by Jack Crawford
A heavy-handed mother who is a strict believer in spanking, discovers she has taught this philosophy all too well to her teenaged son after he catches her cheating on Dad in...
Rocky Carhart drove his old battered pickup truck down the familiar dirt drive to the double wide trailer he had called home all of his 18 years of life. The dusty road just off the farm to Market Highway in even dustier south-central Texas was as familiar to him as the gleaming white pickup truck parked in front of the trailer was unfamiliar.
The high school senior was living alone in the trailer with his mother for the past three months as his dad was off on another oil rig making money. It was a rigger's life to live long stretches in some god-forsaken location, drilling for that precious commodity: oil. So, for three months, and probably the better part of the next six weeks, Rocky and his mother lived a quiet life in the middle of nowhere.
It wasn't really all that quiet as Rocky had school to attend and his mom had her friends... all wives of other riggers who commiserated together during their husbands' long absences. The wives got together regularly, played cards, drank too much, shopped, and sometimes went off to the big city of Uvalde for better shopping and better drinking. Those were good weekends for Rocky and his friends as they could party and drink beer without adults interfering.
Every so often a parent would find out and all the kids would get a good leathering, but that seemed pretty common place out here. Rocky and his friends even joked about their punishments, bragging it was the only aerobic activity their parents got besides screwing.
But the unknown white pickup truck in front of the double wide bothered Rocky. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something wasn't right, and it worried him. He pulled up next to the gleaming white truck and was very quiet getting out of his own truck and even approached the front porch with the stealth born from years of mule deer hunting.
Easing the front door open, Rocky could hear sounds of a struggle and his heart leaped, but he kept his calm. He picked up the baseball bat that was kept near the door 'just in case'. Listening, he could tell the struggle came from his parents' bedroom and he was suddenly ashamed that, perhaps, his father had come home early and he and Rocky's mom were in the throes of making up for lost love making. But, the truck still didn't sit quite right.
Trying to be mindful of his parents' privacy, Rocky moved closer to the bedroom and peeked through the partially opened door. The bright red hair and beard dashed any thoughts that the man now screwing Rocky's mom was his father. His dad had brown hair and was clean shaven and bald.
With a loud tap, Rocky pushed the bedroom door open with the end of the wooden bat. The red-haired man looked around in shock and Rocky's mother gasped, quickly trying to cover her naked body with a sheet. His mother gasped, "Rocky!" as her face turned white.
You would not have guessed it from Rocky's demeanor right then, but he was a gentle, soft spoken young man. Hidden beneath that soft exterior, however, was a tough as nails street brawler that all the other boys in school (and most men in town) avoided if he was in one of his moods.
"I don't know who you are mister, I don't rightly care," snarled Rocky as he regripped the bat menacingly. "You got to the count of three before I start rearranging parts of your face."
The red-bearded man wanted no part of Rocky Carhart and especially didn't want to feel that bat up the side of his head. "No need to count, son, I'm outta here." The man didn't stop to dress, but simply scooped up his boots and clothes and ran for his gleaming white truck.
Rocky followed the man with steel in his eyes and malice in his heart, hoping for an excuse to work over the man who had just fled his mother's bed.
As the white truck roared off, Rocky turned to glare at his mother. His mother! His father's wife, and she'd just been cheating on him! The look in his eyes made even his tough mother cringe.
"Rocky... I... uh... I can explain. You see..." she began.
"Get dressed," hissed her son. "We can talk later."
Rocky paced the family living room, feeling the nervous, angry energy dissipate... but only slightly. Eventually, his mother had thrown on a bath robe and sheepishly made her way out of the bedroom. She was unable to look at her son and her eyes were cast downward as she stopped, tried to say something but couldn't, and finally sat down on the sofa. Rocky continued pacing; his hands clenching and unclenching into fists that could have put a serious hurt on the red bearded man.
Suddenly his pacing stopped and he turned to face his cowering mother. "Honestly," he finally blurted out, "I don't know what to say." His palms opened, hands spread as if searching for answers before he added, "Dad is going to be devastated. How could you do this to him? Hell, how could you do this to me? Cheating on my father?"
With tears in her eyes, his mother replied in a tiny voice, "It's not that simple. I have always loved your father and always will. It's just that... that... I have needs when he is away for so long." She began sniffling as the tears had begun in the bedroom well before she reached the living room.
When Rocky heard the words, "I have needs," he experienced an epiphany. It was a moment that most children go through at some point, first with a teacher and then with a parent. Perhaps they are sitting in the cafeteria at school and that epiphany strikes and they realize that teachers actually eat. 'They're just like us'. For some reason, teachers and parents get put on a pedestal and it takes some time to realize they are just human beings like the rest of us and they have needs and wants and desires, too.
That realization hit Rocky pretty hard as he considered his mother. She was only 35 years old, having given birth to him when she was 18... almost Rocky's age right now. He studied her and realized that she didn't even look that old. His mother had taken care of herself, was fit and very attractive. He blushed inwardly as he realized that, if she hadn't been his mother, he would find her damned attractive!
She must have guys flirting all around her while Dad is gone, he thought. And why not? Anyone unrelated and nearer her age would find his mother smoking hot. He suddenly appreciated the challenges his mother faced during his father's long absences.
He was only vaguely aware that his mother had been pleading her case and begging him not to tell his father because it would kill him. As he stopped his thoughts and listened to her, she seemed more a frightened little girl than the authority figure a mother should be.
"And what is to be gained if I keep quiet about this," he suddenly asked, interrupting her pleading. "Am I then another sneak trying to pull the wool over Dad's eyes? That makes me just as guilty as you!"
His mother reasserted her argument that it would be best for his father, that she would remain faithful, that this was the only time it had happened, and that sometimes not knowing something is far kinder than finding out the whole truth.
Rocky shook his head as he listened to words that he might have uttered just before being taken to the woodshed. And, suddenly, there it was: his second epiphany of the day. His mother should be punished so that she would be motivated to stick to the promises she was making. Rocky would make sure they were not empty promises just to escape the consequences of having been caught.
"You... you can't!" gasped his mother when he said she deserved to be spanked. And then the litany of excuses began to flow as rapidly as her pleas did earlier. "I'm too old. I'm your mother. It wouldn't be right." And on and on she went until Rocky silenced her with an icy glare and an upheld palm.
"You and my friends' moms don't hesitate to pull out the paddle or strap when you discover we've been drinking beer while you're off on one of your trips. Why should this be any different?" he demanded.
"That's called parenting," argued his mother. Rocky's jaw dropped in disbelief and before he could interrupt his mother explained. "We all know you boys are going to sit around someplace while we're gone and get drunk on beer. That's normal, and because you always stay wherever it is you are and don't go driving drunk, we sort of let it go." She paused for air and continued. "But, we would be guilty of contributing to the delinquency of a minor if we let it go, so you get punished when we get home. You know there are consequences... and you get them. We provide those consequences and avoid any possible accusation of being too permissive. You know you're going to be punished too, yet you go ahead and have your little beer fest, figuring the consequences are worth it. It all works out in the end."
Rocky's head was spinning from that convoluted logic, but he was now certain of one thing. "Well, that certainly explains a lot," he said to his mother. "And it explains why you are going to take everything I have to dish out in the way of punishment if you expect me to keep your little secret. Consequences have been earned... and consequences will be given."
His mother sat with open mouth as her son explained what she was to do. He promised that this would be their little secret, but she was going to be familiar with what a well spanked hind end felt like.
After their little chat, Rocky drove back to town mostly to cool off. He was sometimes a hot head, but he knew enough that he could not, and should not, dispense a spanking in the heat of the moment. He cruised up and down the one main street in town, stopping occasionally to chat up some girl or another who caught his eye and after enough time had elapsed, drove back out to the old double wide trailer he called home.
His mother was dressed as he might normally find her: shorts and a sleeveless cotton blouse. Dinner was almost finished and he could tell she was trying very hard to placate her son by making his favorite pork chops with macaroni and cheese. They sat at the kitchen table and stumbled through a difficult, yet inane, conversation. Finishing the meal, the dutiful son helped his mother clean up the kitchen and wash the dishes.
As he dried his hands on a kitchen towel, Rocky said, "I guess it's time you changed, Mom." Now she really could not look up at her son as he added, "You have a date with the hairbrush and it won't wait."
Sheepishly, his mother nodded, turned and went to her bedroom. Earlier, Rocky had given her instructions for this moment and she went to fulfill them. He took one of the kitchen chairs into the living room, figuring it was the best thing to sit on for what was to come. He heard the toilet flush and patiently waited for his mother, suddenly hyper-aware that he could hear a dresser drawer open and close and even the soft padding of his mother's footsteps in the other room.
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