The Bare Bottom Spanking and Wedging

"As you know, Danny, there are many ways in which you guys whack off, and
I'm curious about which ones work best for you, especially in the shower- which must be
the most popular because you are certain of being alone and there is no mess to clean up.
I know you can toss it off in the shower with an energetic soapy hand or with a powerful
jet stream of water titillating the sensitive head of your boy-toy. I'll bet at times you can't
tell the difference between the soap suds and the semen.

"As to positioning in your bedroom, I know that some boys lie on their back and
do a vigorous hand-job on their jack. That must mean that when you peak, your tensed
pelvis leaps toward the ceiling as you thrust and squirt upward. Boys that wank face
down must max out into the mattress as their entire body stiffens for the thrust and squirt
downward. One of my friends says that the first positioning is a matter of fucking the air
while the second positioning is a matter of fucking the bed. What I want to know is this:
when your Mom or sister does the laundry, can they tell that the pillow case or sheet or
blanket or pajamas or underpants have been soiled. I know that jiz dries quickly but
doesn't it leave a milky crust that shows? Do you use any other clothing to help you
shoot your load? And, if you share a room with a brother or don't want the whole house
to hear you partying with your raw beef, how do you keep your voice down? Is it possible
for a boy to reach orgasm without so much as a satisfying grunt? And, most important of
all- do you ever whack off with another guy- and what's it like. Do you do each other or
take turns watching each other? Final question: I don't suppose you'd invite me to watch
and maybe even help?"

At this point, Danny was crying bitterly. You could tell that he hadn't missed a
word of hers. At the same time, he had no idea of how to respond amidst his sobbing.
Why? Because, as I later learned, he felt humiliated by not being able to meet Angela's
expectations of what every boy does with his prized projectile and coveted hangings
every day. She surmised that every boy jerked off three times a day in heavenly bliss.
This was not his reality- though he had hoped and prayed to all of the gods and goddesses
for it in endless supplication. For all of his perpetual boners- and they were perpetual-
and for all of his frequent leaky faucets- and they were frequent- he had never
ejaculated. He had never ejected his seed. To the best of his knowledge- and he would
have remembered it if it had happened- he never even experienced a nocturnal emission.
In his eight years of adolescence, he had oozed a great deal of precum but there was
never enough in his PJ's the following morning to even assume he had ejaculated. And,
even if he had, who wants to ejaculate without being aware of it and without celebrating
it?

What a waste of terrific male flesh! It just wasn't fair for an extremely handsome
boy with a perpetual erection to never enjoy the male ecstasy of shooting a full loud into
his hand or into his clothing or into his bed or into a toilet or down a shower drain or into
a field. What was worse- how would he ever shoot such a load into another's welcoming
hand or receptive mouth, or inviting vagina- or into any cavern? No wonder he was
angry! No wonder he spent so much time wedging and pantsing and underpantsing and
punishing and bullying and humiliating! He had nowhere to dump his shame and
frustration - and so he was dumping it onto others. It was no excuse for his misbehavior
but it most certainly was a reason!

The inquisitive wench- as Danny described her- wanted to know more about the
several kinds of boy masturbation. She took out a list and started enumerating them: the
thumb-forefinger, the full fist grip, the mushroom, the campfire method, the poking out of
the pulpit, the headless jerking, the interlocking grip, the backhand masturbation, the
foreskin grip, the palm-belly-penis sandwich, the packaging tape, circular masturbation,
two full hand's full, the downward squeeze, the upward squeeze, the boxer rub
masturbation, the table hump masturbation, the butt resting on heels, the pole straddle
tight rope, the pelvis momentum explosion, the backhand circular, the one-topped one-
bottomed, the oral lip imitation method, the pelvic thruster tease, the wring it out
masturbation, and the thumb concentration on glans. 2
Danny hadn't heard of any of these- I had heard of but a few- though I suppose
Danny knew of some by another name. He had no descriptions to offer but ,to satisfy
some of her curiosity, he made up a story about yanking his crank in the shower.

"One day I fired so powerfully that one of the thrusts bounced off the shower
wall at one end of the tub and splashed me in the face at the other end so hard that it gave
me a black and blue mark for days." Danny was serious. He had never seen anyone fire
but many of the boys claimed such potency.

"You wish!" she insultingly answered! "In your dreams, mighty mouse!"
That had to be one of the top five jabs of the day.
Danny continued his weeping. Despite his reputation for bullying, I was
beginning to feel some compassion for the lad.

Sweet-buns Angela rattled on. She was beginning to sound like a health class
instructor:
"And then there are other ways in which a boy can choke the chicken, including:
intercourse style masturbation with couch, deep scrotum and testicle massage, maximum
penis head stimulation, perfect bathtub masturbation, acrobatics-water flow on testicles,
tease the tip, pillow humping hands-free, backhand pelvic thrust, sexual intercourse
imitation, hands-free pelvic grind, glass balls masturbation, ice cold golden testicles
(ouch), firearm stroking technique, pull-bend-squeeze, underhanded masturbation, squat
and spurt, fast finger, and banana jack. 3
Thanks for sharing that, Angela!

Hmmmm- if I were a boy, I think I would like the oral lip imitation, the campfire
method, and the perfect bathtub ones the most. Can you really start a fire with the
campfire method or is that just a rumor? I don't think I would like the ice cold golden
testicles one and I would be really scared of the headless jerking. It sounds like a boy
could lose his dick head on that one. Can you imagine losing the head of your dick,
Danny?"
"You are a dick head!" Danny muttered so that I could hear but Angela couldn't.

"Oh, one last thing on masturbation! One boys says that the most powerful
masturbation tool is the brain. Is it possible to get your genitals that far up your body?
It was the one and only time that Danny laughed. Was she serious?
"It's what they call thinking off," Danny offered.

He was still sorting out the combination of pain and pleasure in the front of his
wedged briefs. The schoolboy's crotch (and mind) were on the highest mountain and in
the deepest valley at the same moment.
"The boys tell me that you have a perpetual hard-on." she mused aloud. "So, what
more could a guy want?"

Danny thought to himself: "What more could a guy want? The handgun below my
belly button has been cocked since I was twelve- for six long years. I want it to fire-
that's what I want more- more than anything else. Every girl I know wants a guy's
manhood to fire. They love to look at it- especially when it is full-grown, erect, and they
enjoy glimpsing an increasing pre-cum but ultimately they want the gun to fire. I love
my piece of meat but either it can't fire or it won't fire. Most important of all, I want to
fire it into you- or is this news to you?. I know that you too want it to fire; otherwise, why
are your magical fingers spending so much time in the front of my briefs- tempting me to
shoot. Damned a cannon that won't discharge! Damned a barrel that never sees a bullet! I
might as well cut it off."

I wonder how Angela would have responded had Danny shared those immediate
thoughts with her! Would her words have smacked of compassion or of castration? She
was such a hybrid of emotions toward boys that he didn't know any more than I did. At
the same time, wasn't he a crossbreed himself?
All this time, my right thumb maintained its valued location at the base of
Danny's spine. Mr. Thumb continued to hold his place one millimeter away from Danny's
crevice and just inches away from his full rump and asshole.
Angela then switched gears. When events seemed like they could get no worse,
she struck terror into Danny's heart as she addressed me:
"So when is that patient thumb of yours going to do its job of removing these
tighty whities so that I can see my very first naked teenage boy ass? After all, Danny's
favorite wedgies are the underpants-down kind."

At those words, every muscle in Danny's body- his firm and rigid kilbasi
included, I am sure- endeavored to bolt from his confinement. He wanted out of there in
the worst way. It was quite obvious that he was going to experience the spanking of his
life- the first and only spanking of his life- in front of the most beautiful girl in the entire
world. He now knew for sure that his scanty cotton briefs and snowy white bottom were
in serious danger.

The more he struggled, the firmer I held him between my knees. Danny was
going nowhere- though his tasty bum was going from creamy white to crimson red.
I then threw the lad a curve ball. I removed my thumb from the elastic of his
undies. For the first time since I had unbuckled his belt, he breathed a sigh of relief.
But not for long.

"Angela, rumor has it that when Danny recently lifted your skirt and exposed your
panties at the assembly and in the dining hall, his ultimate goal was to drop your panties.
Can you imagine how you would have felt had that happened?" I inquired. "And, didn't
he actually rob you of your underpants in the lunch room- passing them around to the
entire cafeteria? If I heard correctly, Danny sent you home that day without any panties.
Angela's face reddened with an angry facade, but then smiled broadly. She had
received my message. I was placing the status of Danny's underwear- and the status of
his provocative buttocks- into her hands. The roles between Danny and Angela were
hereby reversed. She, not I, would decide his fate.

She approached Danny, helplessly bent over my knee, and said:
"I'm sorry, Danny, but this is too good to resist. Your dungies are wrapped around
your ankles, your wedgied boy panties are in a knot around your crotch, and healthy
portions of your luscious buttocks are staring at me. Your underwear is begging for a
girl's touch, for a girl's adjustment- shall we say? Your Fruit of the Looms are pleading to
be rescued. And, I am the perfect girl to finish them off."

She smacked her dry lips several times, brushing her fingers across both of her
supple nipples. Danny gazed back at the outline of the same nipples, subconsciously
licking his own lips as well.
"It's time we had a panty raid- a boy panty raid," she added.
Danny froze in absolute shock as Angela gently but deliberately placed both of
her thumbs inside the waistband of his scant skivvies. It was time to act. The moment he
had dreaded the most had arrived- and, from top to bottom, he was helpless to do
anything about it. Still, this couldn't be happening; this wasn't happening.
With half of her moist tongue protruding out of her mouth, the craving lass peeled
back the center of the young man's briefs just enough to get a glimpse of his crack: a
modest preview of coming attractions. She then used her two thumbs to tenderly separate
the extreme upper portion of his resilient cheeks. A single blonde pubic hair surfaced to
greet the curious lass.

"Yummy! If you look this delectable with just a small crevice showing in your
upper butt, Danny, I can't begin to imagine you fully naked. But- no more imagining.
Let's do it! You are about to be eaten alive- but first your expensive filet mignons need to
be unwrapped, sauced, and then barbecued."
Danny knew from the tone of her voice and from the initial exposure of his split-
however so slight- that she meant business. A female classmate was actually going to
underpants him and bare his bottom, like she had done to her baby brothers at home and
like she had done to the little kids she baby-sat. Here in the art room of a high school, she
was the sitter and he was the baby.

There was nothing for Danny to do but to screech at the top of his voice, after
which he, once again, broke down in tears- an interesting combination of sentiments.

FUCK!!! FUCK!!! FUCK!!! he blurted.
"For what it's worth, Danny, I feel the same way about you as you do about me.
Just thinking about your nude, ill-disciplined tushy as an appetizer makes the tip of my
nipples and my entire clit tingle with goose bumps- if you know what I mean."
Despite his utter frustration, Danny pleaded with her one last time:
"Please don't do this! You are the most beautiful girl that I know. I adore you. The
prettier a girl is, the more embarrassing it is to be stripped and spanked by her. I will die
right on the spot if you shame me any further. I can't stand being disrobed by someone as
attractive as you- at least not for spanking purposes."

Whether she was experiencing a change of heart or whether she merely wanted to
tease him further, I didn't know at the time. But suddenly she blurted:
"I'm going to ask you a question and I want you to think very carefully before you
answer. Your shrunken store-bought undies are riding on this. If you tell the truth, the
underpants stay on; if you lie to me, your boy panties will drop so fast you won't know
what happened. Deal?"
He agreed. At this point, he would have agreed to anything. Still, he was cautious
and suspicious- as he had a right to be. Angela had a mean and nasty streak to her- but so
did he. What a perfect match!
"Again, think before you answer," she warned.
"I will; I will," he promised. "And, I will tell the truth!"
"OK- here goes," Angela continued. "If I were to lift my dress right now- and
leave it up- and show you my white bikini panties with red hearts on them- both front and
back- and if I told you that you could do anything with my panties that you wanted to-
would you drop them and then closely examine my privates in the front and my buttocks
in the back?"

There was dead silence. How should a lad respond to such a question? Of course
he would drop them! What hot-blooded heterosexual male wouldn't? How many times he
had lain in bed thinking about her for hours on end! For some unknown reason, even at
eighteen, he had yet to ejaculate- to reach orgasm. But he knew full well what it was like
to get hard. Angela and the boys were right- he had a continuous stiffie that never died. It
was a blessing but it was also a curse. It was embarrassing to walk the corridors with a
never-ending erection. Even with long shirts and corduroy trousers, the girls could tell he
was hard as steel. It got so the girls would lift his shirt and point to his boner. Three girls
would take turns grabbing it every chance they could- and they always found it pulsating
and rock-hard.

He also knew full well what it was like to continuously ooze pre-cum juices from
his flagpole. So far his entire adolescence had been all pre-cum without any cum! He
knew so well that marvelous, indescribable, pent-up feeling deep within his soft, teen
cullions- even though he was yet to explode at the tip of his regal crown. Would he ever
attain orgasm?

To say he wouldn't lower her panties would be a lie- and she would know it- and
then strip him for telling a lie. At the same time, if he admitted his life-long desire to see
her silk panties and then to uncover everything above and below her waist, she'd have an
excuse for doing the same to him. He wanted so urgently to investigate her precious
female privates in all of their glory- as did practically every boy in the building. But if he
gave the impression that he wanted to see and taste her naked buns, then wouldn't she
turn the tables on him and take his naked buns? They both wanted each other naked- but
she was in control, with the support of his mother and the principal. This was a no-win
situation.

And so, having given the question more thought than he had given any question in
his entire life, Danny replied:
"I don't know."
It was, thus far, Danny's worst mistake of the session, second only to my dad's
police chief and I don't have time to discuss underwear. Strike three!
I can never be sure whether Danny ever had a level playing field in this contest or
whether there was a right answer in all of this. All I know is that Danny's reply was a lie.
He did, in fact, know. And, Angela knew that he knew. Consequently, this male
adolescent's underpants now belonged to a female adolescent co-ed, a classmate whose
panties Danny probably wanted more than anything else in this world but wouldn't admit.
"FUCK!" echoed through the room.

"I gwi' strip nakit ez a jaybu'd befo' 'e fedduh' grow!" cried Angela.4
"What???!!!???" Danny reacted.

"For my last birthday my uncle gave me a book of slang expressions:
He will have the humbug qualifications of cow-boy stripped from his poor worthless
carcass so quickly that he would feel like a jay bird with his tail feathers gone." 5
Noting that baby jaybirds are especially featherless, Angela announced to the
petrified lad that she was about to make him as naked- as featherless- as a baby jay bird.

For the first time since early childhood, in the senior year of high school, this
physically- adorable but spiritually-mean adolescent gradually felt his tight, white, briefs
(alias, tighty whities) slip and slide ever-so-slowly below his waist at the hands of the
cutest girl in the school. To make it worse- it all happened at a snail's pace. From the tip
of his engorged frankfurter to the baby piggy of each foot, he was impotent to do
anything about it. His situational impotence of the moment only reinforced his sexual
impotence of the past six years- and, weeping bitterly, he died a thousand deaths as she
enthusiastically and mercilessly dropped his underpants and exposed his bare buttocks.

Angela breathed heavily as she happily took a full ten minutes to meticulously
remove the struggling lad's wedgied, middle-school, undersized briefs from his waist to
his upper-buttocks to his mid-buttocks to his lower-buttocks to his upper thighs to his
lower thighs to his knees to his calves to his ankles to the floor- and finally into a plastic
bag in her pocket book. Her eyes sparkled as she perused her handiwork of bare,
adolescent, male flesh. This lad was fully naked- and it was her doing. She knew it and so
did he.

"Met de billen bloot!" she announced.

Both Danny and I wondered.

"With bared buttocks," she translated. "It comes from a favorite Dutch expression
about getting caught with your pants down. And, may I suggest, Mr. Bullman, that these
shapely pastries of yours could easily serve and nourish an average-sized family as either
chicken dumplings for the main course or as apple dumplings for dessert! Sweeeeet!"
Briefs in hand, she reached for her handbag:
"These briefs are going home with me. I will either hand-wash the little fudgies
out of them- or leave them soiled in my top bureau drawer. They will make a terrific
souvenir and good company for my bikini panties- two of which you exposed in the
auditorium and in the lunch room. Each morning when I change my own panties, I will
see yours staring up at me. And, by the way, any more nonsense from you- and these
undies get passed around in the lunch room.

Suddenly a flash went off! Then, another flash! And another!
"Just in case I have to prove that today really happened," she chided Danny. "Do
you know how quickly a girl could place a photo of an asshole's asshole in everyone's
locker?"
Danny was beginning to appreciate the expression: she's got me by the balls!
Throughout the entire stripping- a total of 600 long seconds- Danny had
repeatedly cursed and sworn. What else could he do? There was no further begging- just
despair.

Throughout the disrobing of Danny's lower body, Angela had, again,
intermittently vocalized expressions like YUMMY! and MMMM! and WHAT A VIEW!
and DELICIOUS! and OH, MY GOD! The latter occurred at her first and full sight of his
well-hung, family jewels (her first sight of any adolescent rocks). She was greatly
impressed by his exposed and vulnerable almond joys- at times affectionately caressing
them while at other times digging her finger tips deeply into their soft, spongy-like
substance. Twice she squeezed them sternly until she could feel them throb. Danny
tensed and protested vehemently- which encouraged her to squeeze even longer and
harder. She inquired as to why an eighteen-year-older had mere peach fuzz instead of real
hair on his nuts deluxe but Dan declined to respond.
"Just like my baby brothers' balls," she teased. "And, as smooth as a baby's butt."
Could any teen feel any more humiliated?
The more debased Danny felt, the more turned-on she felt. And, the more turned-
on she felt, the more debased he felt.
Angela and I then began massaging the lad's small but plump honey-dip
doughnuts with oil. She saw to it that he got a clear view of the bottle: Johnson's Baby
Oil.
Frequently , at intervals, she caressed her own boobies.