Date: Mon, 12 Nov 2007 22:14:04 +0000
From: George Anderson <georgeanderson@onetel.com>
Subject: Nice Part No 3.{George Anderson}( solo M MB )[Part No.3! ]

The usual disclaimers apply; sorry, if you're not 18, you'll have to wait!
For those who do read further, this is fantasy (with a tiny bit of
reality), and is the original work of the author, who holds the copyright.
You're welcome to share with a friend, and I'd appreciate any
thoughts/comments.  It would be good to hear from you (thanks to those who
have written), but in the meantime, enjoy!

NICE 3

"Greg - breakfast!"

"Just coming, mum!"  If Mrs Oliver had placed her ear close to the bathroom
door (or even worse, opened it), she would have heard (or even worse, seen)
her well- endowed son do just that - cumming!  She would have heard the
strange panting, grunting sound that is well known to the uninhibited
wanker as he approaches the point of no return.  Greg was careful to adopt
a more softly-softly approach, given recent events, but as his hot cum shot
out of his hard dick, coating the tiles in front of him, he allowed himself
the luxury of a quiet whimper - "Hmmmmmmm!  Oh yesssssss!"  His right hand
continued to milk the last few drops of cum from the end of his cock, while
his left hand gently, but firmly squeezed his large balls.  "Whooo - that
was good; at least the day's got off to a good start, no matter what's
still to come".

A few minutes later and Greg was downstairs for breakfast, including the
daily inquisition from mum about "How were things going? Had he done his
homework?  Didn't he think he should wear a coat now that it was colder?
And so on, and so on.  All the things that teenagers moaned about but which
they knew in their heart of hearts were genuine signs of love and concern.
But never let the 'rents know that!  Greg really did love his mum,
especially after his dad died suddenly some 2 years ago.  Greg was so like
his dad, and so very precious to Susan Oliver - her son meant everything to
her.

"Take care, Greg, and I'll see you later.  And remember, I'm not home until
9 o'clock, so you'll have to get yourself something to eat; will you
manage?"

"I'll just have to - either that or phone up Childline and say that I've
been abandoned!"

"Don't be cheeky, you - now get off to school, and I'll see you tonight."

"Bye, mum".

"Bye, Greg - take care!"

Greg set off on the 20-minute walk to school.  It was a fantastic morning,
but Greg didn't take in very much, seeing as his mind was occupied with
other things - Adam!  The "bing-bong" chime from his mobile, telling him
he'd got a text message - he could see it was from his best mate -
interrupted his thoughts: "Grg - sory cnt se u tmrow - wl xpln @ schl."
Greg wasn't too surprised - disappointed, certainly.  But it still didn't
solve his problem of what to do next.  Before he'd even realised it he was
at the school gates, and the friendly banter of his other pals soon
dispelled any thoughts of what to say to Adam.  He knew they had no classes
together on a Friday, but it was as if Adam was ignoring him, because not
once did their paths cross.  Greg and Sarah, yes; and she just brought out
the very worst side to Greg.  The exchange wasn't all that polite, but now
Greg did at least know where Adam would be on Saturday - with her.  And, as
Sarah had taken great delight in telling Greg, Adam would be there from
Friday night until Sunday afternoon.  She might just have added "So there!"
to make the insult complete.  Greg was pissed off - seriously pissed off.

Still muttering oaths to himself, Greg arrived at the PE department where
Jordan McIntyre greeted him, "Hi there, Big Guy, what's up with you?"

"Oh - it's nothing!"

"Doesn't look - or sound - like nothing".

"Sorry - but it would take too long to tell; another time maybe."  Greg's
anger and frustration lessened, and in a softer tone he added, "Thanks
anyway, Jordan".

"Any time, Big Guy, any time".

If anyone other than Jordan McIntyre had called Greg, "Big Guy", they would
have done it once only (even though it was a pretty obvious nickname for a
lad standing over 6 foot tall).  But somehow the young Canadian teacher
managed to make it sound really friendly and personable, not the least bit
childish, and certainly not something to be upset by.  Anyway, it was
obvious to Greg that Jordan was glad to see him, even if others weren't.

And if Greg hadn't been so obsessed with Adam, he'd have realised that he
had a crush on the good-looking guy.  Greg - and half the senior school -
including more than a few boys!  It wasn't just Jordan's appearance - a
hunk in anyone's eyes, for sure - but the way he made pupils feel special,
to feel worthwhile and valued.  Without doubt an exceptional teacher in the
making.

"OK, Greg, get yourself changed, and we'll get started; even without Adam
we can still do some worthwhile work."

"Fine - I'll be out in a minute".  Greg took himself into the
changing-room, now strangely silent, in complete contrast to the normal
racket that adolescent boys make.  He was soon completely naked - no need
for modesty today - and in a few seconds he'd put on his jockstrap, tennis
shorts and top.  White socks and tennis shoes completed the transformation
from handsome senior pupil into sporty hunk.  But Greg wasn't all image -
he had real talent, and though he'd decided not to pursue tennis to the
highest level, in his own area he was a real force to be reckoned with.
Picking up his racket-bag, Greg trotted out to the tennis court, where
Jordan was waiting.

If Greg thought that the training would be at a lower level because of
Adam's absence, he soon discovered otherwise, with Jordan demanding, and
getting, the highest level of effort.

"How ya doin', Big Guy" - amazingly, Jordan seemed hardly out of breath.

"To be honest, I wouldn't mind a break, Jordan."

"How about a nice easy wind down, and then we can call it a day?  You've
worked really hard!  Well done!"

"Thanks.  What are we going to finish with"?

Jordan explained that in doubles the front player had to make sure that he
didn't obscure too much of the court.  The clearest way to illustrate this
was for Greg to stand on the base line while Jordan took up different
positions between the net and Greg.  He started close to the net.

"How much of the net can you see"?

"Virtually all of it".

"OK - now I'm going to move towards the back of the court, crouch down, and
you should be able to see how much of the view I block".  Jordan began to
move to various positions, gravitating towards Greg.  He always adopted the
typical stance - which of course caused his white shorts to tighten over
his muscular buttocks.  After every move it was the same question: "What
can you see now?"  Greg was certainly seeing less and less of the net, but
more and more of a very tasty, tight ass, which was moving ever nearer.

Greg could begin to see the straps of Jordan's jockstrap, clearly
emphasised under the tight material, and that was enough to transport him
into his own particular fantasy world of erotic thought ..."What a fabulous
ass.  His jock's framing his arsehole.  I wish I could bury my face between
his cheeks, and then I could just stretch out my...

"Hey, Greg, are you with me?"

"Sorry, Jordan - my mind was elsewhere".

"I don't know where it was, but it sure looked interesting".

Greg hoped Jordan couldn't mind-read - now that would be embarrassing!

"Right - I reckon it's time to call it a day.  That OK with you, Greg?"

"Fine. Thanks. I really appreciate all your help."

"No bother - glad to help".

The two headed towards the showers, with Jordan good naturedly draping his
left arm over Greg's shoulders, only dropping it to pat him on the butt as
Greg turned left for the showers, Jordan heading to the right, and the
staff area.

"See you shortly, Greg.  Want a lift home after?"

"That would be great.  Thanks".

Greg stripped off, picked up his shower gel and headed into the shower
area.  Normally, being a modest chap - well, to be honest, it was because
he almost always got hard - he would head to the individual shower cubicles
but, with no- one else around, Greg decided to use the communal area.  He
headed for the last showerhead, turned on the tap, and started to enjoy the
refreshing jets of water as they played over his body.  "Oh yes - that
feels good!"  Greg squeezed some gel onto his hand and started to lather up
over his upper body.  The combination of warm water and slippery soap felt
good under his hands, as they glided over his smooth torso.  He tweaked his
nipples in turn - an especially sensitive area for Greg - eliciting a deep,
throaty groan.  Greg's large hands slipped lower down his body, following
the familiar route towards his pubic bush, his hands sensuously and
lovingly working their magic as they journeyed south.  Nestling within the
mass of hair, but already showing signs of enlargement, Greg's cock was
responding to the stimulation that was creating tiny tingles of excitement
over his whole body.  One hand caressed his own buttock, while the other
started to tug gently at his lengthening prick.  Oh yes, this was going to
be an enjoyable few minutes - and the thrill of an illicit wank in the open
area was definitely an added turn-on.


But Greg's rambling thoughts were interrupted by the changing room door
slamming shut, shortly followed by Jordan's familiar voice asking, "Hi,
Greg; would you mind if I showered here - the staff showers are out of
action?"

Now, what could he say but "No - that's fine".  The idea of sharing a
shower with his hunky sports teacher thrilled and horrified in equal
measure.  "Shit!  What am I going to do with this fucking boner".  With no
time to jerk off, he decided to have his back towards Jordan, and hope that
his erection would subside before he had to turn around.  "Think un-sexy
thoughts; Dead babies!  Horror films!  Grandmother's underwear!"

 "Thanks, Big Guy; I didn't really want to head home without freshening up
- hope you don't mind."  Greg knew it was kind of rude not to turn round
when answering, but at present it would, he thought be a hell of a lot more
rude if he did!  "No worries".  "No worries?!  No fuckin' worries?  Ha!"
The simple solution of a quick wank was totally out of the question; he'd
just have to keep his face to the wall.

"Could I use your shower gel, Greg?"

"Fuck!  How am I going to hand it over without him seeing the state I'm
in?"  thought Greg.

 "Sure; help yourself".  Hoping to be discreet, Greg lifted his right leg,
as if he were washing it with his left hand, and at the same time handing
the bottle to Jordan.  Not the most elegant, or sensible manoeuvre, but
Greg hoped it would conceal his embarrassment - his very considerable
embarrassment.

"Thanks".

Greg found his eyes drawn to the Jordan's tight body.  He couldn't remember
much about classical studies, but felt sure that Adonis wouldn't have been
any more beautiful than the young guy standing next to
him. Grace. Beauty. Elegance.  As the young PE teacher washed his hair and
lathered up his body, Greg took advantage of Jordan having turned his back
to him.  His eyes drank in every sensuous, sexy curve, every delicious
contour, his fascination with the body of a young adult male resulting in a
kind of intoxication.  Greg felt completely overwhelmed by the man's
beauty, so much so that he didn't notice Jordan turn his lithe body through
90 degrees before twisting his head to look directly at Greg.  Greg stood
transfixed, like the rabbit caught in the glare of car headlights:

"Enjoying the view?"  Jordan's question brutally invaded Greg's
consciousness, and he realised how pathetic he must look, standing naked,
with a painfully hard prick, looking lustfully in the direction of his
teacher.

"S s s orry!"  Jordan could see at once how ashamed Greg felt, and tried to
make light of matters with a cheerful,

"Hey - no worries", but Greg had averted his gaze, staring blankly at the
glistening white tiles.

"Sorry", he said again.  The steamy atmosphere was chillingly tense,
neither saying anything, both standing under a stream of water, and the
only sounds being the hissing and splashing the water-jets made as they
left the showerhead and hit the floor.  Greg was the first to speak.  He
didn't know how he found the courage to utter the two syllables - "I'm
gay".

The words hung in the air, suspended in both time and space.  "I know you
are, Big Guy.  I know".  Jordan reached out his left hand, placing his
fingers gently under Greg's drooping chin.  He lifted the teenager's head,
turning it towards himself, and was met by two unbearably sad eyes, filled
with tears of fear, yet also of relief.  "Come here".  Jordan delicately
drew Greg against his body. Shielding him. Enfolding him. Greg placed his
arms around Jordan's torso, his head against Jordan's chest, deeply
grateful for the support, both physical and emotional.  As he sobbed and
cried, the seconds growing into minutes, Greg's view of the future was
darkest black and negative.  Gay lads, or any suspected of being queer, had
a tough time in school, and he didn't relish the prospect one bit.
Jordan's deep, gentle voice lightened his mood.  "How're you feelin', Big
Guy?"

"A bit better, thanks".

"Good, 'cos you had me a bit worried".  Greg lifted his head and stared
into the deep, steely-black eyes that smiled compassionately from Jordan's
handsome face.

"How did you know I was gay?"

"Intuition, Big Guy"

"Was it that obvious?"

"Pretty obvious...........to another gay guy".

End of Chapter 3