I was excited as I climbed aboard the scenic tour bus that would take our senior class on its senior trip from Kentucky to Washington D. C. It was April, and I was a month away from high school graduation. I had played midfield in soccer, and shooting guard in basketball for four years, on the high school j. v. and varsity soccer and basketball teams; and after four years of high school classes and exam, I was eager for the climax of it all – and to move on to a new life in college. We had finished a run a state high school basketball tournament that had ended only 10 days earlier, and I was still exhausted from trying to catch up on school work, sleep, and overall recovery from the long haul of school and sports.
I was one of the last to arrive, load my luggage, and get on the bus. My Mom and Dad had driven me to school to meet the bus, so I wouldnt have to leave my car parked somewhere else than home. I waved goodbye to them, and climbed the steps up into the bus. Wearing dark blue windpants, a long-sleeve white t-shirt and sweater over it, with cross-training shoes, I walked down the narrow aisle towards the back, past a number of classmates and friends who were already seated and reveling in the fun that lay ahead. I proceeded to the third row of seats from the back (the last two rows were already taken), and sat down next to the left window.
Taking off my jacket, I folded it into a pillow-like bundle and leaned back on it into the seat back. Then I pushed the little button that eased it back slightly. The last of the chaperones, teachers and coaches, boarded and the door closed. The bus lurched forward as the gears were engaged, and the next thing I knew, I was opening my sleep-slammed eyes to peer around. It was dusk and I had obviously slept for several hours.
What awakened me was a pressing feeling in my bladder that I needed to go to the bathroom. I forced myself awake more, and struggled to my feet, stumbling back to the restrooms at the tail of the bus. When I returned, I had relieved myself and freshened my face and hands with water. I sat back down, and pulled out a Sporting News to read.
"Hey, Craig." I looked up and saw my soccer-basketball teammate, Ian, had sat down next to me. Grinning, he said, "I thought you were going to sleep all the way to D. C., man."
I smiled back with embarrassment. "Oh. I dunno if Ill ever catch back up after all the games and practices, and now so much school work to catch up with. Anyway, I guess therell be plenty of snooze-time on this bus trip."
"Yeah, well, maybe. But we also need to check out the chicks on this trip too. Ive been sitting up with Rob and Kenny, and Janice and Elaine; and Janice keeps looking back at you while you were in dreamland."
"Really?" My voice cracked with surprise, but I was flattered too.
"Yeah, its obvious. So, why dont you come on up and sit with us for a while?"
"Okay, Ian," I replied, and folded back the Sporting News for later reading. I followed him up the aisle to forward seats and sat down next to Kenny. After over an hour of small talk and laughter, I was bored with the chit-chat. During that time, though, I did notice that Janice Meztger, a fair, pretty, blue-eyed blond was smiling at me at lot, and several times reached out and touched my shoulder or chest with her hands -– each time radiating a tingling sensation to my brain. I wonder if shes doing that on purpose, I thought.
Im sort of a jock-student-type. I weigh 160 lbs, am 6'1", and have hazel brown hair and blue eyes. I am in good condition, tight and toned, but not real muscular. My body still has very little body hair, and is long and lean, with lanky limbs. I have 3.86 grade point average; I participate in high school student government; and Ive never got in any kind of trouble at school, or elsewhere, since my freshman year when I was paddled twice –- in p. e., and physical science. After each of those, and then when I got it far worse from my Dad at home, I shaped up and was a model student and athlete for the rest of high school. Most of my social activities were spent with my teammates. Having never had a steady girl friend or done any real dating, I was generally content with my easy-going life, but also _s_e_x_ually inexperienced.
Anyway, after an hour and a half or so of chatter and laughing, I said, "Well, I guess Id better go back to my assigned pew," and stood up. I walked unsteadily back down the aisle and reclaimed my seat by the window. I pulled out the Sporting News, unfolded it, and began studying the articles voraciously. While reading, I fell back to sleep with the sports paper on my chest.
I was suddenly shocked awake. Whats goin on? my thoughts exclaimed. I felt a hand down the front of my windpants and boxers, grasping my instantly aroused penis. Gulping, I opened my eyes and turned my head to see in the dusk Janice Metzger sitting in the aisle seat next to me. She had her left hand under the Sporting News, while it was submerged below my pants and boxers, squeezing and swirling my now red, hot member.
Oh, wow! Nobody besides me has ever done this before! Oh, man, Im so excited, so quick! I think Im gonna ejaculate! I started to speak, to protest, to ask what she was doing, and why, while fidgeting and worming around in the seat. Instead, I found myself rapidly and overwhelming driven to the irresistible, uncontrollable edge. What is this! Aieee-aaah! I cant take this . . . "Uh-uh-aah, waaaait! Uh-uh, stop! Uh, uh, uh, ooooo-ah-nooo-aaaaaaah!" Squeezing my eyes shut, I blasted explosively into her hand and my shorts.
Oh, man, now Ive done it! This girl is gonna think I dont have any self-control. What if somebody saw?! I opened my eyes to see her smiling into my face, while her wet hand continued holding my wilting penis. I was gasping for air, out of shock and embarrassment. She leaned over and kissed me full on the mouth, and stayed there!
What is going on?! Ive never even been this close to a girl before, and Janice is hitting on me hot, and big time!
Her tongue forced me lips and teeth open, shooting past and down into my throat. Oh, man! This it too much, too fast! I cant breath! I cant think.
All at once, I felt my penis start to lift, and extend, and thicken, and stiffen. It was becoming sensitive and responding all over again. What is this?! I never get hot again this quick!
Her slippery hand grabbed the throbbing head of my rod and began softly rubbing below it, and twirling it back and forth in her fingers like a washing machine agitator. Oh, man! I cant believe this! I hope nobodys watching. I dont know what to do. But I cant do this. This shouldnt be going on. I shouldnt be involved in this! I dont want to, but it feels so great! I cant stop!
Squirming and wriggling in the seat, I tried to hold the Sporting News up, and over what was once more raging and protruding from my pants between my legs. I tried to sit still, but my butt, legs, and feet were bouncing and jolting around in the seat. Her hand was relentless, over and over stimulating my member to pulsating, throbbing intensity. I cant take this again! Im losing it again! Im losing it! Ive got to stop it, stop her! I have to, to stop! I have to!
Finally, I gained control of my voice as she began sliding her hand up and down, then circling, up and down, crowning and eagle-clawing the head of my engorged penis. "Heeeeey, stopit!" I tried to whisper. She smiled and kept on.
Trying to sit composed, I was twisting and jerking under the Sporting News I held to try to hide my fitful, agitated movements on the bus seat. I was trying to sit still and quiet, but at the same time I was also wanting her inflaming fingers to keep igniting my pumping member. I rocked my hips more and more my hips, twisting and gyrating my pelvis and inflamed rod into and against, her arousing, exciting fingers and hand.
I whispered stronger: "Dont! Stop! I mean, Stop! Uh, STOP! Uh, please, uh, Janice! Uh-please! Stop! We, uh, I mean, uh, I, uh, shouldnt, uh, uh , . . . uh, oooooo, uh, nooooo, uh! Noooo-uh-uh-n-n-uh-uh-ooooooo-uh-uh-aeaaaaaaaaaaaah!" This time I detonated repeated, explosive, violent blasts against her hand, but also filling my shorts even more, while I tried to muffle my shriek of pleasure and delight.
I lay back against the seat back and my jacket, exhausted, heaving heavily with gasping breathing, when all at once, I felt a powerful hand on my shoulder. A strong voice barked, "Whats going on here, girls and boys?"
Oh, noooo! Coach Stokes! Howd he get back here?
"Get your hand outta this young mans pants, young lady, and get yourself up front to Mrs. Neely. I think we are going to call your parents and they can pay for your to return home tonight." Janice looked terror-stricken. Pulling her hand out from the waistband of my pants, she quickly got up, drying her hand with a wet-wipe, and walked towards the front of the bus.
"You, buddy, get up and come with me -- right now!"
It is Coach Stokes! I turned my head upwards to the right and there he was staring straight at me as if he were going to pounce one me. I looked away, embarrassed and disgraced that he would have seen me, caught me, with what had happened. He was a huge, bull of a man, with thick neck, arms, biceps, and concrete like torso. When I didnt get immediately up at his order, I felt him reach behind me, and under my arms, lifting me easily up off my seat.
Hey! What is he doing?! He lifted me up off the seat cushion, then pulled me backwards across both seats to the aisle. Before I could get my feet under me to try to gain my stance, he dropped his right arm from under my left arm and reached down and under my left leg, above my knee, then my right leg as well, pulling me up into his arms.
What is this?! Whats he doing?! I found myself almost cradled in Coachs strong arms, with his right arm hooked under my right arm, and his left arm scooping up my legs to bend my knees into my stomach.
Whewhhh! This is too embarrassing -- being hauled up and carried off by Coach, in his arms, like a misbehaving kid! I tried to struggle and twist free from his grip, but he only tightened it more, pulling my legs up into my chest.
Whats happening? Whos watching? I looked around quickly while being carted off by Coach. It was nearly dark out, and the interior lights of the bus had been turned on. Coach staggered a bit, carrying the bundle of my weight in his arms, as he walked back towards where the restrooms were located. Then, I felt him sit down onto a step stool, while still holding me tightly in his grip.
Whats he doing?! Whats going on?! The next thing I knew, he was turning me over 180 degrees, and as my head and arms stretched out to fall across his left leg and catch myself against the floor, his left arm slipped out from under my legs, to reach in front of my legs and spread them out over his lap and right leg.
Whats going on! Whats he gonna do?! I found myself draped across Coach Stokes lap, my arms, head, and shoulders hanging stretched out from his leg. Now whats he doing? Whats he gonna do?! I felt myself being bobbled around on his right leg, as he maneuvered me so that I was splayed and impaled over his right leg, with my butt poised high, aimed as a target.
Then it happened! No! This cant be! Hes not gonna spank me! Like a little kid?! This cant happen! He grasped the back waistband of my windpants and yanked them commandingly off my hips, down over my buttocks, past my thighs and knees to my feet. Next followed my boxers that he almost ripped over my butt and down my legs. No way! This cant happen!
"Noooo-waaaay! Stopit, Coach!" I yelled as my wet, sticky boxers joined my pants at my ankles. "Nooooooo! Pleeeeeez! "I reacted by struggling violently while stretched out over his lap; but it was useless, as he held me securely sprawled there.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Ummmph! Uhwow! Not this! He cant do this! Without warning or hesitation, Coach Stokes granite, big hand began punishing my bare, upturned bottom. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! . . .
Oh, uh, wow! This is so humiliating, but its hurting too! More and, uh, more! I began bargaining and pleading. "Ah, Coach. Im sorry. Uh, ow! Really, uh, ow, Coach! I didnt mean, uh, ow! Uh, for this, uh, ow! to happen! Ooo-uh-ow! Ow! Ow!" I was yelping as I tried to speak.
Oh, man! Hes battering my behind, and its really heating up and hurting –- soooo bad! My butts on fire, burning! "Yeeeow-ow-ow, Coach! Ugh-uh-ow! Pleeeez! Ooooo-uh-uh-Im-uh-sorry! Uh-uh-ow! Ow! Uh, I, uh, wont-uh! Ever-uh! Dooooit-uh! Agaaaain-uh-uh-waaa-uh-ow, ow, ow! Oooo-uh-stopit! Stopit! Uh-puh-leeeez! Ow! Ow! Don-t-uh-uh-ow! spank-uh-uh-meeee-uh-ow! Ow! Ow! Uh-uh-uh-waaaaaa-uh-ow! Ooo-Ow! Uh-ow! Ow! Noooo-uh-ooooo-uh-moooor-uh-uh! Oooo-uh-ow! Ow! Pleeeez! Uh-waaaa! Uh-waaa! Noooo-uh-moooo-uh-spaaaaankeeeng-uh-uh-waaaaaaa!"
I was wailing and bawling, as a begged and pleaded and promised, desperately trying to get him to stop.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK! . . .
Coach Stokes was pounding my small, flat butt, and long, skinny thighs, with his rock-like hand. I was squirming and thrashing around on the fulcrum of his right knee and leg. I threw my right arm up to shield my behind. "Owww! Uh-uh! Waaaa-uh-owwww!" He pinned my arm up against my back, pushing my sweater and t-shirt up to bare my back to my shoulder blades.
SMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACK! . . .
He spoke as he continued pummeling my backside. "You" SMACK! "are" SMACK! "one of the" SMACK! "leaders" SMACK! SMACK! "of the senior class" SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! "an example" SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! "for the others" SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
I nearing the point of complete breakdown and surrender. I bounced and bucked straddling his right leg. My head and neck snapped back with each new swat to my burning rump.
"Uh, uh, aw-uh-waaa-uh, Coach," I squalled. "Im, uh, sorreeeee! Uh, uh-waaa! Pleeez! Uh, uh, waaaaa! I-uh-didnt, uh-uh-dooo-uh-uh-it! Ow-uh-waaaaa-uh! I mean, uh, ow! Ow! Waaaaa! It wasnt-uh-uh-meeeee-uh-ow-uh-ow-uh-uh-waaaaaaaa!"
"I saw" SMACK! SMACK! "what happened" SMACK! "Craig" SMACK! SMACK! "The first time" SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! "caught you" SMACK! SMACK! "by surprise" SMACK! SMACK! "I know" SMACK! "But the second time" SMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACK! "You knew exactly" SMACK! SMACK! "what was going on" SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK! "You were going along with it" SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK! "You liked it" SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK! "You wanted it" SMACKSMACKSMACK! "and you kept it going on." SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK!!
I cant take anymore! I cant hold back, cant fight it any longer! I stiffened, arched backward, and then collapsed, shrieking and wailing with agony and disgrace. Coach Stokes spanked me until I lost awareness of anything other than the pain of my blistered bottom. When he stopped, he left me hanging, straddling his right leg, while he lectured me again.
"Pull up your messy pants and get yourself back to your seat, young man. Dont let me even sniff any problems from you till we get to DC. If I do, this will seem like light stuff. Understand?! Im gonna call your parents, and they can pay for you to head on back right away."
I was sobbing and shaking, sprawled over his right leg and across his lap. "Uh, uh, ooooo-uh! Pleeeez, nooo-uh, Coach! Not that! Please! Uh-uh-waaa-uh! Dont call my folks! Waaa-uh-uh! Ill be good! Uh-uh! I will. I promise. Uh-uh-youll, uh, uh, see. Oh, uh, uh, pleeeez, Coach! Uh, uh, give, uh, uh, me a chance!"
He stood me up, and watched as I pulled up my sticky, wet boxers, then my windpants. Then, he took hold of my right arm and led me back to my seat. My hair was disheveled, my face streaked with tears and mucous, and my eyes reddened.
"Stay put, Craig. Unless you have to go the bathroom, I dont want to see you out of that seat. And another thing: no girls sitting next to you. I will be watching, understand me, boy?!"
"Uh, uh-uh-waaaaa-uh-yesssss, uh, uh, sir." I answered. Then I scooted over towards the window and painfully lowered myself down onto the seat. I winced as my butt touched against the seat.
The bus was incredible silent. No one spoke, although everyone had heard and knew what had just happened. I was disgraced and disturbed beyond words. This was supposed to be my senior trip! I was really looking forward to this! Then this happened! Ill never be able to get over this! Everybody saw! Nobodyll ever forget this! Sitting uneasily, with my head down, still sniffling sobs and tears, I felt so humiliated. Very shortly, I had fallen back to sleep.
The next thing I knew, it was morning, and we were approaching Washington, D. C. When we arrived at our hotel, we began piling off the bus. None of my friends tried to come back to speak to me. With the freshness of my disgrace in mind, I waited to be last getting off. As I got up and started to walk down the aisle to the door, Coach Stokes came right up behind me, and grabbed the back of my neck with his right hand, and my left biceps with his left hand.
"Ive given it some thought, Carson," he initiated the conversation. "You werent the instigator, like Janice –- although you were a willing, eventually even an eager, participant. But youve paid for it already."
You can sure say that! "Yes, Coach?" I asked meekly.
"So, heres what were gonna do, young Mr. Craig. You will not be sharing a room with Ian, after all. Youll share my room, and Coach Wilson will room with Ian. You are to be with me at all times. You are not to go off with any other groups. You are not to be trusted alone with anybody else. If you fail to follow this to the strictest "T," your parents will be called, and youll be heading back with a worse, scorched rearend. Am I getting through to you, young man?"
Oh, man! This senior trip has become the worst nightmare for me!
"But, Coach, thats not fair. I wont . . ."
WHAUMPWHAUMPWHAUMPWHAUMPWHAUMPWHAUMPWHAUMP!!
He released his grip on my neck, and peppered my behind with swats.
Not again! "Nooooo, uh, Coach! Not again! Ah, pleeeez! Okay! Okay! Ill be good! Ill be good! Ill do what t you say! Please stop! I promise!"
WHAUMPWHAUMPWHAUMPWHAUMPWHAUMP!!!
"Let this be a good incentive and reminder, then, buddy."
"Uhmmm-uh-Okay, uh, yes, sir. It is! It will!" I trudged down the aisle with Coach Stokes right behind me, and headed into the hotel in tow with him. We went up to our room, unpacked, and he told me to shower, clean up, and get some clean clothes on. He also told me to hurry. I did what he told me, although I did inspect the brutal damage to my butt while I was in the bathroom.
The rest of the senior trip, I spent every minute tagging along with Coach Stokes. The only time I ever got to talk with any of my friends was if they came up to me while I was sitting, eating with Coach Stokes. But the conversations were always short, and restrained. From a distance, they looked and acted like they really felt sorry for me.
The trip back was the same kind of solitary isolation. Coach Stokes selected the very last row of seats in the bus, right window seat, for me. He came and went, but always the aisle seat next to me was reserved for him. No one else came back or sat next to me in it.
When we got back home, in Kentucky, my parents were waiting to pick me up. Coach Stokes approached my Dad with me and explained to him everything that had happened. My Dads eyes widened, then narrowed, as he listened intently.
I rode home in mortified silence. Back at the house, my Dad followed me up to my room with the old, but long-unacquainted, hair brush. He pulled me across his knees, while he sat on my bed, jerked my pants and boxers off, and ignited an inferno on my buttocks and thighs, until I was screaming and shrieking amidst strangling sobs and gagging gasps. Afterwards, I was ordered straight to bed, without supper, where I cried myself swiftly to sleep.
The rest of the last semester of my senior year I was grounded, and my life was, out of my hands, a lot quieter and more circumscribed than before. But I did it, and made it, and graduated. In the fall, I went off to college, and what happened to me there, later, makes up a another story.