Silky Adventures 12

#12

College Punishment

George let me drive his Volvo C70 convertible all the way from Jasper, AL to Tuscaloosa. We were going to the University of Alabama for a big football game. Alabama was the National Champion in 2009, and plans to repeat in 2010, so every game is a big deal. With 101,000 fans in the stadium, it is wild!

We drove down Highway 69 (I know, don't you love it!) which is not the fastest way to get there, but on a beautiful Fall day at 75 degrees and a cloudless sky, whipping around curves and down hills is more fun than a roller coaster. Jessica & I flipped a coin, so I drove to the game, she would drive home. I won.

"Silky, this is great, but if you wreck the car you better kill all of us, or I will kill you," George said that, but he didn't really mean it.

I slowed for a few miles, but having a cloud of flaming red hair around your head that wisps one way and then the other, with the music blasting, and Jess's hair a matching swirl of blond, was too much. I squealed the tires as I sorta went into the other lane a little, but Gesú Bambino nobody was coming. The other way, I mean. No, no other car was one the road.

It did earn me a few whaps with a cane when we got there. Glad I have a padded seat for the game. George keeps an apartment a block from the Bryant-Denney stadium, and he says if we ever go to the University we can live there. We just go to [xxxx] community college in [xxxx], and no, I'm not telling exactly where we live. But 'Bama would be lots of fun!

The next morning, I woke up in Chocolate withdrawal. I looked around the place, but couldn't find any; that bitch Jess sometimes hides it on shelves she can see that I can't because she's tall and I'm not. I think it's cruel, and why does she get to be tall? Anyway, I stood in a chair to scope the top of the 'fridge. No chocolate, but ewwweh! Someone needs to clean up there.

Probably a tall, blonde person who enjoys watching her sister get a whipping on her naked behind should be made to do it. Especially since that very same sister was good enough to lick her pussy and give her a nice orgasm while she was being flogged and hurt and punished, but she still thought of her beloved blonde sister. Probably her red headed sister should inspect the work and chastise her for any slight imperfection. Probably she should get whipped and have to pay a fine in nail polish... Anyway.

I still had the keys, and they were asleep, so I scooted to the drug store and loaded up on Hersey's. The Best! They had peppermint patties at 3 for a dollar, so I like had to get some of those; I would be a fool not to. And there was this amazing sparkly nail polish on sale, so I got few of those, and then... ok, focus.

When I got back, there was nowhere to park. The lot was full! I parked in the middle and got out.

"Excuse me, Miss. You can't park there." A tall guy in a Boy Scout uniform was talking to me! He had brown hair, a big nose, and acne.

"And why not? Our apartment is here!"

"On Game Day, all the spots are assigned. You have to pay $20 to park here."

"But I just spent all my money. I can't get any more from George until we're at the game... he won't let me buy enough chocolate."

"I don't know what you're talking about, but I have to have $20."

I got a little tearful, and let a few drops slide down my cheek. "But I'll get my little ass whipped if I ask him for money! He'll pull my britches down and use a riding crop!"

I had guessed right; Boy Scout's dick twitched with that remark. "I already got spanked once, look!" And I turned and lifted my little skirt to show him the welts.

His eyes kinda glazed over, and he swallowed a few times. "I don't...uh..I mean..uh..oh, that must hurt!" His eyes were glued to my cheeks.

"They do. Here, feel them!" I stepped next to him and pulled his hand onto my smooth derriere.

His Scout uniform was going to require alterations from the bulge he had under his zipper. A little spit gathered in the corner of his mouth as he slid his hand over my silken skin. If my ass was Braille, he could have read every word.

"How about if you just spank me for being a very bad girl and we call it even?" I asked without batting my eyes, though it was difficult.

He slowly nodded his assent, and I bent over the hood of the car.

He looked nervously around, but no one was near us. The first blow was so indecisive I barely felt it. He didn't even think to remove my thong, what little there was to it. He gathered steam and courage, and managed a definitive slap the second time, but his fingers lingered to check his work. I wiggled a little encouragement, and he landed several more jolts on my butt.

At that point he clenched his teeth, turned red, and apparently made a mess in his uniform, because he turned quickly and walked away, with no more foolishness about money.

"Hi, Silk, Where you been?" Asked Jessica as I walked in.

"Oh, just talking to some whack job in the parking lot."

We spent like hours deciding what clothes to wear to the game. Did we go campus hippie, sophisticated visitor, or all gung-ho fan. I think Jess likes the fan outfit because she likes anything with "ho" in it. I'm serious, don't even get me started about Christmas and Santa.

Finally we went with crimson and white everything. With two of us, we could get a pair of socks in each color, and share. We had 'Bama shirts (and underwear) with "13" on them. I thought that was like unlucky, but apparently the team has been national champions like 13 times. Wow! We even had our hair pulled up with 'Bama barrettes.

The stadium is so big!!! You walk in with a crowd that crushes the air out of you, and then up the spirally walkways that go up like forever. 'Daddy' keeps nice seats. He won't pay for one of those glass boxes, which is so mean when it's cold and raining, like who can enjoy a game when they're freezing?

But we don't have to sit up in the 'nose-bleed' section. I think they snort cocaine up there, that's why it's a bad seat, because it's dangerous.

So the game starts with a kick-off and everybody screams "Rooooollll Tide, Roll!"

It's really fun. Of course then they run around and hit each other, and God only knows where the ball is or what they're doing. We like the 'waves,' and the band playing and all the excitement in the air, you can breathe it. When we score, which is often, they show wild graphics on the scoreboard, and play the "Yeah Alabama, Crimson Tide, lay dah lay dah..." I don't really know the words.

Anyway, I had to pee. Jess didn't so I went alone, which turned out to be a bad idea. Honestly, that stadium holds 101,000 fans -- half of that makes 30,000 women, but do they have 30,000 toilets? No! Not even 10,000. You would think they could do the math! So I'm standing in line for like forever, and I'm about to wet myself. There is no line to the men's room.

Fuck it! I walked into the men's room, there was almost nobody there (Someone told me that there was a tape being watched, which makes no sense, it's a live game) I went into a handicapped stall, 'cause those are bigger, and have their own sinks. Why they put a mirror in a men's room stall for people in wheelchairs, I'll never know! They're in wheelchairs and they're men, duh!

Down with the panties, drop on the seat! I emptied my bladder and sighed with relief. Sainted Mary, what a release! So I wiped my triangle carefully, but I still accidentally touched myself. I can't help it, since I've become addicted to masturbation I just do it all the time. I mean, it feels so good! My little snuggle tingled, and I had to touch it a few more times, I had to!

I stood and pulled up my pants. Opps! Now I had soaked my panties, and I knew if I went back to my seat Jess would know I'd been diddling myself, so I took them off again to wash them in the little sink.

"Open up in there!" A loud and very rude banging on the door to my stall reverberated in the small space.

I opened the door a crack, but was shoved backwards as two big guys pushed their way into the stall with me.

"You're in the wrong toilet, girlie!"

"I don't think so! I had to pee, I peed. End of story!" I tried to brush by them, but they grabbed my arms.

"We're the uh, the toilet police," the blonde one said.

"That's right, we protect the toilets!" agreed the one with curly black hair.

"Shit, Shit! What is wrong with this place? I guess I'll get another whipping! Drive fast, get whipped; park the car, get whipped. Argh! Do both of you whip me for this?"

They stared at each for several seconds, apparently not sure of the regulations. Finally they nodded. "Yeah, both of us."

I rolled my eyes, shrugged, heaved a really huge sigh and turned to bend over the toilet.

"Wait! Is this bare assed?"

"Yes, definitely!"

"Ok, my panties are in the sink anyway. It's just a thong, My sister's wearing one just like it and I had the misfortune to touch my clit and was so wet and I didn't want her to smell my pussy... is that like TMI?"

They looked so blank I'm surprised they could have jobs as important as toilet police. I pulled up my tiny skirt and bent over, grabbing the toilet seat.

"Ewwweh! Someone needs to do a better job of cleaning in here. I would've 'hovered' if I hadn't been in such a hurry!"

After about twenty seconds of waiting, I looked over my shoulder. Both of them had their cocks in their hands, nicely firm, stroking. Blondie was bigger. Curley looked Chinese his eyes were so slitted.

"Wait a minute! You guys are not going to fuck me without condoms; I KNOW there's no rule like that. And if you come on this skirt, I swear....!"

"No, no... we're just going to spank you. We were...debating who went first. Now assume the position!"

Apparently one of them pulled off his belt, because there was a loud pop and the first lick hit. They weren't very synchronized; they spent more time jerking off than spanking. After a few lashes vilified my rear, they both blew their brews against the sink. None on my skirt, thank you Jesus!

I left the thong. I just wanted to get back to my seat.

"Jess, I hope you don't have to tinkle. This place has ridiculous rules!"