ARCADIA ACADEMY FOR BOYS
Chapter Nine
"First Orgasm In Speedos"
The silence of the staff locker room was broken only by a faint
drip in the showers. I set my gym bag on the bench and looked about,
surprised at how unused the place seemed. Perhaps it was because my
colleagues were middle aged, or perhaps it was because they got enough
physical activity loving their special boys. Whatever the reason, I was
glad to be alone.
I began to change into my swimsuit. It had been several months
since I'd been swimming. I looked forward to it and to working off
enormous sexual tension. I'd dreamed of Ethan all night, of the boy and I
walking through summer fields, holding hands. I'd dreamed of Ethan and I
sitting beside a gurgling stream, of my picking a dandelion to place in the
child's hair. I dreamed of leaning in for the taste of his sweet, kissing
lips.
The dream had left me tense all morning, wrapped in a honeyed
cocoon of love. Last night, the precious schoolboy finally knew that I
loved him, and it was only a matter of weeks before we would share the
intimate gift of each other's virginity.
I entered the pool area and stood on the deck. Several boys were
leaping from diving boards to make "cannon ball" splashes, while a few
others treaded water lazily. It was like a painting of water nymphs come
to life.
I adjusted my green speedos and slipped racing goggles over my
eyes. The circulating water was dappled with lights. Poised to spring,
the arc of my life touched down in the moment and filled me with
concretion: I was a good man.
I dove and broke the water cleanly. I swam underwater for several
lengths before bursting to the surface. I reached the other side of the
pool, rolled, tucked and pushed off from the wall. I strained as if I was
at a college meet. And I thought of Ethan.
I completed my first lap, rolled and pushed off again, switching to
a butterfly stroke. I was dimly aware of boys cheering and I strained
harder: I'd been a star athlete and had lost nothing of my form. The water
bathed me in elegance, the image of Ethan spurring me on.
I did 15 hard laps, then hung on to the side of the pool, gasping.
It had been exhilarating but my sexual tension had not dimmed. Instead, my
endorphin-flooded body surged with greater tension. I grew hugely erect.
"Wow, Mr. Wilson!" Benji squeaked, bobbing beside me, his face all
smiles. A skinny wet puppy. "Teach me to swim!"
"Another day, honey," I gasped.
"You're a fish, sir!" That was Gerald, walking over to sit behind
me, wearing loose red swim trunks. I leaned back and rest my arms atop the
15 year old's golden thighs. The teen's skin was cool and fresh.
"I feel like a fish," I panted, wiping my face.
"You could be in the Olympics," Gerald said, clapping me on the back.
"Flattery will get you everywhere," I joked, rubbing his slick knees.
"I'm serious, sir. Really."
"Are you?"
"Yes. Gee. You're back is all muscle." The boy-secretary rubbed
my back.
Harrison was right about Ethan needing a "rugged" kind of man, but
he was wrong to limit the observation to Ethan. All boys need a young,
athletic man in their lives, someone to admire for adult, masculine
qualities. Identity and a sense of self is based on emulation.
"Maybe you could be in the Olympics. Anything's possible."
I removed my goggles and handed them to Benji, who put them on and
swam away, splashing ineffectually.
"Benji thinks he's Mr. Wilson!" Patty called, sitting on Spencer's
lap on the far side of the pool. The red-head looked like a cherub, tiny
black speedos making his skin even whiter. Spencer held the child around
the waist and was dressed in a turn-of-the-century swimsuit, a gray
one-piece affair that covered his torso.
"Excuse me, Gerald," I said politely.
"Oh. Sure." The boy-secretary reached around to feel my broad,
pumped pectorals, jiggling them in his hands before I swam over to the DJ.
"Spencer? I want to thank you for singing to Ethan and me. I
can't tell you how much it meant to us," I gushed, taking hold of the boy's
feet dangling in the water.
"You're welcome, sir," Spencer answered shyly, scratching his toes
against my striated stomach. "I owed it to you."
"You owed me nothing, son," I replied.
"Well, I think I did."
"Then I thank you more. Bright goldfish-boy," I said tenderly.
Spencer blushed as crimson as Patty's red hair.
"And what do you say, choirboy? Was our Spencer terrific?"
"Yep! He's my friend!" the red-head chirped with baby devotion.
Spencer bent and planted a quick, impulsive kiss on the choirboy's right
cheek. Patty blinked, blue eyes wide. Spencer kissed the child again,
hands dropping to the 8 year old's inner thighs where his nimble fingers
moved along them as if playing a guitar, coaxing a melody of sensation from
the creamy, white flesh.
Patty arched with an unmistakeable thrill of confused,
baby-pleasure. The child's black speedos bulged with the knob of his
erection. Spencer's delayed sexuality was beginning to awaken, and I
drifted away to let him discover it.
"Hi, Ethan!" Benji called, waving. "Look at me! I'm in the
Olympics!" he pointed at the goggles.
"Win the gold medal!" Ethan replied.
I froze, my feet rooted to the pool floor.
Ethan wore tight, white speedo decorated with big red stars. His
coltish body was glorious, androgynous torso supple, flat stomach a sexy
mesh of abdominals, not true muscles but only visible because he was so
thin. His legs were exotically long. The boy sat on the pool's edge and
eased into the water, the white-and-red-starred speedo hovering above the
waves lapping at his crotch.
I felt like an island as the little boy swam to me. His strokes
were smooth and coordinated. Again, we seemed made for each other: Ethan
had the tools for competition swimming.
"Hi," he said easily, smiling at me, shaking his head, water
spraying in all directions. His auburn hair plastered flat made his ears
jug-handles, wet lashes thick and lush. He looked years younger. The
boy's face reached my chest, the water line at my waist and at the rubbery
brown dots of his nipples. The undulating current made him rise and fall,
threatening to carry him away. He reached out for my lats to steady
himself.
"Geez! You have wings!" he exclaimed. I puffed out my chest and
flexed, spreading my swimmer's lats, showing off. "How weird!"
"You think I look funny?" I smiled.
Ethan puffed out his birdy chest -- each rib showing -- and tried
to flex his own lats. We studied them together and saw only a faint
extension of wiry ligaments. "I don't have those."
"You're still a little boy. What do you expect?"
"I'm gonna have wings when I grow up?"
"Maybe. Mine are like this because I swim. I swam in college."
"Oh. So that's why your legs are so strong?"
My legs. Ethan had noticedmy legs! Of course he had since I
displayed them in the uniform, but it was wonderful to hear him say so. My
legs were my errogenous zones.
"What are you doing here, Ethan?" I gasped, startled and delighted
to see him so scanitly clothed.
"I saw you heading this way and I followed you," he answered,
blushing slightly. He began to twist, ready to play, poking my thighs with
his knees.
The movement of the water, the sight and touch of the boy's body
made my cock pulse madly. I shook with a powerful frisson and tensed: I
was going to orgasm. Goosepimples rose along my skin.
"Cold, huh?" Ethan chirped, looking into my face. "Aw! You're not
going to cry again?!" he chirped, smiling. Then, gently, asked, "Are you?"
The boy's knees kissed my thighs. HIs twisting pushed the water
toward me in concentric circles, radiating out from him and washing against
my cock. Baptizing me.
"Ethan," I croaked, unable to stop what was about to happen.
"Bring your legs down straight and hold them together."
My voice was urgent, my body rock hard. I burned my eyes into the
child's and he flinched, shooting his legs down straight.
"Why, Mr. WIlson?"
"Because I need you to," I whined. I stepped into him and hugged
him tight, groaning to feel his frail body mashed against mine. My cock
thrummed at his tummy.
"There's something in here," the boy said, eyebrows knitting,
looking down in the swirling water.
"Hurry! Hold your breath! Now!"
The child's reflexes were sharp; he inhaled, held his breath, smoth
cheeks puffing out. Staring at me.
Holding the child of my dreams, I wrapped my trunk-like legs around
his, then fell back, submerging us.
It was quiet under the water.
My orgasm was intense, sudden, and total. Ethan and I rolled and
rolled, his struggling body dolphin-slick as I thrust my green-speedoed
crotch into his tummy, my 8" cock pumping hot sperm.
I kept my eyes open.
Froth churned around me and the boy in that wet, liquid silence.
Our heads jerked and jerked, hair weaving like seaweed. We spiralled down
to the pool floor as I spurted. Ethan's fingernails dug into my lats,
creating a sharp pain that enhanced my pleasure. I saw the lights along
the pool walls and Ethan's tight, sweet, star-spangled ass clenched as I
thrust and thrust into him, cummng and cumming.
The silence was total. Entwined, we bucked and struggled. I
poured out my life in my speedos, out through my cock, and the thought of
spurting while penetrated deep in the child's ass made me cum more. Ethan
was so small. So so skinny.
Then I released the child and we raced to the surface, face to
face, bowing back and gasping loudly for air.
"What are you doing?!" Ethan sputtered.
"Too rough?" I croaked, seeing auras.
The boy was upset, and he scolded me.
"Tell me you want to wrestle!" he yelled, splashing my face.
"You're stronger than I am, remember?"
"Sorry! I'm sorry!"
The boy had know idea of what had happened, no concept of what was
clearly a powerful, devastating orgasm.
"Well, just don't surpise me anymore."
Ethan splashed me again but playfully. I pawed at the water,
splashing back, letting him get the best of me. Needing to recover.
The we played, taking turns diving to grab each other's legs and
tip one another over. Then I began to toss him, making a saddle of my
hands for him to step in.
"One! Two! Whee!"
Ethan bounced then leapt, propelled into the air, slender body
arcing above the water. The tiny white and red-starred speedos accentuated
his crotch and ass. Time itself hung suspended along with the child's
slippery-smooth body, the water coating his flesh as thickly as the jellied
sperm lining my speedo. I thought again of how Ethan himself was too young
to produce sperm.
"Ethan?"
"What?" the boy chirped, gripping my shoulders and placing his
right foot in my hands.
"I was wondering if you'd like to spend some private time with me.
Vacation is coming up for Thanksgiving and Christmas, and Headmaster
Arcadia said we could use one of the chateaus. Want to sleep over?"
"Just us?"
"Uh huh."
"At a chateau?" the child asked, as surprised as I'd been when the
old man offered it to me: like all students, Ethan knew that the chateaus
were special.
"Yep."
"Wow. Yeah. Sure. Can we watch a movie?" he asked, brown eyes
bright.
I melted. Movies were a rare treat for the children.
"Of course. We'll make popcorn. And I bought some clothes for you
to wear. I hope you don't mind. They're very nice clothes."
The 12 year old studied me, registering the enormity of the offer.
"You really like me?"
I dropped the boy's foot and hugged him close, my hands sweeping
along his back. "Can't you feel it? Can't you see it in my eyes?"
The little boy stared at me. The water undulated around us, our
bodies swaying together. "Yeah."
"Then you'll stay with me? You'll be my special boy?" I asked, my
mouth an open smile.
"Yes...if you'll toss me again!"
I offered my hands for a saddle. Ethan stepped into them.
"One! Two! Whee!"