Date: Thu, 11 Apr 2013 01:39:48 +0000 (UTC) From: fiveholepunch@comcast.net Subject: Larnin' at School Please fund this online educational resource with a generous contribution. Larnin' at School "Billy Yarborough!" I looked up from assisting one of the younger students with their arithmetic lesson at the vocal outburst from the back of the schoolroom. Emma White, a pig-tailed twelve year old girl, was visibly upset. "What is going on back there?" "Billy's pulling my hair, Mister Wilkins." "I weren't doing nothin'!" denied a guilty looking farm boy of thirteen. "Stand up, Billy." The tow-headed boy made a sour face at Emma for telling. He stood up from behind his desk. "That's enough of that young man," I admonished, "Billy, were you pulling Emma's hair?" He looked down at his feet and pouted in frustration. He knew he was in trouble again. "Billy, you've been warned about your behavior. Go stand by the door." He frowned, but made his way reluctantly to the schoolhouse door. "Class, you are to continue working and I don't want to see anyone looking out of the windows," I instructed, "Is that understood?" "Yes, Mister Wilkins," the class of a dozen and half rural boys and girls replied. "William ..." The boy lifted his eyes, his expression one of tight-lipped frustration and barely hidden petulance. " ... to the woodshed, young man." We trudged our way towards the small wooden shed next to the small schoolhouse. I unlatched the door and we went inside. I had recently arrived in the rural district after completing my degree in Iowa City. The schoolhouse had just been built a year previously and had a schoolmarm who left to marry; prior to this the children had only been taught at home. Few could read or write and there was much work to do. Most would only attend until old enough to assume a working position on the family farm. Billy had only been in school for part of last year and would probably not go beyond this year as he was starting to grow enough to be useful in the fields. "Billy, I want the truth. Did you pull Emma's braids?" "Yes, Sir, but I didn't mean nothin' by it." "You know that isn't proper behavior don't you, Billy?" "Yes, Sir." "Then why did you do it?" "I don't know, Sir, she just gets me all riled up with her airs and all." "I understand, but I think you like her a little, don't you?" The boy blushed a crimson red. "Do not!" "Not even a little?" "No, Sir!" "Alright, Billy. Now about your behavior; you didn't follow class rules now did you?" "No, Sir." "And you know to keep your hands to yourself, don't you?" "Yes, Sir." "You were told about following rules and you didn't, so now you have to face the consequences." The boy's lower lip was trembling. He knew the punishment would be a birching. His eyes were beginning to tear and he tried not to cry. "Please, Sir! I won't do it again, I promise," the boy pleaded. I felt the moisture on the tip of my member as it began to hang lower in my cotton undergarment, thinking back on my boyhood chastisements. "It's too late for that now, Billy," I replied firmly, "Go to the woodpile and take your overalls down." The boy did as he was told. He took his position and dropped his worn and patched bib overalls to his ankles as I searched for the switch in the corner of the shed. The boy had no undergarments on as this early in the school year it was still hot, later in the year the boys would have shirts, union suits and shoes. I found the switch of bundled birch branches in the corner and walked over to the naked youth. "Bend over, William." The lean youth bent forward and placed his hands on the stacked wood. I could see that Billy's personal hygiene befitted his bucolic circumstance. The cleft of his exposed buttocks was dirty; the boy probably bathed once or twice a week. The seat of his overalls was besmeared. There was a pronounced earthy odor in the sun-warmed shed. "You will receive two strokes for your behavior. Brace yourself, young man." Billy grasped the corded wood tensely. I aimed carefully to avoid the boy's hanging testicles and delivered a firm, but not excessive strike to Billy's left buttock with the bundled branches. Swwwissshh. "Owww! Owww." I paused to let the boy stop writhing as his pain eased slightly. Billy whimpered and awaited the next stroke of the birch. Half a dozen red stripes appeared on the muscular cheek of the youth. Swwwissshh. "Ohhh ... Owww! Owww!" The boy danced from the sting. Another set of pink stripes appeared on the other cheek of his buttocks. Billy was blubbering a little trying to hold back the tears, I gave him a moment to compose himself. I used the time to try to surreptitiously rearrange my hardened member so it wouldn't be so noticeable. "Stand up, young man," I ordered. The boy did so, but turned slightly away, covering himself with his hands. He was embarrassed to be teary-eyed, but more so, he was embarrassed by being firmly erect. His ruddy member stood tall and his red glans peeked from his partially retracted foreskin. I felt my testicles tighten at the sight and my own member pushed prominently forward in my trousers. "Look at me." Billy complied, lifting his hazel eyes wet with uncried tears. He snuffled. "I want you to be a good boy and behave properly in class, Billy," I instructed. "Do you understand?" "Yes, Sir," the chastised boy responded. I reached into my pocket and took out my handkerchief. I affectionately dried the boy's eyes and handed him the checked cloth. "Blow your nose, Billy." He did. "Are you going to tease Emma anymore?" "No, Sir." "That's good," I replied with a less stern demeanor. "You may pull up your overalls now, Billy." The farm boy couldn't pull his bib overalls up fast enough. As he slung the straps over his freckled shoulders, I could see his still mostly erect cock press the worn denim material outward. "My handkerchief please, Billy." The boy handed it over and I folded it to place in my pocket. I could see, out of the corner of my eye, the boy glancing at the front of my trousers. My erection jostled noticeably under the fabric as my hand positioned the handkerchief in my pocket. I pretended not to notice his glance. "Well," I said raising my head, "it's time to get back to class." "Yes, Sir, Mister Wilkins." "I want you to go back to class and finish your lesson. You're not speak unless spoken to, is that understood, Billy?" "Yes, Sir." I opened the door to the woodshed and we both made our way back to the schoolroom. End of Part One Coming in Part Two: Rural education takes a decidedly pleasurable turn for both young Billy and Schoolmaster Wilkens. All rights Reserved. Copyright 2013.