Date: Sat, 19 Mar 2005 18:15:28 -0800 (PST)
From: Steve Storyman <stevestoryman@yahoo.com>
Subject: Boys' Joys And Sorrows At Sex Ed. School - Chapter 8
Boys' Joys And Sorrows At Sex Ed. School - Chapter 8
by Steve Storyman
stevestoryman@yahoo.com (text only)
Copyright 2005 Steve Storyman
March 19, 2005
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Contains gay sex scenes. Other standard disclaimers apply.
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_______________________________________________________________
Below is a full list (dramatis personae), not an indication of
the number of people with active roles in a given chapter.
Jeremy Miles, Headmaster, Miles Academy
Alan Richards, 25, assistant to Mr. Miles
Phil Wertz, 21, supervisor
PHIL'S BOYS:
Brent Hallman, 17, student to have "conversion" ritual
Darren Donner, 16, falsely accused
Phillip Ankleton, 14, student helper, blond hair
Michael Lanikker, 13, student helper, darker hair
MISCELLANEOUS
** Hans a boy in Phil's past
Mark Ericmann, 22, teacher
MARK'S BOYS: (7, out of a total of 16 students)
Ethan Dremmond, 17, student, wise guy
Simon Kelms, 17, student with a big lap, resembles Brent
Tyler Adamson, 16, student with lowest grades in his class
Dennis Rex, 16, tall, well-endowed student, basketball
player
Sean Ballinger, 15, student, rewarded
Kyle Roland, 15, student, a cute bottom
Greg Forsythe, 15, Dennis Rex's roommate
OTHERS:
Mark Wrent, 19, student, good build, very well-endowed
Todd Farmsway, 17, being punished in 14 y/o dorm
Dylan Wentworth, 14, document delivery boy
Jared Taylor, 14, residing in the 14 y/o's dorm
* Brian Gyouvanos, 14, a boy Phil has fun with
Ryan Ropersfield, 13, in training, visiting the 14 y/o's dorm
with his supervisor and Jared Taylor
* new in this chapter
** mentioned only (in the previous chapter)
_______________________________________________________________
IF YOU'RE INTERESTED, SEE UPDATED LIST OF ALL MY STORIES
AT END OF CHAPTER
_______________________________________________________________
FROM THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER
I enjoyed overpowering him this way; enjoyed the taste and feel
of his rock-hard penis; every one of Brian's moans and raspy,
sexy breaths over the 45 seconds that it took to suck him off.
His knees gave out--the restraints kept him upright--as his sweat
dripped to my hands and he blew the first of his cum into my
mouth. He gave me three more blasts of sweet semen, and I
thrilled to the boy's squeals, writhing body, and pulsating
penis, as the throbs of orgasm continued long after his
ejaculation ended.
"Someone will be here to let you down," I said, sucking and
kissing his nipples.
Brian was still gasping for breath as I left the room.
I was numb as I walked down the hall, wondering what I'd done.
Mark met me at the door as I entered training room three.
"The ritual's delayed another hour," he said.
"I know. Miles told me."
[FROM CH. 7]
_______________________________________________________________
For Peter
CHAPTER 8 A FEW INTERESTING EVENTS
AND THEN:
BRENT'S RITUAL
I decided not to tell Mark about my session with Brian. Brian
satisfied a need that had been brewing all day, yet I had a few
guilt feelings about the impersonality of it.
I felt more relaxed though, now that the boys were in the good
hands of Miles and his staff, leaving me alone with Mark
Ericmann. We had fast become close.
"So you had your talk with Brent--did you find out anything new?"
"No--he was pretty tight-lipped. He did say that he agreed to do
some things tonight that he had to keep secret."
"How's he doing?"
"He's scared, but he's looking forward to giving his first oral
sex. He's confident," I said with a self-satisfied grin.
"Looking forward to the sex? Congratulations. That's extremely
significant, Phil. You've really worked wonders with him."
"Coming from you, that's a great compliment--thanks, Mark."
"I'm sure he'll hold up well."
"I agree--he may be just seventeen, but he's strong."
"That he is."
"Hang on Mark--I have a quick errand to run." Such things were
routine, and there was no need for Mark to reply.
I raced down the hall and opened the door to the very small
training room. Brian was still there, restrained and looking
perplexed, his red-faced appearance matching his somewhat rapid
breathing, though it had slowed considerably from its rate,
minutes before.
"Brian--are you all right?"
"You came back for me," Brian said with the simplicity of a boy
much younger than his 13 years, his perplexed look now blending
with a sort of happy smile, proud perhaps.
"Yes, you're exactly who I came back for."
"Why?"
"I was worried," I said, getting him out of the restraints.
"Oh."
I could see this acutely baffled him, yet a faint boyish smile
remained.
"Worried that I rushed things," I said, "and didn't tell you how
much I . . . that you . . . that I like you, and I like what we
did." The truth was that *I* had done something. Brian was more
or less an innocent bystander.
"I liked it a lot! Um . . . sorry I don't know your name, sir."
"You're supposed to call me Mr. Wertz when it's not 'sir,' but
just call me Phil."
"Oh, well--are you *sure,* sir?"
"I'm sure. Are you okay?" I said, feeling my anxiety carving
itself into my face.
This gave the boy pause. "You care about me!"
"Of course. You're a beautiful and wonderful boy."
At this, he grinned, his hand going to his penis for whatever
reason. Nevertheless, he was charming.
"I'm glad you think I am," he said hesitantly, his boyish blush
captivating me, "but I don't think of myself that way."
"Well, you are, Brian."
"What's wonderful about me?"
"You're very sweet, brave, willing to go along with new, maybe
scary things."
"I've been sucked before."
"Yes, I'm sure--but I practically kidnapped you!"
"Oh. I thought that part was fun. I knew you wouldn't really
hurt me, even though I was scared."
"Really, now? That makes you even more wonderful, and you came
so powerfully."
"Oh, that. I can do that a lot. Wanna do it again?"
"Sorry, boy. I must go now. Tell your supervisor code 999, room
335. He'll know what that means. Tell him to keep trying."
"Yes, sir."
I left him. The code I gave him would tell his supervisor to
save Brian for me--for a late-night session--if he didn't have a
previous commitment. I had added that he should keep calling
until I answered.
In less than a minute, I returned to Mark in training room three.
"Any news?" I said, looking around at our four restrained boys.
"None. Let's talk in private."
"Sure." We went to the utility rooms.
"Phil, I was thinking--since we have some time, why don't we go
over the possibilities of the choices Brent might make for his
first sex partners--especially the ones he might reject."
"Okay," I said, looking puzzled.
"If Brent rejects a boy, your tendency will be to feel hurt.
It'll be easier on you emotionally if you have it thought out in
advance."
"Good idea. I think my weakest choices are Phillip and Michael.
I feel they're right for Brent, but they WERE his tormentors, and
he knows them fairly well--they won't be as new and exciting as
maybe some of Miles' alternates."
"You may be right, Phil. They're cute little devils, though."
"Yeah," I said with a nervous smile. "But Simon, Dennis, and the
seventeen-year-old standbys will be tough competition for Phillip
and Michael."
"I suppose."
"I think Brent will go for Simon--he's cute, and he looks so much
like Brent. I'd bet on Simon."
"I would too. I'm a little more concerned about Dennis. His
monster cock might be a problem, Phil."
"Maybe. Brent likes a challenge, remember?"
"Yes, but this will be in front of dozens of students."
"Okay--you twisted my arm. I won't count on Brent picking
Dennis."
"We agree then. I'm more worried about Brent's technique."
"Technique?"
"Sure--he's never sucked dick before. He has to make those boys
come, remember?"
"Oh, that. Brent's intelligent. I have a feeling he learns very
quickly. I think he absorbed what he felt on HIS cock, while the
boys and I teased him--I don't think he'll have a problem
translating what he felt from our mouths into what he should to
with HIS mouth. He really is smart. Have you ever talked with
Brent for any length of time?"
"No . . . that's right--you interviewed him! How was that?"
"I felt very enlightened."
"Well, you're new."
"No, it was more than that. Brent's a deep thinker, and very
sharp. Under that slim jock body and rough language there's a
hell of a good mind."
"I had a feeling that was the case. I guess there's no need to
worry--all those boys will have eggs. That'll help them come."
"It better!"
"I bet you don't know what I'm thinking, Phil."
"You're right."
"We still have lots of time. And, uh--YOU have Darren," Mark
said expectantly.
"Hell, yes. Let's go."
"Phil, there's something I want to pick up first."
"Uh, oh--am I gonna like this?" I knew he meant something for my
scene with Darren.
"Oh, yes. I want it to be a surprise."
"Okay, I guess," I said, doubt in my voice.
Mark went to the utility area and came out with a box. "This may
solve a problem for you."
"I take it you're not going to show me now."
"Right--I wasn't going to--"
"But we can't discuss it in front of Brent. Not at the last
minute."
"I promise, we'll go into the foyer and I'll show it to you when
the time comes--if I think you can use it."
"Okay, that's fair," I said, burning with curiosity.
This time, we heard nothing as we approached to door to my room.
"I don't hear any moans," I said to Mark. "Maybe I chose too
mild a setting for that stim ring on his balls?"
"We'll see."
As we entered my suite, we could hear Darren moaning through the
door to my training area.
"It's not very loud," I said.
"Let's open the door."
"Uhhh! Uhhh! Oh, fuck! Ahhh!"
In the brief bits of silence between Darren's moans, I could hear
the low hum of the stim ring I had placed around his scrotum. It
rested gently on top of his balls, which had swollen somewhat
from the relentless stimulation. The boy was straining at his
bonds, moving his head oddly, as if trying to shake a fly off his
nose.
"AH! Awrrrhh."
The lad's erection had reddened and become unusually enlarged,
giving the appearance of a highly teased cock. Pre-cum flowed
steadily from its upward-pointing tip, down the shaft, and to his
nut sac, where it dripped into a good-sized puddle that had
formed while I was away.
"What's up Darren," I said, trying to sound casual.
"Shit! That thing's killing me! My balls hurt really bad! And
I gotta pee, something fierce."
The pain was not directly from the mild vibration of the stim
ring. The hose was still hooked up to the end of his dick, but I
knew what the problem was.
"That's what the hose is for, boy. Just let loose."
"I'm so hard, I CAN'T!"
"He needs some stimulation," I said to Mark.
"Yes."
"No! God--please, sir!"
"Darren--if you come, you'll be whipped. Now get some control!"
We knelt in front of the boy. Mark started in on his balls,
licking softly, while I let my lips slowly descend on Darren's
desperate penis.
"No! NO! Aw, God--please, no!"
"That ought to hold him," I said, after a minute of pleasuring
the boy, his cock bouncing angrily, his chest heaving for breath.
"Uhhh! AH! FUCK!"
"And he doesn't usually cuss," I said.
"We have something to look at," Mark said. "Let's go to the
foyer."
With the door shut to the training area, Mark opened the box and
showed me its contents.
I saw a sheet of Zeflon, a very slick material, about eight
inches wide, a foot tall, and one-quarter inch thick, sitting on
its edge. The edge facing up was rounded, very smooth, and
protruded three inches above the top of the box. But I saw
nothing useful about this.
"You gotta be kidding! What the hell is this thing?" I said,
glaring at Mark.
"I'll show you. It has its own power supply, but since we have
outlets available, I'll plug it in."
The Zeflon sheet swung forward and backward, as one would swing a
hand-held fan to cool off outside in hot weather. The sheet was
hinged at its bottom edge.
"Makes a nice breeze, Mark, but--are you pulling one over on me?"
"You can vary the speed. All you need is the--oh! Sorry, Phil.
You probably don't know you have one. There's a big closet in
the back-left corner of your training area. The entrance blends
with the wall. In there, there's lots of things. One of them is
an Ollie chair."
"Okay, I'll bite. What's an Ollie chair?"
"It's used for many purposes. Named after Oliver DuLure of the
French Revolution. It looks a bit like a toilet seat--the seat
of the chair is mostly an open hole. The male subject sits on
it. Now picture this box under the chair."
"Holy shit!" It had come to me all at once. "His balls!"
"Sure! It's nice and gentle--just gives little taps to the
scrotum each time it flaps past. Even set at top speed, you
wouldn't feel much for the first minute or two."
"Okay--and after that?" I was puzzled.
"It's psychological--it never stops. The repetition gets to your
subject--'tap, tap, tap, tap.' He THINKS something is supposed
to hurt. After a while, it does, very moderately--but his
thought makes it worse than it is. The pain never gets too bad,
but he'll still beg for mercy after some time on this little
device. It's called a 'ball teaser.'"
"Wow."
"Because it's made of pure Zeflon and has that rounded edge,
there's no chance of irritating the skin. It even has a little
strap to hold the penis out of the way--in the rare event the
subject should go soft."
"This is perfect, man," I said in awe, and feeling my juices
flowing. Even at one-quarter inch thickness, the Zeflon sheet
was very flexible--further ensuring gentle treatment of a boy's
precious organs.
Mark showed me the back way to the big equipment closet, and I
used it to prevent Darren from seeing what I was up to, before I
was ready to spring it on him. I spotted the chair quickly, and
we soon had it set up in my foyer.
Mark held the door open as I took the thing to Darren.
"Oh, no--not that! Those chairs are bad news, man! NO!"
"This will help your erection go down, Darren," I said very
reassuringly.
The boy just hung his head, breaths shallow and rapid with fear,
and trying his best not to complain, lest he make things worse
for himself.
I rearranged Darren's restraints and Mark guided the trembling
boy into the chair. There was no reaction when I showed Darren
the box. Apparently, he had not seen the ball teaser before.
I set the speed to 'low.' As soon as I turned the device on, I
heard gentle, rhythmic tapping sounds.
Mark and I watched Darren for a reaction. Soon, a little smile
appeared on his face.
"That's good, Darren. You SHOULD be happy. This will help you
make progress."
Mark left to go to the kitchen for some coffee, explaining that I
had a coffee dispenser similar to the one he'd used earlier in
the break room.
"How does that feel, Darren?"
"It feels . . . pretty nice, sir," the lad said with a bigger
smile.
"Good."
Mark returned, and we sat down to enjoy our coffee, waiting for
the ball teaser to take effect. After a total of four minutes on
the thing, Darren's face began to change.
"OW! Sir, I think, oh! Sir--it's hurting. Uhhh!"
"It's tolerable though, yes?"
"Y-yes, sir!" Darren said, straining with effort.
"Good, I'm glad to hear it, boy. That cock needs to come down.
It needs a rest. It needs your control." Another two minutes
passed.
"Oh, OH! Sir--please! It--it's getting worse!" The boy's
erection had not softened.
"I have it on the lowest speed, Darren," I said in my best
comforting voice. "If your dick gets soft within the next five
minutes, I can let you come again."
"Oh, yes!" Darren shouted. "Yes--sir, please, turn up the
speed!"
"Very well, boy." I set the ball teaser to medium speed.
"Ah! Oh, God! That's v-very . . . hard to take, sir!"
Mark whispered to me, explaining that even with the pain Darren
was experiencing, the taps to his testes were gentle enough that
the vibrations stimulated his penis.
"Hard to take? Don't you want your cock to go down, Darren--so
you can come?"
"Oh--oh, yes, sir!" he said, as if he'd forgotten.
In less that a minute, Darren was complaining again. "Sir--I
don't know if I can take it! OW!"
"We better give him some relief," Mark said, furtively showing me
a tube of itch cream.
>From my own experience of having the stuff applied to me, I knew
itch cream was nasty. It wasn't harmful in any way, but it
created a deep, nagging, unrelenting itch, and could drive a boy
half out of his mind if he had no way to scratch himself.
"Yes," I said, taking the tube from Mark, "the poor lad needs
something to distract him from the pain in his nuts."
"God, NO!" Darren screamed, seeing and recognizing the tube.
"Don't put that on me! Get that stuff away from me."
"You need some relief from your pain, Darren," Mark said, handing
me a pair of thin, plastic gloves.
"Yes, Darren," I said, "I'll make sure this takes your mind off
your balls--then they won't hurt so much."
The boy pleaded as I put the gloves on, and began to shout in
fear as I applied it to his balls, and the underside of his cock.
In addition to the itching, Darren would experience a mild erotic
stimulation. The cream was slow-acting. The boy's eyes were
wild with trepidation.
"You did the right thing," Mark said.
"Yes."
As the minutes passed, the effect became dramatic.
"Oh, NO! Aw, fuck! FUCK! Get that shit off me! AWRRRGHHHH!!"
"I want to see your nice penis all soft when I get back," I said
as Mark and I made our exit.
"Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"
"You can hear him NOW," Mark said as we made our way down the
hall.
"Will he be okay overnight?"
"Probably not. You're going to be away that long?"
"I was planning on it."
"Use code 605 at the terminal, and speak some instructions. That
will get a sentinel to check on him at the times you specify."
I punched in 605. "What should I say?"
"Give your room number, and say that you want him to check on
Darren every hour, starting now--and to stop the ball teaser and
remove the itch cream if Darren gets too desperate."
I spoke into the thing, leaving the message for the sentinel.
"Who are these sentinels?"
"Very trustworthy supervisors whose duty it is to wander around,
looking for any problems to correct--upset boys that need
comforting, arguments to settle, little wounds to be treated--
when they're not busy checking on scenes like yours."
We finally returned training room three and greeted our boys--all
robed. They seemed comfortable in their restraints--but very
glad to see us.
"Wow, just in time," Mark said, as the yellow lights flashed.
Mark released the boys as I went to the door and verified the
visitors' document. Eight guards had showed up--two for each
boy. I was glad for the extra-tight security.
I had a last minute talk with Phillip and Michael, reassuring
them that no stressful demands would be made on them. Mark spoke
with his boys.
We watched them all leave. Our robed foursome looked quite good
walking with the nicely uniformed guards.
Blue lights flashed in the small training room. Mark explained
that probably meant the ritual was about to begin. A call to
Miles confirmed that.
"Well, we don't have far to walk."
As we neared Brent's training room--the site of the ritual--Mark
and I were ushered into the room across the hall from it, where
we were given ceremonial red robes to wear, and a brief
explanation of protocol for the ritual. We then entered Brent's
training room.
The place was stunning. I could not believe the transformation.
One could tell something weighty and significant was about to
happen.
The top half of each wall was covered with a black fabric.
Various ornate symbols overlaid the black surface, interspersed
with artistic representations of boys in various training,
punishment, and sexual positions.
In each corner was a marble statue of a naked boy, accompanied by
a large plant in a polished brass pot. Guards in dress uniform
were everywhere. A black carpet covered the entire floor, and
special lighting had been installed--all of which gave the room a
stately, momentous look. Other decorations enhanced the
ceremonial air of the place. The presence of a small orchestra
signaled a festive occasion.
Three walls of the room framed the area of activity. Specially
dressed 18-year-old ushers gave each staff member a diagram of
the ritual, then stood by.
RITUAL ROOM (Brent's Training Room)
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
| |
| xxxx Student audience (naked, standing) xxxxxxxxx |
| xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx |
| xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx |
| xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx |
| xxxx (standing) |
| xxxx Seated staff (red robes) Semi-circle |
| xxxx x x x x x x x x x x x x of 17 y/os |
| xxxx x x x x x x x x x (naked) |
| xxxx x x x |
| xxxx x x x |
| xxxx -------------- x x x |
| | x | x x x |
| | Brent's area | x x x |
| -------------- x |
| (Brent faces staff) | |
| Lineup |
| of selected boys in white |
| Cross or blue robes, (standing) |
| + Simon Kelms, 17 |
| (not used Dennis Rex, 16 |
| in ritual) Phillip Ankleton, 14 |
| Michael Lanikker, 13 |
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"I don't see our boys," I said, scanning the room.
"They can't see the whole ritual. They'll be brought in later,
remember?"
I nodded, embarrassed that'd I'd forgotten.
Only the quickly-growing student audience and staff were present
as Mark and I were shown to our seats.
There were chairs for the staff that formed three rows at one end
of the central area. Mark Ericmann was seated next to me. Miles
and his assistant would occupy the front two chairs.
All but staff would stand for the entire ritual.
"Damn," I said, "Poor Brent will be surrounded!"
"Don't worry, Phil."
"Easy for YOU to say."
"Oh, I see on the diagram they only have our four selected boys
listed," Mark said, noting the fifth boy was not shown on the
drawing.
"I guess Miles wants his boy to be a total surprise," I whispered
to Mark.
I noticed a set of guards at the entrance, giving something to
all the entering students who had come to witness the ritual.
"What are they handing out to the students?"
Mark responded with a very sly grin. "Little plastic cups."
"Yes but something is sticking out of them."
"Three-inch wide tube."
"Mark--don't get cryptic on me. What are those things?"
"You can figure this out, Phil. What those students in the
audience will see tonight is a lot of sensual action, right?"
"Yeah," I said, a question in my voice.
"And they're boys of ages 17 to 23 or so--a very horny group,
yes?"
"Yes, okay. So?"
"Come on, Phil. What do horny boys like to do when they're
turned on?"
"Holy shit! Those are jerk-off cups? You're not serious."
"Yes. I'm serious. We call 'em cum-catchers."
"Fuck," I muttered softly.
"We like to treat our students right when there's a ceremony.
Saves on cleanup, too. Some boys will come but won't need the
cups."
"I'm not gonna try to figure that one out."
"Some brought friends who have very good hands--or like to get on
their knees."
"That's allowed, too?"
"As long as it doesn't get too noisy."
"I feel sorry for the ones in chastity belts." About 20 percent
of the student-audience wore the clumsy devices, and were
probably attending the ritual as part of their training or
punishment. Some of the students were already being treated to
some vigorous hand action by a friend. Some indulged in solo
masturbation for a short period, getting themselves hard or just
having some fun in public, so to speak--taking in the admiring
glances of others less brave, I supposed.
"What's that sound?"
"The five-minute warning bell."
The ritual room filled up quickly after that. I was having a
good time looking at the naked students walking in, and those
already in their places, playing amongst themselves. A small
number of the entering boys were erect, or nearly so.
The orchestra played a chord, announcing the entrance of Miles
and his assistant, Alan Richards.
The lights dimmed, and a small spotlight was on Jeremy Miles, who
stood.
"We will first see the backup group of boys--those who will be
potential recipients of our later festivities. These were
specially selected for tonight's ritual, and all have had their
Endorlone devices installed."
"I'm sure you know, but, he means the egg," Mark whispered.
A uniformed guard accompanied each of the ten 17-year-olds--all
fine looking specimens of late adolescence, and of course, each
with a very erect penis. The guards took them to their assigned
places, as the audience applauded.
The swing and bounce of the boys' erections were quite charming.
Some blushed as they walked, and a few remained red-faced
afterward as they stood and waited in place.
The ten, very attractive 17-year-old boys stood in a semi-circle
at a right angle to the staff, near the center of the room,
facing Brent's designated area, and to the right of it. These
young men comprised Brent's reserve group. Should Brent reject
any of the boys we had selected for him, he would be free to
choose to suck any number of these, instead. I began to drool,
watching these captivating lads.
"And now," Miles said, "our subject--Brent Hallman."
The applause began even before Brent appeared--wearing a hooded,
brown-colored robe, trimmed in black and white, flanked by a
guard on either side of him. Brent's face was partially obscured
by the hood.
The guards placed a chain on each of Brent's wrists, but left the
ends unattached or joined to anything, as they put him in his
assigned place in the center of the room, about 15 feet to the
left of the semi-circle of boys. Brent's wrist chains hung loose
to allow freedom of movement--but Brent with those chains on
created an image of a boy shackled. The unjoined chains would
also permit easy removal of the robe.
Mark explained that the shackled image symbolized Brent's lack of
status--that he was not permitted to mingle with all the students
because of his straight classification--his hands were tied, so
to speak. This of course would change tonight.
Brent went to his knees and bent to the floor, chains clanking
noisily for a moment--his elbows and forearms flat on the black
carpet, his hooded head resting on his hands. It was quite a
humble-looking pose.
Above Brent was a pair of rings, identical to a gymnast's. Next
to these, a pair of suspension cuffs--used to hang, or suspend a
boy by his wrists; often these were raised by a winch, pulling
the boy upward until his feet were several inches or so off the
floor. Both pairs of items hung from thick, strong chains.
The crowd of naked students--ages 17 to about 24--formed the
majority of observers. With certain exceptions, notably the
selected boys in their robes, nakedness was required of all but
the staff.
All ten of the 17-year-olds in the semi-circle had full erections
because of the eggs which were inserted in them earlier. This
group did not yet include the four robed boys Mark and I had
selected to receive Brent's inaugural oral attentions; nor did it
include the fifth boy, whom Miles had chosen, and whose identity
was still unknown to us.
Mark had told me that eggs were inserted in all students whom
Brent might suck, to ensure that a recipient boy's dick would not
go soft from a case of stage fright or other stress.
Jeremy Miles' made his opening announcement.
"This is the welcoming and sexual inauguration ritual for
seventeen-year-old Brent Hallman, a strong, sensual young man of
good character, with superior rankings in academics, football,
and track. Brent is attested by his supervisor, Phillip Wertz,
to be worthy of the title of Mister--to attain full status as a
sexually active student in good standing at Miles Academy, which
he shall do this evening. The ritual will begin."
In the opening announcement, there wasn't a big deal made of the
fact that Brent would soon perform his first male to male sex,
nor that he'd been straight all his life, including his first
three years at Miles--everyone knew that. The significance,
formality, and elegance of the occasion was in its simplicity.
The lights dimmed except for the central area. Two beautiful
students, ages 13 and 21, made their entrance--each wearing only
black swimwear, similar to bikini briefs, trimmed in gold.
Either they had very large penises or they had been given
Endorlone--the organs clearly and sensuously outlined in their
skimpy garments, giving the impression they desired Brent. The
two boys faced Brent from a distance of about five feet.
A single trumpet played a solemn note. Responding to the sound,
Brent looked up at the pair of boys, who each extended one of
their arms toward Brent.
Brent reached his right arm toward the two, his hand touching
theirs.
Many trumpets played a musical chord that seemed to energize
Brent, who rose somewhat--still on his knees with his upper torso
now erect--as he looked more intently at the two boys. Their
three hands then clasped together, and a louder, more majestic
chord sounded.
Extending his other arm, Brent stood, taking a boy's hand in each
of his. The pair and Brent nodded to each other solemnly. Brent
looked quite manly, standing next to the other two, but he began
to lean his body backward, away from them. He tried his best to
tighten his grasp on their hands, but eventually, his hands
slipped free of theirs, and he fell. The boys still had their
arms out to Brent.
Brent broke the fall with his hands out behind him, and sat on
the floor, staring at the handsome pair. The two boys looked at
Brent, and slowly put their outstretched arms at their sides.
Brent held his arms out toward the two--as if yearning for them,
beckoning them. Then came a single, soft trumpet sound, somewhat
mournful, when the two lads turned their backs on Brent, and
slowly made their exit.
Brent lowered his head, as if in shame.
Of course, the 13-year-old would not be permitted to return for
the rest of the ritual.
Two 17-year-olds from the semi-circle came forward and helped
Brent stand. In a series of graceful steps, they ceremoniously
removed Brent's robe, revealing that he wore swimwear underneath,
similar to the two boys who had just made their exit--but Brent's
was white, trimmed in gold. His flaccid penis made an
impressive, alluring bulge in the small garment. Brent's slim,
athletic, semi-naked body drew an energetic round of applause.
The applause grew more appreciative when Brent turned his back to
us, displaying the marks from the whipping I'd given him earlier.
Mark and I noticed something at the same time--a cord that hung
between Brent's legs, down to his knees. We could see it, even
though it hung from behind him.
"The boy will choose the restraint cuffs or rings," Miles
announced.
The pair of 17-year-olds removed Brent's wrist chains. The
handsome duo stood at attention as the orchestra played a short
interlude.
Brent jumped up to put his hands in the rings, and grasped them
expertly. The audible hum of a winch motor explained why Brent
began to rise--the motion stopping when his feet were about 20
inches off the floor--his grip on the rings obviously important
now. Brent hung there, looking vulnerable.
The placement of the rings had Brent facing the staff--the group
of reserve 17-year-olds to his right, and the audience of other
students behind the staff, as well as to Brent's left.
At the sound of a trumpet blast, the two 17-year-olds began the
process of removing Brent's briefs. First, they ran their
fingers under the waistband, making a complete circle. They
stood on either side of him and grasped the band, pulling both
sides down until the waistband curved, the sides lower than the
center, leaving Brent's pubic hair exposed. The pair of 17-year-
old's then knelt, each grasping a leg of the swimwear.
As a spotlight shone brightly on Brent, the boys gradually pulled
the garment off. First one leg was pulled a few inches, then the
other, until the center of the waistband slid down, revealing the
genitals.
Brent's member, though relatively soft, had a commanding length
and thickness. The overall look of the naked 17-year-old drew
more admiring responses. Brent's penis began to thicken and rise
somewhat. The applause was thunderous.
At that moment, I wondered if my star boy would ever agree to
being fucked, and if a similar ceremony would be held when a boy
gave up his anal virginity.
The rings began to move, rotating Brent 90 degrees, so he faced
the semi-circle of 17 year old boys. This left me and the other
staff with a good side view of Brent, with the mysterious thin
rope hanging down. Brent appeared to be grasping the cord with
his buttocks.
Alan Richards, the 25-year-old assistant to Mr. Miles, stood and
made his way to Brent.
Miles stood to announce.
"We now celebrate, and remind our subject of the three most
treasured traits a boy can have."
"One, OBEDIENCE."
What happened next startled me. Alan grasped the hanging cord,
and gently pulled. An ball popped out of Brent, about an inch in
diameter.
"Uh," he moaned softly, to a round of applause, his cock
definitely on the rise, now.
"Geez!" I whispered to Mark, "They've got anal balls in him!"
"I think he likes that," Mark said.
"Two, STRENGTH."
Another one-inch ball was pulled from Brent. This time he
grimaced, but was silent. More applause.
"Three, HUMILITY!"
This time, Alan pulled visibly harder, and a ball of one and a
half inches popped into view.
"Argh!" Brent moaned loudly, his face askew from the pain--and
with applause from the watching students, some of whom who were
actively masturbating, being pumped by a friend's hand, or
getting their cocks sucked by a kneeling fellow student.
"And," Miles continued, "of course, there will be PLEASURE."
At this, Alan yanked the cord quickly, and eight, very small
balls, tightly spaced, came them out of Brent in rapid
succession.
"Ahhhhh," the star boy moaned in pleasure, a slight smile on his
face.
A giant round of applause shook the room.
"Holy shit!" I said.
"It's not really unusual," Mark whispered, "since he's already
had the dildo in him from the cock-tease rig."
"But still, man! Fuck, what a stud."
At this point, Brent strained to hang on to the rings, his face
betraying the effort. He'd been holding himself that way a long
time.
Finally, Brent was lowered and to his feet, and he let go of the
rings. His penis had softened considerably. The crowed cheered.
"The subject will declare his readiness to be welcomed by raising
his arms."
Quite showman-like, Brent smiled radiantly and raised his arms
upwards--fully, and with great energy, despite the recent strain
of hanging from the rings. His well developed biceps and triceps
gleamed with sweat, and made a beautiful athletic display.
A handsome pair of boys from the semi-circle came forward and
held Brent's arms--supporting them in a 'V' shape, under the
rings. In the process, Brent's body swayed somewhat, causing his
flaccid cock to swing gracefully.
"The egg of life, symbol of potency," Miles said.
Alan Richards retrieved a very large egg from a tall pedestal,
and held it up for the audience to see.
A 17-year-old from the semi-circle knelt and began to suck
Brent's balls--a connection, I supposed, to the egg that Alan was
replacing on the pedestal. Later, the boy's tongue made wide
swaths along the head of Brent's penis.
"It's a special ceremonial egg," Mark said. "They won't insert
it--it's just for effect."
The audience applauded as the kneeling boy's oral attentions had
their effect, and Brent became erect.
The second and best-built of the reserve 17-year-olds came
forward holding an awesome-looking flogger of a strange design,
consisting of 12 thin, one-inch wide leather straps--most of them
30 inches long, but several were longer--about 40 inches.
The light, flat-strap design allowed for long flogging sessions
without severe damage to the skin, but in the proper hands, could
be made to deliver a deep, ferocious sting. The longer straps
were a mystery to me.
Curiously, the boy who had teased Brent's cock, was still
kneeling in front of him.
The pair of 17-year-olds were like bookends on either side of
Brent. At that point, they lowered his arms.
A master supervisor, highly skilled in flogging, entered, and
took the instrument from the well-built boy, who then stepped
aside.
"The ceremony of love," Mr. Miles said. "The subject will now be
suspended."
The pair of boys attached the wrist cuffs to Brent. There must
have been a control booth somewhere, because as soon as the cuffs
were properly adjusted, the chains tightened, and Brent was
raised, his feet about 4 inches off the floor. His bulging
muscles were a beautiful and arousing sight. He was again
turned, giving us a side view.
The master with the flogger had incredible aim. But more than
aim was required. To vary the severity of the strokes, the
whipman needed to have the ends of the straps strike the subject
at a high velocity, causing a great deal of pain as they struck
the flesh. For milder strokes, it was necessary to manipulate
the flogger differently--to have the strap-ends attain a much
lower velocity, so they kissed rather than bit the skin.
"For the love of boys and men--ONE!" Miles announced.
WHHAAAPPPPPPPP! The blow struck near the right shoulder. The
moment the flogger struck, the kneeling boy slid his lips
sensuously over Brent's quivering erection.
Brent clenched his teeth but made no sound.
"Why's that boy sucking Brent during this?"
"To keep Brent's pleasure senses active, and help form a link
between pain and pleasure. He sucks the penis just as the
flogger strikes. In your training you'll learn more about this."
"For the respect of your own body and the bodies of others--TWO!"
The master swung, placing the stroke at the left side of the
back, but the longer straps whipped around, striking ribs and
nipple.
Amazingly, Brent simply let out a gasp of breath, grimacing and
gritting his teeth.
"For the maintenance of a healthy mind and body, with special
care of the sex organs--THREE!"
The flogger struck the right ribs in the same manner as before.
Brent, still silent, writhed in pain at the stroke, possibly
because this blow may have struck a nipple.
At each stroke of the flogger, the kneeling boy slid his lips
over Brent's cock in a delicious-looking manner, gradually
swallowing the suffering lad's exquisite member.
"For the seeking of others to pleasure and be pleasured by,
FOUR!"
The stroke was to the upper-legs.
My star boy let out another gasp of breath, but did not shout or
moan. The site and force of the blow was too painful for Brent
to contain himself, and he gasped again, wriggling in pain.
"Five, for the equality of anal pleasure and oral."
This was a brutal double stroke--one to each buttock, the strap
tips biting in ferociously, causing excruciating pain.
Brent writhed and squirmed violently, his vigorously twisting
body throwing sweat in all directions. The poor boy's face
contorted in agony, his eyes shut tightly, his hands knotted into
desperate fists.
"Six," Miles said, "for kindness to others, and the advancement
of sensual technique."
The well-built boy who had handed the flogger to the master knelt
behind Brent, surprising him with a sudden rimming, the boy
turning his head from side to side, to give all a good view of
his tongue as it slithered provocatively over Brent's virgin
opening, and far above and below, for added sensual effect.
The tonguing lad eventually poked his tongue at Brent's hole,
causing Brent to squeal with pleasure, his body convulsing
enticingly.
Alan Richards made a gesture toward Brent, and the entire room
filled with cheers and applause for Brent, who had taken all of
the painful proceedings in silence--an amazing accomplishment. I
swelled with admiration for my boy's incredible strength and
ability to endure.
"And now, for loyalty to Miles Academy, and all it stands for."
Then I saw a metal-studded, two-tongued tawse handed to the
master doing the flogging. This was a dreaded instrument.
CCCCCRRRAAAAAAACKKKK!
This was done once on each buttock, to Brent's thunderous, heart-
rending cries. The two red welts from the metal studs stood out
plainly on each cheek. Everyone seemed to know these were the
last strokes, and the crowd again applauded Brent wildly.
The kneeling boy kept Brent's erection fully in his mouth, and
Brent began to thrust his hips in and out, causing some laughter
in the audience. The stud was not about to stopped by a little
pain, apparently.
"And now," Miles announced, "the sharing of pain as pleasure."
At this point, Brent was lowered and the pair of attending boys
wiped him down with a towel. From what I could tell, the boys
instructed him to hold on to the rings, even though his feet were
flat on the floor.
The kneeling boy who had sucked Brent now stood, and was handed a
solid maple paddle.
The boy swung the paddle into Brent's backside with a strong, but
not overpowering swing.
"SSMMAAAACCCCKKKK!"
Brent's body moved forward a small distance, and he was stunned a
bit, but did not make a sound. Brent was prompted to let go of
the rings, and stood proudly with his arms at his sides.
To my surprise, the boy handed the paddle to Brent, then bent
over.
Brent delivered what he thought was a similar blow to the lad who
had sucked him. But Brent did not know his own strength, and the
stroke of the paddle was fierce, nearly knocking the boy over.
"Ahhhhhhh! OWWWW!" the poor lad screamed.
"That wasn't supposed to happen," Mark said.
The audience laughed appreciably. Although I saw the humor in
it--that Brent was not expected to swing the paddle quite so
vehemently--I felt for the boy.
More laughter and a few moans of approval came from the audience
as Brent, quite showman-like, smiled and rubbed the boy's sore
buttocks for comfort, as if apologizing for his mistake.
"The minute of control," Miles said, starting a timer. "The
subject will not come."
The boy knelt once again, and began to suck Brent in earnest.
Another of the 17-year-olds came behind, and rimmed Brent. A
third, from below, tenderly sucked Brent's swollen balls, the sac
enlarged from the potent, unsatisfied sexual desires that raced
through Brent's body.
"Oh! AH! Oh, fuck!" Brent shouted, doing his best to resist the
arousing combination of erotic sensations that became almost
unbearable, in light of the requirement that Brent hold his cum.
"Arrghhhphhh!"
"The subject has succeeded in demonstrating his control over the
senses," Miles announced, followed by a deafening round of
applause.
"The subject will now choose the boys from the alternate pool, to
whom he would be willing to have the privilege of providing
sexual pleasure."
Mark explained, "That's Miles way of saying Brent will eliminate
some of the back-up boys, by choosing those he finds appealing."
As Mark explained, Brent was to select from the semi-circle of
boys by dipping his finger into a ceremonial jar of edible red
paint. He would present his painted finger to each boy he chose.
Then Brent was to wait for the boy's response, if any, then rub
the paint in a circle on the boy's chest. But if the chosen boy
found Brent sexually desirable, the boy sucked the stuff off
Brent's fingers, then Brent marked the boy by coating his lips
with the paint, and kissing the lad on his forehead.
The first boy's mouth went right for Brent's finger.
The second boy opened his mouth but stopped short of licking it,
surprising Brent. This boy, as if unsure of Brent's sexual
appeal, looked up at Brent, smiling. The crowd roared at this
little ruse, as the boy devoured Brent's finger. There was an
extra-loud round of applause.
Eventually, seven of the ten 17-year-olds licked the paint from
Brent's finger, and stood with lip marks on their foreheads.
Brent seemed to be done selecting.
Miles' assistant gracefully approached Brent. Brent whispered
immediately to the man, who nodded very affirmatively. I noticed
that Brent had not chosen the smallest cocks, but a variety of
sizes including one eight-incher.
Smiling energetically, Brent approached the three other 17-year-
olds, and painted circles on their chests. By doing this, Brent
was expressing his willingness to suck off even members of the
reserve group that Brent didn't find appealing. The crowd went
wild.
"Now, we will meet four of the five boys specially selected for
Brent."
As Mr. Miles spoke, Phillip and Michael were escorted into the
room--by four striking 17-year-olds, two at either side of each
boy. Their white robes hid their erections well. My helper boys
looked frightened.
The audience applauded politely, and when that died down, Simon
Kelms was escorted in, to louder applause. His erection bulged
his blue robe nicely. I watched Brent for a reaction. His eyes
widened a bit at the sight of Simon.
Dennis Rex received the most enthusiastic reception from the
audience--the bulge of his strikingly bigger penis in the blue
robe attracting a great deal of admiration.
The guards put our four boys in their assigned spots, between
Brent and the pool of ten back-up boys.
Brent was nervous now. The pressure was on him to make his final
choices. The lad's face showed the strain of his predicament.
I wished I could speak to Phillip and Michael, to assure them
that if Brent did not choose them, it was not a reflection on
either of them personally. I think Phillip and Michael were more
nervous than Brent.
The orchestra played a momentous-sounding chord.
"Now for the awaited festivities. The moment has come for the
subject to prove his attraction to his fellow males, and ability
to enjoy sexual contact with them. "Is the subject ready to
proceed?"
"Yes," Brent said, bowing to the staff.
"Mark look--he's soft," I said, fearful for Brent.
"I know. Where do you think I've been looking?"
"Make your first choice, then," Miles said with a smile. This
was the first time Miles had spoken directly to Brent. "You will
select the boy by gently grasping his erection. You will then
perform at least one affectionate gesture of your own choosing."
Brent faced the lineup of four boys. He paused, looking them
over for quite some time.
"The suspense is killing me," I said to Mark.
Brent walked slowly to the group, and stood before Simon Kelms.
"I knew it."
"I'm glad he picked Simon first."
The two boys grinned very amicably at each other, Brent grasping
Simon's penis, then walking around his body, obviously making a
comparison to his own. Various admiring sounds from the audience
indicated they saw the resemblance between the two 17-year-olds.
The other three selected boys in line watched intently as Brent
leaned down and kissed Simon's nipples.
The audience applauded the gesture, but Brent was not through.
He embraced Simon, and kissed him full on the lips, to cheers
from the crowd. But when the kiss lasted a good while, and the
two squirmed their bodies together, the onlookers burst into
thunderous applause, which became wild when they saw Brent's
sumptuous, fast-forming erection.
"That's fantastic," Mark said.
Miles was grinning enthusiastically.
The three other selected boys, Phillip, Michael, and Dennis,
formed a semi-circle around Brent and Simon, giving themselves
and others a better view.
"Mister Kelms, do you value the pleasure the subject is about to
bestow on you enough to make a payment in pain for it?"
"Yes, sir!"
"The payment will be a maximum-strength blow to the buttocks of
the borstal cane. It will be delivered by the most powerful boy
in the seventeen-year-old semi-circle of the subject's peers, as
a symbol of intramural discipline."
The borstal was the most wicked of all canes, but a maximum
strength stroke of it in a student setting is unheard of in all
but the least desirable, cruelest schools.
"Ouch," I muttered, "that's a wicked payment!"
"To say the least."
"Mr. Kelms, do you wish the subject to make the payment for you?"
"No, sir," Simon said, bending appropriately.
Brent held Simon's shoulders for support. This was needed
because of the force of the upcoming blow, as well as the pain.
The well-built boy came forward. As the cane was handed to the
him, I noticed the fine, gold decorated handle, as well as water
dripping from the thing--the wetness would amplify the pain.
The master stood by the well-built lad, ready to give the signal.
"ONE!" he said, in a stern military voice.
WWHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAACCCCCKKKKKKK!!
"YEWWAAAAARRRRRGGHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
Simon screamed seconds after his body flew upright. He shook
from the ghastly effect of the vicious blow. Brent did his best
to steady the boy, whose buttocks displayed deep, unsightly
welts.
"That thing is brutal. The pain must have been excruciating."
"It was," Mark replied.
"It's a good thing the boys all have Endorlone working for them."
Simon's erection was undiminished because of the chemical.
After some enchanting and comical rubbing of Simon's butt--
performed by both Brent and Simon, Brent knelt and kissed the
dark red wounds, to everyone's delight.
There was some discussion between the two, resulting in Brent
raising his arm--a call for Alan Richards to assist.
Alan and Brent conversed in a whisper. All seemed to be
satisfactory, and Alan retreated. In a few seconds, the rings
lowered--apparently this was Simon's request for positioning,
because the boy then signaled the operator to stop the rings.
Simon then turned his back to the rings, and placed his hands in
them, leaning in a slight backbend. The pose resulted in Simon's
penis jutting out erotically toward Brent.
This was the real moment of truth--Brent's first attempt at
giving a blow job. He knelt slowly, his hands on Simon's hips,
sliding down to his thighs, and up again. When Brent kissed the
tip of the boy's organ, appreciative gasps could be heard from
the hushed audience.
Without hesitating further, Brent opened his mouth, and slid his
lips slowly over the bobbing tip of Simon's penis.
"Ahhh, yeah!" the grateful recipient said, as Brent brought his
lips up and down the rigid shaft, gradually taking more of
Simon's cock as the sensuous pumping continued.
Simon did his best to suppress his moans, but the evidence of the
erotic sensations were quite audible.
Brent stopped sucking the lad, only to shift his attention to the
boy's scrotum, which he licked and sucked captivatingly. This
elicited more quiet gasps of approval from the student audience.
Simon enjoyed the delicious attention on his balls, and was ready
for more activity on his cock, if his bouncing erection was any
criterion.
Brent slipped the hard pole into his mouth once again, and this
time vigorously sucked down the entire 7-inch organ, increasing
his pace on the thing. But Brent surprised everyone by stopping,
at what seemed to be the crucial moment for Simon.
Brent made a gesture toward Alan.
"He's calling for a ceremonial shower," Mark explained.
Several of the uniformed guards entered the central area, and
removed a large circle of carpet. A hydraulic mechanism brought
the shower apparatus up into view.
"The ritual of cleansing," Miles announced. "The subject will
proceed at will."
'Ahhs' from the crowd indicated they knew what was happening as
Brent's washing activity quickly centered themselves deep into
Simon's crevice. Four other guards, dressed only in swimwear,
rinsed the lad, and dried him with a flourish, using beautifully
decorated towels.
As the shower mechanism retreated into the floor and the carpet
was replaced, Brent embraced Simon, who bent over to receive
Brent's tongue, which thoroughly examined and poked the valley
between Simon's well-muscled buttocks.
Roars from the audience all but drowned out their applause.
Simon shivered with the pleasure. Brent affectionately brought
him to an upright position, and resumed sucking the good-looking
boy.
"OH! Fuck, YEAH!" Simon shouted, as his orgasm came upon him
suddenly.
It was obvious Brent had swallowed a good portion of the boy's
load before slipping his lips off the ejaculating penis, to take
several potent streams of Simon's cum on his face and neck. This
was an unexpectedly beautiful erotic display.
The audience's response was deafening, and the roars accelerated
as the two boys stood to admire their similar bodies, and then
kissed passionately.
Two guards gently wiped the semen off Brent using black towels
which showed the boy's seed quite well. These were hung on a
line just beyond the central area as visible symbols of the
event.
Brent and Simon bowed, and the lad raised one of Brent's arms in
a symbol of victory. Eventually the tumult died down.
________
More? Please write to me.
stevestoryman@yahoo.com (text only)
Your comments are welcome. I'll reply to all substantial.
(Scroll down for updated list of my stories)
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so if you've hesitated to write, fearing some spam or something
unwanted will result, please be at peace about that.
It's been my pleasure to get the emails I've received so far.
Thank you.
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Thank you,
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___________________________________________
STEVE STORYMAN'S STORIES AT: www.nifty.org
(Approximate Age Ranges represent current and future characters)
Dates given are for the most recent chapter posted. (MM/DD)
Dates are plus or minus a day or so, depending on your server.
ALL dates are in 2005
1. hot-little-brother-series 11 CHAPTERS SO FAR 2/21
Nifty Incest/Athletics
A slim 18 y/o athlete wants his 16 y/o brother; caring;
some football & locker room fun; no long game-scenes.
Kevin & Josh. (Ages 15-22)
2. i-wanted-my-big-brother 6 CHAPTERS SO FAR 2/25
Nifty Incest
A hot 15 y/o admires and pursues his brother--a sexy,
17 y/o high-school quarterback; caring; no sports scenes.
Chad and Adam. (Ages 15-19)
3. hot-teen-brian 4 CHAPTERS SO FAR 1/12
Nifty Adult-Youth
A cute, smooth 17 y/o and some of his older friends
discover a liking for younger guys; hot fun; all
consensual;
Goes deep into Brian's thoughts.
Brian, Peter, Matt & friends.
(Ages 10-32; Most action: 13 to 19)
4. boys-joys-and-sorrows-at-sex-ed-school 8 CHAPTERS SO FAR
Nifty Adult-Youth 3/19
Teens trained for mutual sex; some spank, paddling, etc;
no cruelty; some orgasm-delay teasing; flogging;
individual and classroom/group punishment scenes;
all consensual; group and couple's sexual scenes.
(Ages 13-35; Most action: ages 13-20)
5. hot-freshman-kid 5 CHAPTERS SO FAR 3/4
Nifty High-School
A good-looking high school senior, 17, becomes fascinated
with a cute freshman, 14; story of discovery; tender;
caring; depicts several aspects of high-school life as it
relates to their friendship.
Mark and Kyle.
--> (Despite the teasing and denial in chapter 4, this <--
story will not include s&m, domination, or cruelty.)
6. hot-night-with-a-nice-kid 1 CHAPTER (More to come?) 2/26
Nifty/College
A good-looking 24-year-old college student
finds a hot guy at a local area college hangout--
a teen club for 18 and 19 year-olds.
Alan and Peter.
stevestoryman@yahoo.com (text only)