"Well, Randy, what am I going to do with you?" Tom Aronson, counselor for the 2nd floor of Lourie Hall at Middlebrook Academy really didn't want to be in this bind. Having caught the school's star soccer goalie smoking in the john, he was stuck. Too many of the boys knew about it for him to ignore. On the other hand, if he turned the boy in, official policy would force the school to suspend him from sports for the rest of the season.
He _c_o_c_k_ed an eye at the boy, who was sitting on the couch in Tom's little sitting room, which constituted one of the two rooms in his counselor's apartment at the end of the dorm floor. He did look repentant -- miserable would be more the word for it. At 16, Randy was one of the straightest-arrow team sportsmen in school. He was the last one Tom would have expected to catch smoking.
The boy finally looked up, China blue eyes filled to overflowing with unshed (unmanly) tears. There was a world of pleading in his voice. "Please, Mr. Aronson. I'll never do it again. Please don't turn me in. I'll -- I'll do anything you want. Just don't tell them."
The word "anything" kind of echoed in Tom's head for a moment before he banished it with a quick shake of his head. But looking over into the boy's pleading face, uncomfortable thoughts nibbled unbidden at the corners of his consciousness. Suddenly, although he had not even registered it before, he became aware of the boy's state of near undress. Like the other kids in this hot weather, he had been wearing the currently fashionable minimum -- cut-offs slit up the side halfway to the waist, and a T-shirt that had been chopped off just below the tits. Since that had practically become the uniform for the duration of this heat wave, Tom had gradually become unaware of it, but now in this tiny room, seeing all that smooth, tanned, healthy young flesh only inches from his own, hearing the pleading in that "I'll do anything," strange fantasies began to stir.
"Well, Randy, I can hardly forget about it. Half the floor knows I caught you."
"But, but . . . please don't tell. I have to play this season. They'll suspend me from the team." One of the tears welled up and slipped down the boy's cheek.
"Well, I don't know. What do you think I should do?"
He leaped at the hope . . . "Oh, anything, anything. Maybe . . . maybe you could punish me yourself. That way the guys would know about it but I could stay on the team."
"Hmmm." Tom considered it. "You know it would have to be a real punishment? Otherwise everybody would think they could smoke and get away with it."
"Oh, yeah, I know. That's OK."
"Well, what do you suggest?"
"I don't know. Maybe you could hit me or something."
"You know what would happen to me if I decked you? That's a little rough for me, anyway."
"No, I mean, like . . . you know, like a father does. Like . . ."
"You mean like give you a spanking?"
"Well, I don't know. . . not a spanking maybe . . ."
"No, no . . . that's a good idea." Tom appeared to think for a moment, out of the corner of his eye watching the spark of hope build in the boy's eyes. "Except one spanking would be too light a punishment. And we can't leave any marks, or people would ask about it. OK . . . how about this . . . starting tonight, a spanking a night for a week. OK?"
"Oh, great. Thank you, Mr. Aronson. Honest, I'll never do it again, ever." Randy bounced to his feet. Tom, still sitting, eyed all that teen-aged pulchritude so un-self consciously exposed.
"OK, Randy. Come by tonight after lights out. We'll see how it goes. Make like you're going to bed like everybody else, then come here."
"Everybody's gonna know where I'm going anyway."
"Yeah, well, that's OK. Just don't make any kind of public announcement. If word gets out, we'll both be in trouble."
"OK, great. Thanks, Mr. Aronson." Randy went bouncing out of the little apartment. Tom followed him with his eyes. He actually did bounce. That ass of his was so round and so jutty and so soft that when you watched closely, it really did bounce a little. We'll see, indeed.
That evening Tom had a brief nervous crisis -- my God, what was he doing? Then he had a comforting thought -- all he had to do was exactly what he said, no funny business. At worst, he had a basis for some fantasy -- no problem. Having decided that, it was a great load off his mind. When he heard the tentative knock on his door five minutes after lights out, he was actually cheerful.
He opened the door a crack, and Randy slipped in. He was wearing the same thing he'd had on that afternoon, looking only a little more rumpled than usual. "Hey, I told you to make like you were going to bed. You're still dressed."
"Oh . . . uh . . . sorry."
"That's OK. . . tomorrow get into your pajamas first, though, OK?"
"Well -- I don't wear pajamas."
"What do you wear, then?"
"Well, usually nothing."
Tom considered. "Well, we can't have you wandering around naked. OK -- wear whatever you want, but go to bed first."
"OK, sure, sorry."
"Well, OK, let's get to it. I put the chair in the bedroom, so nobody out in the dorm can overhear us."
"Oh -- good, thanks, Mr. Aronson."
Tom ushered the boy into the bedroom, eying the quivery buns as they advanced to the armchair. "OK, now, as my father used to say, assume the position." Tom sat down gingerly at the edge of the chair, motioning the humpy little goalie to his lap.
"Uh -- I'm not sure. What do I do?" His usually sunny face looked a little clouded.
"Just drop your pants and bend over my knees here."
Randy looked suddenly shy. "Oh, uh . . . do I haveta?"
"Look . . . I thought you said this was what you wanted. Well, if you're gonna try to stall already, this is not going to work." He started to get up.
The boy quickly dashed over and pushed him back down. "No, no. That's OK. I'll do it. I just didn't know I hadta take my pants off, that's all."
"Well, of course." Tom managed to sound indignant. "You get that much cloth protecting you and the whole thing is pointless. I'm not gonna ruin my hand just to get through to you."
"OK, OK." He started fumbling at his belt. "It's just that . . . well . . ." There were two very bright pink spots in his cheeks as he refused to meet Tom's eyes. Finally the belt was open and he slowly unsnapped the waist fastener. "My mother bought me these little underwear, see . . . They're French or something." Slowly the zipper went down. "This is the first time I ever wore anything like that, and, well, . . . I just didn't expect . . ."
"Just get the pants off, OK?" Tom was getting impatient. All this buildup was starting to turn him on just a little too much.
"OK." Suddenly the boy jerked the shorts down and kicked them off. Tom caught his breath. Surely no mother ever bought her son anything that looked like this. Then, quivering just inches from his face was Randy's oversized basket. That was bad enough, but he had seen the kid in the showers and knew what to expect. What made the counselor gasp was the way the brightly colored patterned bikini brief the kid was wearing lifted the basket and held it out, making it look even more gigantic than it really was.
"See? It's really kind of embarrassing."
Suddenly it occurred to Tom that this might be a trap. Had some of the boys gotten together and suggested that Randy wear this? He knew that some of them were aware of his enjoyment of shower duty. Not Randy -- he was a little slow on the up-take and much too Simon-pure, but he wouldn't put it past some of the others. Well, it wouldn't work. It made for nice scenery, but that's all it was going to come to. No reprieves for this kid.
"OK, just bend over. Don't worry about it."
Awkwardly, the boy positioned himself over Tom's lap. It took a little squirming around, but finally he got into position -- ass up, looking fresh and appealing under the thin briefs, basket jammed between the counselor's thighs. Tom hadn't thought about that -- Randy was built very big for his age -- the heat of that giant _c_o_c_k_ burned right through Tom's pants where it pressed against the inside of his thigh.
"OK, you ready?"
A squeaky little "Uh huh" came from below.
A wave of lust washed over Tom as he looked down at the fabled buns of the hot little jock.
He patted them a couple of times -- they were soft and hot as pistols. They quivered as Randy unconsciously flexed his muscles. Then the older man raised his hand and gave the left cheek a sharp smack. It echoed in the room like a shot.
"Yow!" Randy's head jerked up. His hips jerked, too, automatically shoving his big meat deeper between his counselor's thighs as he unconsciously tried to avoid the contact.
"Try not to make so much noise, now. It can't be that bad."
Before the boy could answer, he whacked the right cheek, even harder than he had the left. Another sharp crack, another yell, another thrust of _c_o_c_k_.
Tom was starting to get into this. "OK, Randy, if you can't be quiet, we'll just have to gag you, OK?"
"OK," the boy whimpered. He hadn't ever been physically disciplined in his life. This was a whole new thing, and he wasn't too happy about it.
"OK, get up a minute. I'll get something."
Randy quickly got to his feet and Tom rummaged in his chest of drawers, finally coming up with a handkerchief. "Here, stuff this in your mouth." He handed it to the boy, then caught his breath. There was no mistaking it -- the kid's _c_o_c_k_ was definitely larger than it had been -- half hard, it looked. The little T-shirt still covered his tits, so he couldn't tell anything from that.
The boy finally got the whole handkerchief stuffed in. "OK, here." Tom slipped the boy's belt out of his cut-offs and fastened it around his head -- running it across his mouth and buckling it behind his head -- that would hold the gag in place. Very _s_e_x_y, too -- nearly naked and bound, he looked like something out of an Arabian Nights wet dream.
"OK, back to basics." Tom sat and quietly enjoyed the boy's slow progress back to his original position. This time the basket, much firmer than before, slid slowly over Tom's thigh and nuzzled back into its old spot. Was the little dum-dum trying to be seductive? Doubtful. More likely he was just trying to go slow. Tom ran his spanking hand once over the target (the consistency of rubber -- but hot, felt like there was a heater just below the skin) and immediately followed with half a dozen sharp slaps, three to each cheek, with a pause after each for the sting to set in. There were little muffled grunts from below. Much activity between Tom's thighs this time. Whether Randy had the brains to be seductive or not, his little body was belying those muffled protests.
"OK, Randy, since this is the first night and you're not used to this, I'll stop after a dozen. But, remember, I won't be holding back next time. Just a few more now." Randy's hip kept squirming anyway. He looked up over his shoulder, scared but hopeful. Tom gave two more hard cracks, one to each cheek. The muffled grunts were louder than before. "And now the last two." He made the final swats the hardest yet. The boy's twin melons jerked and bounced, first one then the other. And it was over.
"OK, on your feet." Tom grabbed the boy by the shoulder and jerked him to his feet. As expected, the sight was truly lovely. The little goalie's not so little _c_o_c_k_ had reached near full extension and was sticking almost straight out in front of him. Oddly enough, he didn't even seem to be aware of it. Little sounds came from behind the gag as he rubbed his sore behind. Twin tears had worked their way unbidden out of his big blue eyes and trickled down his flushed cheeks. "Let's get you out of this gag, now." Tom unbuckled the belt and pulled the handkerchief out from between the boy's full lips. "Now that wasn't so bad, was it?"
Randy was obviously embarrassed to admit that it was. "Well, . . ." Suddenly he became aware of the erection that was bouncing slowly in front of him as he rubbed his ass. "Oh, my gosh." Covering himself with one hand he looked wildly around for his shorts.
Tom laughed. "Don't worry about it. That happens all the time when boys get spanked."
Randy looked doubtful. "Yeah?"
"Yeah, really. Anyway, I've gotta check your behind first to make sure it's OK. I'll put some lotion on it. That'll get rid of the redness. Turn around."
Again, Randy looked spooked, but finally realizing he would have to shower with the guys in the morning, decided that it was a good idea. "Oh, yeah. Thanks." He turned around.
Quickly, before he lost his nerve, Tom jerked the boy's briefs down to a carefully calculated point, mid-thigh. There was a resounding "Whap!" from in front, followed by a flurry of activity as the humpy little goalie grabbed his suddenly released _c_o_c_k_ and stuffed it quickly back into the briefs front. "Oops, sorry."
But now that it was fully exposed, Tom was able to contemplate what was really Randy's best angle. He had always known the kid had a nice ass, but now, seeing it close-up like this, he was amazed at the fullness of its perfection. Round, perfect, smooth, not a flaw. He was a little disappointed -- he had hoped for a glimpse of the boy's asshole, but the cheeks were just too full. He daubed some lotion on them and started massaging it in. Oh, the silky smoothness of it. "Feel good?"
The boy was a little short of breath. "Yeah. It's cool."
"Well, your bottom is pretty hot right now." Tom chuckled as he worked the lotion firmly as far into the boy's crack as he dared. Well, enough for one night. "OK, that should do it. You can get dressed now."
Randy pulled up the briefs, carefully arranging them to disguise as much as possible his still very hard _c_o_c_k_. He pulled on his cutoffs and threaded the belt through the loops.
"Well, good night, Mr. Aronson. Thanks."
"Sure thing, Randy. See you tomorrow."
Randy glanced at him, then disappeared out the door.
The next two nights went like repeats of the first. Each time Randy came in a different pair of shorts, but always with a pair of French briefs under. And each time, Tom added half a dozen more spanks. By the third night, the boy was letting him pull the briefs down to his knees while massaging his sore ass. This left his fat schlong bouncing around in front of him for a few minutes, but the relief from the pain of the spanking made him virtually forget about it. All he could think of was his rear end and relief.
On the fourth night when the boy arrived, Tom knew something was up. For one thing, he wasn't wearing the usual shorts -- just the briefs. For another, his (upper) cheeks were very pink and his crotch was very full. Tom eyed it -- suspiciously full. The boy had never come in with a hard on before. He would never have done this on his own -- Tom was willing to bet his friends had put him up to it. This should be cute -- an attempted seduction by someone who didn't even know what the word meant.
TO BE CONTINUED