The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblance to real people is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons in towns, cities, or governmental areas, in which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most state and countries, you are not allowed to read this story by law. Check with your local laws regarding such. Sexual safety matters. This is fiction. Use protection in real life. `Got condom?'
"Senior Cut Day" 01 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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He waited at the corner convenience store for nearly an hour. Still no-show for Kevin and his other five friends from the high school football team, scheduled to pick him up at seven thirty. Pulling on the chain, the one connected to he wallet, he fished out his watch.
`Damn!' Sean cursed the lot of them, seeing the hand hit the twelve.
Soon the road in front of the convenience store would be teeming with cars, some of them faculty members or even the high school principal.
`Wouldn't that be a bitch!', Sean thought out loud.
If the school principal spotted him standing of the corner of Jackson and Vine, then to receive the absentee report with his name on it. Sean was sure the principal would match the name with the face of the student, standing in the speedo swim trunks, Billabong tank, beach towel draped over his shoulders, as he stood there in his sandals. He didn't even think about the small Igloo ice chest he had sitting on the sidewalk. So, seven thirty went by and still no-show. At quarter to eight, a navy blue Lexus pulled up directly in front of him.
Oh shit!' Sean called out to the morning air. It's Salgado!'
A touch of the button brought down the passenger seat window.
"Miss the bus, Sean?"
"Um... yeah, that's it?"
Of course his Spanish teacher knew the real story. It's not secret, how Thursday and Friday had been carved out of this week, designated special for Seniors, by the upperclass echelon. Coupled with the weekend, provided a special break.
"I hadn't realized it to be dress down day."
"Um... yeah.. I mean."
Everybody knew Mr. Salgado was a cool guy. Proving it, he wasn't giving Sean a tough time.
Before rolling up the window, he yelled out, "Have a good day at the beach!"
"Yeah... thanks..." Sean replied, to his peeling out of the standing zone.
One of the members of the school football team, Sean stood there, six feet tall, one hundred and ninety-eight pounds, brown hair kept at a moderate cut, the usual for teens his age. By no means was there an ounce of fat on the high school senior's bod. Coach Ransom kept the team in tip top shape, making it a prerequisite for each member to report after school to the gym, for an intensive workout. If any player didn't report by three pm, there was hell to pay. Sean knows the facts plain and clear. It had been his unfortunate mistake to show up five after. Many unique factors fit in to the young coach's abilities to keep allegiances to his methods of conduct. The team found him to be a fair coach, from day one, often `allowing' a beer party after games, held secretly in the wrestling room, in the bowels of the school gymnasium. In tribute to Coach Ransom, the team kept it to themselves the extra code of ethics he extended, beyond that of school discipline, to keep the guys on track. In the absence of the vehicle he waited for, Sean's mind began to wander back to that particular day of being tardy.
"Um, sorry I'm late Coach Ransom."
"Oh you don't know how sorry you are, Keller. Get in the lockerroom now and get ready."
"Yes, sir."
Hustling past the doorway where Coach Ransom patrolled the only way in to the lockerroom, (one could only exit the back door, unless a team mate held it open, which was taboo), Sean hurried past.
"Oooooh, are you gonna get it, Seannie!" Dave Clark called out, barechested and fitting one arm into a tee shirt.
"Coach didn't seem too pissed at me for being late."
"Yeah. You're lucky," Kevin Brecker replies.
"Oh? How's that go?"
"Anthony came in a minute before you."
"Oh, so he's late too?"
"Yeah and you should thank him for taking Coach Ransom's tongue lashing."
"Oh, so that's why he was being so `gentle' on me, if that's what you want to call it? Hey, I better get crackin'."
It had been two weeks into the season - football that is. The school year had progressed along mildly, compared to the hectic schedule the team endured. Rigorous stretching, exercising and weight training from two-forty-five to four o'clock. Football practice that lasted two hours, then depending on how the practice went, Coach Ransom would designate from two to ten laps of the track. Forget any extracurricular activities. If a man didn't show up without a doctor's note on Monday morning, for being absent on Saturday, he was in deep shit.
"Let's hustle. Get your asses in gear! Let's move it men!" came the call.
Yes, Coach Ransom had a bee up his ass and it was stinging!
"Heard you had been late too?" Sean asked Anthony, as every eighteen year old piled out of the corrals of lockers.
"Yeah. He was a pussycat with you, compared to the hell he gave me. Guess he ran out of steam."
"Doesn't sound like it, with the tone of his voice he used on us now."
"Gucci! Keller! Front and center!"
The main area of the lockerroom, the one normally resumed for gathering for education on moves, now resembled a courtroom. Decked out in their tank tops, shorts, socks and sneakers, the class formed a `u'. At the opening, stood Sean and Anthony, facing Mr. Ransom. Both teens eyes remained glued to what Coach Ransom held in his hand. It got so quiet, a pin could be heard dropping. Instead, the sound piercing the silence had been Coach Ransom tapping one of the sides of the paddle he held in his hand, thumping each finger on it, purposely to draw attention to the implement. This wasn't any ordinary paddle. Not one used for the sport, ping pong. On the contrary, this paddle was at least twice the size, it's wooden expanse, covered with black material, resembling leather.
"Strip!"
Anthony made the mistake of saying, "But we just got dressed...Owwwoooohh!"
The guys gasped, seeing Coach Ransom's free hand fly through the air, slapping against Anthony's face.
"You're in enough hot water, Gucci. Now get that fuckin' uniform off."
"Ye-s Sir," Anthony replied, one hand already in place to strip his shirt off, overhead, as the other rubbed over his red cheek.
Anthony Gucci was hailed as the lockerroom `bear', the only eighteen year old with a full chest of dark hair, extending from his shoulders, the base of his neck, down to his waistline. From there, a dark treasure trail extended from his deep bellyhole to his wiry pubes. Where he lacked in height, at five feet, nine inches tall, he made up on the other side of the scale, when it came to his nine inch, fat cock and well endowed balls. Soon he and Sean stood there in front of the gym class, butt-naked.
"You first Keller."
As before, the two keyed in to the paddle.
"Um, don't you think you can give me... us another chance, Coach...oowwwwwww!"
Sean got it this time, sending him reeling to the side, crashing into his buddy, Marc Houtman's chest. Marc helped keep him bouyant, from falling to the floor.
"You'll both take your punishment like men, unless you want to get your shit and clear out!"
Of course Coach Ransom knew they wouldn't. Since day one, he gave this big pep talk on honor, how men don't give up, making each one of the seniors give a promissary oath to endure to the bitter end. He also twisted each one around his little finger, convincing them that what went on inside the lockerroom, or on the field, or bus, or anywhere they assembled as a group, remain their own business. He made it clear that he shouldn't be hearing any unnecessary feedback from parents or the administration.
"Sorry," Sean offered, for his `insult' to Coach Ransom. "I'm ready to take my punishment."
Anthony offers, "Yeah, me too," although eyes still on the paddle, he would be kicking himself later, for being so eager.
"Bend over the bench."
"Yes, sir."
Approaching the wooden bench, the one three jocks could easily fit on, to slip on their gear, Anthony kneels, then folds in two, so that his hairy stomach falls to the wooden plank.
"Legs out."
Anthony isn't sure what the twenty-seven year old Coach means, but stretches his legs out behind him, straightened as if he's going to do a pushup.
"What the fuck is it you don't understand, asshole!"
In line with Coach Ransom's statement, he kicks Anthony's legs apart. It splits his ass open, revealing the hairy crevice, a faint look at the door to the Italian's ass chute.
"You, Keller. Over the bench."
Sean puts his hands on the bench next to Anthony.
"No, over further."
Moving away from Anthony, to his right, Sean repositions himself.
"No, you imbecile, to your right!"
`To my right?' Sean thinks to himself.
He moves back to where he was in the first place.
"No. Keep going," Coach instructs.
He damn well knows that if Sean moves any further to his right, his chest is going to be over Anthony's back, his legs on the inner portion of his classmate's thighs.
"But..." Seeing Coach Ransom's hand come up, he claims, "I'm going.. I'm going."
"Oh shit!" Rings out throughout the u', as everyguy realizes that Sean has assumed the fuck' position over Anthony.
"Now - down!"
Sean lets out a slight `umph', as Coach Ransom's nudge with his knee keels him off balance, his chest slamming against Anthony's back, with a slapping sound. Not only is the skin to skin sound heard, but for the two offenders, a silent wonder takes place from within each teen.
`Oh shit!' Anthony thinks to himself, feeling the side of Sean's rod pressed against his ass chute.
Sean has similar thoughts, but additional ones, hoping the hairy crevice doesn't act as a stimulating agent!
"Hey Sean!"
Almost reliving that day, Sean breaks out of his reverie.
"Hey Jason. Where's the other guys?"
"Um... uh... at the beach... yeah that's it... Um, sorry we forgot you. I came back to get you."
For a day off of relaxation for his gay buds and himself, he thought Jason was awfully tense.
"How could you forget me?"
"Long story. I'll tell you later."
But instead of heading for the interstate, Jason made a u-turn.
"Wait, isn't the beach `that' way?"
"Yeah, um... bad accident. We'll have to take the Old Leeds Turnpike."
Sean accepted it, knowing that the old road, the one folks took before the superhighway came through the county, would take them to the beach, even though they would have to wait out the twenty-something lights. But things got even more skeptical when Jason turned at Bard road, one of the few dirt roads left in the town.
"Hey wait. This isn't the road to the beach. Stop!"
Making sure Jason halted the jeep, Sean unbuckled his seatbelt and stretched his left leg wide, pressing his foot on the brake.
"Dammit, Sean! You almost sent us through the windshield!"
"Tell me what's going on Jason!"
"Come on, Sean. We've only got ten minutes and I gotta get you back to...."
"To what, Jason?"
Even though the sun had risen only an hour ago, Jason sweated something fiercely. His tank top sweated where his pits met the fabric and in the midchest region, his face like a sauna.
"Listen... seems like us guys forgot about something with this Senior Cut Day stuff."
"What would that be?"
"Gym? Football?"
"The season's over."
"Not where Coach Ransom's concerned."
"How did he even find out?"
"I don't know."
Sean offers, "The only place we talked about it was in Spanish class."
"I know. I mean, we all know it's Coach Ransom's first year here at Woodrow High, but Senior Cut Day has been around for like ages."
"Yeah. The whole student body cuts. Where does he get off... Oh shit!"
"What?"
Jason looks at his watch.
"It's been twelve minutes."
"So?"
"No, you don't understand," Jason puts the jeep in gear.
"Wait!"
"Get your fuckin' foot off the brake, Sean!"
"But..."
"Listen, if we don't get back, Kevin's gonna get it."
"Get what?"
"Just move your fuckin' foot!"
With the adrenaline racing faster than the jeep up the dirt road, Sean thrown against the passenger door, Jason steered around curves, stirring up the dust, til they reached a clearing.
"What tha fuck?" Sean called out.
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To Be Continued.............
Copyright 2006 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold or made part of any collection without prior written permission.