After classes, Mary-Anne's parents were waiting for us on the front porch of their home.
They first lectured us, "We had specifically told you to return for dinner, and its was around midnight when you came back. We were worried. You could have called!"
We got an earful, actually we got four earfuls. We didn't argue, it would have made matters worse. We offered plenty of, "Sorry Sir and sorry Ma'am." We added promises of never doing it again.
We also eyed Uncle Harvey unbuckling his crocodile leather belt, and doubling it with the buckle in his hand. "Take your shorts and panties down to your knees and keep your hands on your heads."
I felt as a naughty little girl exposing my brunette's tuft with my pink knickers and short bunched around my knees. I felt the cool evening breeze on my bare derriere, and shivered. I resisted the urge to have a hand in front of me and the other one in the back. I blushed as red as a ripped tomato, and locked my hands above my head.
We understood that Uncle Hervey would be alternating between the two of us. I got his first wack across my bum. It came with a loud, "Thwack!" and left a wide band of fire across my nates. Another whack and it was Mary-Anne. We danced on the spot. Soon my whole derriere was throbbing and my under-curves and upper thighs were also scorched.
It was a reflex, it was silly, I had my hands down rubbing my stingy thighs. I hurriedly returned them above my head, but it was too late. I was punished with a vigorous smacks to the front of my thighs for that misdeed. Those burned even more than my already blazing bum, but more strokes for my booty and thighs sharply evened things up.
We heard a car on the gravel drive. I felt my ears tickling as I blushed redder than a cherry. We imagined a delivery boy with saucer like eyes taking the sight of our rubicund bare bums and thighs.
It was the guests. They had a daughter our age, we remembered her from the hot rod show. She was also wearing short shorts and if we had any doubts about the condition of her bottom they showed enough to leave nothing for imagination. Her under-curves and upper thighs were decorated with a pattern of thin red welts. She later explain that it was a switching.
Aunty Odette ordered, "Pull up your panties and shorts and join us for dinner." The leather chairs felt cool for a few seconds. We didn't have much appetite, but we didn't want to draw attention.
Next morning back at the college we weren't the only girls to have reddened thighs and to have been told to wear our usual miniskirts. The boys had eyefuls and offered ice cream for us to forgive them to have enticed us to return past our curfew.
A few weeks later was the first game of the football season. In France that football is called rugby and the boys don't wear helmets or padding. Louis was playing as one of the running-backs and before 'swallowing' is mouth piece he gave me a juicy kiss with both hands clawing my bum under my cheerleader's skirt. He also explained why the padding and helmets. "One of the difference between rugby and football is frontal blocking. Its illegal in rugby, and very rough."
Next we ran out onto the field and lined up for the national anthem. As every girls and boys I had my right hand on my heart remembering that my ancestor was one of those who helped that country gain its independence.
The boys took to each sides of the field and we lined up in the middle for a French cancan. After plenty of high kicks we ran to the sideline, and both teams confronted each other while waiting for the whistle.
Marie-Jeanne and Mary-Anne
To be continued...
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