"Do you know what's wrong with Peter?" my wife asked one Sunday afternoon a couple of weeks later. "He's been like someone in a dream for weeks. He won't tell me, and I'm his mother!" As if that fact automatically opened up the lines of communication. My experience is that most teenage boys shied away from their mothers like they had the plague.

"Oh, it's probably just a stage he's going through" I replied, trying to sound wise. "Maybe he's got a crush on a girl at school. I mean, he looks healthy enough."

"Maybe. Have a good talk to him while I'm out."

"Out?" Was this something I'd forgotten about?

"Oh yes, I forgot to tell you. Jane Simpson asked me to do the Lions Head walking track with her." That explained the jeans, t-shirt and trainers - Cate was usually a stylish dresser. "I should be home by seven. Be a dear and make one of your divine chicken salads for dinner, will you?"

*****

"Peter!" I said sharply from the living room doorway. "You haven't mowed the lawn like I asked."

"Uh, sorry Dad. I forgot." He'd barely glanced away from the TV.

"Sorry, are you? You WILL be sorry very soon! Get upstairs to our bedroom. NOW!"

He got to his feet, a look of surprise on his face, trudged up the stairs, made his way ahead of me to the bedroom, and stood there.

"You're going to be spanked Peter. Lower your shorts and underpants" I barked.

"But Dad I'm sorry" he pleaded, with a catch in his voice. "I'll go and do it right now."

"You'll do it later. First you'll be punished!" I almost shouted. That had the desired affect; he slowly unzipped his shorts and pushed them down his thighs. The underpants followed soon after when I glared at him. "Now, place your hands on the edge of the bed and put your head down."

He jerked and yelped in surprise and pain when my hand came down hard on his bare bottom.

"Hurt, did it?" I sneered. "Well, there's more to come, my boy."

Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! went my hand. He writhed each time my hand struck his bare flesh.

"That was for being a naughty boy" I said, pausing for a moment. He was already snuffling back tears and the skin of his ass cheeks was a nice shade of pink.

Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! went my hand again.

By this time the palm of my hand was stinging a bit, and my cock had hardened at the thought of what was next.

"Alright" I said. "Now we'll have a bit of fun before you go and cut that lawn. Get undressed." He gave me a questioning look.

"Peter, I want you to take off your clothes so that you can put on your mother's lingerie. You still want to wear your mother's things for me, don't you"?"

"Oh. OK Dad" he replied after a pause, with a slight smile. He slipped off his shorts, underpants and t-shirt.

Under my direction he got out the black garter belt and stockings, lacy black panties and bra and the high-heeled shoes and slowly put them on. Two pairs of balled-up sports socks filled out the bra very nicely. Then I made him walk up and down in front of me where I sat in the chair. After a few compliments on how he looked he began to enjoy the role he was playing, looking at me almost coquettishly. By this time my cock was pretty hard, and I could see a small ridge beginning to form in the front of the lacy black panties.

"What's that bit of black on the floor in front of the chest of drawers?" I asked. Peter went over and picked it up.

"It's one of Mummy's silk scarves" he replied. "I must've accidentally dropped it when I was getting the stockings out."

"Bring it here" I ordered, an idea instantly leaping into my mind.

"Now, turn around with your back to me" I said, taking the piece of cool silky fabric from him and standing up. "Cross your wrists behind your back" I said softly.

"Dad?" he asked, a little nervously.

"Do what you're told" I hissed. He did, after a moment of hesitation.

"Good boy" I almost whispered as I wrapped the scarf around his crossed wrists a few times and tied the ends. "Now, parade for me again."

So it was that for the next 10 or 15 minutes I enjoyed watching my 13 year old stepson, his wrists tied behind his back with a black silk scarf and dressed in his mother's black lingerie, as he paraded for me. That was all that I could last, with my cock rigid and seeping pre-cum inside my clothes. What also excited me was seeing the small hard ridge in the front of the lacy black panties.

"Well, did you like having your hands tied?" I asked softly next to his ear as I untied the scarf.

"Yes Dad. It was.... sort of.... " he replied.

"Exciting?" I asked in almost a whisper.

"Y-yes Dad. Yes, it was exciting" he went on with what sounded like enthusiasm.

"Do you want to do it again? When Mummy isn't here, of course."

"Oh, yes. Whenever you want to Dad."

"Good. Only next time I'll tie you up properly. Would you like that?"

"Yes Dad. Whatever you want" he answered with a shy smile.

"Good boy. Now get back into your own clothes and go and mow that lawn" I continued, patting his cute lace-covered bottom. "Oh, and by the way, your mother thinks you've been acting like a man in a dream. Try acting something like normal or she'll have you off to an analyst or counsellor before you know it, and we wouldn't want that, now would we?" I added in a conspiratorial tone.

"No Dad. I'll try."

*****

A shared risk can be a powerful bond between father and son!