The Cheerleaders Of Wildwood High
By Rat Tails
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Copyright 2013 by Rat Tails, all rights reserved
*
* * * *
This work is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It may contain depictions of
sexual activity
involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to
view such material or
if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do
not save this
story.
* * * * *
THE
CHEERLEADERS OF
WILDWOOD HIGH
Authors
note: This is a sequel to The
Fraternities and Sororities of Wildwood High
At
Wildwood High School the members of the varsity football team were held
in high
regard. The star players were seen as Greek gods. The six varsity girl
cheerleaders were drooled over by the male students when they weren’t
wanking
off to their pictures. The six varsity boy cheerleaders not only
goggled by the
girls but also privileged to have the role of disciplinarians of their
female
counterparts.
Then
there was the junior varsity squad made up of 14 year old freshman and
15 year
old sophomore students. They too had cheerleaders of their age, only
fewer in
number because the attendance at their games was smaller. There were
four girls
and two boys. Being a member of this group was a stepping stone to
later
becoming a member of the varsity squad. Here a weeding out process
played a
major roll. The freshman and sophomore girls were rigorously tested to
see if
they were varsity material. The turnover rate was significant for the
training
was rigorous and the hazing regime harsh. Many believed that it was
even
harsher than that of the varsity squad, particularly since the girls
were younger.
THE
JUNIOR VARSITY
Tryouts
for the junior varsity squad were held a month before school started.
For these
the mostly 14 years old would report to the gymnasium that housed the
basketball court. They would line up and be inspected by the varsity
cheerleaders, both boy and girl. The overweight and the ugly, if
foolish enough
to apply, were summarily dismissed. Those remaining would try on the
cheerleaders outfits hung from a rack to find a proper size. This was
their
first exposure to having boys – those from the varsity – see them in
panties
and bras. Then one by one each girl would perform her cheer routine –
must like
a dress rehearsal - which they would have learned in junior high or
self
taught. A dozen would survive this, the semi-finals. The survivors
would be
joyful, but not without some trepidation for they knew what the finals
demanded: How well they could take the paddle to show good
self-discipline for
the work that lay ahead.
Still in
uniform the twelve finalists would line up in front of the varsity
judges. What
followed was typically like the following tryout example.
“Okay
girls,” said the varsity head cheerleader. “Drop your drawers and lay
them down
in front of you. When you feel a tap of a paddle on your shoulder I
want you to
spread your legs, bend over, flip your skirt onto your back and get a
good firm
grip on your knees. You will then receive one whack whereupon you will
shout
out, and I mean really shout out,
‘GO WILDWOOD.’ Then stand back up as you were until you feel the tap
again. Then,
repeat. We want to see how disciplined you are with this little test.
This will take some time. It’s
serious
business, you know.”
Three of
the boy varsity cheerleaders, ages 16 and 17, started to work. The
first girl
was tapped. Right away she spread her legs, bent over and flung her
skirt over
her back to present her naked ass.
“WHACK!”
Her body
shook. She had to reach into the depths of her mind to recall what came
next.
“GO WILDWOOD.”
A few seconds passed and then
“WHACK! The
girl next to her fell forward from the blow to her butt and had to
throw her
hand down to the floor to keep from falling. While still there halfway
down she
shouted “GO WILDWOOD.” Quickly and sheepishly she stood back up,
wondering if
that had disqualified her. Apparently it had not.
“WHACK! The
next girl in line got the paddle.
The first
girl felt a tap on her shoulder again. So soon! God, she thought, I’m
still
burning from the first one.
Over she
went as the next male cheerleader looked at her ass with the red mark
on each
cheek from the first swat. He aimed just a tad bit lower so that about
half of
his would swat overlap the first and the other half break new grounds.
So with
just 30 seconds having elapsed from the first blow: “WHACK!”
This one
didn’t startle her as had the first on, but the flash of pain was
greater
because part of it had overlaid the first one and because she hadn’t
had time
to fully recuperate from the first one.
“GO WILDWOOD,”
she yelled in her girlish voice, thankful that that required yell had
given her
the chance of scream out as an outlet for the pain.
Now the
time intervals seemed to shorten, when they actually hadn’t. As the
first girl
slowed in her movement back into position, it seemed that she had no
sooner
regained her full upright position with her skirt back down, and had
taken a
few good, deep breaths when . . . . tap. This was becoming very painful
calisthenics.
One by
one girls began to drop out. One fell to the floor and remained there
rubbing
her ass thus missing roll call. One yelled out “FUCK THIS SHIT. FUCK
ALL OF
YOU,” and stormed away to the exit where she was intercepted.
“I think
you have something of ours that don’t belong to you,” said a male
cheerleader. The
girl didn’t understand until he touched her uniform. “Are you trying to
shoplift? Give,” he demanded as he extended his hand.
The girl
took off her top and dropped her skirt only then to remember that her
panties
were back there on the floor. Her hands flew to cover her privates.
“Put ‘um
back where you go ‘um – over there on the rack.”
To do
that from the exit she saw that she would have to go back across the
line of
girls. With just her bra, shoes and socks on she started for the
bleachers. The
male grabbed her hand and walked her back to the rack right in front of
everyone with her struggling to keep up and to keep her other hand over
her
privates. As she was leaving a couple of minutes later, which had
seemed to be
an hour to her, the guy yelled out: “Next time you try to steal one of
our
uniforms, we’re calling the police on you.”
When
another girl tryout took a whack she began a little dance, running
around in
circles holding her behind with tears streaming down her face. Another
one fell
to the floor, managed to get back up on one knee and begged for
permission to
continue, only belatedly remembering to shout out “GO WILDWOOD!”
Thankfully,
permission was granted. She hurried back in line only immediately to
feel a tap
on her shoulder. “Let’s try that again.”
“SPLAT!” This
time she managed to keep her stance with her hands gripping her knees
and with
her ass swaying back and forth. “GO . . . . GO . . . GO . . .”
“I think
the name is ‘Wildwood,’” her spanker informed her. For a moment he
considered
repeating it yet again but then decided to move on. She really was
trying.
After
tapping the next contestant he walked back, stood a moment looking at
the black
ass waiting, and then took a run-up as he slammed his paddle into her
ass with
both hands. The paddle split in two as down she went again to the
floor. Her
hands flew to her stricken ass. But while still lying on the basketball
court
floor she yelled out “GO WILDWOOD” “GO WILDWOOD” “GO WILDWOOD” “GO
WILDWOOD” with
tears streaming down her face with both hands gripping her tortured
ass. Fortunately
the shouting had provided this one too with a way of coping. This had
brought a
short pause to the proceedings while everyone watched her spinning
around on
the floor gripping her ass as she shouted out her cheer.
As she
struggled back up to her feet the short intermission that she had
caused ended.
“THWACK!” The guy who had just given her two wicked hits had moved on
to the
next girl in line. Then came a “THWACK” as the girl just two upstream
from her
was swatted. God, they thought, this is like being on a treadmill – no,
more
like being pounded by a water wheel that had every third paddle
targeted on
them.
The test,
which some jokingly referred to as a pop
quiz, consisted of twelve questions, i.e. swats. Of the original twelve
tryouts
that had made it to the final, only half completed the exam. By then
the other
six had been dismissed. With the six standing in line the panel of
varsity
cheerleaders caucused. Finally those who had passed were announced. One
by one
their names would be called out and told to step forward. When the last
name
was called the two losers hugged each other with tears from the painful
ordeal
mingled with tears of disappointment. To mitigate their despair they
were told
that they were alternates and that their names would be included in the
school
paper as such along with the four others.
- - - - - - - - - -
During
the football season the junior varsity boys had it tough. Unrelenting
and
grueling practices were had leading up to the Wednesday night games. It
fell
upon the cheerleaders to reward them for all their hard work.
Thursday
nights the basketball court was reserved for the junior varsity players
and
cheerleaders. This was the night that the boys were rewarded and could
“let off
steam.” Only it wasn’t steam that they let off; it was cum.
On these
nights the gym would be darkened except for a small area if front of
some
bleacher seats that was illuminated by free-standing flood lights. It
was much
like a stage play in a theatre. The boys could sit wherever they wanted
in the
bleachers in the dark for a half hour show presented by the 14 and 15
year old
cheerleaders. If the team had won the night before the girls would
strut their
stuff as the boys watched. Sometimes there would be some recorded music
played.
The most popular music was the dum-dum-de-dum-dum stripper score. The
majority
of the cheerleaders were of course exhibitionists. They would strut
their
stuff, wiggle their little asses as they bent over and raised their red
and
white stripped skirt. When their turn came up those with well developed
knockers would feature them. Others would feature their asses. How much
skin
was shown varied, but all the girls had to wear a g-string.
The boys
would arrive prepared for the festivities, bringing toilet paper
stuffed in
their pants. Some would laugh and show what a big supply they had
brought. Others
would act as if they hadn’t brought any. Some would take their seat in
the
front row while others would take seats back and even far back up into
the
dark. Some took seats side by side but the majority didn’t. Their
whacking off
was a private affair there in the dark as they watched the cheerleaders
strut,
one by one. Cumming more than once into their private supply of toilet
paper
was common for these young jack rabbits.
On those
Thursday nights when the team had lost the game the previous night the
program
was quite different. It was presumed that at least part of the reason
for the
loss was that the cheerleaders had not worked hard enough. Even if they
had,
the results spoke for themselves: There had not been enough cheering.
On those
nights the cheerleaders got the paddle. It was only just. Of course the
jerking-offs continued. It simply was a different show. Seeing the
girls having
their asses pounded by paddles could be just as enjoying as the other.
Indeed,
for many it was more enjoyable. Forget that they had lost the fucking
game; the
show must go on.
THE
VARSITY
The
varsity football team and cheerleaders comprised 16 and 17 year old
juniors and
seniors. In today societies they were almost adults. Indeed, in most
European
countries 16 was the legal age of consent. Steadies became more
established, at
least on temporary bases. Thus it was that varsity cheerleaders were
treated
accordingly.
During
the football seasons the varsity players and cheerleaders would gather
on the
basketball court on Monday nights. Just like that for the junior
varsity, the
court would be darkened, save for the stage lighting. Thus the
wanking-off
opportunity would remain in place as the first and second stringers sat
in the
bleachers, wherever they chose.
Now the
sessions included sex for after all they were now almost adults. The
paddles
used were significantly larger and thicker and bore holes. The holes
served to
minimize air resistance which led to harder and more forceful impacts.
They
also produced small blisters which prolonged the pain. Indeed, you
could
recognize cheerleaders in class out of uniform the following morning by
the
gingerly way they sat down. Most, who were exhibitionists anyway,
ignored or
even liked the recognition by classmates. This served as one of their
badges of
honor. A few even overdid it; taking more care than actually needed
with an
“oh” as they sat with a smile – if anyone of interest to them was
watching.
Linebacker
Danny Smith and cheerleader Patty Horne were an item. Both were white.
He was
six feet, one hundred seventy pound of muscle. She was a green eyed,
sandy-haired blond who wore her hair straight back and long. When she
performed
her cheers her long hair would fling from side to side. When these two
walked
the school halls together, others made way. But today was Monday and
Wildwood
had lost. Tonight she would be getting the paddle.
“Make me
proud tonight, baby. Show ‘um what they can do with their fucking
paddle.”
“You do
me; okay?”
“Baby,
you know I can’t. They’ll think I’m going soft on you.”
“So what?
Better still, go soft; I’m big on
soft.”
“You know
I just can’t do that.”
“Then
don’t. Give me some good licks; some real good ones.”
“Can’t
do.”
“I know. You
just want to watch me and jerk off.”
“So? You’d
rather me wank while watching Cindy, maybe?”
“Oh, it’s
Cindy, is it?”
“Come on,
girl.”
“Not
Sissy?”
“If I did
you I’d have to hit a lot harder than anyone else. You know that. And
Baby, you
know how I hate to see you get it.”
“Liar;
you love it and everyone knows that.”
“Bull shit.
I don’t like it for myself. What I like is seeing you take it hard and
better
than the others. That makes me so proud. I got the best gal and I want
anyone
who can see me there to see me looking proud as you take ‘um.”
“Then you
won’t jerk off when I’m up?”
“What’s
that? You’d rather me jerk watching Sissy get ‘um?”
“So it is
Sissy.”
“Damn it,
girl; what do you want?”
“Prove
that you are better than the rest. Leave your prick in your pants. I’ll
take
care of you later – just the two of us.”
“Great;
just great; I’d be the only guy there not wanking. They’d think I was
fucking
gay. No, I’ll wank on you, but it won’t be like I somehow like to see
my girl
get it. Just like you gotta make me proud, I gotta make myself proud in
front
of the guys.”
Patty saw
that she wasn’t going to win this one.
That
night Danny took a seat in the third row. The third row would be up
close but
just far enough back so that the stage lights wouldn’t reflect enough
on him so
that Patty could watch him – at least he thought so. WRONG! If girls
have eyes
in the back of their heads, they surely can see in the dark.
The
program this night was a two-rounder for each of the cheerleaders. On
Losers
Night the girls were topless and wore no panties. After collectively
giving
their cheer routines in full uniform with pompoms flailing, and the
male
cheerleaders tossing them up into the air and making pyramids, they
went off
stage and sat side by side in the front of a side bleacher.
To each
side of that small reserved section were two standalone strobe lights
equipped
with a rotating wheel with different color filters. When they were
running the
scene became surreal, sort of like an old timey movie where the images
flashed
on and off real fast causing the actor’s movements to be jerky, but
here they
were in color.
One by
one a cheerleader would be summoned before two volunteer players
holding their
senior paddles, the ones with those wicked holes. Once standing there
between
the two guys she would call out: I’m (Judy) and I’m a looser.” Then the
two
guys would raise their paddles high as in giving a salute to the
darkened
audience. Then they would call out: “Here’s to (Judy) the looser.”
The girl
would bend over in the spot lights and raise her head to look straight
ahead
into the darkened room of doom, knowing that the players there were all
goo-goo
eyed.
Authors
note: For what happened to the looser
players, read the story referenced in the head note.
Together
the two football players would raise her skirt. One would then kiss one
ass
cheek as the other kissed the other. Then they would back some ten or
twelve
feet behind her. The walk would be slow. Indeed, the entire beating of
each
girl would be drawn out.
Looking
straight ahead into the dark sea of boys the girl would wait while
making sure
she had a good stance: Feet apart and hands gripping her knees. Feeling
the
room air on her naked butt she would finally hear a boy as he came
running up
behind her and gave her ass a hard swat with a resounding “WHACK!”
“GO TEAM -
- - GO WILDWOOD,” she would shout out as she absorbed the blow the best
she
could. The boy would arrest his run a few feet beyond her and then
return to
take up his initial position. In doing so he would of course pass by
the girl. That
was their chance to look at each other briefly, the dominant and the
sub.
At that
moment when the boys were returning to their start position they would
usually
give some sort of sign in passing while looking at the girl’s face and
her
jiggling boobs. Some would give the girl whose body was still
reverberating, a
thumbs-up. Some would through them a kiss with their free hand. Others
would
pucker their lips. Some would make a comment such as “Like that one?
Just wait
till the next.” Such taunts coming at that time when their ass had just
moments
before been whacked were particularly wicked.
At such
time the girls’ eyes were often tearing. They had to keep their heads
up high
and bent over with hands on their knees. At that moment their asses
would be on
fire as the boy passed by taunting, smiling, laughing or commenting,
all while
those in the darkened audience were enjoying the show, lusting, with
some
yelling out “GOOD ONE!” and the like. And there were those who were
jacking and
those who were cleaning up – and the girls knew it.
In the
darkened audience there were several ebony black players. Naturally
they were
the more difficult to recognize, and they knew it. Some would really
spook out
the girl by opening their eyes real big so that the white would shine
and some
would also open their mouths real wide so that their pearly white teeth
would
shine there in the dark. Not only was it spooky but they were showing
how much
they loved seeing the girl getting slammed. No sympathy here. For the
white
girls they figured the ebony was saying to himself: Beat that white
ass; beat
it; beat it. And often it was a fellow black that was beating it. Some
would
even yell out: “Beat that white ass” - - or “chew up that dark meat” -
- as the
case may be.
When the
paddle-boy would reached his starting position he would find his
partner
standing there. Sometimes the waiting boy would be swinging his paddle
like he
was warming up. The two would stand there looking at the illuminated
target –
the bent-over cheerleader with his bruised ass trying to absorb the
last blow
while waiting in readiness for the next one. Then, after perhaps
exchanging a
comment or two, would take off with his paddle held by either one or
two hands
behind him and then slam it again into the girl’s waiting ass.
After
receiving six swats, three from each boy, there would be an
intermission for
the girl while the others took their licks. After that there would be
Act Two
which was a repeat of Act One.
Patty’s
time came up. Out came two players that would be welcoming her. Both
were
black. Then out she came with her young boobs bouncing along with her.
“I’m
Patty Horne and I’m a loser,” she announced. The two muscular black
players
raised their paddles in a salute to the audience. “Here’s to Patty the
Loser.”
Patty
bent over and the two players flung her skirt back over her back. Then
each
took a massive black hand and slid it over her velvet white ass flesh.
“Looks
like we got us some fresh white meat here,” said one. “Yea, I like
these chicks
with all that white meat. These breasts look yummy, too,” said the
other as he
lifted one with his paddle. Then the other did the same to her other
breast as
both hung down from her bent-over position. He slid his paddle until
her nipple
went into one of the paddle holes. Seeing that, the other did the same.
Next
they moved their paddles in their common horizontal plane banging their
edges
together. Then one broke off that game and grabbed her tit with his
massive
black hand and squeezed. “Bet this sucker would go for over a dollar at
the
sto’. What’cha thinks it weighs?” They laughed and walked back to their
darkened starting position.
Patty
looked for Danny. There; there he was on the third row, the last row
that had
enough light on it to make out images. He was sitting there beside Jack
Horne,
a wide end receiver. She could see that they were both smiling at her
public
humiliation.
“WHACK!” She
could actually feel the air as the big black player ran pass her before
she
felt her ass.
‘GO TEAM!
GO WILDWOOD!” she yelled out. Cheerleaders never spoke to the audience;
they
always yelled.
As the
black walked pass her he puckered his lips to her and lifted one tit
with his
paddle. “Nice jug.” To Patty it smelled like he hadn’t had a bath since
the
game. God he stunk. She looked at Danny to see him giving a “good one”
with a
swing of his fist as he bumped shoulders as he nudged Jack with his
shoulder. Jack
likewise gave a “good one” with his fist. They both had broad smiles on
their
faces. That liar, she thought; he does love this. Patty quickly looked
away so
that Danny wouldn’t suspect that she was actually seeing him. Then
before she
knew it
“WHACK!”
This one
was delivered harder than the first. Her body (and boobs) shuttered.
Squeezing
her knees she uttered: “Go Team. Go Wildwood.” Her yell was only a
semi-yell
this time.
“Like
that one, you fucking loser,” the paddler asked as he passed by her,
unsmiling,
on his way back to start. He did not collect two hundred dollars in
Monopoly
money.
Patty
ignored him as she scanned the bleachers while really focusing on
Danny. God if
he and Jack weren’t exchanging high fives. The bastard; on an empathy
scale of
one to one hundred, he registered zero.
“Whack! The
first boy had struck her again. After her weak cheer he passed back by
her. This
time he paused beside her and did a little jig as he held his paddle
high up
over his head and pumped it. Patty saw Danny actually laugh at this as
he gave
a little elbow to his side to have one hand. Then she caught eye of
Jack
fiddling with his crotch. She looked to see if Danny would follow suit.
No way;
he just kept on snickering.
“WHACK!”
This one
caught her by surprise. One knee buckled and then down she went to the
floor. Though
she couldn’t see it from that position, jack had put up his two hands
to give
Danny another high five only to have Danny respond with one hand. It
seemed
that his other hand had a pressing more important matter to attend to –
namely
trying to get his cock out of his pants in preparation for getting
underway –
but not just yet.
As Patty
struggled back to her feet she gave the cheer: “FUCK YOU TEAM GO
WILDWOOD.”
The head
male cheerleader ran onto the floor in a rage. He looked down at her as
she
sheepishly bent back over into position.
“I beg
your pardon. What was that you just said?”
Patty
looked up at him like she would have in looking at her father as a
child.
“Go team GO
WILDWOOD.”
The male
head cheerleader walked back to the two blacks who were waiting to
deliver
their third and final swats. He took a paddle from one of them and
returned.
“We’ll do
one word at a time so that you don’t forget. Start.”
“GO!”
“WHAM!”
“TEAM!”
“WHACK!”
“GO!”
“WHACK!”
“WILDWOOD!
“WHAM!”
“AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”
she uttered as
she amazingly held her bent-over position.
“Okay
guys; finish her off.”
After two
more Patty walked off, holding her ass as the next cheerleader passed
her on
her way to center stage. Through her tear soaked eyes she saw that it
was
Sissy.
Patty
took her seat with the others along the sideline, as gingerly as she
could with
her ass ablaze.
For a
while Patty ignored Sissy’s paddling, with her mind being consumed on
the stage
of her battered ass. Finally her head cleared and she looked outwardly
to see
how things were proceeding in her environment. She looked as Sissy took
a
whack. Her eyes followed the player as he finished his running
follow-through
at the edge of the first row of the bleachers. Then her eyes went up a
couple
of rows to find Danny whom she now was looking at from a side angle.
Danny’s
face was all contorted as he watched Sissy intensely. She saw that he
no longer
socializing with Jack but was self-absorbed. Then she saw his right
shoulder
movingly rhythmically. God, if he wasn’t jerking off to Sissy!!!
Patty
watched in awe. Danny’s was taking his time with a look of lust on his
face. He
was taking his time. Then she understood: He was waiting for her
climatic sixth
hit to climax himself.
As the
designated player for her sixth strike began his run-up, Danny’s face
went into
a silly half-smile – one like you see male dogs do as they hump their
bitch. God
damn it if he wasn’t climaxing. His head went sideways as he shot his
wad into
his wad of toilet paper as the paddle slammed into Sissy’s ass for the
sixth
time. His spurts didn’t end until the player had stopped, turned around
and was
passing back by her.
Now spent
Danny rested his head on his shoulder, facing the row of seated
cheerleaders. Slowly
his eyes came into focus. There was Patty looking straight into his
eyes,
knowingly.
After an
eye-to-eye contact of about four seconds, which seemed like four hours
to
Danny, he dropped his head down. There was cum, cum on his hands, cum
in the
paper, and cum on his pants. He raised his head and took another
sheepish look
at Patty who was staring at him, expressionless. Like Lot, she had
turned into
a pillow of salt. It was two minutes before she turned her hateful gaze
away to
look at the going-ons about her. All that while Danny struggled to
clean up
without looking like he was cleaning up. Shit – shit – shit, he
thought. How
will I get out of this one? Damn it all to hell.
After
each of the girls had received their allotment of swats, the finale
began with
all but one stage light being but and with the flashing lights turned
on over
at the side line. In single file the girl cheerleaders entered into the
surreal
flashing lights which were much dimmer than the stage lights had been.
Now they
had their tops back on.
After all
were in the area that was flickering green – blue – yellow – purple –
red –
green – blue – purple - - - - - - - - they faced the bleachers. There
they
silently stood long enough for all of the players to be able to
recognize who
was who beyond just the obvious as to which was white and which was
black. Finally
the silence was broken by a drummer from the school band. “Dummmm de de
dummmm
de de dummmm de de” to the cadence of “The Stripper.” Then there was a
pause
until the head male cheerleader yellowed out.
“Losers. About
face.”
The line
turned to present their rears to the bleachers.
“Down.”
“Spread
legs”
“Toss.”
With that
all of the six cheerleaders were back again into position for the
paddle even
though their asses were all very well marked by the twelve swats they
had
already taken. This time however they gripped a bleacher railing
instead of
their knees.
“Drummer!”
“Dummmm
de de dummmm de de dummmm de de dummmm de de . . . . . . . . . . .
Into
the flickering dim lights marched the six male cheerleaders in single
file with
their rubber clothed cocks and balls out of their flies. Once all six
arrived
into position behind the six bent-over girls they turned to face the
audience,
took a deep blow, stood back up and then made an about face.
“Spread
cheeks!”
In sync
the six girls released the bar and spread the cheeks of their asses,
whose
assholes had already been lubed, wide apart. To the unrelenting beat of
the
drum the males advanced and insert. Now inserted the girl released her
cheeks
and grabbed the bleacher railing again. In this manner she was able to
hold
position as she was viciously buggered to the cadence of the drum under
the
unrelenting flickering of the multi-color strobe lights.
As the
male cheerleaders pumped away, so did the players in the dark
bleachers.
One by
one the males climaxed. As soon as that happened they would
individually turn
back around and walk a few steps back to their starting position, peel
off the
condom, drop it onto the floor, take a deep bow and then march off and
in doing
so pass a player advancing with his condom protected cock and balls
outside of
his fly. By now the girl would have released her grip on the bar and
again
spread her cheeks to await the next insertion.
Selection
of the player-buggers had been made by lot. Those not selected this
time were
automatically be selected the next time. Of course, the unselected
tonight were
those up in the darkened bleachers having their solo fun as there were
no
openly gays on the team.
It was
quite a surreal, colorful and psychedelic show. There in the flickering
lights
were the male cheerleaders pumping away at the girls asses to the tune
of the
drum beat, all played out in jerks. One by one they finished, stepped
back,
pulled off and dropped their condom and exited stage right to go clean
up – all
under the flickering light that changed color every few seconds. As one
walked
off the next player passed him with his cock at the ready. In passing
some of
the newcomers gave a high-five to
the
already- cumed ones.
The
buggering continued. Much of it was interracial. As usual the majority
of the
players were black as blacks tended to make better football players.
The
majority of the male and female cheerleaders were white which reflected
the makeup
of the school population as a whole. Thus it was that more times than
not it
would be black on white with some white on black. This of course only
added to
the color.
After
their third buggering each girl stood and turned around, now in full
uniform
with skirt down. After the last girl had finished and had joined the
line, a
few of the gym lights came on just as house lights would at the
conclusion of a
theatrical performance. Then they collectively give a final cheer,
gathered up the
spent condoms and make for the exit. The show was over. Surely the
coming
Friday night, just four days off, the team would not lose again for
another
loss would be another pain in the ass.
(The End)