Date: Sat, 4 Feb 2006 02:39:49 -0800 (PST)
From: Jack Groper <jackgroper@yahoo.com>
Subject: What's Masturbation, Sir? Part 1

"What's masturbation, sir?"
The reaction of the rest of the class was immediate.
The boys sniggered, the girls giggled. All eyes were
on the teacher. Oh god, he thought, why me? He had
wondered many times why on earth he ever went into
teaching. He didn't really like kids, all these spotty
youths with their gangling limbs and
testosterone-fired rough behaviour, all these silly
girls, primping and posturing to get the boys'
attention, thrusting out their pathetic little boobs
as if they were film stars.
He looked at his questioner. That boy Price again! A
troublemaker if ever there was one, always trying to
get the better of his teachers. Something not quite
nice about that boy, even if he is goodlooking, he
thought.
"What was that, Price?"
The boy smirked.
"I said, what's masturbation, sir?"
More sniggering, more giggling. The teacher sighed and
turned to the rest of the class.
"Is there anyone in this room who doesn't know what
masturbation is? If you don't know, put your hand up."
No hands went up.
"So, Price, it seems you are the only person in this
room who doesn't know what masturbation is."
Price realised he had been outflanked. He paused, and
then looked defiantly at the teacher.
"Well, I sort of know what it is, sir, but some people
say it's a bad wicked thing to do. I wondered what you
think."
The teacher, a bachelor, a solitary, a man who years
before had accepted his condition as a chronic
masturbator, took a deep breath.
"As far as I am concerned, Price, you can masturbate
as much as you want. It makes no difference to me."
Price reflected.
"Sir, I know that boys masturbate, but do girls
mastubate too? I mean, they haven't got a, you know,
a....."
"Penis? True, Price, but I am sure the girls find ways
to give themselves pleasure. Right, girls?"
This remark brought on a storm of tittering from the
girls, and no doubt a delicious tingling in their
adolescent pussies.
"And now, Price, if you have quite finished, perhaps
we can get on with the lesson."
"Do you masturbate, sir?"
There was a stunned silence in the room. Price had
gone too far this time. All eyes were on the teacher.
The teacher looked around, deciding how to deal with
this impertinence.
"Let me ask you all another question first. Is there
anyone here who doesn't masturbate? If you don't
masturbate, raise your hand."
He waited. No hands went up.
"Good. That's settled then."
"But," insisted Price, "you didn't answer my question,
sir."
"Well, I didn't put my hand up, did I, Price!"
Game, set and match to the teacher! The boy had the
good grace to smile at him.
Wow! The class took in the import of his words. The
teacher was admitting that he too masturbated!
"How often, sir?"
"Wh-what?"
Would the boy never give up?
"How often do you masturbate, sir?"
John French, teacher of social studies at St Ivo
Middle School, felt himself going red in the face.
This was getting out of hand. How could he answer such
a question to a roomful of horny adolescents? Should
he tell them the truth, namely that he had started
masturbating when he was 12 and had masturbated almost
every day since then, sometimes several times a day?
Should he tell them that he spent most of his free
time at his computer, surfing the web for pornographic
images and all the while "edging", building up to
climax after climax but always drawing back at the
last moment, only to start building up again and again
till his balls ached and his whole body trembled with
electrifying thrills? Should he tell them that, even
asleep he unconsciously held his penis in his fist,
the pornographic images continuing to inflame his mind
until he would wake up sweating, precum oozing from
his semi-erect penis?
"As often as I want to, Price."
"And how often is that, sir?" the boy persisted.
At that moment the bell sounded for the end of class.
John French heaved a sigh of relief  Saved by the
bell!
"All right, class dismissed. Don't forget to hand in
your assignments first thing tomorrow morning.
The pupils shuffled out, whispering and giggling to
each other, savouring the amazing revelation that
their teacher was just like them: he liked to
masturbate, to wank, to jerk off. Wow!
That night, John French sat at his computer, his cock
in his hand as usual. He closed his eyes for a moment.
Images of the object of his sexual lust filled his
head. He imagined Price naked, impaled on his cock. He
imagined the squeals of delight from the boy as he
felt a rockhard mancock pushing deep into him, the
precum-covered cockhead massaging that magical spot
which would cause the boy's penis to stiffen and start
spurting creamy boycum. Fucking Price would be a joy,
thought the teacher. He wondered idly if the boy had
any idea that there were men - and John French was one
- who found him sexually attractive.

[To be continued. Comments to jackgroper@yahoo.com.
All emails will be answered]