In 1997-98, I posted a series of true-life stories that got a lot of very positive e-mail response from readers of this website. I never finished the series, until now. In reviewing these original submissions, I have edited these stories and now repost them with typo corrections, etc. These repostings will be done every couple of days, and the series completed with new stories. This series begins when I was 11, and ends a year ago, with the stories posted chronologically. Enjoy!
After another year in military school, I was ready for my summer in the northwoods and being with the kids from last summer. A couple of kids didn't come back that summer, but my best buddy Denny was there, along with a lot new kids.
Denny and I had established a reputation for doing things other campers only dreamed of doing. One night, he and I "teepeed" the camp director's cabin. The man was really pissed that someone could be so quiet to do that to him. Several of the camp counselors tried to get us to confess, but we wouldn't. Everyone "knew" that we did it, but just couldn't prove it. We were that good. The counselors were hacked....and they got us later.
Starting the second weekend, and for each weekend for the next six weeks, eight of the campers and four of the counselors would take six canoes and go on a two-night campout at the other end of the lake. Since we had already canoed to the campsite as part of some our daytime water activities, we started scheming early.
The lake we were on was isolated. Only 7 private landowners existed then and even till this day, all gifts from the Indian tribe whose reservation the lake was on. One was our campground and one of the others was the area Boy Scout camp.
Whenever the two groups would come within shouting distance on the water, we questioned each other's mother & father's _s_e_x_ual preferences and birth origins. Typical boy stuff. The Boy Scout campground was about a mile down the shore from where our campers did their 2 night camp outs. Denny and I came up with a neat plan.
The first night, Friday, of the camp out we did nothing unusual, other than the usual screwing off and walking to the local store at a distant crossroad. (In a business trip a few years ago, I visited the area, and everything remains almost the same today, especially this small store in the middle of nowhere.)
Saturday night is when we put our plan into motion.
We knew from other camper's comments, the counselors liked to walk to a beer joint catering to the local residents. At that point in history, anyone that could see over the bar, could buy beer after 8 o'clock at night. (It also created some real problems of alcoholism within the young Indian children.) Since most of the counselors were 19-20, they usually all went, leaving a couple of us campers in charge.
Our lead counselor was the starting fullback for the state university. He was one tough looking muther. He put Denny and I in charge, the "camp trouble leaders", giving us very detailed instructions on what to do and what not to do. We were not to leave the campsite for any reason. Then he and the other three counselors took off down the path to local "civilization".
We waited for an hour and I assembled the other campers around the campfire. Denny and I then detailed our plan. We were in the middle of an Indian reservation, which had many Indians. Our plan was simple, he and I were going to strip naked and cover our bodies in mud from head to toe. We were then going to canoe over to the Boy Scout camp and do a "Indian raid" attack. The Boy Scouts all slept under their partially upturned canoes.
We were going to run thru the camp banging the bottoms of their canoes and yelling "Indian war screams", whatever that was. We tried to talk the other guys into joining us on our "Indian raid". Only two other guys had the guts to join us. Denny and I then gave the other four guys detailed instructions on what to tell the counselors in case they made it back before we did.
All four of us got into one canoe, naked and mud covered. About 100 feet from the Boy Scout camp, we silently pulled our canoe out of the water and approached their camp by land. We all wore black hightop sneakers; we quickly got to within eyesight of their camp. Their main fire was almost out, but it had one little _s_h_i_t_ pulling "guard duty". We then decided to run through the camp from his backside.
We spread out, and then started running thru the camp, banging on the canoe bottoms and scaring the living crap out of the Boy Scouts. As I was doing my best to sound like an Indian, pounding on the canoe bottoms as I ran, just as I hit the last canoe exiting the camp I learned that one Boy Scout "was prepared."
This boy took a swipe with his knife as I ran past and caught my ankle. The tennis shoe slowed down the blade, but I was still cut. We hot footed back to our canoe and paddled as fast as we could to our camp. Since there was no moonlight, their camp counselors couldn't see us leave....but we did hear them use every four letter word known to us, describing what they thought of us. Back at our camp, our counselors were waiting, unseen by us as we approached.
We ran our canoe up on the shore and jumped back in the water to clean all the mud off us. I pulled off my bloody tennis shoe and was relieved to see that the cut was not serious. We then called out to our camp mates, boasting of our "Indian raid's" success. They didn't respond, but the fullback stood on shore, his arms folded over across his chest, silently watching and listening. By the time I saw him it was too late.
He ordered us to finish cleaning ourselves off, and threw a couple bars of Ivory soap at us to make sure we got clean. We washed ourselves as he watched. Then he directed us to follow him to the campfire. We walked naked behind him. At the campfire, the other four campers we left behind were sitting cross-legged on the ground, the other counselors standing behind them
He gave us the lecture of all lectures as we stood their, our naked bodies doing a bad imitation of "drip drying". Then he ordered the two other campers to go to their tents and put on their underpants and Denny & I to put on our underpants and jeans....but leave the jeans around our ankles. Denny & I went to our tent and did as we were told. He and I both whispered that we might just be in for a butt blistering spanking.
By the time we got back, the counselors had placed two canoes, end to end on the ground, about four feet apart. They had placed another canoe on top of each one, at right angles, leaving one end on the ground, the other end sticking about four feet into the air above the canoe. I didn't like the looks of this at all. Then the payback for violating the rules set down by the counselors began.
The two campers that went along with us got to go first. Two counselors sat down on the end of each canoe that was on the ground, facing each other. The fullback ordered the first two campers to lay across the counselors laps, for an old fashioned spanking. Both of the guys complained about our roles in the whole thing, whining and sniveling that it wasn't their faults. This didn't cut any ice.
Each boy wound up over a lap, his cotton covered buns, shimmering in the campfire light. Then the counselors began to use their hands on each boy's butt. Within a few swats each one was beginning to cry and beg. I counted 20 swats when they stopped. The fullback asked their ages, one said 13, the other said 14. With that the counselors grabbed the waistband of their briefs and pulled them down to their knees. Each boy then got swatted his age on the bare. They were kicking and screaming by the time they were done. Denny and I looked at each other, thinking this wouldn't be that bad. Wrong!
The two counselors then picked up the end of the canoe that was on the ground, tilting the end that was up in the air down to about a foot off the ground. The fullback and the other counselor then shoved our legs apart and pushed us as far forward on the canoe ends as possible....causing our legs and knees to spread apart at a ridiculous angle. They then placed a life jacket down on each canoe end, just in front of our legs. We were ordered to pull our dicks and balls up tight against our stomachs and lay down on the life jackets. We both reached inside our white cotton briefs and did as instructed and then laid down on the life jackets. No sooner than we did that, the two counselors tipped their canoe end back to the ground, placing our butts at an exaggerated angle, tilting downward about four feet off the ground. Then the four campers who didn't go on the "Indian raid" each grabbed one of our wrists.
Then we saw the fullback and the other counselor pull their belts out of their jeans and double them over. In the fire light, both belts looked terrible. The fullback asked Denny and I how old we were. We both answered "14". One stood next to Denny and the fullback stood next to me. Denny got his first and I then felt the wrath of the fullback.
Crack!
Crack!
Denny and I both screamed. "OOWW!"
13 more times our cotton covered butts felt the terrible pain of the angry camp counselor's belt swats. Then they switched places with the two counselors holding down the canoe ends. These guys were left-handed. 14 more times we got whipped with their belts. We couldn't move, all we could do was beg and scream. Then they pulled down our briefs to inspect the damage. They pulled them back up and then wedged the seat of our briefs into our ass crack, baring our hot butts.
They then switched places with the campers holding our wrists. Each one of the campers was ordered to get a canoe paddle. Denny and I then wound up with a camper on each side, holding a canoe paddle. The fullback then gave them the instructions I didn't want to hear.
"Aim your swats at their buttholes boys. Right where their briefs start to wedge up their ass. Give them four swats from each one of you." Never in my life had I gotten spanked by two different people.
Crack!
Crack!
"NNOOO. GOD NO" I screamed.
Then I saw Denny get his. And he screamed even louder. Each camper raised the paddle like an axe and swung down. The swats hit the most tender part of his and my backsides, the lower cheek and upper thigh.
Six more times those little bastards paddled our butts with those axe swing swats. Our asses were toasted like bad marshmallows over a campfire. The counselors then switched places with the campers. Each one of them pulled our briefs back into place, and the other counselors lowered the canoes so that we could get off.
We had to stand with our hands on our heads listening to the counselors' lectures to all of us. Finally we were allowed to rub our butts and go to bed. God that ground was hard!
The canoe trip back was really bad the next day. A body twists and turns when you paddle a canoe, sitting on your buns. We felt each and every stroke as we went down the lake. The camp director received a full report when we got back late Sunday afternoon. That night at Sunday camp services, we all got lectured again.
Monday, at the noon lunch formation, two canoes paddled up to the main dock in front of the assembly building. Four men got out in full dress green Boy Scout uniforms and they were pissed. Just out of earshot, they got the camp director aside and chewed on him good. He stood his ground and didn't turn us over. I admire the man's guts, because these Boy Scout leaders wanted somebody's ass....Denny's and mine. They soon returned to their canoes and paddled off down the lake. During that lunch, we all got lectured again. His lecture actually made me squirm uncomfortably....very uncomfortably.
Denny and I got it again that summer....can't understand why. :)
This story is true, just certain names have been modified. I travel in my own business, and have the freedom to safely satisfy the spanking needs of interested readers.