than his pinkie. Also he had a couple of things hanging down underneath in the back. I don't know if Sally's brother had those, all we saw was his penis coming out of his fly. To say I was fascinated is an understatement.

Pam and I sat there in silence for a couple of minutes looking at a prime piece of boy anatomy.

Pam reached out and started squeezing it and rolling it around in her fingers.

Matt merely whimpered. I couldn't tell if he was complaining or enjoying it.

I watched as Matt's penis grew before my eyes. It became bigger and stiffer. In the brief moments when Pam let go of it, I could see that it was now hard enough to stand up all by itself.

"Come on, Ann. You try it." Pam encouraged.

I didn't need a second invitation. I was curious as all heck about this thing boys carry around between their legs. Apparently it could do things other than pee.

It felt so funny in my hands. It was hard, yet squishy. It felt kind of rubbery, but hot. All at the same time. I touched it like I saw Pam touch it.

Both of us just sort of jiggled it around making it harder and harder and redder and redder. I was giggling and having a ball!

Matt's eyes were closed as if by squeezing them shut, he could make us go away.

I had no intention of going away. This was fun!

All of a sudden, I noticed that my fingers were wet. I thought for a second that Matt had peed on them, but when I put them to my nose to sniff it, it didn't smell like pee. It was clear, and it was slippery. I asked Pam, "What's this stuff?"

"Didn't they teach you anything in sex-ed class," she replied, "It's sperm. It means that he likes what we're doing to him."

I looked at her dubiously. I didn't care what it was, all I knew was that I was having fun. Part of it was because I was doing something new. A bigger part was because I was doing something naughty or forbidden.

"Let's do it some more and make him make more." I suggested.

When I got a chance to handle his penis on my own, I noticed something else; when I rubbed it, it jerked. So, I played with it like this for a while. And every now and then, a drop or two of this "sperm" came out.

Then Pam had an idea. "Let's do it faster and then we can make the sperm come out faster."

That sounded like a good idea, so we really started rubbing it fast and hard. In a couple of minutes I heard Matt give out a grunt. At the same time, all this white stuff came spurting out the end of his penis. It was hot and slippery. I was scared, I was afraid we broke something.

Even Pam was scared as she said, "Oh my God!" She said that over and over again until she could ask Matt if he was OK.

Matt nodded. "Yes, I'm OK. I think." Then he shuttered and started crying.

Pam and I felt sorry for him so we let him go. We took off his handcuffs and let him pull his pants up. Pam went to get some toilet paper to clean up the mess we made.

"Not a word to anyone." Pam warned.

Part II The Spankin'

I know I didn't tell anyone, and I was pretty sure Pam didn't tell anybody, and I was certain that Matt was too embarrassed to tell anybody; but somehow the word got out. I think maybe Pam told some other girls, and they told other girls, and oh well. Some way or another the word got to my mom.

"Ann, what were you and Pam thinking of when you diddled Matt?" Mom asked.

"Actually mom, it was a fun thing to do. You should have seen what Pam and I did to him." That's what I wanted to say. Instead, what came out of my mouth was, "nothing." "Nothing" is usually the only answer you can give to this kind of question.

"You should know better. At your age! What a shameful thing you did." Mom went on to give me a lecture on decency and modesty and things that a young lady simply doesn't do and finished up with the sentence any ten-year-old hates to hear, "Wait until your father gets home."

Mom sent me up to my room to "think about what I had done." It was an odd request. I had been thinking about it all week long. It was fun! It wasn't fun thinking about the inevitable spanking I was going to get after dinner that night. I always wondered why dad dispensed discipline after dinner as if it were some sort of preferred time.

I heard my dad come home, and some muttering as mom apparently filled him in on what she found out. The moment of reckoning was drawing closer. Several minutes later I heard my mom's voice calling, "Ann, dinner." Dinner was eaten in absolute silence. I hated this part of the punishment. The waiting and the anticipation were worse than the spanking itself. It seemed that on nights when I had a whippin' coming, that dad would take extra time with dinner just to give me more time to think about what was coming.

Finally, he declared dinner over simply by pushing his chair back and lighting up his pipe. The ritual lighting of the pipe was the signal that dinner was officially over. I wondered that if dad gave up smoking if we'd have to sit at the dinner table forever. He then spoke his first words to me since I got home. "Ann, help your mother clean up."

This I did, again in total silence. When I was done, my mom opened the kitchen door and merely swept her arm to indicate that I should proceed to the living room. That was another part of the spanking ritual; spankings were always given in the living room. We hardly ever used this room for any other purpose even the furniture was covered with plastic to preserve it. Company typically visited in the kitchen and dinning room.

As I entered the room, dad was moving "the chair" to the wall in the center of the room. We had several chairs in the room, but "the chair" was the spanking chair, and no other chair would do. Nor could the chair stay in its usual place. It had to be moved to the center of the room. It was as if I were being put on display as I was being spanked. There was no one else to see me except mom, and I wondered if I had brothers or sisters if they would have been invited to watch.

Mom kept on walking and went upstairs. I knew what that meant. Apparently this was a major offense. Mom was going for the hairbrush. I could hear the stairs creak under her weight as she went up, and creak again as she came down. Hairbrush spankings always took a little longer. The actual spanking was rather short, shorter even than a belt spanking and much shorter than a hand spanking. The process just seemed longer because of the need to retrieve the hairbrush and that ominous stair creaking.

Dad simply said, "Get over here" and without his indicating exactly where "here" was, I assumed my position automatically over his lap. Mom handed him the brush. Dad sighed as if this were a chore he would really not have to do. He lifted up my peach-colored dress, the very one I wore the day Pam and I diddled Matt, and brought the brush down on my pantied behind.

Now, as an adult, I have read a lot of stories about spanking, and invariably the parent spanking the child is giving a speech in which the words are timed with each spank. "Do" "you" "know" "how" "naughty" "you" "are?" This is not the way it went at our house. My dad was a silent spanker. He simply delivered well-metered spanks to my rear end. I will say this for dad; his rhythm was predictable. I knew exactly when the next blow would come. Not that it made it any easier for them to take.

While dad was silent, I was anything but. After a couple of spanks I was crying and promising my parents that I would never do it again. It really didn't matter if I meant it or not. Dad kept spanking. Apparently he had a predetermined number of spanks dictated by the seriousness of the offense. Diddling boys was apparently a very serious offense as I was over his lap for quite a while!

After the spanking came the lecture. Dad would make me stand up and face him and then he'd tell why I was punished. "Good girls don't do that kind of thing," he told me. "You're too young to know about some things and when you get older your mom will explain these things to you. Normally, I would make you go and apologize to Matt for what you did to him, but I think in this case he's already suffered enough. It was very difficult for your mother to listen to his mom explain to her what you two girls did. Your mom had to apologize for you. I think it's your mother you need to apologize to."

Through my tears, I told my mom that I was sorry and that I would never do it again. She gave me a hug, a small kiss on the head, a swat on my sore behind, and sent me off to bed early.

The next day I saw Pam at the burger place. She sat down and I noticed the grimace on her face. I guess even big girls can get spanked, too!