Date: Mon, 15 Apr 2013 20:44:00 +0000 (UTC)
From: fiveholepunch@comcast.net
Subject: Larnin' at School  Part Two

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Larnin' at School     Part Two


It was very near the hour of dismissal.

"Class, has everything been put in order?"

"Yes, Mister Wilkins," came the reply from the eighteen boys and girls
standing next to their desks.

After a quick walking inspection, I gave the youngsters the awaited
command.

"Alright boys and girls, class dismissed."

"Good day, Mister Wilkens!"

"Goodbye children."

There was a joyous exodus and soon the wooden floors were silent.

I took a seat at my desk and gave thought to tomorrow's lessons.  Some ten
minutes or so had gone by when I heard a knock on the glass windowpane of
the open door.  I looked up.  It was Billy Yarborough standing at the
threshold in the afternoon sun.

"Hello, Billy.  What brings you back?  Did you forget something?"

"N-no, Mister Wilkens."

The boy appeared jittery.

"You may enter Billy.  Did you want to talk to me about something?"

"Y-yes, Sir," the boy replied, looking somewhat hesitant as he approached
the side of my desk.

The youth fiddled nervously with worn fabric of the side pockets on his bib
overalls as he stood before me. He opened his mouth slightly, as if to
speak, but then lowered his head and gazed at the floor.

"What is it Billy?  Did you want to ask me something?"

The boy raised his head and, after a moment of internal debate, took on a
look of resolve.  He then spoke all at once.

"Mister Wilkens ... I seen how the beasts of the fields make young'uns and
my Pa told me that people do the same sorta thing and I know that your,
well not your peter Mister Wilkens, well maybe your's does too, but a man's
peter gets hard and the seed comes out and all and well, my peter gets hard
all by itself a lot, but I ain't had no seed come out but it feels like I
got some in thar ready to come out and when you was birching me in the
woodshed it felt like something might come out then and I was wonderin'
about that ... and all ..."

The boy ran out of breath.  He obviously had given a great deal of thought
to this puzzle and having summed up his course of inquiry now stood and
looked to me to answer his barely formulated, but pressing question.

With a thoughtful rub of my chin I asked, seeking to crystallize the boy's
query, "So, Billy, you would like to get your seed to come out?"

"Yes, Sir, Mister Wilkens," the boy replied earnestly, "Can you tell me how
to make that happen, Sir?"

"Better than that, Billy, I can show you exactly what to do."

Beaming with hope at the possibility, the farm boy asked gratefully, "Would
you, Mister Wilkens?"

"I will do just that.  I suggest that we head down to the woodshed for your
lesson."

An immediate look of concern passed over the boy's face.

"Does this mean I have to be birched again, Sir?"

"No, Billy.  That won't be necessary," I assured.

The boy's excited, anticipatory demeanor returned.

"Let us head down there now, Billy."

"Yes, Sir!"

The barefoot teen practically ran ahead to the woodshed door.  Billy waited
dutifully for me to unlatch the door and we entered the small wooden room.
The afternoon sun cast rays through the fine dust from the small window to
the west.

"Take off your overalls, Billy, and put them on that cut woodpile," I
directed.

The boy didn't waste any time slipping first one, then the other, strap
down off his freckled shoulders.  He dropped the denim to his ankles and
stepped out of them one dirty-soled foot at a time.  As he folded his
overalls in half before he placed them on the woodpile, no doubt a nicety
required by his ma at home, I took a moment to observe his naked
backside. Yes, his buttocks still bore faint pink stripes, evidence of his
earlier punishment, and his backside still looked tender, but as I hadn't
administered his birching with much force, he would be none the worse for
wear by tomorrow. I felt my member distend downward, its tip moistening,
not so much from observing the results of my chastisement, but more so
because of his splendid youthful form.  True, Billy was still a boy, mostly
in relation to his height, but he was a farm boy; his physique had the
defined muscularity of a just maturing bucolic lad.

Billy turned towards me. He alternately looked both happy, smiling with a
buck-toothed grin, and embarrassed.  Billy, like most rural lads, would not
have been embarrassed by being naked, that's how most of the boys swam in
the ponds and streams that were scattered throughout the countryside. Billy
was embarrassed by two things: one; his half erect penis that was growing
longer and more plump before us both, and two; the dawning consciousness of
his having sexual desire, this being the novel and therefore more important
reason for the boy's abashed state.  I sought to put the boy at ease.

"Billy, you're a fine looking young lad," I complimented.

"Th-thank you, Mister Wilkins."

"I want you to understand that it is perfectly normal for a boy who is
maturing into a young man to have his peter get hard. There's no need to be
embarrassed, it happens to all boys sooner or later," I explained trying to
assure the boy.

"Really, Mister Wilkins?" was the boy's wide-eyed reply.

"Yes, Billy, really."

"I guess it's just like horses an' animals an' all, isn't it Mister
Wilkins."

"That's right, Billy."

"Now Billy, I also want you to know that it is not unusual for boys to find
birching stimulating."

"Stim ... stim - oo - latin'?" the boy asked, scrunching his freckled nose
in perplexity.

"It means excited, Billy," I explained, "The stinging sensation of the
birch can cause a boy to become erect – for his peter to get hard."

"Like what happened to me earlier?"

"Exactly, Billy."

"I certainly did get hard."

"Yes you did, Billy and that's perfectly all right."

"I'm getting' purty hard now, Mister Wilkins."

Billy pushed his hips forward to display his engorged member and give proof
to his statement.  The boy looked down to confirm it to himself before
looking up to me. What he and I saw was a plumped, pink penis risen beyond
the horizontal, but straight; Billy's penis had no upward curve. It was
hooded, with just a button of light purple protruding from a not-as-yet
darkened ring. The boy had no noticeable hair above or below, yet his
scrotum had gone beyond the boyish; his purse had begun to fill and the
skin to darken. I had no doubt that this boy was on the verge of producing
his first "seed" imminently.

"Yes, you most certainly are."

He wasn't the only one in an aroused state. My penis was rigid. It pressed
heavily on the light fabric of my trousers. I saw Billy cast a furtive
glance at my bulging fly.

"Does your peter have to get hard for the seed to come out, Mister
Wilkins?"

"Yes, Billy, it does."

"What do I do now, Mister Wilkins, to get – to get the seed to come
out?"

"Well, Billy, since birchin' got you nice and hard this morning, let's try
that. Don't worry, Billy, I'm not going to give you a whipping, I'm just
going to rub you with the switch."

"Oh, to get me stimoolatin', Mister Wilkins?" the boy asked, putting his
recent education to use.

I chuckled, "That's right, Billy. It will be stimulating."

I retrieved the birch bundle from near the door where I'd left it earlier.

"Let's begin by starting where we left off this morning. Bend over the
woodpile, Billy."

The boy assumed the position he was in earlier today. I gently dragged the
prickly end of the birch bundle up and down over Billy's exposed
buttocks. The sharp, thin ends scratched the pink flesh.

"My backside is still pretty sore, Mister Wilkins," the boy volunteered.

"Oh?  Well, then let's try something different, Billy. Stand up and turn
around," I directed.

The boy did so.

"Spread your legs, Billy."

I slowly drew the rough tips of the bundle of birch between the boy's
hairless thighs from the barely visible mounds of his rounded cheeks,
forward across the ridged mound betwixt his anus and scrotum.

"Ohhh!"

The youngster rose on tiptoe. He arched his back. His penis twitched.

"Is that stimulating, Billy?"

"It sure is!" the boy replied with enthusiasm, "that's about the most
stimoolatin' thing I ever felt, Mister Wilkins!"

I repeated drawing the disciplinary bundle between the boy's legs.  Billy
squirmed with delight during each pass of the birch over his nether
regions.  Wide-eyed, the boy alternated between holding his breath awaiting
the next tactile thrill and panting heavily in ecstatic sensual release as
I stroked with voluptuous attentiveness.

"Ohhh ... Ohhh ...," the lad sighed in divine transport with every brush of
the rod across his youthful flesh.

My pulse pounded in my neck at the sight of such carnal exaltation.  My
engorged phallus throbbed in my trousers.  I could feel the exposed tip of
my glans sliding in its leaking wetness.

"Does it feel like you're seed is ready to come out, Billy?" I inquired
with a slightly impatient edge and a keen interest born of my own
sympathetic lust.

"I don't know!" the boy loudly declared, distressed; his mind confused by
his heightened arousal, "I think so, Sir. I'm feeling all sorts of hot and
bothered now!"

I scratched the thin irregular ends of the twigs lightly over Billy's
contracted sack.

"Ohhh, Mister Wilkens," the boy exhaled with a gasp.

The boy staggered back a step, his knees weak, and leaned, supporting
himself with his hands, on the pile of cut wood. I began to run the
branches up the side of the boy's turgid penis. Billy swooned.

"Oh! ... Oh! ... Mister Wilkins! ... Something's happening!"

I drew the birch repeatedly over the boy's constricted scrotum and up the
length of his tensed swollen member at an accelerated pace.

"I ... Uh ... I ..."

Billy was trying to articulate that which was clearly communicated by the
deep purpled glans bulging past the stretched ring of the boy's foreskin.

"I think my seed's acomin', Mister Wilkins!" the boy declared, full voiced
with anticipatory alarm.

"Mister Wilkins!  Uh ... Uhhhh ... Uhhnnngghhh!"

Billy ejaculated.

A large, clear watery spurt shot forcefully a foot and a half into the air
before the boy.  I believe there were one or two smaller eruptions of
fluid, but I couldn't be sure.  Billy had fallen backwards, losing
consciousness. The naked boy slid down the woodpile, dislodging, in the
process, a few of the pieces of stacked firewood, and ended up, with them,
on the floor in a pile at my feet.

I gazed down at the spent, semiconscious boy as an Ancient would who has
had revealed to him a manifestation of Dionysus; open-mouthed in wonder and
possessing a transcendence born of lust.  The golden light of late
afternoon played upon his youthful form collapsed in the sawdust.

Billy began to come back to this world with a gentle, low moan.  He moved
his limbs slowly, rolling his torso about to lie flat on his back.  His
eyes opened, gathering in his immediate surroundings.

"Are you okay, Billy?" I inquired, kneeling down next to the lad.

"Mister Wilkens?" the boy asked looking at me with a slightly confused
recognition.

"How are you, Billy?"

Billy raised his head with a groan.  He sat up on an elbow and rubbed the
back of his head.

"I think I got a big ol' knot on the back of my head."

It was only a moment before Billy's focus shifted to his half tumescent
penis that hung down, drawn by gravity, the glistening tip just touching
his inner thigh.  His recollection of what had transpired a short time
before galvanized the farm boy.

"My seed came out!  Didn't it, Mister Wilkens?" he excitedly asked, looking
to me for a confirmation.

"It sure did, Billy!"

Billy jumped to his feet.  He reached for his hanging penis and fingered
the foreskinned end, feeling its slipperiness.  His touch confirmed his
accomplishment.

"The end of my peter's all sticky, Mister Wilkens," the youngster observed,
"Is that my seed that come out?"

"Yes, Billy, it is.  I am very proud of you."

The naked boy holding his penis beamed with pride.

"Can we make my seed come out again, Mister Wilkens?"

"Well, Billy, we can try.  Now, earlier I promised to show you how to make
your seed come out, didn't I?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Well, Billy," I patiently explained, arising from bent knee, "I am going
to show you can make your seed come out without having to use anything but
your hand.  I am going to teach you how men make their seed come out
whenever they want."

"Golly, Mister Wilkens, I can't wait!"


End of Part Two


Coming in Part Three: Billy learns a lesson from Mister Wilkens that he
will never forget.


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