Date: Thu, 9 Mar 2017 23:43:20 -0800
From: Jon Hold <jonhold@earthlink.net>
Subject: College Instruction

College Instruction
by Jon Hold
Copyright  © 2016 by the Author
jonhold@earthlink.net

This work is copyrighted by the author and may not be used without his
express permission. Private persons and no others are given permission to
have one (1) electronic and/or one (1) printed copy of this work. Nifty
Erotic Stories ArchiveTM is given permission to archive this work.

All the usual disclaimers that are usual usually apply here. This is a work
of fiction involving sex acts between consenting persons of various ages
and conditions of life. If you can't handle that or if you are not of legal
age or mindset or location, go no further but remove this material from
your possession forthwith.

If you have faggot sensitivity, you ought not read this story.  Positive or
negative comments welcome. Everyone is 37.6 years old or amour.

Try to keep in mind that while 42 is the meaning of life, it is not the
only possible solution and that sexual dimorphism is Mother Nature's excuse
for being kinky.

Enjoy!

Jon

And now, a note for our sponsors, namely, YOU! Nifty could use a little
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College Instruction:


At one time I held the position of Instructor of Religious and Political
Philosophy as well as Logic at a very exclusive all-boys prep school. Some
of the boys were a little rough around the edges, some were the result of
pampered upbringing, a few were down and out street toughs. All had one
thing in common. Wealthy (the school was NOT inexpensive) Daddy's who
wanted their boys raised and trained a _certain_ way. All Professors and
instructors were responsible for not only teaching their course work, but
for providing whatever additional instruction and guidance any particular
youth might need. Punishment for infractions were very real, up to and very
definitely including corporal punishment, either public or in private,
whatever was deemed by staff to be most appropriate for each individual
boy. The student/teacher ratio was usually about 5:1 with occasional
instructors, such as myself, capable of handling more boys at a time. Not
only did we produce happy and healthy boys with attitudes and standards
very much as their "Daddies" preferred, but each boy was also, upon
graduation, qualified and able to attend the school of the Daddy and Son's
choice. MIT, Harvard, Yale, Mellon. All the better schools accepted our
preparation of students as the very best available, and accepted them
without question.

All students were "live-in" and were housed as was deemed best for each
boy. Single rooms were available (usually a double with a single occupant),
Doubles, or Dormitories. But most rooms were shared by two
roommates. Choice of roommates was normally left up to the boys unless
there were some particular reason to room certain boys together. Sometimes
three or even four boys would decide to share a room, but they were still
allowed only the singe bunkbed or Queen-sized bed. Some rooms had bunkbeds
and some had single, larger beds. The larger beds were usually used only by
"brothers" from the same Daddy and only with the Daddy's permission. The
school was year-around and the boys had a very limited and restricted
vacation schedule. There were bungalows available and Daddies who's Boys
work and progress was acceptable could spend the occasional week-end with
them. If a major punishment was deemed necessary, some of the Daddies
preferred to administer the punishment themselves and appropriate
facilities were available for such sessions.

My own work with the boys was of great import in their development. Not
only did I teach philosophy as philosophy, but I was there to assist my
students in developing their own set of mores and morals. To decide
consciously on their belief systems and choice making alternatives rather
than just reacting to events as most people must. On top of that, I taught
my boys to THIMK!, with a capital THIMK!. To see clearly, to analyze
effectively and to know when to make a decision --- and when not to...  To
beat my own drum a little, I was a popular and much sought after
instructor. The boys, sometimes literally, fought to get into my classes
and some of the Daddies would try to bribe, cajole, or demand admittance
for their boys. My choice of students was strictly my own and I was a real
asshole about the whole process. Try and push me directly and the boy would
NEVER see the inside of one of my classrooms. I'm not sure just exactly
what my standards were, I just knew which boys were most likely to find
what I had to offer useful. A rather odd thing for a teacher of logic to
say, but my ultimate goal was to get the boys to actualize and trust their
inner selves, their innate self-knowledge as well as the succeeding layers
of acquired knowledge.

Rather than get into a lecture about teaching standards and methods, let's
talk about some of my students, probably something of much more interest to
most of you. Each of my boys, and everyone I taught became one of "my
boys", was important to me, but even after years of many available boys and
experiences, a few stand out in my memory.

-----

Craig. Skinny and underdeveloped when he first showed up. Pale white skin
masked by dark black, slightly curly hair. Very much a daddies boy who had
been raised alone with private tutors by a very possessive Daddy who was,
in my opinion, a bit of an old Queen. Craig was shy and submissive. Easily
embarrassed and very body conscious. The Dean brought him to me saying that
he thought the boy needed to be around someone masculine who wouldn't let
him get away with his well learned and deeply ingrained passive resistance.

Most new boys were housed in one of two large dorms before placement. One
for the younger boys who attended the lower divison school that shared
parts of our campus, and one for the older, pre-college boys me and my
colleagues taught. Many of our students graduated directly to us from the
lower division, but most of them were actually already prepared for higher
division schooling right out of our High School. Truly new boys were
watched and tested very carefully, hence the dorms where a live proctor
could be with them 24 hours a day. Sexuality and private or semi-private
rooms were among the privileges that had to be both learned and
earned. Dorm boys caught masturbating without permission were put into
"boxing gloves", solid padded balls of stuffing that locked around the boys
wrists until they earned permission to masturbate or have sex with
others. Self-control and self-restrain were desired qualities in our
students. Craig came to me wearing gloves, being hazed and laughed at,
especially by the younger boys, because of his lack of self-control.

Rather than ask for help going to the bathroom, he pee'd himself. I helped
him undress, which caused no end of blushing and protests, and then put him
in the shower and hosed him clean with cold water. He was almost hysterical
when I refused to dress him, seeing as how he was just going to make a mess
in perfectly good clothing. Then he had a conniption fit when I decided
that it was time for his orientation tour. I ended up having to belt him
and fasten his gloves to the wide leather belt. Then I put a dog collar
around his neck and lead him around the campus at the end of a leather
lead. I made sure that we went everywhere and that he was exposed to the
greatest possible number of people. He was particularly embarrassed when I
slowly walked him through the playing fields while many of the lower
division boys were playing soccer. He got a bone on watching the younger
boys and I made sure they all got a chance to see the four inch wonder with
it's little tuft of black hair.

When we got back to my rooms, Craig had a tizzy fit, yelling and screaming
and telling me how "Teddy" was going to have a fit when he found out how
cruel I was.

Craig ended up spending a great deal of time with me, both inside and
outside my bedroom, learning what he needed to know to be who he actually
was. Today Craig is a very masculine, outgoing and successful civil
engineer. He and his "Daddy", Teddy, come spend the night with me several
times a year. Teddy will sometimes wander off with one of the "sissy boys"
leaving Craig and I to renew our relationship and argue over who gets to be
on top first.

-----

STEVE was a big kid. Quick, agile, strong and a dedicated athlete. Kind,
considerate and gentle with the less macho boys, he loved to challenge the
stronger, more assertive boys. He excelled in wrestling and when he found
out the Greeks typically wrestled in the nude he couldn't be restrained
until he'd convinced the athletics instructors to institute a school-wide
"All Champions Greco-Roman Wrestling Competition". His idea was that a boy
was a Champion, just for trying to learn and for being brave enough to
enter the competition. The rules were standard except for a few: Each boy
could oil up or not, their choice. Just as it was their choice what to oil
up with --- and they had to clean the mats of whatever they wore. One boy
won four bouts, uncontested, by wearing what looked and smelled like a
mixture of skunk oil and dog shit. Finally one challenger just walked up to
him, licked some of whatever it was off his arm and then grinned and pinned
him in about 30 seconds. The ref called it a pin and the kid fucked the
stinky boy right there in front of everyone. He received a standing ovation
from all the spectators when he was done.

Anyhow, Steve was very much a leader and extremely popular with the boys
and staff alike. Definitely a top, he was none-the-less willing to bottom
for some kid who needed the experience of topping a real stud. Once the kid
had gained self-confidence, Steve would top him and show him how someone
SHOULD be topped. And let me tell you, you have never, ever been topped
until you've been topped by Steve. I'm not going to try to describe what it
is he does, I'm not sure it can be described. He just kind of takes charge
and gives you exactly what you've always wanted, even if you had no idea
what it was you wanted. Somehow, Steve knows, and can give it to you --- IN
SPADES!

Steve lived with me in my bungalow his last year in prep school. His Daddy
would visit us on weekends and it would take both of us to even try and
keep up with his teenaged enthusiasms and sexual prowess. Steve played
professional baseball, and even made the cut on a professional football
team. All while completing a Masters degree in electronic engineering, with
a minor in mechanical engineering. He is Senior Engineer of a firm he
opened with start-up money from his Daddy. He still lives in the family
home with his Daddy, his wife and their four kids. One day I'll have to
tell you the story about how his oldest boy walked in on his Father and
"Grandfather" in bed together and announced that he loved them and intended
to come to bed with them--permanently!

-----

TIG was an odd sort of boy. A hell of a competitor on the playing fields
and just short of genius brilliant in class. Definitely gay, in the gayest
sense of the word, Tig loved to dress up and use makeup. He had a wardrobe
that consisted of everything from greasy, torn Levi's to perfectly starched
pinifores. He was always available to any boy who wanted to try a "girl",
and was known to have topped more than a few of his "girlfriends". The
first time I saw Tig with his "Daddy" I was blown away. Daddy was a florid
concoction of varying portions of Drag Queen, Screaming Queen and
Transvestite. Tig and his Daddy gossiped interminably while exchanging
make-up and dressing tips. I saw more than a few of the boys who had fucked
Tig trying to put the make on his Daddy, who was not at all unapproachable,
squealing loud enough to be heard all over campus when some young stud was
busy fucking his tight little ass.

Then, Sunday, the next day, Tig's Daddy showed up. His real
Daddy. Apparently, I had been mistaken when I first saw Tig and his Mommy
together. Daddy quickly took charge of both his girls. He was henpecked
something awful, but he really didn't seem particularly affected by his
Daughter and Wife's attempts to control him. One word from him and either,
or both of them were on their bellies with their butts up in the air.

Tig was sandy haired and lithe. Loved being lovey-dovey. Cuddling up and
wanting to be held. Tig was very insecure when he came to us and it
required much work to get him feeling okay about himself and his place in
the world. Tig's real mother was a drunk and his biological father had
thrown him out of the house at the age of ten when he caught the boy
sucking the dick of the next-door teenager. Tig lived the best he could on
the streets, being used and abused, often violently. Tig's Mommy found him
one night walking the docks looking for some rough trade. She was working
as a TV in an upscale cabaret and sometimes needed a "real man" to get the
feeling of fat old men's pudgy fingers off her body The boy had been beaten
and gang-raped. She didn't know what to do so she called the only man she
knew with any sense at all, a part-time lover of hers. Tig's need for them
was intense and they ended up marrying and legally adopting the, by then,
eleven year old boy. They did a wonderful job of healing and raising the
naturally sweet boy. On the night of his reaching legal age he moved into
his parents bedroom and refused to leave until they made him fully a part
of their union.

Tig today is 5' 6", blond, big-tited and married to a man who truly
appreciates his completely Transvestite wife and keeps her very happy. They
live near the school and have sent all three of their adopted gay street
children to the school. Their kids are some of the few non-boarders at the
school. Tig is a beautiful and loving mother and wife who's only real fear
is that her life is a dream and that she might wake up.

-----

SCOTTY is a brave soul. Outgoing. Everyone's friend. Unlike the insecure
folks who often act that way in overcompensation, Scotty is truly
absolutely sure of himself. Optimistic, happy, always willing to lend a
helping hand. Scotty thinks that sex is the greatest thing that ever
happened since the liver and onions burned and they all had to go out to
McDonald's for dinner. Scotty's got smallish balls and one of those cocks
that curves downward. He says that helps people swallow the thing all the
way down with the least muss and fuss. Put Scotty in a room with someone,
there's gonna be sex. Put Scotty in a room with more than one person and
there's going to be an orgy. Interminably horny and always ready, Scotty
has never met a man or woman that he wasn't willing to fuck, or be fucked
by. Scotty's Daddy is his real father's younger brother. He took the boy in
when his mother took off with a sailor and the boy didn't know who else to
call. His Uncle-Daddy enrolled him in the school and eventually admitted to
the boy that he was gay. Scotty thought that was great and took his new
Daddy to his dorm room to seal the new relationship. When his roommate came
in Scotty was getting fucked in his roommates bed and to make it up he
sucked his buddy off while still getting fucked by his Daddy. Scotty
graduated Harvard Law School Magna cum Cum and is now a very senior lawyer
for a major American corporation. He worked his way up the ranks (you might
say) rather quickly, always being willing to suck, fuck or be fucked as
required, while doing absolutely brilliant law work.

-----

PAUL is, basically, a slut. He loves getting fucked and being loose. His
Daddies (he has three) own a gay cabaret that they almost lost their
license when, at the tender, and all-knowing, age of fourteen, Paul minced
out on the stage and did a bump and grind that started a riot that required
a largish number of police to quell. Only the facts that Paul had the good
sense to disappear and that there were no cameras allowed in the Cabaret de
Soi and that it was impossible to get any two witnesses to agree as to just
exactly what had happened kept the judge from shutting the Cabaret down
permanently.

Paul revitalized the drama department at our school, pushing the then
current instructor aside to write, produce, direct and star in a production
that is still talked about today. There is something about a chorus line of
barely adolescent boys dressed in nothing more than crotchless Western
chaps that just gets an audience going. Personally, I'm sure that I have
never seen a more tasteful production more lewdly presented. Repeated
curtain calls were finally halted by the Dean who announced that the boys
had decided to keep their costumes on and would their Daddies please get
their boys and take them "home." The resulting stampede very nearly wrecked
our theater, which was no problem as there was a large subscription to a
fund to replace the theater with a much larger, better equipped theater
facilities for the boys' productions.

Today Paul is much in demand as a choreographer and set designer. Several
of the shows he has written and produced have had good runs on Broadway,
and others have had even better runs off Broadway. One show was promptly
closed by the City Fathers when it was discovered that the girls costumes
consisted of various wrappings of Saran wrap and the boys costumes
consisted of various colored bows tied to their penis'. Every winter Paul
returns to the school as Artist-in-Residence and helps the current lot of
boys to write, produce and present their own show. He NEVER sleeps alone
and the shows are ALWAYS a success.

-----

KARL was a rather gangly, but very strong farm boy who's own father brought
him to the school. "This here boys' a handful. Bright as a new penny and
sharp as a tack. A little on the quiet side and likes sexing with
men. Heered about you folks and figured you might could teach him how to be
a faggot sensible like." With that he handed the Dean a stack of hundred
dollar bills and told him to speak up when he needed more. Then he kissed
his son, a good kiss with plenty of tongue and told the boy, "You do like
these folks tell you. You call your Ma and me every Saturday and do your
studies or I'll be back up here with a switch. You hear me boy?"

"Yes, Poppa." was all the boy said before kissing his father again and
waiving goodbye. Karl's parents showed up regularly for his after school
activities, semi-adopting a large group of Karl's friends, who were always
welcome to join him on the holidays. They boys always came back to school
with learning about farming stories, sore dicks and buttholes, fat on rich
farm food, and buzzing with happiness.

Karl really liked older men and he and the Dean became quite a number
Karl's last three years at school.  Karl now holds a Masters in Education
and a Masters in Psychology and is a board certified psychotherapist. He is
also the Assistant Dean of Education here and lives with his hero, Dean
Hayworth. His Dad and Mom still visit, and still take the boys without
families home with them on holidays. Karl has gone from a good-looking kid
to an absolutely stunning 6' 4" manhood. I only wish I were old enough to
be of more interest to him.

-----

CURTIS was one of the oddest boys I've ever had in class. Tall, even at
fourteen. Isomorphic, that is, skinnier than hell. And small dicked. He
loved fucking the younger boys, and could sweet-talk them into trying
anything. Too intense to be really popular, he and a few cronies would hang
out together, gossiping about everyone else and seducing anyone young
enough to interest them. I worried about their behavior until I overheard a
group of the younger boys discussing exactly how to seduce and use the
older boys. I laughed about that until I found Curtis' accounting books one
day and saw how carefully he allotted his various resources (including one
account labeled 'Sperm') and how closely he estimated the "costs" of
bringing any particular person to his bed. Curtis today runs a major
accounting firm and lives with a succession of street tramps, each of whom
is allowed to 'steal' exactly what was allocated to their seduction before
being replaced with the next street-wise youth. I can't imagine ever
desiring Curtis, but any number of his conquests continually try to regain
his 'affections'.

-----

PETE came to us a laid-back, easy-going kid who's two main interests in
life were chess and sex. Sex of any sort. Pete wasn't all that well built,
or all that well hung. But he was warm and cuddly and fun to be
with. Energetic and responsive to the needs and desires of his partner. To
my knowledge, Pete never refused to at least try any sexual experience
offered him, up to, and including, getting fucked by one of the stallions
in the school stables (and one memorable week-end in the nearby cities most
notorious dungeon learning how to be a good slave to a longish line of
Tops). Curtis sold tickets to the event while Steve and Scotty helped open
Pete up and control the stallion during the fuck. Karl was the main animal
handler during the event and helped soothe Pete after the event by draping
him over a bale of hay and fucking him before offering his wide-open,
cum-soaked ass to all commers. Pete walked around bowlegged for a week with
a silly grin on his face.

Today Pete is the Chief Odds-Setter for a major string of casino's and
lives in a whorehouse he owns just outside of the Clark County/Las Vegas
City limits. It is said that he is just as available to the customers as
his working ladies. I have no trouble believing it, especially as Paul
never really cared who owned the hole, as long as they let him put his dick
in it.

-----

BOBBY was everyone's typical teenager. Acne, Attitude, Anger and a
twenty-four hour a day hard-on. Bobby was always trying to build his lithe,
powerful body up into something bulkier and more imposing. His Daddy had
caught him using steroids at the age of thirteen and had sent him to us as
a means of controlling the boys not-always-wise impetuousness. Bobby was
also an incurable nudist and exhibitionist, not that anyone ever tried to
cure him of those particular traits. Every morning would see Bobby
strutting up the hallway from his dorm room to the communal showers, towel
over his shoulder and dark-red hair thatched boner wagging back and forth
with every step. He invariably beat off in front of everyone in the showers
and shot his slime into the floor drain, usually accompanied by several of
his buddies.

Bobby really liked to suck dick and take it up the ass, but only with those
who enjoyed reciprocating. Bobby was as good a fuck as he was enthusiastic
and had no compunctions about getting it on with three or four of his
buddies at a time. About once a month Bobby would knock on my door. When I
let him in he would immediately strip naked and start confessing to a well
memorized litany of his sins since our last get-together. Then he'd get
across my knees and ask that I admonish him appropriately. We'd always end
with me fucking his spanking heated ass and then sucking him off until his
wiener was sore. Then he'd kiss me and thank me and head back to his dorm
carrying his clothes. his bright red butt, and absolutely no intention to
reform.

Bobby is the janitor at another prominent boys school today and is noted
for giving the very finest butt training to boys of all ages. He is
available for private sessions with fathers and sons, guardians and wards,
grandfathers and grandsons. Teaching them to properly take care of each
other in every way. He has a long list of successful and happy clients and
a long waiting line for his services. The boys are particularly avid for
his instruction and are primarily responsible for the adults in their lives
seeking his instruction. Bobby offers a summer "refresher course" for his
past students, who attend in large numbers. All classes are held communally
and participants are urged to trade partners to increase the learning
experience and to attend both of the special night sessions. One evening
disciplinarians from all the finer boarding schools are invited to
demonstrate their own special methods and techniques. Boys/adults are
volunteered as demonstration subjects by their partners and are allowed no
say in their selection or in how they are used. Several adults have
received rude awakenings when they neglected to keep track of what their
boys were doing. The other special evening is for the demonstration and
sale of various specialty products thought to be of potential interest to
the attendees. Male chastity devices in various forms seem to be
particularly good sellers.

-----

SAM and THEODORE. AKA, Mutt and Jeff. These boys met and formed a
relationship in the ten minutes before their welcoming session. Sam (Mutt),
was 5' 4" of hard-muscled, big-dicked (8+ inches), attitude. Theodore
(Jeff), was the same age, fourteen, but already stood 6' 3" in his bare,
bony feet. Dark haired, he didn't have an extra ounce of muscle or fat
anywhere on his body. Totally erect his dark-haired cock stood a raging
three-and-a-half inches. Both boys had what amounted to a fetish for boxer
shorts. Mutt liked to wear his backwards so Jeff could fuck him while they
both kept their shorts on. Mutt and Jeff were the sort of people that give
a bad name to practical jokes. Their sense of humor ran to such things as
burning a six foot bloody Kotex at the Halloweenie party. It wouldn't have
been all that bad except that they used real blood. (Pointedly, no one on
staff ever asked where they got the blood!)

Asked to punish the boys for one transgression or another, I took all their
boxer shorts away from them for the two-three weeks it took for the bright
green fluorescein dye to wear away from the swimming pool, and the boys who
had been in it at the time. The boys were somewhat surprised when I invited
them to share my Jaccuzzi. They were even more surprised when they got out
and I turned on the black (UV) lights. They were the glow-in-the-dark
twins! I chased them home naked (I'd taken their shorts while they were
playing in my hot tub). The moonlight colored them black and as soon as
they entered the dorm they realized that they glowed even in normal
lighting. The other kids had a wonderful time with that one. In class the
next day I suggested to both boys that discretion was sometimes the better
part of valor. That if they had any thoughts of getting back at me, they'd
be truly surprised to find out what I had in store for them next. I was
never again the focus of one of their jokes! (For which I was thankful as I
had NO idea what to do next. Thanks boys! :-))) )

Mutt and Jeff graduated hand-in-hand, and damn near burned down the stage
with the pyrotechnics they'd planted earlier. The boys then apologized to
the Dean, and pulled a cord on the back of his gown. Both boys were
surprised when nothing happened, and even more surprised when the smiling
dean leaned forward, pulled the cords HE'D installed on THEIR gowns,
causing all the lockstitched seams to come apart which allowed the gowns to
fall to the floor allowing the audience full view of the boys somewhat
obscene boxers. The microphone just picked up the Dean's voice when he
said, "Payback's a real mother-fucker, ain't it boys!"

Sam and Theodore and their daddies all live in one estate these days. The
boys having made their own fortunes with a string of comedy houses. They
are always available, even on short notice, to help out with school
functions, and love to regale the students with stories about what school
was like back when they were in charge. Much to their embarrassment, the
Dean has been known to add a tale or two to their entertainment hour. The
kids know the story, and love it! Mutt and Jeff are obviously proud that it
took the Dean to best them (I never say a word, though I often wear green,
bright, shiny green around them. ;-) ).

-----

SCOTT. Boxer, wrestler, ball player (any sort of ball). Scott was probably
this schools mot outstanding athlete. He undoubtedly had the worse temper
of any boy that ever attended this school. Turned loose on the streets by
his parents at five or six, he can't really remember, he learned to survive
the hard way. Fighting for food scraps. Selling his body to the hightest
bidder. Sleeping behind trash cans. Sucking cock or taking it up the ass as
required by the bigger boys so that he could spend the night in some sleazy
hang-out on a cold winter night. Scott trusted no one and took what he
wanted from anyone weaker than he was, which was just about everyone. "Some
Queer", which was all he would call his benefactor, took him off the
streets and tried to make a real home for the good looking boy. That led to
various forms of abuse and stealing. His wanna-be lover finally told Scott
that either he attended a special school, or to hit the streets and eat
garbage (literally) again.

Scott showed up cross-eyed, cocky and vastly self-assured. Convinced that
he was smarter than the whole bunch of us. The rules were stretched for him
until they creaked, but he made no effort to change or adapt to the
school. The only place he seemed to actually enjoy was the gym and the only
people he'd even half-way listen to were the coaches. He was sparring with
another boy who landed a lucky punch one day. Scott got up in a fury and
started trying to beat the other boy to death. It took both coaches to pull
him off the boy and restrain him.

Admitting failure, serious discussion was given to sending him off to
reform school. I mannaged to convince the powers that be to give Scott one
last chance. Since we did not believe in hiding things from all the
involved parties, Scott had to sit there during the entire process. Talk
about wide open reality checks! I could see the boy fighting to control his
emotions as he listened to how universally he was, well, not so much
disliked... as detested. Sitting there, watching, I became aware that the
main emotion the boy was trying to control involved tears.

After lunch break I managed to convince everyone to give me a chance with
Scott. Begrudgingly, I was given a chance with the miscreant, but only
after much discussion about just exactly insane I might be. I walked across
campus with my new charge in tow. We went to one of the outlying
bungalows. Our (My) knock was answered by a boy carrying a suitcase who
gave Scott a truly venomous look before leaving. Once inside I introduced
Scott to Toby, who's bungalow this was. I told Scott that, until told
differently, he was not allowed to be out of sight or the immediate
presence of Toby.

Scott gaped at Toby. Short. Slight. Openly effeminate. He looked at me,
"You've GOT to be kidding!"

"Try me! Or, better yet, test Toby one time. That's his boyfriend who had
to leave to make a place for you. Feel free to give Toby an excuse. You
won't even get to pack a bag before you find yourself in maximum lockdown
at the State Reform School. You've got three strikes already. One more will
give you a free ticket to the State Penitentiary on your eighteenth
birthday As young and cute as you'll be, you'll be somebodies girlfriend
before sundown! Enjoy yourself, Scott. Today may well be your last day,
ever, of freedom."

Scott managed to make it almost a whole week before challenging Toby. Toby
proceeded to slowly, carefully, and quite completely kick Scots
ass. TOTALLY. One of the teachers present demanded that Scott be locked up
immediately. Toby told him it was none of his business and to back off. The
teacher, known to value his own opinion very highly, told Toby to back off,
that he was in charge. He tried to brush Toby aside and hit the ground so
hard you could hear his body turning into one great big bruise. Toby, no
longer docile, pointed to Scott and said, get home!.

Scott got!

Well, an old man's memory. Toby was my natural son. Light in the ass from
birth, I started him in martial arts when he was five. At the time
mentioned above Toby had black belts in Aikido, Judo, Jujitsu and two sorts
of Karate. I still hear from my students, and teach. My students, past and
present, filled the auditorium for my 90th birthday. So many boys to
remember. My sons Scott and Toby set up my party and still live at home
with me.

I feel fulfilled.


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Liberty doesn't work as well in practice as it does in speeches.
     --Will Rogers