Valentine’s Day Entry

It all began when my persistent suitor followed me at Camp Gwynne. The one with the beautiful multi-story and campus nestled in the mountains not far from Hickory. Our campus was specifically an Art Institute that also was certified by the state as a high school. It was down in an isolated valley. It was a peaceful, thought inspiring, do the impossible, place where we felt free to explore our art forms including band and the mastery of playing the flute.

This was the setting where the following disaster occurred where I acted capriciously as the perfect presented me with a festive like strike up the band a large pink Valentine’s Day card with lots of art on the cover. The romantic card in the early 1970s cost a couple of dollars. This was a major purchase for a teen boy at the time a that would get you the fanciest card on the racks of the orange and blue sign at the Rexall drugstore. It also represented a hefty percentage of the average boy’s weekly allowance in our rural town.

Since we are at the Gwynne Camp Art school our allowances were forwarded to us there near Hickory. I knew it was a mistake when I did it. however, I was trying to get through to him that I was not interested in going out on a date with him. It was quite apparent he was in love with me and even my parents have been able to extinguish his flame. I could hardly blame him when he got mad because I threw his fancy Valentine card in a mud puddle, but never did I think he would bend me over, space lift my green dress up and spank me right across my big girl panties.

The ones I probably wore to feel grown up. They were satiny green with lace trim around my hiney cheeks and the panty-band around my waist. The idea of being spanked in them would double the humiliation. my capricious decision to spurn his advances and throw his Valentine card with all the fancy artwork on it its front made him decide, I was a brat.

Consequently, he felt justified in giving me such a spanking like I had never had in my Southern upbringing. Along with the spanks with his large, hard hand came a lecture on how ungrateful and degrading my behavior have been towards him. I felt my bottom heat up and I’m sure brightened to a glowing red which I was sure was more visible as my wiggling had caused my panties to ride up into my crack. Moan’s and groans soon grew into tears and crying as my bottom felt like the nearby Mansfield guys area.

Just as I thought his beating hand on my hiney would never stop against my soft bottom, it finally came to a quick stop. I stood up from my bent over position as I found him cut my red-hot cheeks. Not really knowing why threw my arms around him and apologize for freely. He patted my hiney and I realized my Gwynne admirer didn’t hold a grudge. I was blown away. Dumbfounded by his kindness. My unlikely suitor indeed saw what I needed as I lowered the skirt of my green dress.

Off we went hand in hand the fancy Valentine with the pretty floating in the mud puddle. He squats down near to the muddy water. So, close his white pants-clad rear seat nearly gets strained brown. I watched as on his third try his determination paid off. he managed to fish it out it’s pink cover faded and waterlogged. I really wasn’t sure just what he was planning to do with it.

Honestly, it was all smudged in a brown hue. It’s shiny finish on the pink background of the elaborate valentine not worth saving from the disastrous moment. I must admit, I was curious and figured it would become stinky. But of all the things that puzzled me was his focus on the back of my green dress. It was above the knee, made of cotton and I knew it clung to my round hiney that pleased the men. However, my scruples did stop when it came to having a visible panty line or delineated cheeks. At this time, we parted ways and didn’t know f he threw it away or not. I wondered why I cared at all. The Art, on the elaborate card did have a Cupid done in a red outline ready to shoot an arrow.

Suddenly, my alarm clock went off. I reached behind me in my bed, but there was no soreness or tenderness as I felt both hiney cheeks one by one. I nearly leaped out of bed and checked my hiney for purple bruises or even a dash of red coloring. there was none. Oh, my goodness, I exclaimed, it was all a dream. But in the back of my mind, I thought my hiney still might get its comeuppance some day because dreams do come true more often than my friend Donna believed was possible.

Flashback To Gwyn Oak High:

During high school at Jay Inn, I was amorous and known to be in a randy mood. in room ‘J’ making out in the dark during our band trip. Charlotte, a Carousel parade was the first time, I got to wear and twirl my baton to preform marching from the train station to and around the whimsical castle which towers high above down Main Street at Disney World’s castle centric Magic Kingdom. It was the climax to an award setting year that all had begun earlier in the past summer. Gwynn, a band camp was where we had spent a week marching to the beat of the music and new showstopper routines designed make the fans in the stands cheer and the judges recognize perfection. It was hard to imagine at a reunion held at Gwynn far too forward in the future to imagine at the time.

Routine Dress Code and The Threat Of The Paddle:

The early 1970’s was a different time. Parents had no problem signing a paper that we had to turn in during homeroom at the high school. This could result in you being paddled anytime throughout our high school years. And being a girl didn’t give you a pass. Nope, just like the boys, it was a done deal.

You see, basically things were still done in the early seventies in the old-fashioned way. The girls could only wear pants until March, and it was skirts and dresses which were on demand measured while we were on our knees. I wore ‘Leggs’ because they made a winter pair Believe me that was for girl’s including me. It was Julia’s Humiliation. and was far too intrusive for me. Imagine my face with my cheeks turning red as the A&P, assistant and principal accidently touched your pantyhose-clad legs in the front of your class. Their wooden yard stick placed against the floor or let’s say your Spanish class in room ‘J.’ All to make sure we weren’t wearing our dresses and skirts too short for the dress code.

I remember well that I froze my hiney off, but this wasn’t the worst of it. The opposite was also a real possibility and happened fart oo often for me. Female could be paddled, and we all knew it and feared it. The Art classes which included band was full of boys who looked like girls.

The idea of being paddled scared the boys even now when we all had turned eighteen years old. So, speaking for our sex, I literally shook my behind at the mere mention of that kind of arcane punishment was terrified of being paddled and having a heated hiney. Our soft pampered skin like our friend Carla this suited the boys, but she got it good for leaving campus. So, the blonde girl corporal punishment. That ‘rule’ applied to class trips as well and there came the rub for me, Donna and friends in the band.

We all protested to our school’s teachers that paddling was backwards thinking especially as seniors of voting age adults. We were told that we were expected to behave, obey the rules and be leaders in school and outside activities.

Unfortunate for me and my poor hiney that included off campus trips. But, had I made a mistake. While i sincerely regretted my action, I was weak kneed and jelly legged the thought of being paddled, so I found a patsy to take the blame. Besides boys and their skin was tougher than girls. With his band tights and short toga along with his long brown hair that touched his collar he kind of looked like Patsy. A dress code violation too.

I remember at the time of the major school rule violation. “Oh, my goodness could I really do this to a guy in my band, Art class.” I muttered to myself as I tried to Me and my girlfriend, Donna more than the tougher skinned boys with their long hair styles that weren’t allowed to touch the collar.

Band Trip At Gwyn-OaK, The Mean Me, Flashback By julia g wynn

School Rules & Enforcement; Including Corporal Punishment With The School Paddle:

As I realized the possible painful repercussion of the ‘paddling’ we had all been promised, if we dared to leave the Gwynn Camp property. My dive was pure perfection. The entry into the pool made the sound of a gentle splash as I stealthily swam to the other side. At the same time the ripe green watermelon was handed off to Art. A quick stop, step on the sidewalk along with a smile and pleading look for him to be my hero sealed the deal. He made sure the watermelon was thrown down the sidewalk high in the air like a football. It was a high pass-like bomb that landed with a mighty splash like a belly flop would at the kiddie pool. So, I had gotten away with it after leaving the hotel property to get the juicy watermelon.

That’s when I used the distraction of the assistant principal yelling at Art just before I heard the order for him to bend over and the unmistakable sound of as I counted ten before his paddled hiney was left alone. And, speaking of alone after managing to quietly to get out of the water and take a squat behind the concrete landing in a full foliage bush. My vagina seeped somehow unknown to me Art’s weeping at the Gwynn had made me rather randy mot to be crude.

I had seen his watermelon colored behind from the round sand ball play paddle. It was made of wood. So, although it hurt Art’s hiney, I was surprised his paddled behind wasn’t cherry red at the moment I had mixed feelings at this point. However, I knew that when he pulled down his bathing suit and saw that hiney, Amber waves flowed across me and my gold hair wreathed pink vagina. I had become titillated by what I saw and mainly heard poolside. I mean Yaw’ll my horn button was blood engorged as were the nipples that had become points. My maturing breast had formed up But, the biggest surprise was the involuntary twitch of my hiney in empathy for Art.

Now he owned Nu-West. For him it was a dream come true. What was ironic was it had given me a cream. And he’s talking about a restaurant, The Wendy. We are in trouble, if we don’t get our hineys home! That was home base downstairs in The Gwynne where the party with the chandeliers was going on in the ballroom.

The Gwynn Camp Band Reunion:

I could have had a funny valentine. A money valentine, but aside, I chose one for life that knew how to handle a spunky spirited blonde with curly blonde hair’s hiney! It struck me now as funny how we girls don’t always know what we are looking for, but when we finally find it, we grasp it and hold on to it with both hands. So, special and unique we walked hand in hand down the rest of the alley. My butt throbbed, his heart beat hard ready to begin our future which have begun with an unexpected spanking. Thank was my fantasy and I wondered if I dare play it out for real at the reunion. And, if I did, how sore would my sure to be bright red hiney be afterwards walking around and sitting down without curious eyes and ears seeing me wince and guess my big secret.

I could have had a funny valentine. A money valentine, but aside, I chose one for life that knew how to handle a spunky spirited blonde with curly blonde hair’s hiney! It struck me now as funny how we girls don’t always know what we are looking for, but when we finally find it, we grasp it and hold on to it with both hands. So, special and unique we walked hand in hand down the rest of the alley. My butt throbbed, his heart beat hard ready to begin our future which have begun with an unexpected spanking.