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 Chapter 4 Of Bloomers And Beer Bottles

   I know it sounds clueless and I guess I was.  I still am.  I must be,
because guys still surprise me.  Afterwards I always wonder why I `never
saw that coming'.  And I guess the truth is because I am always so caught
up in the moment that thinking ahead even a little bit is just beyond me.
All I know is that I sure felt like it that night.  Up until then I thought
the only reason they were there was because Mr.  Sanders wanted to
humiliate me by fucking me in front of them.  It simply never occurred to
me that he was going to let them fuck me too.  Like I said, clueless.

   Out of all of the men that used me over the next 5 years Mr.  Bailey was
by far the meanest to me.  I don't mean that he hurt me physically.  But
mentally was another thing.  He never passed up a chance to humiliate me as
often and in the most degrading ways that he could.  Like Mr.  Sanders, and
most of the men I've known, I'm sure that he could `read' it in me somehow.
But up until I met Pete he was the only one that seemed to enjoy pushing me
past my limits.  And then as soon as he would establish a new limit he
would push it further.  That first time was just a taste of what he loved
to do to me.

   Like Mr.  Sanders he made me admit to him why I was there.  And with
each spank of the paddle I had to beg him for the remainder.  Then he told
me to spread my legs and turn my toes in for him.  He shoved it into me so
hard that he banged against my cervix.  It hurt so bad I screamed and Mr.
Sanders had to remind him that I was only 13 and he couldn't bury himself
in me like that.  He said `ok' but then he leaned down over me, told me to
hold his beer bottle for him and not spill any of it or I would get another
spanking.  Then he grabbed my hips and even though he didn't go as deep, he
fucked me as hard and as fast as he could.  And though it felt great to get
fucked like that I couldn't get it out of my head that he was making me
hold that beer bottle for him while he did it.  It was like he was telling
me that as far as he was concerned I was just a bimbo to him, someone to
bring him beer and then turn around and bend over.  Clutching that damn
beer bottle with both hands I started to cum long before he did.

   He made fun of me of course.  Spanking me and laughing at me he made me
admit to him over and over that I was coming on his `big' cock.  They were
all laughing at me at that point and that only made me cum harder.  That
and having to hold that beer bottle for him.  From what I remember I didn't
stop cumming until he did.  When he pulled out of me he made me get down on
my knees and clean him off, holding on to his beer as his cum dripped out
of me onto the carpet.  When I was through he told me to lick up my mess. I
should have known right then that he was always going to be nasty to me.

   With my nose in the carpet and my tongue licking up his cum he gave me
13 more hard spanks.  Not for spilling his beer but for shaking it up so
much that it was mostly foam.  (Like I could have helped that after the
pounding he gave me.) After that first time, no matter where I might see
him he always made a motion with his arm like he was holding a beer in his
hand.  He knew that it made me wet every time he did it.  And I knew that
he knew it.  Somehow that made me feel even more humiliated.  Not just from
remembering how I had held his beer for him while he fucked me but from
remembering how I held it for him while he spanked me and made me lick his
cum off of the carpet.

   Just as an example of how nasty he could be to me, right after
Thanksgiving that year he showed up at one of our 8th grade basketball
games.  I didn't notice him right away but after I did it was like I
couldn't stop looking at him.  Each time I did he would make that motion
with his arm, knowing that he was driving me crazy.  At half time we always
did a dance routine and then took a break while the band played a few
songs. We were out in the hallway talking when Mr.  Bailey came out of the
gym and signaled me to follow him.  I waited until no one was looking and
followed him.  When I got around the corner and down to the end of the
hallway he pushed me up against the lockers and put his hand under my skirt
to see if I was wet.  I could feel that my panties were but we always wore
bloomers over them.

   When I explained it to him he told me to go into the boy's room around
the next corner, take my panties off and bring them back to him.  I wasn't
real worried about any of the boys catching me.  We were on the opposite
side of the gym from where everyone went at half time, but somehow just
being in there made me a little nervous.  As fast as I could I stripped of
my bloomers and panties and then put my bloomers back on.  But when I got
back out in the hallway Mr.  Bailey was gone.

   If I had worn a thong it wouldn't have been so bad.  I would at least
have been able to bunch them up small enough in my hand so that no one
would see.  But we always wore French cut when we cheered because they were
more comfortable.  I started to panic because there was no way that I could
bunch them up small enough to keep a least some of the white material from
showing in my hand.  I knew better than to disobey him and I figured that
he would be right around the next corner and was just teasing me.  After
all, he didn't want anyone to see a 13 year old cheerleader giving him her
panties.  But when I looked around the corner he wasn't there.  And he
wasn't down by the bake sale table either.  I knew I couldn't walk through
all of those people to the locker room with my panties in my hand so I ran
all the way back to the boy's room and threw them into the trash can. 
(I've always wondered what the janitor thought the next day when he emptied
it.)

   By the time I got back to the gym the game had started and I got a glare
from Miss Thomas our cheerleading coach.  She didn't say anything but I
knew she was mad that I was late.  To avoid looking at her I looked back up
into the stands and there was Mr.  Bailey, grinning at me and holding his
imaginary beer bottle.  I remember turning red and looking away as fast as
I could.  It wasn't just the beer bottle humiliation that was making me wet
but that he knew that I had taken my panties off for him.  Somehow I just
couldn't stop looking at him and every time I did he just smirked and then
looked down at my skirt.  Letting me know by his expression what a little
slut he thought I was for doing it.

   As the game went on his leer kept reminding me of how he made me hold
his beer for him while he was fucking me.  He had done that to me several
more times by then and the thought of it was driving me crazy.  I could
feel my bloomers getting wetter and wetter and as we approached the end of
the game I was getting worried.  Our school colors where crimson and white
so of course our bloomers were crimson.  If they had been white they
wouldn't have shown the wetness as much but that was only part of my
problem.  Our bloomers were meant to be tight so they wouldn't sag when we
were doing our routines.  But they were also meant to be worn with panties
underneath for another reason.  As we went through our stationary routines
in front of the bleachers I could not only feel them getting wetter but
because they were so tight I could also feel them slowly slipping up and in
to me.

   The coaches always called a time out towards the end of the game and
that's when we would get to do our final floor routine.  Up until then it
had always been my favorite.  There were ten of us and we would line up 5
and 5 facing each other.  Then we would do 4 back hand springs followed by
5 cart wheels back in between each other ending in a split.  The problem
was that my best friend, Ashley and I were the smallest and in front.  I
knew that everyone was going to see my sopping wet camel toe as I flipped
and cart wheeled in front of them.  I thought about backing out, claim that
I had pulled a muscle or something but that wasn't fair to the rest of the
team.  At least that's what I told myself at the time.  But to be honest I
wanted to do it.  Just like Mr.  Bailey knew that I would.  He knew that I
would want the humiliation that he had prepared for me.

   The more I thought about it the sluttier I felt so I did it.  As soon as
they called time out I ran out on to the floor and got into position across
from Ashley.  I don't think anybody saw anything during the back hand
springs.  We were sideways to the bleachers and moving pretty fast.  But
that only served to make my bloomers snug up even tighter.  The cart wheels
were another story.  By the time I had finished the third one facing the
center of the bleachers I started to hear comments and gasps.  It wasn't
anything nasty.  It was more like they weren't sure if they had just seen
what they thought they had seen.  But it was enough for me to know that at
least some of them had seen my wet bloomers and slit.  And it was enough to
make me almost cum in front of them after the 5th cart wheel when my wet
pussy hit the floor.

   When I looked up at Mr.  Bailey he had a nasty sneer on his face and
kind of nodded his head to the side as he mouthed the words `boy's
bathroom' to me.  I knew what he wanted.  At least I thought I did.  As
soon as the game ended we ran into the locker room to gets our coats and
purses.  I usually walked home with Ashley and Courtney after the games,
but I knew that Mr.  Bailey was waiting for me so I told them to go ahead
without me because I had to run upstairs to get my science book out of my
locker.  As soon as they left I walked down the hall past the bake sale
table turned the corner and ran the rest of the way.  When I turned the
corner Mr.  Bailey grabbed me by one of my pig tails, pulled me into the
boy's bathroom, lifted me up in front of the mirror over the sink and told
me to pull my skirt up.

   I remember being kind of scared but he didn't give me a lot of time to
think about it.

   "What do you see, Candy?"

   "My pussy?"

   "No you stupid slut.  What's over your pussy?"

   "My bloomers?"

   "Yes, your bloomers.  Soaking wet half way up your slutty little snatch!
And that's what everyone else saw tonight too.  You just showed them all
what a pathetic little skank you are."

   I knew that not `everyone' had seen me.  But the way he sounded I was
convinced that at least some of them had.  He set me down, pulled me over
to the urinals and told me to take them off.  But as soon as I got one leg
out he told me to leave them like that, draped around my ankle.  Bent over,
with my hands gripping the lip of the urinal he kicked my legs apart and
told me to turn my toes in.  The whole time he was fucking me I was in a
panic that someone would come in and see me like that; bent over the urinal
with my bloomers around my ankle and cumming like crazy on his big cock.  I
didn't need to worry though.  He was pretty worked up from tormenting me
all night and came a lot faster than he usually did.  I think he was afraid
of getting caught too.  It sure didn't make him shoot any less.  As soon as
he pulled out of me I could feel it starting to drip.  But when I bent over
to pull my bloomers back up he stopped me.

   I thought he was just going to take them from me and make me earn them
back somehow.  (Remember what I said about being clueless?) Instead he made
me twist them until the other leg hole was just big enough to get over my
shoe.  He made walk home like that.  It wasn't even dark yet.  I had to
sneak out one of the side doors just to avoid the people that were still
there or getting into their cars.  And the worst part was that he ordered
me not to use the alley but to use the sidewalk on his side of the street
all the way down to his house before crossing over to ours.

   All the way home I was a mess.  I was sure that someone would notice my
bloomers around my ankle and what was worse I could feel his cum running
out of me and down my legs.  But as always, the humiliation and the fear of
getting caught had me so horny that it was all I could do to keep from
sitting down on one of the curbs and rub myself off.  I didn't.  But I
wanted to.  When I finally got back to our neighborhood I was sure that he
would be waiting for me but he wasn't.  He was inside his house eating
dinner with his wife and sons.  By the time I was able to sneak behind our
garage to put my bloomers back on I was late for our dinner and grounded
for the rest of the week.  After that, if he didn't do the beer bottle
thing he would do this twisty thing with his hands whenever he would see
me. And if I happened to be wearing panties at the time I would still be
wearing them after he did it.  Just not above my knees.

   When Mr.  Bailey was through with me he did the same thing that Mr. 
Sanders had done.  He said,

   "NEXT",

   and handed my paddle to Mr.  Groh.  I always felt kind of sorry for Mr.
Groh.  He was quite a bit older than Mr.  Sanders and Mr.  Bailey, his wife
was the wicked witch of the neighborhood, and he was kind of small.  Not
the smallest I have ever seen but close to it.  He was maybe half the size
of the other two and every once in a while they would tease him about it,
but not a lot.  Even so I could tell it bothered him when they did it.  Of
the 3 of them he was always the nicest to me.  Well, he was if it was just
the two of us.  If we were with Mr.  Sanders and Mr.  Bailey or his brother
he could be just as nasty as the rest of them.

   That night he decided to show the other two how a little slut like me
should be spanked.  He went over and sat down on the couch, made me crawl
over to him, pulled me over his lap by one of my pig tails and gave me 13
really hard stinging spanks.  And then, because so much cum had dripped out
of me onto his legs he gave me 13 more.  By the time he dumped me onto the
floor I was crying and cumming at the same time.  He told me that that was
how he used to spank his daughters and they always "behaved" afterwards. 
Then he asked me if I was going to behave and when I said,

   "Yes, Sir"

   he told me to `get into position'.

   Up until then the only `position' that I had known was over the arm of
Mr.  Sanders' chair.  But when I started to walk back over to it he yelled
at me, called me a `dumb cunt' and told me to get down on my hands and
knees on the carpet.  I had no idea what `doggy style' was at that time.  I
had seen it in some of my step father's mags but I didn't know what it was
called.  I learned it that night though.  The whole time he was doing me I
had to say `woof woof' every time he would spank me or ask me if I was a
slut.  The other two thought that was just too funny and Mr.  Sanders got
it all on video of course.  They didn't do it very often but every once in
a while over the next 5 years they would remember and make me do it for
them again.  And always when there was someone new around to make it more
embarrassing for me.

   Mr.  Groh didn't last very long (he never did).  I think it was probably
a combination of watching the other two plus not ever getting much at home.
When he was close he got up and made me turn around so he could hose me. 
He said that he had never done that before and had always wanted to try it.
He did it to me a lot after that night.  I was glad that he did.  I hadn't
cum while he was fucking me but I sure did when he did that.

   He started a trend.  Mr.  Bailey pulled me up and pushed me over the arm
of the chair again.  Mr.  Sanders videoed it from in front of me so he
could get a good shot of Mr.  Groh's semen dripping off my face.  Mr. 
Bailey hosed me too and then took the camera.  Mr.  Sanders made me go
through the whole

   "Why are you here, Candy?"

   4 or 5 more times and then he was in me again.  He fucked me as hard as
he could, letting the other two (and me) know that I was his slut and that
we were all going to follow his rules.  I think I came at least twice.  I
know I sure did after he hosed me and let me fall to the carpet with my
fingers jammed into me and my thumb on my clit.

   I was still shaking from the tremors when he bent down and said,

   "Well my little 13 year old slut, was it everything you hoped it would
be?"

   I remember leaning up on my elbow, his cum dripping on to my breasts,
and telling him,

   "Ooooh God, yesssssssssssss!!!"

   And then I came crashing down again when he told me it was almost 1 am
and that it was time for me to go home.  I remember how they all laughed at
me when I begged him to fuck me just one more time.  He told me no, that
they all had to work in the morning.  Then he pulled me up, walked me to
the laundry room door, opened it and gave me one last hard barehanded spank
as he pushed me out into the stairwell.  It wasn't until I was out there
that I remembered my clothes.  As always he said a little slut like me
should go home naked with cum all over her face and that he would leave my
clothes on the steps for me in the morning.

   I hadn't lied to him.  It was way more than I had hoped for all summer
long.  And it may sound crazy but the spankings and all of the humiliating
things that they made me say felt almost as good as their cocks did inside
of me.  I was still so horny when I crawled into my bed that it was after 2
am before I finally fell asleep on some very wet sheets.  Even so I didn't
sleep very well.  I woke up when my mom shut the back door and as soon as
she drove off I put on the cut-offs and t-shirt from the day before and ran
over to Mr.  Sanders' house to see if he had left a note for me on his
basement door.

   My clothes were there like he had promised.  But they were on the first
step down and just to make it worse he had put my dildo right on top of
them.  I could see a note taped to the door but when I got down there it
didn't say BRS or GHS.  It said GTBS @ 3pm.  Other than the "S" standing
for "SLUT" I had no idea what he meant by that.  No matter what I thought
of I just couldn't make anything fit.  I knew he was playing with me and I
was scared that he wouldn't fuck me again until I figured it out.  But I
was also afraid that someone might drive in and see my dildo lying on top
of my clothes and me at the bottom of the stairwell with my labs hanging
out.

   I grabbed my stuff and ran back in the house and this time I saw it.  My
mom had left me a note again.  Since I was grounded she had left me a list
of chores to do.  It really wasn't that big of a list and I figured that if
I did a good job maybe she would at least let me go to the pool with my
friends.  I ran upstairs, hung my clothes in my closet and hid my dildo. 
It wasn't until I turned around to go downstairs that I saw myself in the
mirror for the first time that morning.  I looked nasty.  I had dried cum
all over my face, neck, hair and thighs and I liked it.  I looked so dirty
and slutty that just looking at myself made me wet.  But I really wanted to
go to the pool, so for the first time in a long time I told myself, `no'.
By noon I had dusted, cleaned both bathrooms, picked up Debbie's room, and
vacuumed the whole house.  I was scrubbing the kitchen floor when she
called to check up on me.  She was impressed with everything I had done but
no matter how hard I begged she still wouldn't let me go to the pool.  All
she would say is that she would think about it and in the meantime if I
wanted some sun I could lay out in the back yard.

   Then she surprised me.  She said that no matter how bad I had been the
day before (if she only knew) I should still get at least one birthday
present.  She told me to go and look on the top shelf of her closet, try it
on and call her back.  It was a new swimming suit.  The problem with
everything I owned is that if they were more than a year or 2 old they were
too small for me.  My swimming suit was almost as tight as those cut-offs
and I had been hinting for a new one all summer.  The new one was way too
big.  The top I could adjust somewhat but the bottoms just drooped off of
me.  I called her back and told her and she promised to take me to the mall
that Saturday and exchange it.

   But at least she told me that I could tan in the back yard.  I stripped
the suit off and put it back in the bag, grabbed my cut-offs and t-shirt
and ran upstairs to take a shower and change into my old one.  As soon as I
saw myself in the bathroom mirror though I knew that the shower was going
to have to wait.  On my hands and knees, facing the mirror on the back of
my door I think I came at least 3 times just from looking at all that dried
cum on my face and remembering the feeling of their cocks ramming into me
the night before.

   By the time I had showered and blown-dried my hair it was around 2:00 I
guess.  But that was the best time of day to tan so even though I hadn't
been able to be at the pool all day I wasn't too disappointed.  I had a
couple of People magazines to read, so I grabbed them and my towel and went
out to enjoy some time doing nothing.  I don't know how long I was out
there before all those hot guys in the magazine started to get to me.  But
they did.  At first I thought about going down to the bottom of our
basement stairwell like I used to do.  Looking around though, I realized
that no one was home.  Everyone was at work.  So I rolled over on my back,
slipped my hand down inside my bikini bottom and fantasized about getting
caught like that.  Like that first day that I went outside without my
panties, it was a delightfully juicy cum.

   I fell asleep after that, but I don't think it was for very long.  The
sound of our kitchen phone ringing woke me up.  Thinking that it was my mom
checking up on me I ran as fast as I could to answer it before she hung up.
It wasn't my mom.  It was Mr.  Bailey.

   "Hello."

   "Candy."

   "Yes sir?"

   "Do you know how to read?"

   "Yes sir."

   "You were supposed to be here at 3 o'clock.  It's 10 after!"

   Then he hung up and as I ran out the back door I finally figured out
what GTBS meant.