Back to Basics Pt 2/2

By the time I got back to the living room Bobby had on a pair of jeans and was sitting on the couch, but right in the middle.  I thought about asking him to move over.  Some part of me wanted to wrestle him out of the way but I didn’t.  I thought about his parents, especially his father, and decided to be polite by taking a seat on a nearby chair.  The arms of the chair were high, the cushion long, and I felt ridiculous sitting there but tried to act casual.

I zoned out in front of the television and it didn’t seem like long after that his mother, Mrs. Hutch had returned.  She went about her business quietly, met and talked with her husband in his study, then proceeded to their bedroom.  It wasn’t long after that her husband joined her, a trail of cigar smoke followed after him.  It’s strange listening to people, strangers, someone’s parents, as they pack and get ready.

Everything was going calmly until I heard Mr. Hutch call out both our names from the bedroom followed by Mrs. Hutch chastising him for yelling through the house.  I guess everyone gets it in the end in this house, I thought.  Bobby was quicker to his feet but I got up and followed after him.

Their bedroom was elegant and stylish, everything was in its proper place.  Mrs. Hutch smelled of perfume that made me wrinkle my nose and Mr. Hutch smelled of a musky cologne that made me think about asking what he wore.  There were two suitcases on the bed as well as two travel bags with wheels that stood near the corners.  Mr. Hutch placed his hands on Bobby’s shoulders.

“Everything valuable has been locked in the safe, only we know the numbers.  If something happens our lawyer will give them to you.  We’ve left you two plenty of money in an envelope on the dining room table.  There is plenty of food in the refrigerator.  Since Rick has his car we’ll leave ours in the driveway.  You know where the spares are just in case you need to move it.”  He looked to me.  “That reminds me you shouldn’t leave your car on the street.  Park it in the driveway behind mine.”  He looked back to his son.  “Don’t misbehave this weekend.  I’ve given Rick here permission to do whatever he needs to keep you in line and if he needs to take the belt to you it will be double when I get home.  Do you understand me?”

Bobby nodded.

“We’re taking a taxi to the airport which should be here any minute.  We want to be able to trust you so don’t screw this up.”

“I won’t dad,” Bobby said.

“Good,” his father replied before pulling him into a tight hug.

I watched as Bobby hugged his father.  Their bodies were obviously different.  Bobby was so much smaller and not as bold.

Mrs. Hutch moved to her son and I could tell she was about to go into her own long tirade when her phone rang and she answered it instead.  She just listened for a moment before she ended the call and put her phone back in her purse.

“That was the taxi,” she said.

Mr. Hutch moved to one of the suitcases and indicated I should take the other.  I moved to it and looked to Mrs. hutch who was still intent on talking to her son.
“Help me carry these to the car,” Mr. Hutch said.  “Bobby and Mrs. Hutch will bring the others.”

I pulled the suitcase from the bed, unprepared for its weight I nearly dropped it before redoubling my effort and using my second hand.  Mr. Hutch led the way and I heard Mrs. Hutch begin to talk as we moved down the hallway.  I followed him out of the house and to the waiting taxi where driver opened the trunk.  We hefted the bags inside and moved them to the rear.  I felt like I had accomplished something just by that simple chore.  I stepped to the side and into the grass with Mr. Hutch who looked back at the house impatiently before he remembered something and looked to me.

“One last thing, there is to be absolutely no alcohol this weekend.  I’ve locked up the liquor cabinet and I don’t want you buying any.  You might be legal age but Bobby is not.  If I find one bottle, well it’ll be your ass.  Do you understand me?”

My ass?  There was that threat again.  Was I really to take it that he’d spank me like he did Bobby?  Somehow at that moment I was more worried about not getting paid than getting a spanking.

“I promise no alcohol,” I said.

I thought about the taxi driver there who overheard the conversation.  He looked Indian or maybe Middle-Eastern, so maybe a spanking was normal where he came from and maybe he thought I was the oldest brother instead of the young man hired to watch their son.

Moments later Bobby and his mother emerged from the house, each carrying a bag to the driveway where they set it down then rolled it to the back of the cab.  Bobby lifted both inside and closed the trunk.  His parents hugged him one las time before they got in the backseat.  Bobby moved to my side in the grass and we watched them depart.

Just after they were out of sight he smacked me on the ass and said, “race you inside.”  He sprinted for the front porch but I was close behind him.  He pulled open the screen door and I was right there to take hold if it.  I was on his heels and he didn’t get a chance to close the main door on me.  I closed it instead, then looked for him but he was already gone.
“Where’d you go?”

“I’m getting my game system so we can play on the big screen,” he said.

I sighed in relief, then made my way to the living room.  Bobby came from his bedroom ten minutes later with the game system and wires.  I watched him hook everything up.  There was a dangerous yet playful feeling about him.  He had the potential to do bad things and I was intrigued.

We played video games for over an hour when I began to get bored.  He was much better at them but I couldn’t help but feel a little competitive.  To try and distract him I started pushing him on the arm but it didn’t really work.  When I slipped once and my arm went to his arm pit he laughed a little.  I knew at once by the way he squirmed that he was ticklish.  My character died on the screen and I decided to give up as I had a new source of entertainment, Bobby.  I tickled at his arm pit more.  As he resisted I moved behind him and put my other hand in his other pit.  I tickled at them and down his sides, anywhere he couldn’t defend himself.  It was enough to make him pause the game.

That’s when I really went at him.  He laughed more and squealed from my fingertips as they worked his sensitive areas until he was leaning back into me, trying to grab my hands.  He put his own hands in his arm pits to block me so I reached around to his stomach where I lifted up his shirt and went for the area around his belly button.  It wasn’t as intense but he was still giggling.

“I can’t breathe,” he said.

“Say uncle,” I said.

“No,” he replied.

He grabbed at my hands, my wrists but I managed to get them back out of his grasp.  I tickled his sides again but this time he fell over on his side.  He pulled his knees up into the fetal position but this only brought his feet closer to me.  I grabbed his shoe and pulled it off, held his ankle and tickle him through his sock which made him howl and laugh.

“No stop,” he said.  “I can’t breathe.”

“If you can talk, then you can breathe,” I replied.

He tried to pull away from me but I had a good grip on his ankle.  I locked it against his thigh with my knee to free both hands.  One went to his side and one stayed at his foot.  I tickled him and his giggles became laughter, then squeals of nearly breathless pleasure.

“I’m going to pee myself,” he said.

But I kept at him.  The more he suffered the more I tickled.  It was a renewed effort until finally he cried out.  I stopped and rolled him onto his back and I looked to his crotch where I could see it slowly getting wet.  He had in fact pissed himself.  I immediately regretted what I had done and stopped.  We were both panting from the action.  He lay motionless and I was partially over him.  My hands found their way to his forearms as I looked down at his face.  He was about to cry.  I pushed myself up to his lips and I kissed him gently.

He kissed me back, put one hand up under my shirt and the other down into my pants where he grabbed at my underwear.  I thought for a moment he would slip it down to my ass cheek but he didn’t.  He grabbed the waist band in back and he pulled.  My briefs gave easily, the sides pulled in to my ass crack and he kept pulling until the band was well out of my jeans and up my back.  I pulled away from his kiss and tried to reach back and stop him but I couldn’t.

“No we’re even,” he said.  “Get off me.”

I did as he said.  I got up, if only to get my underwear out of my ass.  He got to his feet and ran off to his bedroom.  I thought about going after him but my own ass took priority so I took down my jeans and undid the wedgie before I pulled them back up.

The living room was quiet.  I felt like I was waiting for hours but then he came into the room.  I looked to see an almost familiar sight.  He wore a white t-shirt and something white covered his crotch, but it wasn’t briefs.  It was plastic and shiny.  I turned my head a little in a quizzical look.  It was a diaper.

“What’s that for?  I promise I won’t tickle you again.”

He didn’t say anything at first.

“You’re not going to make fun of me?” he asked.

I shook my head.

Part 1