The Senior Trip Ch. 01

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In the small high school in the little town of Lynwood, Ohio, in the mid 1990’s, a feeling of pleasant anticipation ran through the halls. Spring break approached and a week off from school seemed like heaven. For a small group of senior honor students, however, there was something more — a trip for a week in Washington, cause enough for elation. The group, four girls and one boy, anticipated a week of freedom and adventure, limited only by the supervision of a faculty chaperone. In years past, the chaperone, a Mr. Phillips, was reputed to be interested in having a good time, not being a wet blanket, leaving presumably mature seniors a reasonable amount of discretionary activity. Unfortunately, their euphoria was due to be dampened considerably when a different chaperone was announced by a notice on the bulletin board in the school lunch room.

One of the girls involved read the notice and exclaimed, “Damn, wait until Kenny sees this!” The response was immediate as Kenny Singleton came in behind her, asking, “What should I see?” Then reading the notice, his face tuned red as he exclaimed, “What in the hell is this? How could they pick the Witch to go with us? Good God, she’ll ruin everything for all of us, particularly me! What happened to Phillips?” It turned out that Mr. Phillips had personal problems, necessitating his being replaced by another highly regarded teacher — highly regarded by the administration anyway.

The teacher involved, usually referred to in private as “the Witch” (although some times the “W” became a “B”), was Mrs. Linda Kramer. She was universally recognized by her colleagues as one of their nicest colleagues, but she had certain tendencies that made her equally recognized as one of the teachers least liked by many students. A math teacher, she was a disciplinarian, requiring strict adherence to an extensive list of personal rules. She always had been something of a stickler for the rules, but in the last semester she had become noticeably more acerbic, more inclined to pick up on petty violations. Even the students agreed that she was fair in grading, but she was not evenhanded in her classroom activities. In every class she seemed to pick one unlucky person to serve as a foil, a goat. She tended to select athletes, extremely popular students and, of course, anyone who refused to knuckle under to her arbitrary rules.

In fact, if truth be known, much of her prejudice was caused by her fear of the students, themselves. This was not fear of physical violence, of course, but was a fear that if she let down, even for a minute, chaos would result. Actually, while she was 45 years old with a master’s degree in mathematics, Mrs. Kramer was relatively new to the teaching profession. She majored in math in college, married shortly after graduation and quickly became pregnant. While her two sons grew up, she stayed home, taking an occasional graduate course in mathematics, the credits adding up until, with the boys old enough to supervise themselves, she completed the work necessary for her M.A. She had no particular career objectives, just interest, but, with a severe shortage of math teachers in the school system, she was pressured to become a teacher herself. So, with minimal student teacher experience, during a summer session, she was emergency certi?ed, and, at the age of 42, began teaching full time at Lynwood High School. Thus, while she had the academic training, far more than math teachers who took education courses as their major, her classroom experience was relatively brief, and, frankly, she just wasn’t con?dent in her ability to handle discipline problems. So, she headed off the problem by staying distant from her students and sticking to rules.

That practice had worked effectively for some time, her genuine expertise in her teaching specialty making her an excellent instructor, particularly for advanced students, but something else had arisen lately to sour her disposition and cause her to be even more tart in the classroom — she was feeling old. Her youngest son had graduated from college and was considering marriage. Most signi?cantly, however, was the fact that her older son had made her a grandmother at what she considered far too early an age. Grandmothers were sixty-plus, had gray hair and wore housedresses and aprons! Heavens knows, she loved the grandchild, but she didn’t want to be a grandmother! Even worse, she had that not unusual relationship with her husband in which he was wrapped up in his work, and their association, while still affectionate, was more that of close friends rather than lovers. On top of everything else, he was insensitive enough to refer to her occasionally as grandma,” rather that Linda. Since she could do nothing about these things, she took them out on her classes. She, of course, would have vehemently denied that such unprofessional motivations led to classroom bias, and would have been morti?ed if forced to face the truth.

The surprising thing about all of this is that Mrs. Kramer, in “real” life, was a pleasant, considerate woman, casino şirketleri easy to get along with and good to be around. In addition, at the age of 45, not a grandmotherly age, she had a ?gure that the girls in her class envied. She was a small woman, 5′ 3″ and weighing about 120 pounds, with breasts that were outsized and prominent. Those, plus her ?rm and ?t body, led even the teenage boys (and girls) who disliked her to speculate as to what she was like under her clothes.

However, as far as the clothing, itself, was concerned, there would have been few surprises. A devotee of conservative dresses and suits, with skirts longer than style demanded, Linda Kramer wore lingerie that was tasteful and equally conservative. The only somewhat unusual thing was her wearing of garter belts and hose, rather than pantyhose, but her skirts never rose high enough to reveal even that slight variation from the norm. Certainly, none of her students would ever have actual knowledge of the body under those clothes! She was very modest, as well as a conservative and disciplined, woman — and the bete noir of Kenny Singleton. Actually, Kenny was exactly the type of student who was almost certain to be the focus of Mrs. Kramer’s attention. He was a successful two-sport (football and wrestling) athlete as well as being the very popular student-body president. In addition, he had a somewhat perverse sense of humor which delighted in puncturing pretensions and violating picayune rules which seemed to have little purpose but to harass others. Unfortunately, many of Mrs. Kramer’s rules appeared to him to ?t that category, causing no end of discipline problems.

In fact, Kenny was quite intelligent (four years in the school’s honors program, having earned a 1500+ score on the SAT’s, for example), and that further frustrated Mrs. Kramer. When she asked a hard question, she always asked it of him. When he answered correctly, as he did most of the time, she gave no praise and went on to the next problem. On those relatively few occasions when he failed, she reacted scornfully, harping on his failure to be prepared. This, of course, was blatantly unfair, and, since he was very popular with both fellows and girls, the use of the word “bitch” frequently replaced “witch.” As a result, there was a continual feeling of tension in the classroom with him (and classmates) resenting her harassment (i.e. “always on his back”), and her, irked by his, as she saw it, ?aunting of her authority, feeling it necessary to rein him in.

In any case, regardless of who was to blame, the thought of having her as a full-time supervisor for what was supposed to be a fun week in D.C. was infuriating. Unfortunately, no amount of complaining moved the mountain that was the administration and, on the Monday morning of spring break, the ?ve students and teacher climbed aboard the bus for the long trip to Washington. In addition to Kenny and Mrs. Kramer, the group consisted of Beth Simmons (Kenny’s present girlfriend), Jenny Simpkins, Judith Warner and Angela Rodriguez. Kenny and the ?rst three girls had been together since kindergarten and Angela had joined them in fourth grade. They were quite close, particularly since the ?ve of them had been in the honors program throughout their high school years, thus being in the same classes most of the time. This, of course, made the girls resent Mrs. Kramer almost as much as Kenny did.

The ride to Washington was uneventful, with Kenny sitting with Beth. She did her best to downplay the potential problems, but the whole situation continued to upset Kenny. He had handled the classroom personality con?ict with considerable aplomb, particularly for an 18-year old boy, basically by refusing to be baited by Mrs. Kramer’s treatment. (Of course, now, at 18, he no longer was really a “boy” and he disliked being treated as one.) He recognized that ignoring her sarcasm and derision was more disconcerting and frustrating than any reply that he could make. Inside, however, he frequently was seething as he sat there, smiling and accepting her abuse. He always knew that at the end of the class period he could leave, apparently unruf?ed. Now, though, he saw ?ve full days that he had looked forward to all school year being ruined, and, as he told Beth, he was becoming very tired of “turning the other cheek” and was afraid that he would explode before the trip was over.

Here we have what is the basic self-ful?lling prophesy. As happens so often, anticipating or fearing problems leads to having problems. In this case, little things, minor comments or jibes which would have been ignored, or perhaps not even noticed, became major irritants. For example, the party checked into an old, solid middle-class hotel with the four girls being assigned to two double rooms with a connecting door. (Fortunately the thick walls and doors provided natural soundproo?ng to contain the girlish screams and shrieks which were inevitable.) Originally, Kenny and the male chaperone were to share a room and, carelessly, no one from the school had changed the reservations. With the original arrangements obviously impossible due to the casino firmalari nature of the parties, the hotel staff scrambled to ?nd new accommodations. There being no single rooms available, the reservations were upgraded to the only vacant space, a luxurious suite with a sitting room, two bedrooms and two baths — certainly far more luxurious quarters than the school system could have paid for. In fact, it hardly could have been better, solving the sleeping accommodation problem, plus providing a place for the group to gather and talk. Mrs. Kramer, perhaps innocently, perhaps not, ruined a good thing by commenting that the arrangements were perfect because she had to keep her eye on the only male in the group. Regardless of her intent, Kenny was sensitized to see any remark as criticism and this one brought him one step closer to that anticipated explosion. The same thing went on all afternoon and during dinner, with innocent or not-so-innocent remarks taken as criticism.

Added to this, it soon became apparent that Mrs. Kramer had no intention of following Mr. Phillips’ laissez-faire pattern of supervision. She made it quite clear that she expected the entire group to stay together at all times — under her observation. This piece of news was dropped like a bombshell as they separated and headed for their respective rooms. The group had no time to respond to this seemingly arbitrary decree, so, after storming around his room for ?fteen minutes or so, his ire rising all the time, Kenny deputized himself to be spokesman. He went out into the sitting room and knocked emphatically on the other bedroom door. She opened it and stood there with a startled and worried expression on her face, asking, “Kenny, is something wrong?”

“Something’s wrong, all right! You’re acting like a dictator and spoiling our trip! Why can’t we go where we want?” In fact, he was wrong in this case, for her view of a chaperone’s duty was completely innocent and followed the rules set down by the Lynwood school board. Mr. Phillips was at fault for lax supervision in past trips, and Mrs. Kramer, who had never accompanied a group like this, wanted to be sure to follow the rules to avoid problems and criticism. However, Kenny was not prepared to accept a rational response and, faced with what she regarded as an insubordinate and insolent student, Mrs. Kramer was not inclined to explain or be conciliatory. In any case, the issue of supervision was only the trigger for a long simmering feud, and consequently, the debate rapidly degenerated into a confrontation about the entire school year. While her attitude was the real cause of the bad feeling, there was sufficient fault on both sides so that each had plenty of ammunition. Recriminations ?ew thick and fast, tempers rising, until, ?nally, Mrs. Kramer exploded, shouting, “Young man, if you were my son, I’d give you a sound spanking! This is just too much! Tomorrow, I’m going to put you on a bus and send you back home!”

For Kenny, this was the ?nal straw. “If someone around here needs a spanking, it’s not me!” As he ground out those words, he gripped her around the waist, set back on the bed, and dropped her across his thighs. Flipping her skirt up over her back, he grasped the waistband of her panties and literally ripped them from her body. Hard as it might be to believe, Kenny was completely unaffected by the sensual sight revealed to him. Framed by the straps of her garter belt was a pair of hips that a sodomite would love — perfect globes covered with soft pink skin unexpected in a 45-year old woman. A deep crevice between the rounded cheeks ran downward, continuing as a slit between two plump, hair-covered lips pushed outward by her position. At that point began a very nice pair of legs with garter straps supporting sheer dark hose. All this was lost in his rage as he raised his hand and brought it down with a sharp slap, the “smacking” noise echoing throughout the room. That blow left a red imprint on the left cheek, quickly followed by a similar smack on the other, the ?rst two of many.

For Linda Kramer, the whole sequence was unbelievable. There seemed to be no transition: one second she was standing, involved in a furious verbal dispute, the next she was draped over a hard pair of legs, her head hanging down, her hips jutting upward. She was stunned, literally unable to comprehend what had happened. She was brought back to herself abruptly, however, when she suddenly felt her skirt thrust up and her panties violently ripped off, her most private features completely revealed. Oddly enough, her ?rst thought was only of the exposure, not why she was there and what was going to happen. She always had been proud (and even bragged) that no man other that her husband (and a few doctors who weren’t really men) had ever seen her naked, and now, for practical purposes, a student could see everything below her waist. She clenched the muscles of her buttocks and squeezed her legs together to hide everything she could and, loudly and with some questionable language and threats, demanded to be released.

When the ?rst smack came, güvenilir casino however, her focus immediately changed. With a cry of pain, she ?ailed wildly, her legs kicking up and down, her torso twisting desperately. Efforts at concealment were forgotten, her legs spreading widely as she attempted to break loose. The blows rained down, smack…smack…smack, sending waves of agony through her body as she thrashed back and forth. There was no pattern to the action, the spanking hand hitting whatever part of her rear that was directly under it at the time. First one cheek, then the other, sometimes two or three smacks on the same spot as he was able to hold her still. Several times her efforts caused her body to slide upwards and the next smack would hit directly on her bulging cunt lips, bringing a different squeal of pain. The process was very noisy, the smacks, each followed by a screech or shriek. Between blows, she loudly screamed her demand that he stop and let her up. Thank heavens for those thick, soundproof walls and doors!

On Kenny’s part, he really wasn’t thinking or listening, only reacting to the rage that had built up in him over the school year and brought to a head by her injudicious threat to send him home. Smack…..”Ouch! Damn it, let me up!” smack….”Ow! I’ll get you for this!” smack….. “Ooooh, stop it!” smack…..”Ouch, ooh, stop!” smack…”I ’11 have you arrested!” It went on and on, her struggling, demanding that he stop, threatening, twisting and turning — anything to stop the beating. The blows were hard, intended to hurt, and they did. She had never felt anything like this. She had never been spanked before, even as a child, and the indignity, the humiliation, hurt almost as much as the hand belaboring her ass. She was enraged that he had the temerity to do such a thing to her, a teacher, a grown woman — and on her bare bottom, a thought that sent a new ?are of anger through her. The spanking went on and on, her bottom becoming beet-red as the hand-imprints merged into a solid, deep crimson.

As Kenny’s wrath was gradually appeased by his very thorough spanking of Mrs. Kramer, and his arm ?nally began to tire, he, bit-by-bit, became more aware of the erotic sights spread before him. The feel of her ass cheeks was quite sensuous as they quivered and bounced as he hit them, like spanking a pair of very ?rm foam rubber pillows. Her legs ?ailed back and forth as she tried to free herself, opening and closing, giving him frequent glimpses of her cunt, and, even when they were tight together, her cunt lips protruded in a fascinating way. He knew what a cunt looked like, of course. No teen-age boy, even in those days, could be ignorant of that part of the female anatomy, what with X-rated movies, porno sites on the internet, etc. Nonetheless, as his spanking slowed, he leaned to the side to get a better view of this cunt. However, that distraction caused him to loosen his hold on his victim, and she was ?nally able to pull free, rolling off of his lap and falling ?at on her back on the rug.

She had never ceased her struggle or her verbal assault and, she was in the midst of the continuing tirade as she unexpectedly fell off and hit the ?oor, driving the air out of her lungs. She lay there, skirt up to her stomach, her legs splayed open, gasping for breath. Neither moved, and it was almost as if time was frozen. Kenny gaped at her open cunt, never having seen a real one displayed like that. Oh, he had gotten two girlfriends, after a date, to lower their panties in the car for quick petting sessions, but little detail could be seen in the semi-darkness. Recently, as he and Beth had become more serious about their relationship, the petting with her had become quite extensive, involving mutual masturbation (and, even then, it was done more by feel than vision), but he had never gotten her to “go the whole way.” It may seem unlikely that an eighteen year old man should have such limited sexual experience, but this was before the age of “hook ups” and female virginity was still prized. As a result, research showed that, despite normal male braggadocio, close to a majority of entering male college freshmen had done nothing more than “heavy” petting in high school. As it happened, one of the reasons Kenny was so furious at having Mrs. Kramer replace Mr. Phillips was that he was pretty sure, from some recent hints, that with minimal supervision in a strange city, he might ?nally get Beth to “put out.” He had even purchased a packet of condoms in case the big event should occur! In any case, what was spread open before him was not the vagina of an eighteen year-old girl, sparsely hair-covered and virginal — it was the cunt of a mature, adult woman. In reality, it was like looking at the illustration of the female sexual organs in their sex education class. He didn’t consciously do an inventory, but there were the outer-lips, thickly covered with curly, brownish- blonde hair, puffy and somewhat swollen from being spanked. These external lips were pulled back in arousal, revealing the dark red, shiny inter-lips, the shine coming from the lubrication that was a sure sign of that arousal. Finally, in the center was an even darker red hole, the portal into her most intimate recesses.

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