Goings on in the Dorm
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Going, Going...Chapter 12 free porn video
It turned out that Jim Beatty was very involved in the local Elks club. He was a past president and remained on the board. The club's property included a woodlot of about five acres. The woodlot was something like 400 feet wide and 550 feet long. The trees in the woodlot averaged about sixteen inches in diameter and were well spaced apart. The club maintained the lot by periodically clearing out fallen branches and debris. Jim felt the woodlot would make a perfect venue for the paintball element of the Program. The club's property was toward the edge of town and only a couple of blocks from the school.
Jim arranged to have lunch at the club on Thursday with the current president and the club's professional manager. The club did a lively business in its cocktail lounge. There was a fish fry every Friday night and numerous other events that included dinner. The club had had a professional manager for a long time.
When Jim had outlined his thinking, the idea was discussed at length. The president's enthusiasm was obviously building. The manager was primarily concerned with both the potential liability for the club and with the likelihood that a great deal of debris would remain. These concerns were quelled to the satisfaction of all. The three spent a lot of time discussing how the woodlot could be improved for the benefit of the student participants, including the creation of shallow trenches and by importing bales of straw. It was agreed that that sort of thing would be approved if the gamers decided they would be useful.
The president agreed that, if Jim would reduce to writing his proposal, he would bring it up at the next board meeting. All were confident of board approval.
Jim next called on Fred Gregory, the owner of the sporting goods store. Jim was pleased to learn that Fred had done his homework and knew what paintball equipment was needed and how to get it. They talked at length about quantities needed. Not having talked about it in detail with anyone else, and never having played themselves, they imagined that no more than twenty-four students would be playing at any one time. They persuaded themselves that thirty sets of guns and protective gear would be adequate. They felt less confident when it came to the quantity of paintball ammunition that would be required. They decided to begin with a rough calculation. There were 144 students. If each expended two dozen shots, then the total needed would be 3,456; they decided to round that number up to an even 4,000 shots. When Fred inquired whether the adult participants would need ammunition as well, they decided that half again more, or 6,000 shots, would have to be enough to begin with. Fred agreed to tote up an estimate of the cost and find out how long it would take to order and receive the merchandise.
Jim's third stop was at the school. He made a thorough report of his progress to a very pleased Jean. Together, they discussed details. Jean agreed that the involvement of some youngsters, who had actually played the game, was very necessary. Jean agreed to put out the word and assemble something of a steering committee for that portion of the Program.
Flush with his considerable success with the paintball element, Jim next called on John Underwood at the hardware store. Jim mentioned his discussions with Bob on the matter of gun and skeet training for the students. John had devoted a fair amount of time on the matter.
As for skeet shooting, John said, the issues were a suitable location, guns, ammunition, clay pigeons and one or more launchers.
John had spoken to Abner Honig, who had retired from farming but still lived on his farm with his wife. Abner's wife was well beyond the age for childbearing, and he had told John he had no intention of leaving his wife behind. There were fallow fields aplenty on Abner's farm, which was conveniently just down the road from the Elks' Club. Abner had said he would be proud to help the kids, and volunteered his pasture for skeet shooting.
John pointed out that there were already more shotguns in town than Carter had pills. He saw no reason to buy guns when any number could be borrowed. John and Jim discussed the matter for a while and finally agreed that .410 and/or 20-gauge shotguns would be plenty large enough. John agreed to call some of his customers that he knew owned such guns and ask if they could be borrowed.
John showed Jim the boxes and boxes of clay pigeons in stock at the store. He allowed as how the clay pigeons probably wouldn't sell before the extraction anyway, and were really just under foot. Jim suspected that almost all of the boxes had arrived from John's supplier in the last week or so, but didn't air his thoughts.
Next, and with evident glee, John dragged Jim out the front door and half a block down the street. They entered the truck repair shop and called out for Bill Saunders, the owner. Bill came in the side door into the office, hammer in hand. When John asked Bill to show Jim what he was doing, he gladly complied and led them into the shop area. There they saw that Bill was building a row of stalls across the width of the front of the building. The opposite wall was stacked, floor to ceiling long-wise, with bales of straw. Both sidewalls, from the front of the shop to the rear, were likewise stacked to the ceiling with a single course of straw bales. The stalls under construction were obviously shooting stations.
When Jim casually inquired of what Bill was doing, Bill allowed as how he had suddenly felt a deep need to practice his shooting. Bill thought that maybe, just maybe, the students ought to learn to handle small arms as well. Did Jim think the students would like to come use his new digs? All three men laughed heartily.
Jim asked Bill how Bill would carry on his business with the space configured for target practice. With a giant grin, Bill announced that he had decided to retire. Jack, Bill's competitor down the street, could easily handle the diminished business.
They discussed the types of firearms that would be most suitable for Bill's new range. John pointed out that a shooter could easily go through 100 shots in a session, and often would. When they started multiplying that times 144 students (and an unknown, but not small, number of adults) times at least two sessions per week for eight weeks, the total number of rounds -- and the total cost -- was staggering. They agreed that .22 caliber ammunition was out of the question in terms of cost. Air gun ammunition was far less expensive, relative to .22 shells, but still a big number in total.
John pointed out that the air guns could be charged with compressed air using the same tanks as for the paintball guns. They would have to buy the air guns, but the savings on ammo would more than make up for the cost of buying air guns.
Troubled by the money, they decided to bring the matter to the attention of Mayor John Davis. Perhaps he would have a good solution.
Feeling acute stress at the required expenditure plus the need to proceed with the order, the three marched down to the mayor's daytime hangout, his bakery. When apprised of the problem, a smiling John could barely contain his exasperation with their concerns. "Guys, the whole town embraced this plan, whole-hog. This is not the first unintended consequence, and it won't be the last. The students learning to shoot is essential. John, order the equipment and supplies we need and bring the bill to me. The town will pay for it. Now, have a pastry on me, sit down, and tell me the rest of you guys' plans."
And so they did. John's delight was broadly evident. After a nice visit, they all got back to work. Jim circled back around to Jean and delivered a glad report on the shooting element of his assignment. Jean was of course delighted with the news.
Ellen strolled into the school, made her way into the office and, at Jean's invitation, plunked herself down in a chair in Jean's office. "The buzz in town is that the Program is quite a success. I thought I'd come visit and see for myself. I don't want to interfere, or interrupt proceedings. Would you mind if I spent a little time observing?"
"Of course not, Ellen," Jean replied with a smile. You're welcome anywhere in the school. Of course, the K through 7 students are still in their usual classes. You might see an entire class in the hallway on the way to the gym, or the library. All of the teachers would be delighted to have you visit, even if you wanted to be ignored so you could simply observe.
"The new adults do their work in the former eighth through twelfth grade classrooms, over that way," and she pointed, "outdoors near the gym, in the pool, and in the Home Ec room, that way. You can help us all. We're going to have to begin taking true adults into the Program soon. I have my own ideas about how we should help and proctor the adults, but I'd be very interested in talking to you about your thoughts. Will you keep that in mind as you observe?"
"I'd be glad to share whatever comes to mind as I watch," smiled Ellen. "What about ... Well, let me look first. That might help me ask fewer dumb questions," she laughed.
"Oh, Ellen," said Jean in mock-exasperation. "How much time have you allowed for your visit? You would serve yourself and the Program a lot more if you actually had a go briefly at each of the stations of the physical side of the Program. Try the balance beam. Show off your skill jumping Double Dutch, have Liz or Jeff help you do a flip. Spar for a few moments with whoever is proctoring the boxing and the pugil sticks. Throw Matt around for a bit at the judo station. Swim for a while, if you like."
Ellen laughed lightly at the thought of manhandling a judo black-belt. "I have a couple of hours," she said. "Maybe I'll take you up on your offer. I might want to get involved in the evenings, either as a student or as a proctor."
"That would be wonderful, Ellen," said Jean with a smile. "Proctors for the after-hours work is my greatest concern. How about we plan on you being here for the rest of the morning. I'll buy you a sumptuous free lunch in our gourmet school cafeteria at noon. You and I can sit with the proctors and compare notes."
"That sounds like a plan to me," Ellen smiled. "I'll call my office and make sure my time is clear and let them know where I'll be. I'll meet you in the cafeteria at noon."
"Great," said Jean. "You should step into the academic rooms, too, so you can see the barely controlled chaos of the kids teaching each other at double-time. Oh, by the way, there is enforced nudity in the pool area. The kids were quite militant about that including the proctors. Good for the goose, good for the gander, and all that. It's quite an experience, if you've never been nude in public for the first time. About five minutes is all it took before I felt pretty comfortable, buck naked in front of my students. It's really a very liberating experience. You've seen every body part in town, but it's different when the shoe is on the other foot."
Ellen blushed crimson and started to stammer out a polite refusal. Smiling her best innocent grin, she said, "The pink lockers in the girl's locker room are for proctors. Leave your purse and any valuables with me. Have fun! See you at noon!"
Ellen doubtfully left her purse with Jean, and began her tour outdoors. The kids at the two stations near the door were obviously having fun. A third team could be seen running around the football field. Both nearby teams stopped their work and rushed to greet her when they saw her. Mary and Heather joined in. Soon, Ellen was getting her introduction to the balance beam with Heather as her opponent. Heather had been practicing and was gaining skill. Ellen's first several attempts were promptly ended with Heather forcing her off the beam. But Ellen quickly gained enough of her own skill to at least lengthen the matches to more than a few seconds.
Ellen approached the rope jumpers. Laughing gaily, Eric invited her to jump in with him. With a grin of her own, she watched long enough to get the rhythm and then jumped in. Eric jumped with her for half a minute, then jumped out, leaving Ellen alone. Ellen was delighted, and began hopping on first one leg and then the other, twirling and laughing. A girl jumped in with her and they jumped together for a bit. Ellen jumped out, smiling broadly, to the applause of the whole team. She beamed and thanked the team.
Ellen eyed the runners, but decided to forego jogging, at least for today. All of the kids waved goodbye and she turned and headed to the entrance. Eric intercepted her. "Thank you for what you did for Steven and me last Saturday night," he said softly.
She smiled at him. "You're very welcome. I meant what I said, Eric. When are you coming to my home to visit?"
"Could we come over on Saturday night?" Eric asked tentatively.
Pausing to review her commitments, she smiled and nodded. "I'd like that a lot. What will you tell your parents?"
"I don't know yet. We'll think of something," smiled Eric.
"The truth wouldn't be a bad idea," she smiled. "Tell them you're spending the night at my house, because I invited you, and you don't know why. It's true at least that you don't know why I like you so much. Have them call me if they have any concerns. I'll see you at about eight o'clock on Saturday night." They bid goodbye and she entered the school.
She found her way into the math class. Carol immediately spotted her, smiled brightly and began to approach. Ellen waved her away, signaling that she merely wanted to watch. Carol resumed her work with the students.
Controlled chaos was an apt description. All around the room, small groups were busily working, talking quietly, and writing equations on whiteboards. The leadership of some, and the rapt attention of the others, warmed Ellen's heart. Many of the students waved to her when she was noticed, but they didn't stop their work. It was evident that a few of the students had zero interest in math and zero willingness to participate. They sat, alone or in twos and threes, absently gazing about or jawing with their friends, their places at the tables empty. The two proctors studiously ignored the scofflaws.
Next door in the science room, Ellen met Susan standing near the door, silently observing her students conduct chemistry experiments. At the opposite end of the room, Janice was delivering a lecture. Susan and Ellen visited quietly, Susan explaining the goings-on. Ellen remarked on the few zoned-out students not participating with their peers. Susan merely shrugged and nodded.
On to the physical training, Ellen next entered the gymnastics area. Again, all activity briefly stopped while the team and Liz greeted her. Ellen was pleased to see the team resume its activities. Some were practicing forward flips, no longer relying on the step stool. Others were working on headstands, away from the wall. One boy was even doing a handstand, albeit against the wall.
The end of the first session neared, and the team waved goodbye and filed out, headed for the lockers. Liz coaxed Ellen into learning to flip forward. First, Liz showed Ellen how to jump onto and off of the little trampoline. Ellen did that over and over, jumping onto the trampoline and then forward to the floor, turning to do it again. Then Liz showed Ellen the next step by jumping onto the trampoline and executing a forward flip. Liz had Ellen watch closely as she flipped several times. After explaining what Liz would be doing in aid of the flip, and assuring Ellen that she would be safe, Ellen tried it. With Liz holding Ellen's middle, hands front and back, she surprised herself by successfully doing a flip. The landing was wobbly, but she had done it. Ellen practiced over and over, Liz's helping less and less each time, until Liz stepped away and watched Ellen do it all by herself.
Ellen was elated. Liz clapped and cheered.
The first team of the second session filed in. With their arrival and, after profusely thanking Liz, Ellen proceeded to the boxing area. Still glowing from her flipping success, it was easy for Shannon to get Ellen suited up.
With adrenalin still coursing through her body, Ellen was a bit much for Shannon to spar with. It turned out that Sarah Edwards' team was in the room. Sarah broke away from her sparring partner and approached. Shannon gladly stepped away. Sarah and Ellen squared off and began to spar.
Sarah gave Ellen a running commentary with pointers as she responded to the aggressiveness Ellen was really unable to hide. Sarah's actions mirrored Ellen's and soon both were landing substantial punches to the other. Sarah took the pummeling all in stride, never ceasing her commentary, never letting her anger rise. Finally, Ellen stepped back and dropped her hands.
Shannon stopped Ellen from removing her gear, and shooed her to the next room for a go with the pugil sticks. There, she was greeted by the two teams practicing judo and the pugil sticks as well as by Jeff and Matt.
Jeff gave her a pugil stick and had one of his own. After a brief explanation and a warning to make her moves slowly and deliberately, they began. Jeff had many opportunities to land a blow, but didn't, stopping just short of the mark. Ellen was thankful, knowing many of the blows could have knocked her down. Five or so minutes of that was all Ellen wanted for her first episode. She shucked her gear, thanked Jeff, and bid goodbye to the rest.
She had saved the dreaded pool for last. Knowing the only proctor she had not yet seen was Bob, she forced herself to head for the locker room. Finding an unused pink locker, she quickly undressed, took a quick shower, and trudged down to the pool. Just before entering the pool area, she stopped, forced herself to stand tall with her arms at her sides, and walked in.
Two teams were in the pool and Bob was standing poolside on the other side. The kids saw her, waved and shouted their greetings, and went back to work. Bob smiled broadly, if a bit sadly, and approached her. She calmly began walking to meet him.
He clasped both of her offered hands and smiled broadly. He made no pretense, examining her from head to toe and back again with his eyes. "Your beauty makes your story all the more tragic, Ellen."
"You are a handsome man, Bob. I'm glad to see you again." He glanced down at the evidence of his growing arousal and tried to release her hands. She held them tight, smiling, looking nowhere else than at his now-rigid cock. "Your reaction is a tonic to me, Bob. Let me see that you want me. Let me feel my body respond to you." She shuddered visibly but stood still.
"My response beggars your loss," said Bob sadly.
"It isn't lost, Bob," she smiled. "Happiness delayed is not happiness denied. There may yet be hope for me."
"Then I'm truly glad for you, Ellen," smiled Bob. "Your beauty is not only on the outside. You are a wonder to me."
"Did Kathy tell you that I accepted her invitation for dinner in your home tomorrow night?"
Bob's face registered surprise and delight. "No, she didn't. That's wonderful!"
"I need a favor of you, Bob," she softly said as she blushed to the tops of her incredible breasts. "There must be a God after all. By His grace, tomorrow I will be fertile. Kathy will help, and be supportive. Will you make a baby in me? Please?"
Bob was poleaxed. His cock was throbbing, bouncing in plain sight of the whole room. Ellen held his hands, watching first as multiple expressions raced across his face, then, openly and without shame, his rampant cock. After a long moment, he recovered at least some of his composure. A radiant smile filled his entire face. Unable to speak, he simply nodded. Tears flowed down both their faces. Ellen's face was as radiant as his.
Breaking the spell, she giggled. "If we stand here much longer, you'll spray me all over with that fire hose of yours. Let's swim?" She released one of his hands and led him to the far side of the pool, where two lanes were unused. With a backward glance at Bob, she deftly dived into the pool and began swimming.
They swam two complete laps. Bob, taught the racing turn he had wanted to learn, had three opportunities to practice it. He still needed work, but he was improving. When they reached the shallow end again for the second time, they both stood up.
They stood together, arms at their sides, neither knowing what to say. "Will you be gentle with me, Bob?" she softly asked. He nodded.
"I hope our child has your red hair, Ellen," he finally said. "I'm glad I have been a gentleman all these years. Red hair drives me wild."
"I always wanted a wild man as a pet," she giggled.
Jean led Ellen to the table where all of the proctors were having their lunch. They shared greetings as they settled down to their meal. After they had had a few bites, Jean asked, "Ellen, do you have any observations about the Program you'd like to share with us?"
Glancing at Bob with a coy smile, Ellen said, "I did have some observations." Bob was able to keep from visibly wincing. "I went through all of the stations except for running and judo. I did watch the judo for a bit. I haven't run in years but I want to get back into it. As I went through, I thought about myself being a daily, well maybe nightly, participant. I thought about who would proctor the evening sessions. The obvious answer is to choose the best of your students and recruit them as proctors in the evening. You could even recruit enough that they weren't obliged to be here every night."
She stopped and had a bite of her lunch. "But then I had another thought. What if you recruited as proctors the worst of your students? What if you chose those with native athletic ability, but without motivation to excel in the Program? And what if, as a condition of their appointment as proctors, they had to bear down, academically and physically, in their own work?"
As if with a magic wand, she had managed to freeze each person at the table, lost in thought at the idea Ellen had delivered. As if on cue, they all began to talk at once. They all laughed and were still.
"It can't hurt any," Dave allowed. "Those kids are lost to the Program already."
"And they're hurting their teammates," added Jeff.
That sparked an animated discussion. Jean observed that requests for entry by adults were streaming in to her at a good clip. They realized that, instead of a proctor at each station, a proctor could be assigned to each team as it assembled nightly, and go with that team through all of the stations -- the physical stations, they agreed, as the miscreants weren't ideal proctors for the academic work. They would not try to always put the same proctors with the same teams. They wouldn't even try to keep teams together. Instead, the first six adults ready to begin would be a team for the night.
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