Date: Tue, 24 Feb 2004 14:22:28 EST
From: Tamb803@aol.com
Subject: "High School Blues" part 15

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 15: After the Storm...

I knew that on Tuesday I couldn't possibly avoid Mike and Jimmy. That was
the day they ordered me to tell them whether or not I would be working more
hours (I'd better be!) at the store. That way I could give them the extra
$50 per week they needed to buy their new dirt bikes. I had "discussed" the
issue with dad for at least an hour before he relented. I suspect that he
finally agreed with me more because he was tired from his long daily
commute than because of my "persuasive" arguments. He threatened, however,
that if my grades went down even a bit this semester the deal was off, and
that I would have to spend more time studying and less time working.

"Education is an investment in your future," he lectured. "That way when
you do start looking for a good-paying job, you'll have a much easier time
of it.  After all, you don't want to work at that store all your life, do
you?"

"Of course not, dad," I said. "I promise to keep up my grades. I just want
to have enough money saved to make a down payment on that car you said I
could have when I'm 17."

"By the way," dad said. "Sometime soon I want to see that savings account
book we got for you. I want to see the deposits to make sure you're putting
all that extra money you'll be making in the right place."

"Dad," I said, trying to sound hurt, "don't you trust me? I hope it's not
just because of my hair that you think I'm not responsible."

"It's not that, Joe," he said, "I'm going along with the hair thing even
though I'm not happy about it. But I wouldn't be a good father if I didn't
watch out for you."

I groaned. "In other words, you're gonna check up on me!"

"Not at all, son. I'm just trying to make sure no one takes advantage of
you now that you're getting yourself a nice little bankroll!"

(Gulp!) "Okay dad, I really appreciate that, and I'll try to always be
up-front with you. I want us to have these talks more often too, so that,
uh, you know just what I'm doing. No more hair-raising surprises!" I tried
to laugh at my lame joke.

"Really glad to hear that, Joe. Goodnight, son."

Whew! Well, I'm glad that talk with Dad had worked out. Now, at least I
could tell Mike and Jimmy that I got everything cleared, and I could work
the extra hours. I knew that the store management was always looking for
extra help, so I was sure they would give me enough overtime to cover what
the guys were demanding. I should still have something left over to put in
the bank and a little spending money too.  Thank god, dad was still giving
me my full allowance-for now!

Then the thought passed through my mind: Why am I doing this? I'm giving up
something I want really bad and taking on more work just because I'm afraid
of those two bullies at school. I've got to do something to stop this! But
just as quickly I dismissed the thought as a fantasy. If I didn't go along
with Mike and Jimmy, they would make my life a living hell and probably
beat the shit out of me-not once, but whenever they felt like it. They'd
most likely unleash Shawn on me too.

I thought again about asking Terry and Bob for help, but now I wasn't so
sure I trusted them with the way they had been treating me lately. Besides,
I thought all these guys were super hot, and my cock was telling me to stay
on their good sides.  Just maybe...

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

Something else happened that day to shake my confidence. I had another
encounter with Chris McKiernan at school. McKiernan was the football dude
that embarrassed me publically on my way to the cafeteria one day by
calling me a fag and pushing me out of his way. Well, I ran into him and a
buddy in the school restroom earlier that day. They were taking a piss as I
came in. They both looked up as I approached the urinals. Chris whispered
something to his team mate Dave and they both laughed. I stood there frozen
as they finished pissing and zipped up. Then they backed me against the
wall and stared at me for a moment.

They were big, muscular guys, and I knew I didn't have a chance of getting
away from them. Both stood over six feet and must have weighted in around
210 apiece. They were good looking guys in a rough sort of way, with
squared off jaws, stubble, and V shaped torsos-all-in-all, your typical
football jocks. They both sported short buzz cuts: Chris was a light blond
and Dave almost jet black. They wore team shirts that displayed their
bulging biceps. And they both seemed to have ample baskets that they made
no attempt to hide under their tight jeans.

"Hey Dave, ya know this dude with the freaky hair? I hear he's a cocksucker
for Greenburg and Mahoney. Ya think we should try him out?"

"Fuck yeah," Dave said, "Man, that's the only thing them lowlife fags are
good for. You want to go first?"

"Nah," Chris said, "Let's do 'im together. He'll probably love that, won't
ya freak?"

"No, Chris," I said with a tremor in my voice, "I'm really not into that."

Chris slapped me hard across the face. "Not into it?" he yelled. "What are
ya saying, that Greenburg and Mahoney are better than us?"

"No, no" I said, my head reeling from the slap, " Please don't hit me
again. I, uh, only meant I'm not a cocksucker at all."

"Well, you are today, shit-for-brains! Now get down on the floor where you
belong."

Fearing the consequence if I disobeyed, I sank to my knees in front of
these two brawny football players.

Chris and Dave both unzipped their jeans, took out their formidable cocks,
and began to slowly jack off over me. Soon they were dripping strings of
precum down on top of my head. After awhile they both began to moan so I
could tell they were close.

"Look up at us, faggot," Chris ordered, "and open your cocksucker mouth."

I quickly followed Chris' instructions, not looking for any more
punishment. They were standing together smiling down at me as they both
aimed their huge cocks directly at my face. Chris turned and gave a wink to
Dave. They picked up their stroking and then, moaning at the same time,
they each shot a huge load of warm cum right on my face and into my gaping
mouth. My entire face and hair were covered with jizz.  As they were
shooting, they both aimed for my mouth so that it, too, was slimed with
jizz.

"Swallow it, faggot," Chris said. I obeyed. Then they both burst out
laughing. Chris placed one booted foot squarely on my chest and pushed me
over on the floor just as two other dudes came into the rest room.

"Now thank us for being so good to you, cocksucker," Chris sneered.

As I hesitated, Chris moved his boot from my chest to my groin and began
applying pressure to my nuts. "I didn't hear you, fag," he said, as he
increased the pressure which now was becoming painful.

"Owww! Thank you Chris and Dave for being so good to me," I gasped.

"That's better," Chris said as he gave my balls one final squeeze, making
me wince.  Then without warning both of them hawked huge wads of spit which
spattered all over my already cum-covered face. With that they turned and
left. I could hear their laughter gradually disappear down the hall as I
continued to lay on the bathroom floor in shock and embarrassment. I was
amazed to see I had another hardon. Apparently Chris and Dave somehow
didn't notice it or I'm sure they would have dished out more punishment and
mockery.

The other dudes who wandered in while I was being abused by the two
football players snickered at me as I made for the sink to wash off the
disgusting sticky mess from my face. One of them commented, "I always knew
Crawford was a faggot." At that point I got out of there as quickly as
possible.

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

As I went up to bed after my conversation with dad I remembered the red
condom that Jimmy had slipped over my cock when they dyed my pubes pink. I
had kept it. I took it out of the drawer, put it on, and slowly
masturbated, thinking about how the two football players had treated me
today. How they had slimed my face, forced me to swallow their cum, and
humiliated me in public-something which was sure to quickly get around the
school.

Then I thought about Shawn pounding me into the mat in Mike's basement on
Saturday.  I thought about wearing that red condom to the bout under my
shorts. Of course it would probably give me a boner, but if I wore a jock
and loose fitting shorts probably no one would notice. One thing I didn't
want to do was make Shawn think I was fag for him. He was totally straight,
and it was because he caught me sniffing his motorcycle boots that he
challenged me to begin with. If he saw that I had a boner in the ring, he
might go crazy.

The funny thing was that I was both afraid and looking forward to the match
with Shawn.  I was afraid because I really didn't know how to defend myself
and Shawn obviously did.  Besides he outclassed me in both weight and
strength. At the same time I felt attracted to him as I had to the football
players. He had a cute face, cocky grin, sexy hair, and a great body. I
wanted to see him in shorts and boxing gloves, asserting himself, getting
aggressive, and giving me his full attention-even if it was just to punch
me and knock me to the ground.

I could see him standing over me, sweaty and satisfied, his buddies
cheering him on as he hurled insults at me and called me a weakling and a
faggot. At that point I had another powerful orgasm, thinking about Shawn
and the two football players standing over me grinning with their hard
cocks sticking out of their jeans, and demanding that I suck them off...

On the following day after lunch Jimmy again pulled me into the bathroom.
"So Joey- boy," he said, "you convince your old man that you want to work
more hours? You better have, or you know what'll happen." He balled his
hands into fists.

"Yes, Jimmy," I said, completely unnerved as I always was when he got
belligerent. "All I have to do is ask down at work. I'll do it this
afternoon."

"Cool," he said, "so we can expect that extra money to start come'n in, say
by a week from this Friday."

"Thanks for giving me the extra time, Jimmy," I said, "I really appreciate
it."

"You should, Zits," he said. "Mike wanted it this week, but I talked him
out of it because I like you."

As he turned around and left, I couldn't help but think he was somehow
different. He had always been arrogant, but today for some reason he seemed
especially smug and self- satisfied. I took a moment to admire his tight
bubble butt encased in those revealing jeans as he strutted down the
hall. Then I went off to my next class, feeling much relieved that we had
finally come to an agreement on the payoff. I didn't think at the time
about the heavy toll the extra hours would be taking on my free time, my
studies, and even my sleep.

And now I had another worry. I kept looking over my shoulder for any sign
of Chris or Dave, the football dudes. Luckily they were a grade ahead of
me, but that still didn't mean I might not bump into them in the hall or
the cafeteria. That "bump" would certainly be a painful one for me. So tell
me-was it so unusual that I was getting paranoid?

Bob came to class that day, but he also seemed different. Of course, in
Bob's case the reason was clear-he was still in shock about the loss of his
most treasured possessions. He was quiet and withdrawn, even with Terry. I
stayed away from them, not only because of Mike's orders, but also because
I felt they probably wanted time alone to talk about what had happened. I
remembered Bob's big cock as it thrust in and out of my throat in the
basement that day. God, I was beginning to associate guys by their cocks!
But I sure hoped I had the opportunity to suck it again soon.

Somehow after the robbery Bob seemed to lose it. He became depressed, he
broke up with his girlfriend, and began to drink heavily. He also started
cruising around, picking up strange older women outside local bars for one
night stands. He would take them to some sleazy motel for a few hours and
fuck their brains out (if they had any) before coming home.

Terry tried to encourage Bob to go to the local gym to keep his body in
shape and to prevent him from getting even more depressed. Terry's nagging
usually won out, and Bob accompanied him to the gym, although
half-heartedly. Sometimes Bob would skip classes, and Terry told me he was
on probation with the school. At the very least he'd have to take summer
classes. The Greenburgs were concerned enough to insist that he go for
counseling, which he did. They even promised to help him rebuild his
exercise room, although financially they wouldn't be able to do it for
awhile.

"What happened to your friend Bob Greenburg?" Jimmy asked one day. "I don't
see him around much, and he seems to have dropped out of soccer." Jimmy
didn't sound his usual sarcastic self, but seemed to be genuinely
concerned. With my usual innocence I said:

"I don't know if you heard, but the Greenburgs were robbed. Whoever broke
in stole all Bob's exercise equipment. It just about killed him. Now he's
depressed and doesn't seem to be interested in doing much of anything."

"Oh, man," said Jimmy, "that's really the pits. No, I didn't hear nothing
about it. That shows ya how much I keep up with the news around here." He
looked mystified. "Do they have any idea who did it?"

"No," I said. "Whoever did it seems to have been professional. I don't
think they left a single clue. That's what Bob heard from the police. They
told him he might never get his stuff again."

"Oh yeah?" said Jimmy, "those guys must have been really good to pull that
off. Anyway, I sure hope they catch them for Greenburg's sake. Let me know
if you hear anymore about it. I sure feel bad for him."

"Sure, Jimmy, I'll do that." I was surprised that he really appeared to
care about what happened to Bob. The two of them never seemed to get
along. I was trying to be nice to Jimmy since he and Mike had abruptly
postponed the match between me and Shawn (again). They said the family was
doing some work in the basement and it might take awhile to finish it. They
didn't seem to be in any special hurry.  Strangely enough I was both
relieved and disappointed at the same time about the match with Shawn being
postponed.

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

I'm glad I asked the faggot about what was going on with the Greenburgs.  I
tried to be real cool about it so he wouldn't get suspicious, but hell,
he's such a dork I think I could make him believe anything. Still, no sense
taking chances. Mike made real clear that none of us should open up our
mouths about what happened. But I still wanted to stay in touch with the
fag since he was tight with Greenburg and Mahoney.

It was funny and pretty pathetic when I saw the look of relief on the fag's
face when Mike and I told him the match with Shawn was off for the time
being. Shawn was pissed big time, but he understood that it would take
awhile to move and set up our new exercise equipment. Mike's basement was
divided into two equal parts. The one part was where we had the ring set up
and Mike's old equipment (a pile of shit, if you ask me). We would keep
that just the way it was. That's where Shawn would twist that faggot like a
pretzel.

In the other half, where there was a lot of junk piled up, we would set up
our new gym.  First we had to clean the whole place up and maybe paint
it. Then we would move in the new stuff and maybe put up some mirrors. Boy
was I anxious to try that Bowflex and the new weights. That was gonna be
awesome!

Mike's folks weren't a problem. Like I said, they were out most of the
time. To tell ya the truth, they weren't very close to each other, and if
ya ask me I'd say they were headed for the big D. But what the fuck did I
care? The main thing was to keep them out of our fuckin' way. When Mike
told his dad he was gonna fix up the basement and paint it so we'd have a
better place to exercise, he just waved his hand like he couldn't care
less. I think he was happy, though, that we were doin' it. I don't know
why, since he never went down there-all the better for us!

Meantime it was time to squeeze the faggot again-this time even harder.
When we met him the following Friday at the usual place in school he handed
over the $100 bucks to Mike, just like that. Man, he was so pathetic we
almost laughed in his face. This dude had a serious problem-namely, he was
spineless. What kind of guy would allow himself to work extra and give the
money to another dude simply because he told him to? What kind of dude
would face pissed-off parents and bad grades in school because two other
dudes said they would beat him up?

The fag was lower than a worm that you squash under your foot. Hummm, that
reminds me. We gotta get the fag to lick our feet again soon; remind him of
his place. I think I'll step in a pile of dog shit before I see him-just to
make things interesting! Maybe I'll give him a few gut punches too. Get him
ready for Shawn, who's just itching to take him apart-piece by piece.

"Hey Zits," Mike said (remember, I was playin' the nice guy: for now!).
"Remember our deal? Today's the day when you give us that $100. You got
it?"

"Yes, Mike," he said, in that girly voice of his that made me want to smash
his face.  "Here it is." Mike stuffed the cash into his jeans. "Good boy,
see ya next time."

"Hey J," Mike said as we walked out of school. "Phil and Brad are finished
with the painting. We'll let the room air out for a few days and then move
the stuff in." Mike was even more anxious than I was to start usin' the
exercise equipment."

On our way out we ran into Greenburg. "Hey Bob," Mike said, "How's it
goin'? I heard about what happened. Sorry about that, man."

"Since when did you ever give a shit about what happened to me?" said
Greenburg with an angry look on his face and his fists balled. Maybe
talking to him wasn't such a good idea.

"Maybe we never got along, Bob," said Mike, "but that doesn't mean we can't
feel bad when something aweful like that happens to a guy." Mike could
really lay it on!

"Well, thanks," he said. "I appreciate that."

"Cool," Mike said, "I hope they catch the bastards who did this." We walked
off.

"Way to go, dude," I said. "You're the man. Hey! You ain't gettin' the hots
for that guy, are ya?"

"Shut your pie hole!" Mike said. "Never hurts to make the dude think you're
on his side, does it?" I was forced to agree.

"Hey," I said, "don't forget to give me my share of the fag's tribute. I
got expenses too, ya know!"

"Yeah, like what?" Mike asked.

"Well, Carol and me are goin' out tonight. Gonna take in some eats, catch a
flick, and then go back to her place to fuck."

"What about her folks? asked Mike.

"Shit," I said, "they got a guest room over the garage with outside
stairs. They don't know we turned it into our own private little love
shack."

"You lucky son of a bitch," Mike said. "How about double datin'? You and
Carol, me and Diane. Then we can have a double fuck back at the 'love
shack'.

"Okay, dude," I said, "but you better not fuck up our arrangement."

"Don't worry," Mike laughed, "I'll stuff Diane's panties in her mouth so
she doesn't scream whill I'm drillin' her."

(to be continued)