The Cheerleaders Of Wildwood High

By Rat Tails

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This work is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It may contain depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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THE CHEERLEADERS OF WILDWOOD HIGH

Authors note: This is a sequel to The Fraternities and Sororities of Wildwood High

At Wildwood High School the members of the varsity football team were held in high regard. The star players were seen as Greek gods. The six varsity girl cheerleaders were drooled over by the male students when they weren’t wanking off to their pictures. The six varsity boy cheerleaders not only goggled by the girls but also privileged to have the role of disciplinarians of their female counterparts.

Then there was the junior varsity squad made up of 14 year old freshman and 15 year old sophomore students. They too had cheerleaders of their age, only fewer in number because the attendance at their games was smaller. There were four girls and two boys. Being a member of this group was a stepping stone to later becoming a member of the varsity squad. Here a weeding out process played a major roll. The freshman and sophomore girls were rigorously tested to see if they were varsity material. The turnover rate was significant for the training was rigorous and the hazing regime harsh. Many believed that it was even harsher than that of the varsity squad, particularly since the girls were younger.

THE JUNIOR VARSITY

Tryouts for the junior varsity squad were held a month before school started. For these the mostly 14 years old would report to the gymnasium that housed the basketball court. They would line up and be inspected by the varsity cheerleaders, both boy and girl. The overweight and the ugly, if foolish enough to apply, were summarily dismissed. Those remaining would try on the cheerleaders outfits hung from a rack to find a proper size. This was their first exposure to having boys – those from the varsity – see them in panties and bras. Then one by one each girl would perform her cheer routine – must like a dress rehearsal - which they would have learned in junior high or self taught. A dozen would survive this, the semi-finals. The survivors would be joyful, but not without some trepidation for they knew what the finals demanded: How well they could take the paddle to show good self-discipline for the work that lay ahead.

Still in uniform the twelve finalists would line up in front of the varsity judges. What followed was typically like the following tryout example.

“Okay girls,” said the varsity head cheerleader. “Drop your drawers and lay them down in front of you. When you feel a tap of a paddle on your shoulder I want you to spread your legs, bend over, flip your skirt onto your back and get a good firm grip on your knees. You will then receive one whack whereupon you will shout out, and I mean really shout out, ‘GO WILDWOOD.’ Then stand back up as you were until you feel the tap again. Then, repeat. We want to see how disciplined you are with this little test. This will take some time. It’s serious business, you know.”

Three of the boy varsity cheerleaders, ages 16 and 17, started to work. The first girl was tapped. Right away she spread her legs, bent over and flung her skirt over her back to present her naked ass.

“WHACK!”

Her body shook. She had to reach into the depths of her mind to recall what came next.

“GO WILDWOOD.” A few seconds passed and then

“WHACK! The girl next to her fell forward from the blow to her butt and had to throw her hand down to the floor to keep from falling. While still there halfway down she shouted “GO WILDWOOD.” Quickly and sheepishly she stood back up, wondering if that had disqualified her. Apparently it had not.

“WHACK! The next girl in line got the paddle.

The first girl felt a tap on her shoulder again. So soon! God, she thought, I’m still burning from the first one.

Over she went as the next male cheerleader looked at her ass with the red mark on each cheek from the first swat. He aimed just a tad bit lower so that about half of his would swat overlap the first and the other half break new grounds. So with just 30 seconds having elapsed from the first blow: “WHACK!”

This one didn’t startle her as had the first on, but the flash of pain was greater because part of it had overlaid the first one and because she hadn’t had time to fully recuperate from the first one.

“GO WILDWOOD,” she yelled in her girlish voice, thankful that that required yell had given her the chance of scream out as an outlet for the pain.

Now the time intervals seemed to shorten, when they actually hadn’t. As the first girl slowed in her movement back into position, it seemed that she had no sooner regained her full upright position with her skirt back down, and had taken a few good, deep breaths when . . . . tap. This was becoming very painful calisthenics.

One by one girls began to drop out. One fell to the floor and remained there rubbing her ass thus missing roll call. One yelled out “FUCK THIS SHIT. FUCK ALL OF YOU,” and stormed away to the exit where she was intercepted.

“I think you have something of ours that don’t belong to you,” said a male cheerleader. The girl didn’t understand until he touched her uniform. “Are you trying to shoplift? Give,” he demanded as he extended his hand.

The girl took off her top and dropped her skirt only then to remember that her panties were back there on the floor. Her hands flew to cover her privates. “Put ‘um back where you go ‘um – over there on the rack.”

To do that from the exit she saw that she would have to go back across the line of girls. With just her bra, shoes and socks on she started for the bleachers. The male grabbed her hand and walked her back to the rack right in front of everyone with her struggling to keep up and to keep her other hand over her privates. As she was leaving a couple of minutes later, which had seemed to be an hour to her, the guy yelled out: “Next time you try to steal one of our uniforms, we’re calling the police on you.”

When another girl tryout took a whack she began a little dance, running around in circles holding her behind with tears streaming down her face. Another one fell to the floor, managed to get back up on one knee and begged for permission to continue, only belatedly remembering to shout out “GO WILDWOOD!” Thankfully, permission was granted. She hurried back in line only immediately to feel a tap on her shoulder. “Let’s try that again.”

“SPLAT!” This time she managed to keep her stance with her hands gripping her knees and with her ass swaying back and forth. “GO . . . . GO . . . GO . . .”

“I think the name is ‘Wildwood,’” her spanker informed her. For a moment he considered repeating it yet again but then decided to move on. She really was trying.

After tapping the next contestant he walked back, stood a moment looking at the black ass waiting, and then took a run-up as he slammed his paddle into her ass with both hands. The paddle split in two as down she went again to the floor. Her hands flew to her stricken ass. But while still lying on the basketball court floor she yelled out “GO WILDWOOD” “GO WILDWOOD” “GO WILDWOOD” “GO WILDWOOD” with tears streaming down her face with both hands gripping her tortured ass. Fortunately the shouting had provided this one too with a way of coping. This had brought a short pause to the proceedings while everyone watched her spinning around on the floor gripping her ass as she shouted out her cheer.

As she struggled back up to her feet the short intermission that she had caused ended. “THWACK!” The guy who had just given her two wicked hits had moved on to the next girl in line. Then came a “THWACK” as the girl just two upstream from her was swatted. God, they thought, this is like being on a treadmill – no, more like being pounded by a water wheel that had every third paddle targeted on them.

The test, which some jokingly referred to as a pop quiz, consisted of twelve questions, i.e. swats. Of the original twelve tryouts that had made it to the final, only half completed the exam. By then the other six had been dismissed. With the six standing in line the panel of varsity cheerleaders caucused. Finally those who had passed were announced. One by one their names would be called out and told to step forward. When the last name was called the two losers hugged each other with tears from the painful ordeal mingled with tears of disappointment. To mitigate their despair they were told that they were alternates and that their names would be included in the school paper as such along with the four others.

- - - - - - - - - -

During the football season the junior varsity boys had it tough. Unrelenting and grueling practices were had leading up to the Wednesday night games. It fell upon the cheerleaders to reward them for all their hard work.

Thursday nights the basketball court was reserved for the junior varsity players and cheerleaders. This was the night that the boys were rewarded and could “let off steam.” Only it wasn’t steam that they let off; it was cum.

On these nights the gym would be darkened except for a small area if front of some bleacher seats that was illuminated by free-standing flood lights. It was much like a stage play in a theatre. The boys could sit wherever they wanted in the bleachers in the dark for a half hour show presented by the 14 and 15 year old cheerleaders. If the team had won the night before the girls would strut their stuff as the boys watched. Sometimes there would be some recorded music played. The most popular music was the dum-dum-de-dum-dum stripper score. The majority of the cheerleaders were of course exhibitionists. They would strut their stuff, wiggle their little asses as they bent over and raised their red and white stripped skirt. When their turn came up those with well developed knockers would feature them. Others would feature their asses. How much skin was shown varied, but all the girls had to wear a g-string.

The boys would arrive prepared for the festivities, bringing toilet paper stuffed in their pants. Some would laugh and show what a big supply they had brought. Others would act as if they hadn’t brought any. Some would take their seat in the front row while others would take seats back and even far back up into the dark. Some took seats side by side but the majority didn’t. Their whacking off was a private affair there in the dark as they watched the cheerleaders strut, one by one. Cumming more than once into their private supply of toilet paper was common for these young jack rabbits.

On those Thursday nights when the team had lost the game the previous night the program was quite different. It was presumed that at least part of the reason for the loss was that the cheerleaders had not worked hard enough. Even if they had, the results spoke for themselves: There had not been enough cheering. On those nights the cheerleaders got the paddle. It was only just. Of course the jerking-offs continued. It simply was a different show. Seeing the girls having their asses pounded by paddles could be just as enjoying as the other. Indeed, for many it was more enjoyable. Forget that they had lost the fucking game; the show must go on.

THE VARSITY

The varsity football team and cheerleaders comprised 16 and 17 year old juniors and seniors. In today societies they were almost adults. Indeed, in most European countries 16 was the legal age of consent. Steadies became more established, at least on temporary bases. Thus it was that varsity cheerleaders were treated accordingly.

During the football seasons the varsity players and cheerleaders would gather on the basketball court on Monday nights. Just like that for the junior varsity, the court would be darkened, save for the stage lighting. Thus the wanking-off opportunity would remain in place as the first and second stringers sat in the bleachers, wherever they chose.

Now the sessions included sex for after all they were now almost adults. The paddles used were significantly larger and thicker and bore holes. The holes served to minimize air resistance which led to harder and more forceful impacts. They also produced small blisters which prolonged the pain. Indeed, you could recognize cheerleaders in class out of uniform the following morning by the gingerly way they sat down. Most, who were exhibitionists anyway, ignored or even liked the recognition by classmates. This served as one of their badges of honor. A few even overdid it; taking more care than actually needed with an “oh” as they sat with a smile – if anyone of interest to them was watching.

Linebacker Danny Smith and cheerleader Patty Horne were an item. Both were white. He was six feet, one hundred seventy pound of muscle. She was a green eyed, sandy-haired blond who wore her hair straight back and long. When she performed her cheers her long hair would fling from side to side. When these two walked the school halls together, others made way. But today was Monday and Wildwood had lost. Tonight she would be getting the paddle.

“Make me proud tonight, baby. Show ‘um what they can do with their fucking paddle.”

“You do me; okay?”

“Baby, you know I can’t. They’ll think I’m going soft on you.”

“So what? Better still, go soft; I’m big on soft.”

“You know I just can’t do that.”

“Then don’t. Give me some good licks; some real good ones.”

“Can’t do.”

“I know. You just want to watch me and jerk off.”

“So? You’d rather me wank while watching Cindy, maybe?”

“Oh, it’s Cindy, is it?”

“Come on, girl.”

“Not Sissy?”

“If I did you I’d have to hit a lot harder than anyone else. You know that. And Baby, you know how I hate to see you get it.”

“Liar; you love it and everyone knows that.”

“Bull shit. I don’t like it for myself. What I like is seeing you take it hard and better than the others. That makes me so proud. I got the best gal and I want anyone who can see me there to see me looking proud as you take ‘um.”

“Then you won’t jerk off when I’m up?”

“What’s that? You’d rather me jerk watching Sissy get ‘um?”

“So it is Sissy.”

“Damn it, girl; what do you want?”

“Prove that you are better than the rest. Leave your prick in your pants. I’ll take care of you later – just the two of us.”

“Great; just great; I’d be the only guy there not wanking. They’d think I was fucking gay. No, I’ll wank on you, but it won’t be like I somehow like to see my girl get it. Just like you gotta make me proud, I gotta make myself proud in front of the guys.”

Patty saw that she wasn’t going to win this one.

That night Danny took a seat in the third row. The third row would be up close but just far enough back so that the stage lights wouldn’t reflect enough on him so that Patty could watch him – at least he thought so. WRONG! If girls have eyes in the back of their heads, they surely can see in the dark.

The program this night was a two-rounder for each of the cheerleaders. On Losers Night the girls were topless and wore no panties. After collectively giving their cheer routines in full uniform with pompoms flailing, and the male cheerleaders tossing them up into the air and making pyramids, they went off stage and sat side by side in the front of a side bleacher.

To each side of that small reserved section were two standalone strobe lights equipped with a rotating wheel with different color filters. When they were running the scene became surreal, sort of like an old timey movie where the images flashed on and off real fast causing the actor’s movements to be jerky, but here they were in color.

One by one a cheerleader would be summoned before two volunteer players holding their senior paddles, the ones with those wicked holes. Once standing there between the two guys she would call out: I’m (Judy) and I’m a looser.” Then the two guys would raise their paddles high as in giving a salute to the darkened audience. Then they would call out: “Here’s to (Judy) the looser.”

The girl would bend over in the spot lights and raise her head to look straight ahead into the darkened room of doom, knowing that the players there were all goo-goo eyed.

Authors note: For what happened to the looser players, read the story referenced in the head note.

Together the two football players would raise her skirt. One would then kiss one ass cheek as the other kissed the other. Then they would back some ten or twelve feet behind her. The walk would be slow. Indeed, the entire beating of each girl would be drawn out.

Looking straight ahead into the dark sea of boys the girl would wait while making sure she had a good stance: Feet apart and hands gripping her knees. Feeling the room air on her naked butt she would finally hear a boy as he came running up behind her and gave her ass a hard swat with a resounding “WHACK!”

“GO TEAM - - - GO WILDWOOD,” she would shout out as she absorbed the blow the best she could. The boy would arrest his run a few feet beyond her and then return to take up his initial position. In doing so he would of course pass by the girl. That was their chance to look at each other briefly, the dominant and the sub.

At that moment when the boys were returning to their start position they would usually give some sort of sign in passing while looking at the girl’s face and her jiggling boobs. Some would give the girl whose body was still reverberating, a thumbs-up. Some would through them a kiss with their free hand. Others would pucker their lips. Some would make a comment such as “Like that one? Just wait till the next.” Such taunts coming at that time when their ass had just moments before been whacked were particularly wicked.

At such time the girls’ eyes were often tearing. They had to keep their heads up high and bent over with hands on their knees. At that moment their asses would be on fire as the boy passed by taunting, smiling, laughing or commenting, all while those in the darkened audience were enjoying the show, lusting, with some yelling out “GOOD ONE!” and the like. And there were those who were jacking and those who were cleaning up – and the girls knew it.

In the darkened audience there were several ebony black players. Naturally they were the more difficult to recognize, and they knew it. Some would really spook out the girl by opening their eyes real big so that the white would shine and some would also open their mouths real wide so that their pearly white teeth would shine there in the dark. Not only was it spooky but they were showing how much they loved seeing the girl getting slammed. No sympathy here. For the white girls they figured the ebony was saying to himself: Beat that white ass; beat it; beat it. And often it was a fellow black that was beating it. Some would even yell out: “Beat that white ass” - - or “chew up that dark meat” - - as the case may be.

When the paddle-boy would reached his starting position he would find his partner standing there. Sometimes the waiting boy would be swinging his paddle like he was warming up. The two would stand there looking at the illuminated target – the bent-over cheerleader with his bruised ass trying to absorb the last blow while waiting in readiness for the next one. Then, after perhaps exchanging a comment or two, would take off with his paddle held by either one or two hands behind him and then slam it again into the girl’s waiting ass.

After receiving six swats, three from each boy, there would be an intermission for the girl while the others took their licks. After that there would be Act Two which was a repeat of Act One.

Patty’s time came up. Out came two players that would be welcoming her. Both were black. Then out she came with her young boobs bouncing along with her. “I’m Patty Horne and I’m a loser,” she announced. The two muscular black players raised their paddles in a salute to the audience. “Here’s to Patty the Loser.”

Patty bent over and the two players flung her skirt back over her back. Then each took a massive black hand and slid it over her velvet white ass flesh. “Looks like we got us some fresh white meat here,” said one. “Yea, I like these chicks with all that white meat. These breasts look yummy, too,” said the other as he lifted one with his paddle. Then the other did the same to her other breast as both hung down from her bent-over position. He slid his paddle until her nipple went into one of the paddle holes. Seeing that, the other did the same. Next they moved their paddles in their common horizontal plane banging their edges together. Then one broke off that game and grabbed her tit with his massive black hand and squeezed. “Bet this sucker would go for over a dollar at the sto’. What’cha thinks it weighs?” They laughed and walked back to their darkened starting position.

Patty looked for Danny. There; there he was on the third row, the last row that had enough light on it to make out images. He was sitting there beside Jack Horne, a wide end receiver. She could see that they were both smiling at her public humiliation.

“WHACK!” She could actually feel the air as the big black player ran pass her before she felt her ass.

‘GO TEAM! GO WILDWOOD!” she yelled out. Cheerleaders never spoke to the audience; they always yelled.

As the black walked pass her he puckered his lips to her and lifted one tit with his paddle. “Nice jug.” To Patty it smelled like he hadn’t had a bath since the game. God he stunk. She looked at Danny to see him giving a “good one” with a swing of his fist as he bumped shoulders as he nudged Jack with his shoulder. Jack likewise gave a “good one” with his fist. They both had broad smiles on their faces. That liar, she thought; he does love this. Patty quickly looked away so that Danny wouldn’t suspect that she was actually seeing him. Then before she knew it

“WHACK!”

This one was delivered harder than the first. Her body (and boobs) shuttered. Squeezing her knees she uttered: “Go Team. Go Wildwood.” Her yell was only a semi-yell this time.

“Like that one, you fucking loser,” the paddler asked as he passed by her, unsmiling, on his way back to start. He did not collect two hundred dollars in Monopoly money.

Patty ignored him as she scanned the bleachers while really focusing on Danny. God if he and Jack weren’t exchanging high fives. The bastard; on an empathy scale of one to one hundred, he registered zero.

“Whack! The first boy had struck her again. After her weak cheer he passed back by her. This time he paused beside her and did a little jig as he held his paddle high up over his head and pumped it. Patty saw Danny actually laugh at this as he gave a little elbow to his side to have one hand. Then she caught eye of Jack fiddling with his crotch. She looked to see if Danny would follow suit. No way; he just kept on snickering.

“WHACK!”

This one caught her by surprise. One knee buckled and then down she went to the floor. Though she couldn’t see it from that position, jack had put up his two hands to give Danny another high five only to have Danny respond with one hand. It seemed that his other hand had a pressing more important matter to attend to – namely trying to get his cock out of his pants in preparation for getting underway – but not just yet.

As Patty struggled back to her feet she gave the cheer: “FUCK YOU TEAM GO WILDWOOD.”

The head male cheerleader ran onto the floor in a rage. He looked down at her as she sheepishly bent back over into position.

“I beg your pardon. What was that you just said?”

Patty looked up at him like she would have in looking at her father as a child.

“Go team GO WILDWOOD.”

The male head cheerleader walked back to the two blacks who were waiting to deliver their third and final swats. He took a paddle from one of them and returned.

“We’ll do one word at a time so that you don’t forget. Start.”

“GO!”

“WHAM!”

“TEAM!”

“WHACK!”

“GO!”

“WHACK!”

“WILDWOOD!

“WHAM!”

“AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH” she uttered as she amazingly held her bent-over position.

“Okay guys; finish her off.”

After two more Patty walked off, holding her ass as the next cheerleader passed her on her way to center stage. Through her tear soaked eyes she saw that it was Sissy.

Patty took her seat with the others along the sideline, as gingerly as she could with her ass ablaze.

For a while Patty ignored Sissy’s paddling, with her mind being consumed on the stage of her battered ass. Finally her head cleared and she looked outwardly to see how things were proceeding in her environment. She looked as Sissy took a whack. Her eyes followed the player as he finished his running follow-through at the edge of the first row of the bleachers. Then her eyes went up a couple of rows to find Danny whom she now was looking at from a side angle.

Danny’s face was all contorted as he watched Sissy intensely. She saw that he no longer socializing with Jack but was self-absorbed. Then she saw his right shoulder movingly rhythmically. God, if he wasn’t jerking off to Sissy!!!

Patty watched in awe. Danny’s was taking his time with a look of lust on his face. He was taking his time. Then she understood: He was waiting for her climatic sixth hit to climax himself.

As the designated player for her sixth strike began his run-up, Danny’s face went into a silly half-smile – one like you see male dogs do as they hump their bitch. God damn it if he wasn’t climaxing. His head went sideways as he shot his wad into his wad of toilet paper as the paddle slammed into Sissy’s ass for the sixth time. His spurts didn’t end until the player had stopped, turned around and was passing back by her.

Now spent Danny rested his head on his shoulder, facing the row of seated cheerleaders. Slowly his eyes came into focus. There was Patty looking straight into his eyes, knowingly.

After an eye-to-eye contact of about four seconds, which seemed like four hours to Danny, he dropped his head down. There was cum, cum on his hands, cum in the paper, and cum on his pants. He raised his head and took another sheepish look at Patty who was staring at him, expressionless. Like Lot, she had turned into a pillow of salt. It was two minutes before she turned her hateful gaze away to look at the going-ons about her. All that while Danny struggled to clean up without looking like he was cleaning up. Shit – shit – shit, he thought. How will I get out of this one? Damn it all to hell.

After each of the girls had received their allotment of swats, the finale began with all but one stage light being but and with the flashing lights turned on over at the side line. In single file the girl cheerleaders entered into the surreal flashing lights which were much dimmer than the stage lights had been. Now they had their tops back on.

After all were in the area that was flickering green – blue – yellow – purple – red – green – blue – purple - - - - - - - - they faced the bleachers. There they silently stood long enough for all of the players to be able to recognize who was who beyond just the obvious as to which was white and which was black. Finally the silence was broken by a drummer from the school band. “Dummmm de de dummmm de de dummmm de de” to the cadence of “The Stripper.” Then there was a pause until the head male cheerleader yellowed out.

“Losers. About face.”

The line turned to present their rears to the bleachers.

“Down.”

“Spread legs”

“Toss.”

With that all of the six cheerleaders were back again into position for the paddle even though their asses were all very well marked by the twelve swats they had already taken. This time however they gripped a bleacher railing instead of their knees.

“Drummer!”

“Dummmm de de dummmm de de dummmm de de dummmm de de . . . . . . . . . . .

Into the flickering dim lights marched the six male cheerleaders in single file with their rubber clothed cocks and balls out of their flies. Once all six arrived into position behind the six bent-over girls they turned to face the audience, took a deep blow, stood back up and then made an about face.

“Spread cheeks!”

In sync the six girls released the bar and spread the cheeks of their asses, whose assholes had already been lubed, wide apart. To the unrelenting beat of the drum the males advanced and insert. Now inserted the girl released her cheeks and grabbed the bleacher railing again. In this manner she was able to hold position as she was viciously buggered to the cadence of the drum under the unrelenting flickering of the multi-color strobe lights.

As the male cheerleaders pumped away, so did the players in the dark bleachers.

One by one the males climaxed. As soon as that happened they would individually turn back around and walk a few steps back to their starting position, peel off the condom, drop it onto the floor, take a deep bow and then march off and in doing so pass a player advancing with his condom protected cock and balls outside of his fly. By now the girl would have released her grip on the bar and again spread her cheeks to await the next insertion.

Selection of the player-buggers had been made by lot. Those not selected this time were automatically be selected the next time. Of course, the unselected tonight were those up in the darkened bleachers having their solo fun as there were no openly gays on the team.

It was quite a surreal, colorful and psychedelic show. There in the flickering lights were the male cheerleaders pumping away at the girls asses to the tune of the drum beat, all played out in jerks. One by one they finished, stepped back, pulled off and dropped their condom and exited stage right to go clean up – all under the flickering light that changed color every few seconds. As one walked off the next player passed him with his cock at the ready. In passing some of the newcomers gave a high-five to the already- cumed ones.

The buggering continued. Much of it was interracial. As usual the majority of the players were black as blacks tended to make better football players. The majority of the male and female cheerleaders were white which reflected the makeup of the school population as a whole. Thus it was that more times than not it would be black on white with some white on black. This of course only added to the color.

After their third buggering each girl stood and turned around, now in full uniform with skirt down. After the last girl had finished and had joined the line, a few of the gym lights came on just as house lights would at the conclusion of a theatrical performance. Then they collectively give a final cheer, gathered up the spent condoms and make for the exit. The show was over. Surely the coming Friday night, just four days off, the team would not lose again for another loss would be another pain in the ass.

(The End)