I was in real trouble with my schoolwork this year in the fifth grade! I was scared to death that I was gonna flunk science and math! My Daddy had told me, too, that if I did, I could expect a whipping and could just kiss Christmas goodbye!
Well, I went to my teacher, Mr. Walt Allen, and told him my problem, and he made the neatest offer! If I really worked hard the rest of the year and did something special for him, then he promised he'd give me a C for sure this term. The "something special" was to help entertain at his New Year's Eve party and organize some other kids to work with me.
"What will I have to do?" I asked.
"You'll have to be in charge of seven kids, including yourself." Then he made me promise to keep what he said next a secret.
"You wouldn't mind wearing a bathing suit at the party?" he asked.
"Heck no!" I said. "I don't mind - long as it's warm enough inside so I won't freeze!"
"Even Speedos?" he asked. "White ones?"
"Aw, Speedos are O. K.," I said. "But white ones? Won't they look like underpants on me?"
"Maybe," he went on,"but some kids there will be going around in underpants, and some won't even be wearing that much."
"You mean, they'll be going around bare-bottomed?" I asked.
"That's right," Mr. Allen answered. "Can I depend on you to be there and keep them in line?"
"Yes, sir!" I told him.
The party was held at the Rothschilds' estate in the hills. Mr. Allen gave me a ride there with Will Birdsey, a fourth-grader. He's also Jason Rothschild's best friend. Both his parents and mine thought it was wonderful that we were going to such a party.
When we arrived, Mr. Allen had to leave again to pick up two more kids, and he sent me, Jason, and Will upstairs to get dressed for the party. In Jason's bedroom I opened the bag Mr. Allen had given me. It was supposed to hold all our costumes, but boy it sure felt light! Well, no wonder! When we looked inside, we saw that it only held three long white ribbons and a pair of white Speedo trunks! I, not the others, would be wearing them!
"All right, fellas," I told Will and Jason, "let's strip! Here's what you have to wear, and that means nothing else!"
I handed each of them one of the long, white, looped ribbons embroidered with "HAPPY 1995!"
"That's all we're supposed to wear?" Will exclaimed, "We'll be bare-naked!"
"That's right!" said Jason, who had taken off all his clothes by now. Then he draped his ribbon over one shoulder and across his body, and stretched out his arms with a flourish.
"Ta-da!" he sang theatrically.
I took off my clothes and put on my ribbon and the Speedos. Slowly Will stripped and put on his ribbon.
"This ribbon doesn't cover any of my bottom, or even my weenie and balls!" Will protested.
"It's not supposed to, dummy!" Jason exclaimed. "We're supposed to be the Baby New Years, who arrive with nothing on but a label to announce who we are.!"
"Then how come Billy gets to wear those trunks?" Will demanded.
"I guess because he's a fifth grader, and the other fifth-graders here will have their underpants on, but you and me and my little brothers will all be going barebottomed,2 Jason explained.
"But everyone will see me naked!" Will protested. "I'm embarrassed!"
"Don't be," said Jason. "You'll get used to it. My brothers and I have done this for years, and we think it's lots of fun!"
Then he added, "Oh, yeah, there's one more part you better know about. After midnight any grown-up at the party can try to spank you. The key word is "try,"--cause (1) you have to let 'em first, and (2) if you do, then they have to pay you--a dollar for every smack they give you, and (3) if you ever say: 'Stop! Stop! Stop! I really mean it!' then whoever's spanking you absolutely has to stop then and there."
Will and I looked at each other and at Jason, abd I guess we gave each other a kind of strange look like 'Oh, man! I never heard of this before!' But the more we thought about it, the neater it sounded. No chickens here! We were all game for it!
When we came out into the living room, we saw Jason's little brothers, Tommy and Eddie. Each was sitting in a man's lap, and neither kid had on any pants or underpants, just their orange sweatshirts, white kneesox, and tennis shoes. Jason's parents and another couple in their late thirties stood and talked by the buffet, which was covered with the most delicious eats and drinks I ever saw or tasted in my life.
"May we eat and drink as much as we want?" Will asked.
"Sure," said Jason. "Just don't make yourself sick or pig out. Also, you know, we have to pass the drinks and hors d' |uvres around."
"Do we have to let everyone pat our legs and rub our bottoms the way they're doing with Timmy and Eddie?" Will asked next.
"Sure do! Besides, it feels neat!" Jason declared.
Just then the door opened, and in came Mr. Allen, back with two more kids from our school, Josh Ross and Siggy Erikson. These boys, both blond, blue-eyed fifth-graders from my class, were wearing blue jackets with fur collars. Both also were wearing white tennis shoes, white kneesox, and new, white Jockey underpants. Josh was blushing deeply and muttering in embarrassment:
"I sure hope nobody saw us walk here from the car like this - with no pants on except underpants, like little kids! Say, Mr. Allen, do I have to go around the whole time in my underpants?"
"That's what we agreed on, Josh, wasn't it?" the man said. "How do you feel about it, Siggy?"
"I don't mind at all, Mr. Allen," Siggy answered, with his slight Norwegian accent. "If you want me to, I'll even pull them down in the rear or take them off for you!"
Mr. Allen laughed and patted the boy on the seat of his tight, white cotton briefs as he replied:
"No, Sigmund, that won't be necessary for now. Maybe later."
As I walked around in those Speedos, I realized something very embarrassing: the fabric kept moving upward in back with every step I took, so that in almost no time half my bottom-cheeks were showing. and half my suit was stuffed up my crack. And to make matters worse, when he saw me straightening it out, Mr. Allen came over to me, pulled the back of my trunks up (so that nearly all of the back half was now up in my crack, and nearly all my bottom was bare!), and told me that that was how he wanted me to wear my costume for the rest of the evening!
"Hey, Billy Barrett!" said Josh Ross, sidling up to me and patting me on my left bottom-cheek,"How does it feel to bare it in front of everyone? You look real cute as the Baby New Year!"
"Thank you, Josh," I answered,"but, you see, I'm the Big New Year. There," I said, pointing to Will and Jason,"are the Baby New Years! And you look real cute in your underpants, too!"
"Got more on than you do!" he shot back angrily.
"Yeah, maybe, but you're still more embarrassed!" I said.
* * *
About eleven o'clock lots of other guests started arriving. Many of the men were wearing tuxedos and their wives or lady friends were wearing formal gowns. There were a lot more men there than women. I guess only about a third of the people present were women. Some of them were real pretty too.
It was awfully embarrassing to Will and Josh and me (I don't know about Jason and Siggy!) to be walking around with no pants on in front of them. But at least they weren't GIRLS. They were all at least twenty-five or thirty and they were REAL nice to us, so after a while we didn't care or at least didn't mind.
Since Mr. Allen didn't like to get dressed up fancy, he stayed at the bar and poured champagne or mixed drinks. A lot of people wanted a drink called a martini. Mr. Allen would fill a whole tray with glasses of these drinks, then give it to Josh or Siggy or me to pass around.
Then, when we passed the drinks around, something really neato started happening. Almost everywhere we went, almost every time somebody took a drink from my tray, they'd pat me on the thigh or on the bottom, Then they'd slip a dollar bill down into my Speedos! By the time a couple of dozen people had done this, every time I took a step I was rustling like a head of lettuce. I looked at Josh and Siggy and saw that their jockey briefs were stuffed with cash! The fabric was bulging all around and the green and black engraving on the bills showed dimly through the white cotton cloth. At first we had smiled to the guests out of good manners, but it got easier to smile all the time. Neither Mr. Allen nor Jason had told us that the night would also make us rich!
Mr. Allen knew what was going on, though, and he was a big help to us. He promised to take care of our money for us and give each of us all we'd earned when the party was over. Until then, each time we came by the bar we'd empty all the cash out of our tight whites and leave it with him for safe keeping, not only because we could trust him and were more comfortable without all that paper against our skin, but also, when people patted Josh or Siggy on the bottom, they really preferred to feel just the boy's soft round bottom and not the crinkle or crumple of paper under the cotton.
While Mr. Allen was making, pouring, and stirring drinks to refill my tray, I'd get about a ten-minute break to eat and drink, go to the bathroom, or visit with the Rothschilds' guests. Some of the time there'd be music playing, and some of the people would be dancing, but between bouts of this there'd be spells when the music would be turned down or off and people would be talking, visiting, eating and drinking or doing other party activities.
During one of these breaks I was at the buffet getting a plate of cheese, fruit, and little sandwiches, when I felt a hand--a lady's hand, I guessed correctly from the smallness and lightness of it--pat me on my left bottomcheek, and I heard a nice-sounding woman's voice say to me:
"Hi, sweetheart. What's your name?"
"Billy," I answered. "What's yours?"
"Shana, and I think you are just about the cutest thing I have ever seen. I know women who would die for long golden eyelashes like yours, and you are just a knockout in those white Speedos!"
"Really? A skinny little kid like me?"
"Honey, you may be a kid, but you're not skinny, not fat either. In a few years you're gonna be a heart-breaker! Oh, that tight, round little bottom! Why do men have to lose that? Strut your stuff, kid. If you got it, flaunt it!"
With that she gave me a big kiss on the lips, which kind of embarrassed me but also felt really neat.
It seemed that the more people drank, the more they wanted to talk to me. Women and men would pick me up and hug me, kiss me on the cheek, pat me on the behind or the leg, and set me on their knee or their lap. No one was rude or tried to keep me with them after I said I had to be moving along to take care of other stuff that I had to do at the party. And they all kept slipping me money.
With all the people in it, the room kept getting warmer. Pretty soon after they arrived, Josh and Siggy had taken off their jackets. Josh was wearing a snow-white turtle-neck. Siggy had taken his shirt off and was prancing around in just his underpants kneesocks and tennis shoes. Both for Josh and Siggy, who had underpants on, and for Jason's brothers Tommy and Eddie, who were barebottomed, kneesocks proved especially handy--you could stuff any amount of cash into them and there was always room for more. Soon I was the only one who had to keep turning my cash over to Mr. Allen. Will and Jason, who just sat on a lot of laps and passed out hors d'oeuvres before midnight, just had a couple of dollars pinned to their New Year ribbons. That was soon about to change, as was their position on people's knees.
At the stroke of midnight everybody drank champagne and ate a slice of this wonderful European chocolate cake. Then Mr. Rothschild explained how, just like birthday spankings for some people, his family for centuries had had a custom of symbolically spanking the New Year for good luck. However, it was only the representative of the New Year that was symbolical; the spanking was quite literal. And so for that purpose they were pleased to have his sons and some other fine boys present. As he spoke, Mr. R. moved to a chair at one end of the room, and a space with a radius of about five feet was cleared around him. Sitting down and facing his guests, he called Jason to his side. Jason, wearing just the "HAPPY 1995" ribbon draped diagonally from shoulder to hip, stood by his father, blushed, and grinned at the roomful of people watching him.
"All right, Jason, my boy," his father asked, "are you OK?"
"I guess so, Daddy."
"Are you scared?"
"Not really."
"Are you nervous?"
"A little embarrassed."
"Because you're naked?"
"No, because I'm gonna get spanked and I'm afraid people are gonna laugh at me."
"Well, I'll tell you what, my boy. You are certainly doing to get spanked, but no one's going to laugh at you-- unless they either want to pay you a ten-dollar fine or risk not coming to any more of our parties. Is that fair enough?"
"Okay, Daddy!"
With that, little Jason went over his father's knee and the big hand came down on his bare little bottom with a crisp, loud SMACK!
"Ouchie!" Jason remarked, so quietly that we could hardly hear him.
The next smacks were just as loud as the first and Jason's following responses considerably louder till, his father stopped after the tenth smack, when Jason's bottom was starting to show some pinkness and the boy beginning to wriggle and kick his legs. As Jason got to his feet, his father gave the boy a ten-dollar bill, and Jason gave his father a big hug.
Then Will and Jason and I would walk around randomly, and any time a man or lady said,
"Happy New Year!" to us we'd hold out our arms and they'd either hug us or smack our bottoms (not TOO hard!), or turn us over their knees and spank us. One person must have got carried away, though, because I did hear little Will say at one point,
"Stop! Stop! Stop! I really mean it!" And when I saw him on his feet again, he was facing away from me and his bottom was, not red, but a good shade of pink, so I think a man spanked him kind of hard. But the man did stop when Will said those words, and he also gave Will a $20 bill and a hug, so the little guy wasn't unhappy at all
The rest of us kids didn't drink any alcohol except a sip or two of champagne at midnight, but Siggy got weird and very funny after he drank someone's martini. Even though he just had on socks, shoes and underpants, he got up on a table and started doing a striptease when they put on a tape of Latin American music from the 1950's. He finished it, too. By the end he had thrown off every thing he was wearing, and somebody in the audience had caught it. Last of course were his underpants. We wondered for a minute whether he actually would peel those too.. Sure enough, he did, someone caught them, and everyone clapped. Then Siggy just stood there for a minute shaking his bottom back and forth and making his balls bounce and his weenie wag.
By now, though Siggy was getting tired, but he didn't know how to end the "show" without disappointing people. Good old Mr. Allen knew just what to do! Standing by the side of the table, he held out his arms and said as the piece of music ended:
"Bravo! Sigmund! Good show!"
Naked as a jaybird, Siggy jumped into Mr. Allen's arms. When Mr. Allen caught him, Siggy gave Mr. Allen a big hug, and everyone applauded again. Then all the people who had caught Siggy's clothes brought them back to him and he put them on again. He even put his shirt and jacket on. Then he lay down on a couch and went to sleep. Mrs. Rothschild put a blanket over his bare legs so he wouldn't get cold.
Tommy and Eddie had gone to sleep too, so their father carried them to their rooms and put them to bed. People were leaving the party now. Most of the ladies kissed and hugged us when they said good-night. Most of the men hugged us too.
Up in Jason's room I took off my New Year ribbon and those white Speedos. (I was really glad to be free of that wedgie!) and got dressed again in my own clothes. Will and Jason took off their ribbons too, but didn't put anything on, not even underpants or pajamas. They were going to sleep naked together in the big double bed in Jason's room. I think it's neat that they're such good friends and have so much fun together.
Back downstairs Mr. and Mrs. R. thanked us for helping with their party, and we thanked them for having us. Mr. Allen handed me all my tips, and when I counted them, I couldn't believe it--I had over five hundred dollars! So much money AND so much fun in one night! I must be dreaming or in heaven, I thought. But it was real!
I even had fun teasing Josh as we left. I put my money in my wallet in my hip pocket. Josh had to stuff his money into his jacket pockets: his pants were out in Mr. Allen's van, and he had to walk back out to it in his underpants. Siggy was sound asleep, and Mr. Allen carried him over his shoulder to the van, and I walked beside them. Josh went ahead and moaned and bitched about how slow we were and how cold his bare legs were...yada, yada, yada... He thought he was going to get frostbitten before Mr. Allen finally got the door unlocked, the engine warmed up, the heater on etc. Then Mr. A. and I just about cracked up laughing because Josh fell over three times trying to put his pants on too fast.
With a beginning like that, 1995 was going to have to be one of the best years of my life! It had been a great New Year's Eve, and it just got better. For one thing, Siggy, Josh and I didn't have to go home till noon. We all slept over at Mr. Allen's, where we had a great time throughout and a super breakfast the next morning. The second thing was that, when we asked Mr. Allen if we could do this again next New Year's Eve, he said probably so, but we didn't have to wait that long. When asked what he meant by that, and he told us:
"Why, boys, didn't you know, the Rothschilds have another big party like this on the night of Valentine's Day? I know they'd be delighted to have you there. They can always use extra Cupids!"
THE END OF THIS TALE