Date: Fri, 20 Feb 2004 16:54:37 EST
From: ArtHill579@aol.com
Subject: "High School Blues" part 14

Disclaimer: This story is basically a fantasy involving humiliation, mild
violence, and sexual activity between teenage boys. If you are underage
(18), find such material offensive, or in violation of the laws of your
state/country, please don't read any further.

(c) Art M. Hill ArtHill579@aol.com All rights reserved (2004).
If you enjoy this story, please email me.

**********************************************

"High School Blues" part 14: Stormy Weather...

Just crossing the state line into New Jersey on I-78, the storm that had
been threatening all afternoon finally caught up with us. The sky turned
black followed by thunder, lightening, and finally a torrential
downpour. Many of the cars were forced off the road, including our camper,
which was being buffeted around by the heavy winds.  As a result we didn't
arrive back home until much later than we had anticipated. Mr.  Greenburg
stopped at a small diner to call Terry's parents and mine to assure them
that all was well.  They were already getting the beginnings of the storm
along the Jersey shore and were starting to worry about us.

The Greenburgs dropped Terry off first and then me before going home. It
was raining so hard when I jumped out of the camper that I got drenched
just running to the front door. I was greeted by my parents who asked about
the weekend, which I told them was really great (what else do you tell
parents?) In spite of having to repeatedly suck off Terry and Bob, I did
enjoy the weekend, and had to admit that I even enjoyed--somewhat--the blow
jobs too.

Later, as I lay in bed listening to the rain pounding on my window, I
thought about how it felt to take those big teen cocks in my mouth. I
especially thought about Terry's uncut cock. At first I didn't like it
because of the "cheese," but once I got used to it I found it
irresistible. The feeling of my tongue running underneath that warm layer
of silky skin, accompanied by the soft moans of Terry; his hands gently but
firmly holding my head, occasionally pulling it in as he thrust deeper into
my mouth, was very exciting. I found myself sporting another erection,
thinking about that beautiful cock thrusting in and out of my mouth, and
finally filling it with a warm load of cum. At that moment I had my own
mind-blowing orgasm. I only had time to think briefly about my problems
with M & J before I fell into a deep sleep as the rain continued to lash my
window.

The next day Bob didn't show up for school. When I asked Terry about it, he
said that Bob had called him early this morning to report that, while they
were away on the camping trip, their house had been robbed. He didn't have
any more information. Terry said that Bob sounded terribly depressed on the
phone, and that he was going over to see him right after school. Luckily
Mike and Jimmy and the crew simply ignored me that day so I had no problems
talking to Terry and even leaving school with him.  When we reached the
Greenburg house, the police had just left. Mrs. Greenburg answered the
door.

"I'm so glad you boys are here," she said. "Bob needs his friends right
about now. Most of the things taken belonged to him. I'll let him tell you
what happened.  It will probably make him feel a little
better. Mr. Greenburg had to go in to work right after the police
left. He's only staying a few hours and then he'll be home. Your timing is
perfect. Bob's down in the basement."

Terry said that when something went wrong, Bob would go down to the
basement and use his exercise equipment. That was the way he worked out his
problems and got the strength to deal with them. When we got to the
basement we saw Bob sitting on a chair with his head in his hands. He
seemed to have been crying--something I couldn't quite picture Bob
doing. Looking around the room, it hit me like a mad pitbull: the room was
almost empty!

Terry ran over to Bob and threw his arm around his shoulder. "What happened
here, man.  Where is all your stuff?"

Bob didn't speak right away. There was a long silence as he seemed to
gather his thoughts. "They took everything, Ter, everything!"

"Who did," Terry asked, "Who did it?"

"That's just it," Bob answered, his voice shaking. "It happened when we
were away for the weekend. Some bastards broke in through the back door."
He led us over to the door and showed us where it had been pried open and
the lock broken. "Those shits came in through here and took all of my
equipment. Then they must have dragged it across the lawn and back to that
old road in the woods. That's what the cops figured. They said it had to be
a team to move all that heavy equipment."

Terry knew only too well what Bob was talking about. He'd been down here
often enough. He also knew how proud Bob was of his equipment and how happy
he was when he could afford to buy something else he felt was necessary for
his body-building routines or to share them with others. Gone was Bob's
weight bench with its great variety of weights; gone was his Bowflex which
he used constantly; gone was his treadmill and stepper. The bastards had
even unscrewed and taken the weight pulleys from the wall, not to mention
such smaller items as exercise mats, medicine balls and a heavy bag.

Who could have done such a thing? A lot of dudes, Terry thought bitterly.
Bob probably had the whole soccer team in here at one time or
another. Everyone of them knew the value of the setup. All anyone needed
was opportunity, a group of accomplices, and a bit of know how...

Bob was still in shock. "They even went upstairs. They didn't mess anything
up, but they took around $300 in cash from dad's dresser and they got my
computer and my new stereo system."

I shuttered. Sure I had heard about robberies; they happened every day.
But it was never personal. It never happened to anyone I knew. I felt so
bad for Bob and so angry against the burglars.

"What are you gonna do?" Terry asked Bob gently.

"I don't know," Bob began to sob again. "If I could get my hands on those
fuckers for just a minute I would...The police say that unless you get
lucky there's very little chance of recovering stolen items or finding out
who did it. The bastards must have been pretty smart. They really didn't
leave any clues except marks in the grass where they carried or dragged the
stuff back into the woods. The police went over the whole area very
carefully. There were several sets of tire tracks on that road, but it's
used often enough by guys hopin' to screw their chicks that there was no
way of knowing for sure."

"The cops said they would keep workin' on it, but you know the story.  They
said this is a 'victimless crime'. That means it has very low priority in
their case files." He laughed bitterly. "Hey, maybe I should start watching
those detective shows on the Discovery Channel or "CSI" and trace down all
those clues like fibers and stuff myself."

"Bob, listen," Terry said. "This isn't gonna stop us. We'll go to the gym
for now. Then after that we'll see what happens. There's always a chance
the cops will get lucky and turn something up. Another thing: if anybody
from school was involved we may be able to find 'em. You know how guys brag
about things they've done whether it's fuckin' some chick or
whatever. Somebody might open his mouth."

A vague thought passed through my mind about something Mike and Jimmy had
said in the woods the other day. Something about where Bob lived...it was
all confused in my mind since I had been drugged. I decided to simply let
it go and tune in again on the conversation.

"Well, I'll tell ya something, Ter," Bob was saying, this time with anger
in his voice, "If the cops turn something up, I'm gonna be right there and
make sure that whoever did this pays-seriously pays!"

I had only consolation to offer Bob. Suddenly he seemed to notice me for
the first time.  "Hey Joe," he said, "thanks for comin' man. I appreciate
that."

"Hey Bob," Terry piped up. "Why don't you let Joe here give you a blow job?
That'll make you feel better and ease some of the tension."

I was shocked that Terry had offered my services to Bob without even asking
me. But I did want to make Bob feel better, and I had to admit I was
excited by the prospect of getting to blow him again.

"Nah," said Bob. "I really don't feel like it."

In spite of what he said, I stepped up to him, almost like I was in a
trance, and sank down to my knees. I buried my face in his jean-covered
crotch and began to rub his cock, which began to stiffen. At first Bob
pushed me away, but when I persisted he gave in, and let me unzip his jeans
and pull them down along with his briefs. His cock was fully hard at this
point, and I massaged it gently in my hand. Bob let out a soft groan.

"Ya see," Terry said. "Remember how talented that mouth is. Joe's gonna
make ya feel real good in no time."

I did everything Bob taught me and concentrated on the things I knew he
liked best. Soon he was thrusting vigorously into my mouth and throat and
talking trash to me. This only encouraged me to try to deep throat him. I
found I was getting much better at relaxing my gag reflex and taking his
cock down my throat.

"Oh yeah," he groaned, "Oh yeah. Do it fag, work that baby; treat it right
and it's gonna treat you right, real soon now."

Bob grabbed the back of my head and forced his whole cock into my sucking
mouth. At the same time I did my best to wrap my tongue around his pole,
and to pull in my cheeks to feel like a cunt. I felt his cock swell up and
a shudder go through his body. Then a river of warm cum started pouring out
of his twitching cock, while Bob almost screamed in extacy.

"O fuck! O damn! Yeah that's it! O God that's so good. Ahhhhhhh!" He kept
his cock in my mouth while I completely cleaned all remnants of cum from
his now deflating cock.  Finally he pulled it out with a pop.

"Thanks, man," Bob panted. "I really needed that."

"Told ya," said Terry, as he stepped up to me to get his turn. I was just
about to object that the idea was to help out Bob and not to have Terry get
his rocks off. But in the end I relented. I didn't want this moment when
Bob was feeling better to end on a sour note.  Besides, I remembered
Terry's uncut cock with lust, and secretly hoped that he had not showered
that day so I could sample his nasty 'cheese' again.

"Pull down my jeans and boxers," he ordered. "Now get on that cock and make
me feel good."

I could not help but notice the tone of authority that had crept into
Terry's voice. When had that started? I began wondering again about our
friendship. Friends don't treat other friends like servants or order them
around. These guys were becoming a little bit too much like Mike and
Jimmy. But, like I said, those kind of dudes were turning me on more and
more.

After just a moment's hesitation I did as Terry wished, and after pulling
down his jeans and boxers, saw the object of my craving. His cock was still
limp so the foreskin entirely covered his cockhead. However, I could see a
glistening drop of precum, indicating that he was already excited and his
cock would soon be stiffening. I started again by running my tongue under
the silky foreskin accompanied by a moan of approval from Terry. I
suspected from the smell of his cock that he hadn't washed this morning,
and was secretly delighted that I was right. If anything, there was even
more 'cheese' than the other day. I feasted slowly on the creamy treat
before I went to work on his shaft and cockhead.

"Ya like that 'cheese', don'tcha? You're turning into a queer little pig.
Go at it piggy. Eat that cheese and work that cock. Yeah, just like
that. Ohhhhhh!"

Terry shot like he hadn't cum in a week. Now I knew to swallow as soon as
he started shooting, so I had no trouble taking it all. That seemed to
please him, and he congratulated me.

"Like I said, fag," Terry sighed, "Your gettin' better and better. It'll be
nice when our chicks are out of town or don't want to put out to have your
mouth around to do the job.  What do ya' think Bob."

Bob was silent. I didn't think he was into the blow jobs as much as Terry,
but I could tell he was content. I was happy that I could help him in a
moment of such personal loss and unhappiness.

At the time, I never made the connection (my stupidity again!) between the
theft of Bob's stuff with Mike and Jimmy and their pals. I should have
known, especially since they were in the process of shaking me down for
most of my weekly allowance and pay check.

******************************************************

The job was so easy it was laughable. Fuck, it was pure entertainment, just
like in the movies. About 11:30 PM on Saturday evening all the guys met at
my place: Jimmy, Phil, Shawn, Brad, and Tod. Shawn had emptied the inside
of his van so that we had a lot of space, perfect to load Greenburg's
equipment. To leave enough room in the van for the goods, we also used
Tod's pickup. The guys would ride in the van on the way over, and in the
pickup on the way back. Mom and dad were away, as usual, so we had no worry
about their interference. Before we left we had a round of beers, reviewed
our plan one more time (we had gone over it again and again), and headed
out for the old dirt road behind High Street.

The beauty of this plan was that hardly anyone ever used this road since
High Street was built. We parked behind the Greenburgs' house and just
watched for awhile. There was no activity at the neighbors' houses. They
really couldn't see between the yards anyway because of a high fence that
was probably built for privacy. It was fuckin' perfect.

I had made sure everyone wore black clothes-from head to foot. I told 'em
to wear soft soled shoes, and passed out the ski masks and gloves. No
marks, no fingerprints. Fuck, what do you think, I'm stupid? We came out of
the woods without making a sound and moved slowly, crab-walking across the
back yard. Tod was able to pick the lock, but there was also a deadbolt so
we had to use a crowbar. We broke the door with a minimum of noise,
although a damn dog started barking somewhere in the neighborhood. We filed
into the basement one by one carrying small flashlights. What we saw was
awesome.  Every fuckin' thing we could have hoped for.

"Stop gawking dudes," I said. "Let's get started. Tod, this is your
department. Tell the guys what to take and how. You start disassembling the
stuff that needs to be carried in pieces." Tod quickly got the guys into
groups of two. The stepper could just be carried out. The treadmill could
be folded up, but was heavy as a son-of-a-bitch.  It took four guys to move
it. The weight bench was unscrewed and taken in parts, and the guys heaved
the weights, each one out to prove how much he could carry.

"No damn competition right about now," I ordered. "Plenty of time for that
later. Right now we gotta move."

Tod was working on the Bowflex while the other guys took the smaller
items. The heavy bag was unhitched from the ceiling and the pulleys
unscrewed from the wall. I was determined to take everything we could, not
just so that we could use it, but to fuck up that bastard Greenburg who was
a pain in my ass. This was gonna be sweet!

The guys had a relay goin' across the backyard and through the woods to the
van. I gotta admit, I never thought things would go so smoothly--never a
hitch. Do I know how to plan a fuckin' heist or what?

While Tod finished disassembling the Bowflex, I went upstairs to see what
else might be around. I deliberately took off my sneaks so that I wouldn't
leave any tread marks on the carpet (good, eh?) I went straight to the
Greenburgs' bedroom and rummaged through all the drawers. Bingo! A wad of
cash stuffed in an envelope. Yep, couple hundred at least, but I'd count it
later. Hummmm, maybe I should give the fag a break on his weekly payments
now that we had some extra cash...Nah, I loved takin' that fag's money!

Next I checked out the asshole's room, hopin' to put the bite on him. I did
find about $50 which I stuffed into my black jeans--not bad! Even better, I
found a new stereo system with awesome amplifiers, multiple CD capacity,
and all that other shit.  Oh, and one other item: his computer--"Dude,
you're gettin' a Dell" I laughed to myself.  Yeah! Fuck you, Greenburg!

Had to watch the time. The longer we hung out there, the more the chance of
gettin' busted. I headed back to the basement and saw that the place was
almost cleaned out. Tod had done a great job on the Bowflex, which the guys
put into the boxes we brought. Then we lugged them out to the van, together
with the stuff from upstairs. We were finished here. The guys wanted to
spray paint the walls, fuck everything up, but I put a stop to that. Ya
don't leave any kind of evidence that it's personal. Quickest way to get
caught.  (I'm thinkin' again!)

So off we went with the goodies. Nobody had passed the van on the old dirt
road so we lucked out again. No witnesses. Nobody to say "I passed this
suspicious van parked behind the Greenburgs' and got the license plate." If
that happened we would have been fucked.

By the time I got to the van, everything was loaded up and ready to go.  It
was about 1:00 am. Time to get off the streets before the cops spotted
us. So we pulled out of the woods at legal speed and drove back to my
house. Most of the guys followed us back in Tod's pickup, hidden under a
tarp. By now we were wiped-out with the excitement and work of the
evening. All the guys had gotten permission from their folks to crash at my
place (for a fuckin' pajama party!). We didn't even bother to unload our
loot. It would keep until tomorrow. We drove the van around back along with
the pickup so nobody would see them from the road. Then we went inside for
a nightcap to celebrate. We actually had two or three rounds before we
called it a night. Everybody was giving one another high-fives and guzzling
beers because we pulled it off, got some great equipment, and put that
fucker Greenburg in his place--all with the help of the faggot. Zits was
the toast of the night.

I warned the guys real serious about keeping their damn mouths shut. One
careless word at school would fuck everything up, and we would be in
juvenile court quicker than a blow job makes you jizz. I was just waitin'
to see the reaction of those two muscle heads and their little cocksucker
friend to our dirty work!

(to be continued)