Takedown of the Class Clown

by Nathan <Nathan9001@yahoo.com>

It was September, in the third day of gym class, and I knew he was the one. He was already pulling the towels and snapping the butts of those in the locker room. He was built too, and while Im a married man I do enjoy looking at a young teenage male, the way they are built oh so perfect, like _s_e_x_ machines, just looking for their first pussy and their _c_o_c_k_s eager with the anticipation of it. Most of the boys pop a boner several times a day, and every time I notice it I find it funny, the way they hide it or put their notebooks in their laps as if thats where they are supposed to go or something. Sometimes its envy I feel.

The high school girls dont usually notice, and the guys, if they do, usually pretend not too. Still, to pop a bone at fifteen or sixteen and get caught at it means you are dead meat. Thats especially true in gym class. Yep, dead meat sure-as-_s_h_i_t_ you are. Its every teenage boys worst nightmare, to pop a bone in school and get caught at it. The ridicule that follows is intense and immediate, and it lasts a day or so, at least until another boy has the same misfortune. I like to laugh too, at the redness of their faces, the cheeks blushed crimson as they are humiliated to the core.

I decided it was time. As a gym teacher you have to assert yourself, early in the school year, or you lose respect and after that the class comes apart. When you put all of that teenage testosterone out there on the basketball court, sweating as they chase the ball and dribble it half-assed the way they do when they are learning, well, if you dont control it then you cant teach them anything.

Thats why I usually start with the class clown. Find him, and put him down, hard, and early, and after that the entire classroom just sort of falls in line. Then, you can teach, and they listen, and if they dont respect you at least they respect that paddle you hold. Mines a beaut, solid oak, and I drilled the half inch holes in two rows down the middle for effect. Gives it a whistle when it sails through the air, and gets rid of that little cushion of air right before impact that otherwise can provide a small bit of comfort to an otherwise very uncomfortable exercise.

Most of the coaches give their swats right in class, during play when necessary, and over the thin little gym shorts the boys have to wear. When a teenage male is wearing nothing but a jock and those shorts, there isnt much there to protect their ass, and so when the board meets those paper-thin pants it always does a job. I do that too, once the year has started, but for the first one I take down, for that class clown, I try and time it for the locker room when I can give it on the bare and get away with it. Yeah, nothing like the sound that a paddle makes when it contacts a wet teenagers naked rear end. It sorta slaps as it hits, a real SMACK, that sort of cracks its way clear across the entire locker room. Its the sort of sound that will drive right into the souls of every one of the males in there that hear it, and believe you me, they ALL hear it when I swing the board.

Peter Simmons was my man. He was fifteen, a sophomore, and as _c_o_c_k_y as they come. He had jet black hair, but a face that hadnt picked up the sharper lines of an older adolescent yet. He was as smooth as they come, I could tell from the redness of his cheeks that he hadnt used a razor more than a few times in his life, if at all. He was screwing up on the court, tossing the ball and missing on purpose, getting a laugh wherever he could find it. He made a few gestures at the assistant coach, which gained him more laughs. I yelled at him, took him down with the words, but I was waiting and if he had known that he wouldnt have been so _c_o_c_k_y I dont think.

Later he shoved one of the other underclassman from behind, tripping him up on the floor. More laughs. I yelled again, told him QUIT SREWING AROUND SIMMONS. He smiled, that perfect boyhood smile with his bright red cheeks, and then he helped up the dude he had tripped. As the boy started to move again Simmons slapped his ass, hard, just to make a point I guess that he could. Of course, he gained more laughs from the rest of the class. I almost jumped in then, but decided not too; the time was coming and I wanted to wait for that perfect moment.

Finally, with twenty minutes left in the period, I blew the whistle and said TWO LAPS AND THEN SHOWERS and then I walked inside, to get my paddle ready and to wait for the opportunity I knew was coming. I didnt have to wait long.

The boys came in like a stampede, the way they always do, their sweat and smell permeating the room. I liked watching their young bodies sweat, and as they come in they grab a white towel from the stack and head to their lockers. Soon, the locker doors were slamming as they stripped off their gym clothes and headed for the showers. I stood at the front of the room, by my little office with the glass window, watching with my arms folded. Its always funny to watch them, the way they take off their sweat-soaked clothes because they have to, trying to act cool and not get caught as they steal the glance.

Ah, the GLANCE. They always do it, a quick peep, never lingering and never daring to take the chance of getting caught. Still, all of them do it, always, taking it anyway, looking down at the _c_o_c_k_s and balls of those around them, mentally making the comparison. Am I big? Am I normal? Is he always like that? That _c_o_c_k_ sure is thin. God, he has a lot of hair! Oh, my balls are bigger than his. So, thats an uncut _c_o_c_k_? And so it goes, the teenagers each in their own stage of development, growing up through those awkward years where they grow hard and they sprout hair and their balls fill with cream all at their own rate. They steal their glances, and assess their classmates and themselves as they do.

I was watching Simmons, and he reached out and pulled the strap of the guy next to him. SNAP. More laughs, all around, the boy in the jock looking and caught by the surprise and boldness of the move. They were all in a hurry, and as I was watching down came the jocks, and with their towels around them they headed to the showers, a race really. Our school was recently renovated, turning the gang showers into private stalls. I guess its the new millennium or something like that, and while we still have a public locker room the old gang showers have been lost to history. Guess the new generation is too modest for that.

I waited, not moving, and soon the first flow of galloping naked boys came tromping out wet and dripping and heading back to their lockers, in a rush to get dressed before the bell signaled the change of class. Of course, I had given them more time today, because I needed the time, and I wanted them to have the time to learn the lesson that I was planning to teach. Still, the boys were streaming out now. Most of them had hair that was dripping and their white towels were bound around their waists, wrapped up so tight and snug and helping them to keep their modesty. In my day we threw the towels over our shoulders, but that was more than a few years ago and things have changed.

Suddenly, I saw him, the class clown doing his thing. He jerked the towel off a red headed boy, and yelled Bobbys GOT A BONE! as he pointed to the other youths half-hard semi-erection. Everyone looked, and suddenly the locker room was filled with shouting and laughter, and the red headed boy known at Bobby Blesner blushed so red his face color matched his hair. In desperation he reached out and tried to get his towel back. I looked at his _c_o_c_k_, hell, it was about six inches and about half-hard as I figured it, but it did look young and firm and as it jutted out of his matt of bright red pubic hair it certainly caught your attention.

I broke the laughter with a single word, and saved the red head what otherwise would have been almost certain ridicule.

SIMMONS!!!!!

Both boys spun around and looked at me, and as I yelled his name at the top of my lungs the locker room went dead quiet. You could have heard a pin drop. Simmons dropped the towel, and the Blesner kid snatched it back and threw it around his waist, the towel covering his little circumcised hard-on before too many guys got a glimpse. In my hand was the paddle, and when Peter Simmons eyes met the wood I could see the fear in his eyes like there was no tomorrow. Then I spoke, loud enough that everyone could hear me.

SIMMONS, I DONT UNDERSTAND YOU BOY. YOU HAVE BEEN SCREWING OFF IN MY CLASS ALL PERIOD, AND NOW YOU CANT KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF THE OTHER GUYS IN MY CLASS. YOU LOOKIN FOR BONERS OR SOMETHING? GOD, IVE HAD IT WITH YOU! YOU JUST EARNED YOURSELF FOUR SWATS. FOUR! SO BEND OVER THAT BENCH MISTER. NOW! LETS GET THIS OVER WITH CAUSE YOUR DONE WASTING MY TIME AND BOTHERING YOUR CLASSMATES. I WILL NOT TOLERATE YOUR BEHAVIOR ANY LONGER!

The boys lip was quivering, and the deep black eyes were wide with fear. He was standing there, with his hair dripping, the white towel around his waist the only protection between him and nakedness. His nipples were small and tight, and there was two little patches of jet black hair that were visible under his pits. Nothing else. His chest was as smooth as a little boys, the way it is on a young teen just beginning to sprout his way into puberty. His stomach was flat and perfect and laced with horizontal lines of muscle. The entire class was looking now, starring at the action taking place and the boy standing, waiting now for his paddling and the embarrassment of it all.

I had of course selected the open space in the locker room, where the showers dumped out and where the benches were plentiful. I had him right in the middle of the big square area, and the benches were long wooden benches that were held off the ground by steel posts in the tiled floor. The boy looked at me, and looked around, at his classmates, and his face flushed crimson and then he started the words that I knew he would. They always beg, when the reality of it is staring them in the face, when the paddle is out and visible and in my hand. He was no different, and so the clown turned serious and spoke to me.

Ah...Mr Gunter....Im....I...ah...Im sorry sir. It...

I never let him finish. NOW MISTER. IF YOU DONT BEND THAT ASS OF YOURS OVER THAT BENCH IN THE NEXT FEW SECONDS, WE ARE GONNA START ADDING SWATS UNTIL YOU DO. NOW SIMMONS. YOU ARE WASTING CLASS TIME AND YOUR ASS IS MINE!

I could see him accept his fate. He looked down, and I motioned with a wave of the paddle to the bench he was standing next to and I could see him hesitate. He looked at my paddle, in my hand, and I saw his eyes move back and fourth and I smiled.....he was counting the holes as he was looking at it. Sixteen. Yeah, sixteen beautiful holes that would brighten his bottom like a neon light bulb. I could hardly wait to swing it and let him feel them for himself.

He was shaking....but he also knew his options were limited. Corporal punishment was still very much a part of this southern school, and every boy knew that we had the power. Every gym teacher in the school had a paddle, and we all used them from time to time. He was toast, and his only way to save any of his dignity was to bend over now and take it like a man.

As he started to bend over the bench I said: NOT THAT WAY SIMMONS. STRADDEL THE THING. PUT YOUR LEGS ON EACH SIDE OF IT AND TURN AROUND AND FACE YOUR CLASSMATES. ITS THEIR CLASS TIME YOU ARE USING UP AND ALL I NEED TO SEE IS YOUR BOTTOM.

That got him. He did it...straddled the bench, and as he did the towel started to unravel the way I knew it would when the bench forced his legs apart. He struggled to keep it closed, as his legs were spread apart and over the long bench that ran clear through the locker room. In front of him about twenty of his classmates were staring back at him. Others were peering around the lockers that went to the sides of the room, so that everyone was watching and getting whatever view they could. Some were dressed, some were wearing towels themselves. Most of them had at least their underwear on, and a few had their jeans on as well. None of them were getting any more dressed now....but were instead looking, staring even, watching their classmate clown as he bent himself over the bench and tried to keep his towel around his waist.

When he was in position, his legs forming that perfect inverted V and his hands resting on the bench, I told him OK SIMMONS...DONT MOVE. YOU MOVE, AND WE TAKE THE SWAT AGAIN. YOU GOT FOUR OF EM, SO HOLD STILL AND TAKE EM LIKE A MAN. YOU DESERVE EVERY ONE. YOU READY?

He swallowed, and looked back over his shoulder at me. His eyes looked so innocent, the wetness from the shower on his back and his hair tossed the way it is on a teenager fresh from the showers. His cheeks were blushed red, bright red, and I looked at his lip and noticed there wasnt a hair on it. He was innocent, young, and oh-so-ripe for his spanking.

TURN AROUND SIMMONS, AND FACE YOUR CLASSMATES. AND PERCH THAT BOTTOM UP IN THE AIR. I WANT YOUR BOTTOM BEGGING FOR IT.

He turned around, facing his classmates, and they were all smiles looking back at him. The towel seemed to slip, and was only holding by the slimmest of margins. He started to reach for it but I caught him before he got to it: KEEP YOUR HANDS ON THE BENCH. DO NOT MOVE MISTER, AND I MEAN IT!

He swallowed, and it was time. I brought the big paddle back, high, and swung it hard with an upper cut, listening to the whistle it made as it ripped through the air and then came up and into his perched up and eagerly waiting ass.

SWISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSMACKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

The boy grunted, and the paddle impacted him so hard that he was thrown forward, his towel-covered bottom taking the blow and the upper cut of the paddle opening the towel in an instant. It fell away from him, and he gasped and reached for it, struggling to stand and grab for it at the same time; desperate to get it back and around him before anyone saw anything. I saved him the effort.

MR BLESNER, WOULD YOU MIND PLEASE....HOLDING SIMMONS TOWEL. HE TOOK YOURS. ID APPRECIATE IT IF YOU WOULD HOLD HIS UNTIL IM DONE WITH HIS BOTTOM. ITS CLEARLY GETTING IN THE WAY OF THINGS.

Bobby Blesner grinned from ear to ear, and without any hesitation he took the towel right out of the hands of Peter Simmons who was still struggling with it. I could see the desperation then in the young fifteen year old, as he looked at me with his eyes pleading and his already red bottom now out in the open, and literally, on display. He was covering his _c_o_c_k_ with his hands then, as he stood there, looking at me, still straddling the bench and without any protection for his modesty. I smiled, and then said: TOO BAD ABOUT THE TOWEL SIMMONS. YOU TOOK BLESNERS, SO ITS FITTING HE HAS YOURS. NEXT TIME MAYBE YOU WILL LEAVE THE OTHER GUYS ALONE. NOW, BEND OVER AND LETS GET THIS OVER WITH.

Peter Simmons looked at me and his lip was quivering. Please sir...oh GOD. Im sorry.....dont...please dont paddle me naked!

THE ONLY REASON YOU ARE NAKED IS BECAUSE YOU SCREWED UP IN THE LOCKER ROOM. I SURE AS HELL ARENT GONNA WAIT UNTIL YOU GET DRESSED. NOW, BEND OVER, YOU HAVE THREE MORE SO LETS GET THEM DONE.

He hesitated.

FOUR. YOU NOW HAVE FOUR MORE. YOU WANT TO MAKE IT FIVE MISTER?

Someone in the back of the classroom laughed. Another giggle followed, and I could sense the defeat in the boy. He was screwed and he knew it. He slowly bent over, forward, reaching out with his hands until they were on the bench to hold him in position. As he let go and grabbed the bench his teenage _c_o_c_k_ became totally visible, and from my view his balls hung down hot from the shower, dangling there, his scrotum visible to everyone and his two young balls looking tender and hairless. There was a very thin, wispy ring of hair around his hole, and as I watched it I could sense him tense his muscles and his little bud squeezed closed. I moved slightly to the side, supposedly to get a better angle for the swing, but it also allowed me a good look at the youths _c_o_c_k_. I noticed he wasnt circumcised. That used to be unusual, but not really anymore, as more and more parents are opting against that procedure. The youths foreskin was partially covering the head of his dick, and the boys thin shaft was pointed slightly out, the way it does on some males, not totally soft but not hard either. I estimated it was about four inches in length, and he had a small matt of teenage _s_e_x_ hair that it was sprouting from.

I dropped the paddle on his naked ass, and the boy gasped. I then rubbed the wood over his bottom, letting him feel the solidity of the wood and the holes in its surface. He was shaking, staring at his friends, his little _c_o_c_k_ sticking down beneath him and every eye in the room looking at him and his maleness. It was time, and the moment was perfect.

I moved my arm, high, up, and then forward with all the speed I could swing it. This time, the impact was louder, harder, and the youth screamed as he felt the wooden board burn its way across his naked ass with a sting so bad he could hardly believe it.

CRACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

YEOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!

The boy started to move, started to get up but I steadied him with my hand, pushed down on his back and held him there. He was lifting his feet, right foot, left foot, raising up and wiggling his bottom as if it would somehow cool things off. The room was laughing, and everyone it seemed, well everyone except the youth under me, was smiling with glee as they watched the show.

THREE MORE TO GO SIMMONS.

The boy swallowed, and I could see that his eyes had begun to water. I knew that the pain was radiating across his entire bottom, and the boys cheeks were already flame-red and oh-so-bright. I eased the paddle along his bottom, moving it back and forth to let him feel it. I pulled it down, and slipped it up, between his legs, rubbing the inside of his exposed legs and letting the edge of the board tickle the bottom of his smooth balls. The boy gasped, and his dick responded.

I pulled out the paddle, and went back to his butt. He was staring ahead, and his bottom was bent forward, almost as if he was trying to protect it, hide it even.

PERCH IT UP MISTER....HIGH. YOU DESERVE TO FEEL IT, SO PERCH IT UP AND OUT AND LETS MAKE SURE IT FEELS THE PADDLE. I WANT IT CHERRY RED WHEN IM DONE.

The boys face flushed brighter red, but he did as instructed and stuck his butt out, jutting it out and up towards my face. The motion made him look like he was begging for it, and everyone in the class seemed to feed on it. I took the opportunity, and suddenly the paddle was whistling through the air, faster even than before, the whistle suddenly cut short as the board impacted the teenagers nude bottom and burned into it and almost through it this time. Like a thousand wasps it struck with a vengeance.

SWISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSCRACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

OH _s_h_i_t_TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT! _f_u_c_k_KKKKKKKKKK! he yelled!

I left the board against his bottom, letting it hold the heat in and letting him feel the wood where it had hit him. I knew the burn was consuming him, coursing through him in waves, and the tears were coming and the humiliation was destroying him. I used my other hand and held him down, as once again he tried to raise up. As I did I said: MR SIMMONS, IF YOU USE PROFANITY AGAIN IN MY GYM CLASS WE ARE GONNA START OVER. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?

He nodded, sucked in his snot, and whispered Sorry...oh GOD MY ASS HURTS!

I moved the board back and forth over the fifteen year olds red hot ass, letting it touch both cheeks and then, again, up between his thighs and under his balls.

As I was doing that I said IM SURE IT DOES MR SIMMONS, OH, I AM SURE IT DOES

Then, I gently slapped it between his thighs, left thigh right thigh left thigh, slap-slap-slap-slap, under his balls, and as I did he spread his legs wider. Then, I slowly turned the paddle, until it was flat, and lifted it up between his legs, until it pushed up on the bottom of his balls, and then I pushed a little bit more and compressed his scrotum. Then, like a table, I moved the paddle outward, between his legs, letting it rub along the bottom and lifting the boys _c_o_c_k_ as it rested on it Then, I slowly moved the paddle it in and out, sliding it under his _c_o_c_k_ like a table, letting his _c_o_c_k_ and balls rest on its surface as his classmates watched. I moved the paddle out, and then in, back and forth, and all the while it was rubbing under his _c_o_c_k_ I spoke to him:

SIMMONS, YOU NEED TO LEARN TO KEEP YOU HANDS TO YOURSELF. DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT MISTER? ITS VERY IMPORTANT THAT YOU LEARN YOUR LESSON TODAY.

Every eye in the classroom was on the boys _c_o_c_k_ and balls resting on my paddle. They were totally on display, and the boy who owned them flushed crimson with his embarrassment. He nodded then, to my question, and then, sensing that the nod was not enough, he said Yes...Yes sir. He looked up, at his classmates that were staring at him, and his faced blushed even redder. Then he spoke, his voice quivering and popping with a pubescent crack: Oh please.........no more sir...I have learned my lesson!

I slid the paddle out, letting it slide out and off the bottom of his _c_o_c_k_ and as it did the boys _c_o_c_k_ stayed up, stiff and eager and almost begging for the next touch. I noticed that the boys foreskin had retracted, and the end of his dick was exposed. It bobbed then, up and down as he breathed, and as everyone stared the thing grew stiffer. It seemed to take off then, from what I had started, and as I saw it happening, I decided to let some time pass to allow it to grow even more. I rubbed the paddle over his rear and let his _c_o_c_k_ grow with the feeling. Soon, the boys _c_o_c_k_ was up hard and into a full blown stiffy, jutting out of his mound of pubic hair and the end flared purple and eager. Oh so eager. A good seven inches eager and the very end, the very tip of his dick, was glistening with a bead of precum. His entire _c_o_c_k_ was twitching to his heartbeat, the end bobbing up and down and up and down. Of course, the red hair youth holding the towel had to say it first: LOOK WHO HAS THE BONER�GOD HES HARD!

The Simmons boys face flushed completely crimson, almost matching his ass. Ive never seen a redder face or a harder boy, and the entire gym class was laughing at his erection. The boy was toast, dead meat and he knew it. Betrayed by his own dick, like countless teenagers before him. It grew hard and eager and was literally jutting out from under his legs, all the while he straddled the bench and waited for his spanking to continue. Someone said I think he likes getting spanked.

The laugher erupted again, and the boys face was so red it was glowing.

I ignored the comments. It just seemed like the right thing for a teacher to do. Then, smiling, I said TWO MORE TO GO SIMMONS. LETS PERCH IT UP AND GET THIS DONE.

The boy blushed even redder, if that was possible, and yet he was powerless to do anything but comply. With his boner on full display, he perched his ass up high, eager even, as if he wanted to get it done so his nightmare could end and the sooner the better.

As soon as he had it high and open and oh-so-exposed, I moved my arm and put the big paddle in motion once again. The air whistled so sweetly, and then it was followed by the wonderful crack of wood against the teenage male, board against flesh and with the impact the fire seemed to blister my class clowns behind.

YEOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!!!!!! he yelled, as the youth bucked his hips and started jerking up and down, bobbing his bottom as if he was _f_u_c_k_ing the air. His stiff prick slapped up and into his belly, and he tried once again to raise up. I kept my hand on his back, to keep him down, and the youth under me just seemed to thrust the air as if the bench was a woman he was trying to _f_u_c_k_. As he jerked from the burn in his ass his _c_o_c_k_ bounced and twitched and thrusted, and every eye in the room watched it happen.

YEOWWWW...oh...IT BURNS...OH...OH ....OH IT BURNS...MY BOTTOMS ON FIREEEEEEEEEEEE! he yelled as he bucked his hips in his desperation.

LOOK AT HIS DICK! someone yelled, and I looked down there with the rest of the class and there was literally a drool of semen seeping from his boner. The string of goo was swinging under him, drooling like a faucet, the thin line of drool running from his dick and swinging under him, beneath his knees. It landed on the bench, his clear string of goo visible to everyone and suddenly it was too much and the boy saw it and did the only thing he could do to hide it. He collapsed down on top of it, resting on his dick and balls, his legs straddling the bench as he laid flat on it trying to hide his shame.

His bottom was still perched up, even as it rested on the bench, and it was bright red and almost shiny. He was still squirming, trying to dissipate the heat in his bright red ass, and as he wiggled it from side to side he gave the appearance that he was grinding his hips into the bench. The class was watching, and didnt know what to say. As he lay flat on the bench and moved his hips he appeared to be humping it, almost as if he was _f_u_c_k_ing it. I had never seen anything like it, and while in hindsight I should have stepped away and ended it he had one more swat coming and the way he was moving his naked ass up and down it was a target that I just couldnt ignore.

I didnt give him any warning. I pulled my arm up, high, and then let it go with all the force I had, burning the paddle right into the sweet spot where the boys legs met his ass. I timed the hit for when his ass was perched upward at its peak, and when the paddle hit home he grunted with the impact, and with the help from the paddle his hips drove forward hard into the bench. Then, he was suddenly gasping and crying and slobbering all at the same time. The tears were flowing like a river then, and everyone in his class was watching him babble like a baby, his naked ass so bright and so red that it almost looked as if it had been painted.

Suddenly, the sobbing boy who had been grinding his hips into the bench grunted loudly and shuddered, and then for a reason Ill never understood, he began to ejaculate. The boys semen just jetted out under him, as he grunted it out, squirting it out and it was so intense that it shot out under him and started to literally run off the edge of the bench. The class roared, a scream really, that quickly grew into a burning laughter as the class clown shot his wad and emptied his teenage balls right before them all. He squirted for several minutes, dumping his huge load of semen onto the gym bench, all the while he bobbed his bright red fanny up and down and up and down. Someone started clapping then, as the boy shot his wad and grunted it out in front of them, and his face was so red and his humiliation so complete I knew he would never be a problem for me again.

The boy stood up then, all pretext of coolness gone completely. It was as if he didnt care anymore. He was spent, humiliated and embarrassed beyond measure. His spunk was covering his belly, and his small mound of pubic hair was matted and wet. His dick was still partially stiff, and drooling still, the last of his wad now a thin transparent line of drool hanging down to his knees. As we all looked down, at the white puddle of spunk he had shot onto the bench, the bell rang and the spell was broken like a rifle shot. As much as everyone might have wanted to keep watching, there were only five minutes before the next class started and the locker room exploded into teenage activity. Everyone was bustling to finish getting dressed, almost as if the time had been lost to them. Peter Simmons looked at me, and at his big puddle of goo. I tossed him a clean towel and said CLEAN IT UP SIMMONS, AND THEN GET TO CLASS. Then, I shook my head and turned away, leaving the boy mopping up his wad of semen as his classmates were rushing out the door and just starting to laugh at the memory.