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[EN / Samuel Clemens] - In style of Mark Twain
« il: 28 Gennaio 2012, 23:32:05 »
The sun burned hot like an August afternoon but the calendar said it were only April. That had me confused some and set me to thinking about calendars and weather and such. But that kind of thinking can lead to severe pain in the head. It does for me anyway.
Every time I get to pondering some important question like ‘how can it be over 90 degrees today when today is April but tomorrow it might not get to 60’ when I get this pain in the top of my head.

Now, I don’t want you to start worrying that I have some strange and mysterious physical ailment that might take many doctors to cure or even to have to cut into my head. (They do that you know!) No. I have traced the source of my head pain to the book or ruler Miss Green uses to whack me on the head with when she catches me thinking.

Now, why should a young man thinking get whacked up the side of the head or on top of this head for that matter is what your are probably wondering about now. Some of you may wonder why the authorities, maybe Officer Scott, arrested Miss Green for hitting a youth in the head with a book or ruler. (My father would say that Officer Scott wouldn’t arrest Miss Green because she would stop giving him her womanly favors in the woods behind public park if he did something like that. I am not sure what favors women might have to give to the Officer but I know I’d like to get my hands on them because I can already see where I will be needing something to get myself out of trouble with our local constables.

Not that I am a troublemaker. No, I am surely not. But I am a young man looking for adventure and that looking can on occasion lead me to getting crossways from the straight and narrow the Reverend Brown is always directing us towards. But anyway, the real reason that Miss Green gets away with whacking me in the head is that Miss Green is my teacher and it being the end of April rather than August like the hot sun would indicate means that I am sitting in a class where Miss Green is attempting to teach us something or another.

But today I am in luck! Instead of coming to my seat in the last row by the window where I get to sit since I am in the oldest group in this schoolroom and I claimed the window back in September and haven’t seen any good reason to move, she is about to ring the bell and dismiss us. Oh Glory is there nothing better than getting out of school?

School ends at five minutes before three and that means I have at least two hours before supper. Two hours is not enough time for a real adventure but it is enough time to do something that will relieve me from the pain and stress of sitting in Miss Green’s classroom. Now, I hope that I am not giving you a poor impression of Miss Green. Because as far as school teacher’s go she is pretty good. And I have been in school for a number of years and Miss Green is, well let’s see, there was Miss Johnson and then she got sick and died after the Lord took her baby and her sister Miss Johnson (they had the same name since they were siblings or so my father explained) was our teacher. Then when the second Miss Johnson moved away we had Mr. Edwards and he was really not a good teacher. Not that he wasn’t smart but I am amazed he could do a thing seeing as how he was taken to strong drink with great regularity. I know I didn’t learn a thing for the two years he was the teacher. Then we had Miss Waters- Weller –Waters-Rand. That wasn’t her name really but she was Miss Waters. She married Mr. Weller and became Mrs. Waters-Weller. Mr. Weller had money but didn’t seem to work much. They said he was a broker and bought and sold ranches. Well, then Mr. Weller got himself shot out in Kansas and we found out that he was really in the pharmaceutical trade. So Mrs. Waters-Weller became Mrs. Waters since she didn’t want to be associated with an person of the caliber of her late husband. And then Mrs. Waters had found that Mr. Weller had left her a youngster baking in her oven before he went off to Kansas never to return so she went out promptly and got Mr. Rand to marry her. My mother says that Mrs. Waters is a certain type of woman that will always manage to find trouble but that is another story altogether.

Now, that all probably doesn’t leave you much of an impression for this young woman whom I shall call Mrs. W but that is the truth. Actually, Mrs. W was a beautiful woman and for that reason it was not hard for her to attract the attention of men. My mother said that it was actually a curse the young woman would have to endure. My father just smiled and said we should all be so cursed. My mother did not like that it seems so my father slept out in the barn for a while. Anyway, Mrs. Green took over when Mrs. Rand left to raise her child.

Mrs. Green didn’t seem to like me much and I am afraid I might get to spend another year with her unless we can get some fella to marry her and move her away.

Anyway, it being so hot and only April, my feet seemed to lead me to the pond. The pond being filled by cold, clear water was the place where many an adventure started for young men in these parts. The pond sat below three hills covered in tall trees. The sun barely got through to the water and even on the hottest day the water was cold. The pond was popular with people of all ages but we, we being the young people under the age of adulthood, had a few special places where the older folks did not go.

It was to my favorite spot that I found myself in today. The area sat some 20 feet about a little inlet off the pond. The water was deep here and we could dive straight down, or at least those brave enough to try it could do so. The grass was soft and the tree limbs covering it were high above. Just to the south side was a little area that was where we’d go when we had something that we didn’t want others to see. That is where I went today not that I was hiding anything but I wanted to place alone to think. See those thoughts on calendars and the temperature were still cluttered inside my mind and my mind works that if I don’t remove the clutter my some logic then I will just get stuck there.

So it was that I stretched out on the grass hidden off the grassy spot and was thinking. And my thinking was going rather well when I was interrupted by voices. Loud and laughing. And this would have made me upset at being disturbed and all but then I realized that the voices were girls voices and the prospects for some mild adventure suddenly improved.

I crawled up against the trunk of a huge, old oak tree and had a good view of the cleared area. Due to the shadows and sun I could see the entire area plainly but no one could ever see me since looking back into this area was about like looking into one of the caves down by the river.

Sure enough, four or five girls game into my view. They were older by a couple of years. I saw Angela Evans and I knew her to be at least 17. At least. She was real pretty and many of the men in town would make an extra effort to take to her on Sundays after church and even on Saturdays in town after the picture shows if their wives weren’t around. Angela used to come to our house to watch the little kids and I thought she was quite the priss. She didn’t think a lot of me then either because she seemed to think that I was acting poorly or something and one time told my mother than I had tried to lift her skirt. That got me several solid whacks on the backside and made me made at Angela. Not that I wasn’t trying to lift her skirt. But, she didn’t tell my mother that she had caught me, pushed me down, pulled down my pants and hit me until I cried. No sir. She didn’t say anything about that. And then when my mother took the switch to me, well my backside was sore for about a week.

Funny how the girls changed. Anyway, Angela was with several others I did not recognize but they were all about her age. This could be interesting. The girls were running around and looked to be planning to go for a dip. A few had started to strip down to underwear but then they were all wondering about the drop to the water. It looks further than it is but you don’t realize that until you have done it a few times.

Most of the older guys swing out on these vines but you have to be strong to get up and away from the trees. Little Phil Baxter thought he could do it last year and he didn’t make it out and landed on the ground at the top and broke both his ankles.

I crawled around to get a better view of the girls and thought I had the perfect hiding spot behind a huge stump and under a limb. I was sitting there watch Renee Douglas pull off her T-shirt when someone grabbed me from behind. I yelled and struggled but my attacker was bigger than me and quickly had my arms pulled behind my back. I looked up to see Angela and Renee (still just wearing her bra) and two other girls run over.

I couldn’t see who was holding me and feared it was Angela’s brother Scott. He was one tough SOB but that would explain why I couldn’t break free. “Let him go, Joe,” Angela said. I was released and shoved roughly to the ground. Somewhat embarrassed I tried not to show it and rose to my feet interested in who this monster “Joe” could be.

“Joe” turned out to be “Jo Anne” as in Jo Anne young a girl just a year older than me and very good looking. I didn’t believe it other than my arm still hurt from where she had twisted it up behind me.

“What are you doing, twerp?” Angela said to me. Now, considering that this girl was the object of many of my young man fantasies, having her refer to me as a twerp was painful.

“Nothing,” I replied feeling as stupid as I knew I sounded.

“Nothing other than watching us?” she said.

I began to recover. “Actually, I was up here checking out our swimming spot.”

“You dive in from this cliff?” Jo Anne asked.

“Sure,” I said trying to feign confidence.

“And how would you do that?” Angela asked.

“From the vines,” I said matter-of-factly.

“How?” Jo asked sounding interested.

“You climb up about ten feet and shove off with you feet. A couple of swings and you are out over the water.” She looked impressed. “It looks further down than it is,” I continued.

“You’ve done it?”

“Many times,” I lied. I had tried last year but could never climb high enough to swing out but I was 9 months older and stronger. “We do it all summer long,” I added. We being the boys in the town.

The girls ran away and went to the vines. Angela went first. Stripped to bra and panties she grabbed a thick vine and tried to climb up. It was harder than it looked. After a minute she was up only six feet and dropped back. Susan was much stronger, she claimed. She jumped up and finally go to the 10 foot mark but she was too tired to hang on and swing out.

After a few other girls tried and failed, Jo went to the vine. She got up fairly easily but she could not swing out far enough to drop. She quit.

Angela looked at me and said: “I don’t think you’ve done it nerd.”

There was that word again. “So, unless you can do it, we are going to have to punish you for spying on us.”

I made up some story about an infection that prevented me from swimming. I thought it might work but then Angela, who was far to resourceful, had an idea. “To climb up and swing out, you’d have to be pretty strong.” No one disagreed.

“None of us could do it but nerd claims he can,” she continued. Where was she going?

“So, this is what we will do. Since the nerd can’t go in the water, he can prove his strength by arm-wrestling. If he is so strong, he should win. If he does, fine. If he doesn’t, he gets to talk home without his clothes.”

The girls laughed and agreed. The quickly decided that Jo would be my opponent. I was positively weak-kneed. Jo was very good looking. She occupied at least as many of my dreams as Angela. And, I knew she was strong because she had man-handled me from my hiding place. The thought of armwrestling her was terrifying. And then to realize that they intended to strip me if I lost. @#%$!

We laid on the grass across from each other. Jo’s eyes shined with laughter and confidence. The muscles in her shoulders and arms were impressive. And then, of course, you had my poor spindles without even a hint of muscular definition. To make matters worse, her breasts swelled over the cups of her bra and she lay prone opposite me.

We took a grip and her hand wrapped tightly around my pathetic fingers causing me to wince with pain. She saw it and chuckled. I was not a ‘wimp’ as well as a ‘nerd’. The girls circled around us watching and the match started. I will say that I struggled gamely against a superior opponent. I held her arm up for what seemed like a minute (it was actually probably 3 or 4 seconds.) I strained and turned red and pulled and twisted and never managed to move her young arm on inch to my side. After this struggle she just smiled at me and her friends and said: “This is too easy.”

I fought harder but she rolled her shoulder and pulled by arm over and down to the grass. I gasped in a combination of humiliation and frustration.

The girls let out a whoop of victory. Before I knew it, they pulled me to my feet and were tearing my clothes away. They were going to go through with my humiliation and I was powerless to stop them. They pulled my shirt back first pinning my arms and they quickly unclipped by belt and pulled my pants down. And then my humiliation was complete. As they pulled my cotton shorts down I was at full attention.

I can still hear the peels of laughter as the ran off with my pants, shirts and shorts leaving me a walk over more than a mile naked and aroused.
« Ultima modifica: 29 Gennaio 2012, 02:57:35 da Femuita »

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