From: Larry Walker <larry6306@delphi.com>
Subject: Story: School.txt (mm)
Date: Sat, 4 Jun 94 00:41:10 -0500
SCHOOL DAZE
________________________________________________________________
Chapter 1
School had been both a joy and a hardship for me. My
studies interested me; my teachers seem to sense my keen desire
to understand whatever it was that they were teaching. My mind
would wrestle with the subject matter, turn it over and over and
finally come up with the right conclusions. My mind was growing
at a rapid pace: But so was my body!
I was almost a head taller than anyone else in my class.
My physical development had come about early, as it turned out,
and I was to suffer many of the "pains" that go with growing up
too fast. The part of school I did not enjoy was the sports.
Those things that I could do on my own, I did do -- not so much
from any pleasure or sense of satisfaction, but more from a sense
of frustration. Team sports were not for me. I took up
swimming; and when it was not the swimming season, I tried
wrestling. The latter was a fiasco, however. Being large for my
age there were few if any opponents and my strength at first
slowly, and at an ever increasing pace, began to excel over all
my contemporaries. There was no competition.
The other fellows in my class had fun. They laughed and
fooled around a lot, joking with one another. They seemed to
leave me out of their activities more and more. I didn't realize
that they resented me. They kidded me about my studies -- "Here
comes the Whiz Kid!". And as the second and third year of high
school were by, they were more and more reluctant to invite me
into their games. I didn't try to win all the time -- in fact, I
tried very hard to not win: But it never came out quite right.
I suppose the worst of it was, that as I grew, my
coordination did not seem to keep pace. It was very much like a
kitten growing up. One week it can jump from the arm of a chair
to the table top and the next, the same jump catapults the poor
cat clear across the table top. Later I understood. But then I
did not.
At least there was one thing of which my peers held me
in awe. But even that seemed to come out not quite right. In
the locker room, after phys-ed, the guys would joke about the
various girls in the class they had been out with, where they'd
gone. Most of it was about what they did or which they had done.
I never quite knew how to react; but it made little difference
most of the time. They paid no attention to me. The only time I
was included in their kidding around was when they, half joking
and half in awe, taunted me about the size of my tool. Like the
rest of me, that had developed early and well. I was almost half
again both the length and width of any other guys' -- and that
was in its natural state.
I remember one day in the shower, there was only Pete
and Jim. I was at the opposite end and they were paying me no
attention. They were too busy talking about one of the girls
that seemed to be real popular. They were telling each other how
they'd feel her up, reach inside her blouse and play with her
tits; and how she would unzip their pants, reach inside and
massage their balls and play with their rods until the swelled up
and were real hard. Hearing them talk made mine begin to feel
funny and I was afraid that it, too, would get hard. I glanced
at them both as they talked about Betty Lou. Pete was explaining
how she had fondled him, getting his prick real hard as she ran a
moist hand over the head of his cock. Both of theirs' were
rising and beginning to stand straight out.
Jim was coaxing Pete to show him what she had done. In
fact he was pleading with Pete to do the same thing to him. My
own cock was begging to stretch upwards and I knew that if they
saw me with a roaring hard on, I would be in for the razzing of
my life. At home, in my room, when I played with it, it filled
both of my large hands and there was still plenty left over for
me to admire. I turned my back to them so they could not see,
grabbed my towel and quietly left by the other door. What I did
not realize is that they could have cared less. They were too
engrossed in what they were doing. Pete was showing Jim what
Betty Lou had done to him much to Jim's delight. He was groping
the larger sac hanging below the very hard rod his other hand
pumped. Jim had already reached to Pete's long shaft and was
returning the favor.
I quickly dressed. I was upset and I wanted to get out
of there. I left the gym and started for the exit. Then I
remembered I had left my books in my locker on the third floor
and I needed them to do my home work for Monday. I retraced my
steps and went up the stairs to the third floor. Although the
lights had been turned off (it was almost closing time for the
school building) I could see that someone else was also over by
the lockers. It was Betty Lou.
"Hi," I said, as I approached her. She was standing at
the locker next to mine.
"Hi," she answered me. She was getting a note book out
of her locker. Crash! The note book and half a dozen books fell
out of the locker. I bent down and helper her pick them up.
"Thanks. Sometimes I think I'm awfully clumsy."
I just smiled, sheepishly. I never felt comfortable
with girls. And then I remembered what Pete and Jim were saying
about Betty Lou.
"You OK?," she asked, looking up at me.
"Oh yes," I stammered. "We were just talking about
you."
"You were? Hope you were saying something nice about
me. Who were you with?"
I began to get flustered. All I could remember was Pete
and Jim and their conversation. "Pete and Jim," I blurted out.
"What where they saying?" she asked as she moved a
little closer to me.
"Oh nothing," I lied. And then thinking that this was
too abrupt, I added, "Pete was just mentioning he'd gone out with
you the other night."
She smiled. "Did he tell you what happened?"
"No," I said, embarrassedly.
She smiled and then said, "Would you like me to tell you
about it? You've never gone out with me, and you might like to
sometime."
I just stood there and stared with my mouth open. She
might want to go out with me? Pete's story about her. I didn't
know what to say -- or do!
"I'd like to go out with you. I've watched you and
you've got so much more than Pete has."
"I have?"
"Oh yes. Would you like me to tell you about what I did
with Pete?"
I couldn't answer. I didn't know what to say.
She smiled. "Boys are different from girls and I like
to play with big boys." I could feel my cock grow heavy,
thinking about what Pete had said. "Pete and I had a real good
time the other night. I got him real hot -- that's the way I
like to get him. He had a real hand full. I like to get my
fingers around that shaft of his and feel it get harder and
harder." I could feel my own cock lengthening out, down my pants
leg. I knew that it must be straining against the fabric.
She moved closer as she spoke, taking her hand and
rubbing it the full length of my now throbbing tool. "I opened
his fly," she went on, "taking out his long dong. The head was a
purplish color as it swelled up. I wrapped my fingers around the
shaft, just below the head, and that made it get real shiny and
glisten."
As she said this, I could feel her hand slowly slide the
zipper on my levis down, a notch at a time, until it had reached
bottom. And then a small hand reached inside, cupping my balls
in a gentle caress as the other hand drew an aching tool out
through the opening, inch by inch. Suddenly the whole implement
popped out. And once it was free, it began to swell. It became
longer and longer, rounder and harder. She had stopped talking,
now. She was staring intently at her handy work.
I remembered Pete saying how she took his cock in one
hand and pumped it slowly up and down as she teased his balls
with the other. A small but firm hand gripped my balls where the
sac met the base of a roaring hard on. Gently tugging in one
direction, she stroked my taut implement up and then back,
milking the head so the ridge around the edge glistened. Over
and over she slowly did this watching the monster swell up even
more. Her gaze was hypnotized by it. I could feel the well deep
down inside of me begin to rumble. I didn't want to cum. Not
yet.
This was greater than jacking off had ever been! I
followed her gaze downwards starring at my own cock as she
manipulated it. A small bead of pearly liquid began to ooze from
the slit at the end. She ran her tongue over her lips as she
watched the bead grow. Slowly she knelt down and touch the head
of my cock with her tongue, licking away the droplet that had
formed only to have another appear in its place. Again the soft
tongue softly wrapped itself around the throbbing head and
cleaned the fluid away.
The hand gripping my ball sac had firmly pulled them
downwards. The other slid down the full length of my rock hard
implement making the head glisten even more. I could feel the
cum beginning the surge forward, but the hand around the shaft of
my cock tightened, holding it back. Her lips glided over the
head gripping it tightly where it joined the shaft. Her tongue
teased it unmercifully. Slowly her head sank lower and lower as
she took each successive inch followed by a swirling tongue
massaging the full length of my rod. Her lips were at the base.
I could feel her throat grip the head as it milked it, preparing
for the onslaught that was to come.
The hand gripping my ball sac slowly relinquished its
hold and began massaging and teasing. Oh god, it was near! I
could feel the cum start at the base of my cock. It exploded
upward as her throat gripped the swollen cock head. It shot into
her throat. She thrust her head forward to get more. Again and
again, love juice shot upward, pouring into that grasping throat.
I could feel my cock soften and yet that mouth kept at
it -- sucking, massaging the softening shaft, the tongue stroking
the length of the rod and wiping the head clean with loving care.
This time, I could feel another explosion coming. My cock was
swollen but still soft. This time she was going to suck me off
before it got rock hard! I could feel the cum slowly rise the
length of the semi flaccid shaft. It escaped the slit at the end
as her tongue coaxed out each and every drop, giving me a
pleasure I had never known before.
As she drained the last drop from my now spent tool, I
wondered what it must be like to be able to do that -- to give
someone that much pleasure; and what it would be like to hold a
man-tool in my own throat as tightly, draining all its juices.
Oh God, what a feeling!
Chapter 2
My mind worked like a compact disc. Every sensation,
every feeling of that episode was faithfully reproduced over and
over. That anticipated joy that burst forth in such unexpected
intensity haunted my memory. Since that had been the last day
before spring break, there had been no more real "chance
encounters." Fantasy had filled the void, however. As I leaned
back in my desk chair, one leg propped up on my bed, my
generously filled hand held the aching evidence of my thoughts.
The flaccid tool extended well beyond my open palm. Slowly I
closed my fingers around the fleshy tube and wrung one last drop
of excitement from it.
It was now time to put my favorite toy away, along with
the thoughts that were such explicit instructions in its
exquisite use. I had to finish my home work since school was
opening again tomorrow. But it was hard for me to keep my mind
on plane geometry when it wanted to be on something more solid.
School opened. It started out just like any other day.
The routine was the same (why would it change?). And yet I felt
that something was different. Little did I know that it was me
that had changed. The same classes, the same people, the same
subjects -- everything was the same. But with a week to remember
and to savor the firm lips draining my strength through that
narrow slit at the end of my cock, a firmness now pressed between
my levis and right leg. I didn't have to look down to know it
was there -- I could feel it. What surprised me most, however,
was that I didn't care if it showed. My normal shyness had
disappeared. I ran my hand down over my badge of man-hood,
smoothing the cloth that trapped it next to my leg. I secretly
smiled. I enjoyed both the feel of it and the touch of my hand
on the long shaft. What I was not prepared for was the next
encounter with this new found gratification.
The day wore on. My interest focussed upon just one
thing. I wished the day would be over so I could be alone, so I
could free my monster and gently stroke it. I wanted to wrap my
fingers around that firm shaft and pump it slowly, ever so
slowly, while I watched it lengthen, struggle to grow in my hand.
Its head would become a shiny purple. My thoughts alone had an
effect. But fortunately the results were hidden under my desk.
Occasionally I would drop my hand down, cupping it around the
warm growth. Other times I would shift my position, rubbing the
long, cloth covered shaft against the edge of the desk.
The day wore on. Finally, the last period and it would
be over. Then I could be alone! That last period was going to
be a difficult one, though. Before the spring break, the coach
had been working on our endurance swimming. It meant a long,
tough hour in the pool. Maybe that would be good for me,though.
The exercise might work of some of my excess "steam." As it
turned out, it should have. Boy did the coach give us a workout!
And it almost seemed as though he gave me more of one than the
rest of the fellows. I didn't mind, though. At least it kept my
mind off of other things.
Usually after having been in the pool for an hour I
skipped taking a shower. Who needed more water? And if I wasn't
clean by now, a lousy shower wasn't going to do it. But after
that workout, I ached. A warm shower sounded good.
While I was enjoying the warm spray on my face and
chest, I heard Pete and Jim come into the shower behind me. They
paid no attention to me -- they were yakking a blue streak at
each other. And about the same old subject -- girls. I turned
to look at them as I let the warm water stream down my back.
Pete was talking about his latest exploit as he gently fingered
himself. The words passed by me, but I was fascinated watching
him as he grasped his tool and slowly rubbed his thumb around the
swelling head, over the slit at the end. Slowly he began pumping
his hand on the growing shaft. It wasn't long before Jim began
fondling his own balls. His rod began to rise. Their voices
droned on. Suck, tongue, balls -- isolated words drifted through
the haze as I watched them manipulate themselves.
It was only then that I began to realize the heavy
weight that was growing between my own legs. As they talked and
stroked their members, I could feel mine lengthen. The head of
it felt like a lead weight, full, round. I could feel the head
slowly rise as the shaft struggled, lifting it in barely
perceptible increments from its downward position. I didn't have
to look. I knew my cock was now grown to enormous proportions
and was standing almost straight out. Their cocks were hard and
upright. I was fascinated looking at those man sized organs
overflowing the yet boy like hands.
"Oh wow! Look at that!" exclaimed Pete. He was
looking at my cock. It was standing erect, head bulging, and
staring back at him. "Is that real?" he said admiringly, as he
took a step closer to look down at it. Jim moved closer also,
starring down, too. His hand seemed to grip his own cock even
tighter as he looked. I could feel their eyes caress the long
shaft all the way down to the sac that hung heavily below.
"I don't believe it," Jim gasped in awe. I looked down
at it too. It was hard. It was firm. The head pointed upwards
and the narrow slit at the tip seemed to quiver. "God, that's
really something!" he added.
Pete looked up at me and asked pleadingly, "Can I touch
it?" I nodded. Suddenly his two hands were grasping my tortured
rod and were stroking it. It seemed to grow even more as he
wrapped his fingers around the blood filled column. And then
there were two more hands struggling to fill themselves with my
straining implement. They massaged my ball sac, stroked the long
upright tube, and gently rubbed the swollen head at the end,
tantalizing several lubricating drops from the willing opening at
the end.
As they grasped my angrily growing monster, trapping it
with twenty tightly clenched fingers stroking up and down I reach
out and found a firm shaft planted in each of my palms. I closed
my fingers about each, pulling them both towards me. I pumped up
and then down feeling each shaft slide through my fist all the
way from the flange at the rounded heads down the long firmness
to the base where another stroke began.
This had to be it! The warm, tingling sensation as
their hands played with my balls, glided up and down my shaft
like a piston, and teased the round head that ached for release.
My hands were full. I could feel one cock throb in my left hand
as I stroked it long and slowly. The other rod in my right hand
pulsed with an anxiety that was soon to be realized. My balls
began to tingle and I could feel the cum start its long trip up
the rock hard shaft and push its way out of the slit in the
inflamed fullness at the end. As it moved upwards, I could feel
the juices moving up both shafts as I coiled my fingers even more
tightly about them.
And then it happened. Cum spurted from three fountains.
Pete's cock shot a wad upwards that landed on my left pec and
then slowly ran down over the taut nipple. Jim repeated the
action. Again and again. And with each new explosion of their
cum I responded in kind. Each load seemed to catapult from my
cock with more force than the one before. Over and over they
shot at me. Their white, pearly juices were washing over me as I
continued to pump both cocks up and down, up and down. One more
time. Their hands moved up and down my cock, coaxing more and
more fluid up the shaft. The rigid hardness was gone from it,
now. The urgency was gone, too. Now there was just the sheer
joy of feeling their fingers stroking my long shaft -- up and
down; up and down. Their rods were no longer like steel. They
now conformed to the shaped of my hand. I had a long, throbbing
implement in each hand. I closed my fingers tightly around each
shaft, stroking yet another explosion of warm cum from each one.
The three cocks reluctantly gave less and less. But the
six hands continued to work drawing yet another response.
Suddenly, both Pete and Jim exploded one final time. Greater and
more than they had before. I was looking down at the two heads
pointed upwards towards me. As I coaxed my fist upwards and then
back down the final time, I saw the slit at the end of both cocks
widen, open, and the last fountain of pearly fluid shoot forth.
Upward it rose. Past my cum stained and dripping chest. Both
loads caught me squarely between the open lips. I tasted their
cum! The salt, the flavor of their man juice filled my mouth and
then slowly ran down my throat. It was delicious! I wanted to
drink more or it. My cock exploded again and again in my desire
to taste another drop.
But that was not to be this day. Spent, we each
reluctantly released the cocks we had so fondly held, teased,
pumped, and momentarily satisfied. Only a single drop glistened
at the tip of each. Pete grasped all three cocks together and
slowly milked the remaining drop out. Releasing them, he licked
his hand as he winked at me. I smiled back. I remembered that
taste, the taste of cum. I slowly ran my tongue over my lips. I
knew that I was going to taste it again and I couldn't wait.
Chapter 3
The days passed in fast succession. The school term was
rapidly roaring to its climax -- exams for everyone and
graduation for some. My attention was divided amongst many
things; but it always seemed to return to a focal point. I knew
that I had changed. Inwardly, I knew it, and I liked the change.
As it turned out, I had changed more than I had thought. Even my
parents noticed that I seemed to be taking a more active interest
in everything around me.
It was as if I had come alive. My studies were coming
along fine. My swimming was taking up more of my time, though.
The coach said he was pleased with my progress and that next year
there was no question but that I would be among the top in the
state for my events. But that would take practice and training.
Each day he would spend as much time with me as possible.
Sometimes it meant staying after classes had ended. But he
didn't seem to mind. And I sure didn't if it meant winning any
state competitions!
My new found friends, Pete and Jim, were as busy as I.
I had not realized it, but Pete was a year older than the two of
us and he was going to graduate this year. I was sorry about
that. I felt closer to him than I did to Jim. Maybe it was
because he was older and had been around a little bit more, but
he made me feel comfortable. I liked him. In fact, I liked him
a lot. Although he was several inches shorter, he acted like a
big brother to me at times. Yes, we had developed a strong
relationship.
After that time in the showers where the three of us
jacked each other off, I had thought a lot about it. Many times,
when I was home alone in my room, my mind would return to the
wonderful sensation of holding those two warm, throbbing cocks in
my hands; feeling those rods stiffen and become excited as my
fingers tightened about them. And most of all, watching those
two cock heads explode all over me time and time again, splashing
their pearly fluid on my chest and the thick love juice slowly
running down. I had tasted Pete. His last load had escaped his
stiffened rod. I wondered now whether or not I had in fact
pointed that pulsing head so that last, exciting load could reach
my lips. I could still taste it, as I slowly licked my lips.
As I lay here on my bed thinking, I looked down. Both
my hands were filled with my own love muscle. I watched as I
slowly brought both hands up the long rod and then pushed them
away from me exposing the engorged, purple head, quivering at the
end. Pete's cock was smaller than mine, but his was shaped about
the same. I looked at my cock and then slowly pumped my hands
one more stroke. I was looking at Pete's cock -- that was Pete's
organ that I held -- that was growing larger and larger in my
hands. Lovingly, I stroked it over and over and over until a
glistening drop ran from its head. It lubricated my hands making
the motion easier.
This was Pete's cock that I was playing with and I
wanted it to last as long as possible. But the sight fascinated
and thrilled me. The touch of the long shaft against my palms,
the feel of the fingers as they massaged it brought new
excitement. I lay there, propped up on a pillow, watching the
wonderful sight in front of me. How could I prolong the
wonderful sensation? Maybe if I somehow moistened my hands even
more. The natural lubrication caused by my manipulations oozed
from the narrow slit at the end. My hand slid smoothly over the
large head. I closed it, palm engulfing the entire angry bulb at
the end of my cock and slowly rotated it as I gripped it firmly.
Oh god! The sensation was slowly driving me wild.
Suddenly, I remembered that there was some petroleum
jelly in the medicine cabinet that was used to "lubricate" burns,
scrapes, etc. I quickly got up and went down the hall to get it.
My anxious cock stretched out in front pointing the way. Keeping
one hand working gently, I fumbled with the lid on the jar with
my other hand. I got it open. I smeared a large glob of the
substance on the palms of both hands and then reached down and
grasped the steely protrusion anxiously awaiting the soothing
touch. Both hands slid up and down the long shaft -- easily,
effortlessly. My fingers tightened and I pumped again. This
time my cock slid through my fist imparting a startling and
thrilling sensation deep inside. My straining grip tightened.
I went back to my bedroom. I stood in front of the
mirror marveling at the gorgeous sight. My cock was as large as
I had ever seen it. It glistened. Just looking at my cock made
it jerk upwards vainly trying to reach even further out. I
slowly took one hand, grasped the head firmly and then drew it
downwards as far to the base as I could and held it there. With
the other hand, I encased the swollen head firmly, palm over the
tortured tip. I rotated my fist first clockwise as far as I
could and then reversed the motion. The throbbing traveled down
the length of the stretched shaft. The balls handing below began
to tingle in their sacs. The hand holding the cock at its base
took on even more of a strangle hold as the other one massaged
the head. I released the head and with my thumb, I traced the
flange that circled the head. I then gripped the shaft tightly
just below the pulsing knob. With the thumb, I teased the wide
slit at the end. A drop appeared. I smeared it over the smooth
surface exulting in the touch. This happened again and again,
each time making the shaft strain with expectation.
I wanted to see it spit. I wanted to taste it. I
wanted to feel that incredible sensation as the cum started deep
down inside and moved with ever increasing urgency towards the
shaft, then upwards to explode from the throbbing end in a
rushing load of white juice.
I lay down on the bed as I continued to work on my
aching tool. Raising my feet over my head, I found that I could
point that wondrous implement right at my own mouth. Slowly I
pumped with one hand as I grasped the ball sac with the other. I
watched my cock grow even more. I could see the head pulse. I
could feel the head pulse. My tongue drew a trail of saliva
around my dried lips as a small bead at the end grow into a drop.
And then it began to get even larger and was beginning to fall.
My cock was only inches from my mouth and my tongue reached to
greet the voyager. It ran down the outstretched surface finally
reaching the back of my throat. I had to have another. My back
strained even more as I brought my cock closer to the gapping
mouth. My hand pumped. Up and down. My tongue reach out. It
just touched the new droplet forming and licked it away.
One more try and my lips were able to caress the bulbous
end. My tongue wildly swirled about the opening as my hand
guided what I had wanted desperately, what I had waited so long
for. I felt the pressure at the back of my mouth as the cum
poured forth, filling it with a sticky, delicious substance. I
drank it. I wanted more. My hand continued to manipulate my
long shaft as my lips sucked the head of it even further into my
mouth. My tongue coaxed load after load of sweet tasting lover
juice from that wondrous organ, praying in between each explosion
that there would be more.
They were slower and slower in coming. But the
sensation none the lesser for it. Each wad that filled my mouth
brought with it a fulfillment and yearning I had never known
before. I wanted more. I could feel the shaft soften. The
giant head no longer reached all the way to my mouth, but instead
hung a few inches above my face where I could see the still
swollen implement issuing forth the last remaining drops of
passion. I aimed them gently towards my waiting lips, drinking
each one as a parched desert traveler strains for a drink of
water.
Suddenly, there was one last surge; one final
convulsion. Some, but not all went were I wanted it to. Some
splashed on my face. I licked as much of it off with my tongue
as I could. The rest I wiped off with my hand and then licked
that clean.
Lowering my legs back down to the bed, I lay back
holding my love muscle in my hands. I dreamt that that had been
Pete's cock that I had licked, touched with my lips. That it was
his long shaft that I had sunk in my throat. And that it was his
cum that I had drunk over and over again. The thought both
thrilled me and relaxed me. And I knew that someday, someday, if
only in my dreams ------------.
Chapter 4
"Come on. We gotta get goin'," a voice said. I looked
up, rubbed my eyes. Rubbed them again in disbelief. A youthful
figure stood next to my bed smiling down at me. His feet were
set wide apart.
"Hi, Pete," I stammered. He just stood there --
blond,tousled hair, bronzed face, and a gleaming smile a mile
wide! Broad shoulders accented the narrow waist: A tight tee
shirt displayed the well developed pecs -- each nipple could be
plainly seen. The flat washboard stomach and the low riding
levis all added to the vision. Both hands had their thumbs
hooked in the front pockets. The right one, though, had its
fingers extended over the flaccid protrusion that stretched
downwards almost halfway to his right knee.
As I swung my feet over the side of the bed he took a
step closer to me straddling my knees. "Oh God," I thought,
"That wonderful cock just inches from my mouth!" Impulse
overwhelmed me. I threw my arms around his waist and buried my
face in his crotch. My parted lips closed over the cloth bound
tool, breathing warm,moist air through the fabric. He didn't
move. He just said softly, "We gotta get going." His tone
belied any urgency. Still pulling him towards me with my left
arm, I reached up with my right, cupping the firm breast. The
movement told my lips that his firmly encased tool wanted to be
free. It was straining to grow.
I reached under the tee shirt, gently grasping his tit
between my thumb and fore finger. It was hard. I squeezed it
softly and my hungry lips again received the response. Slowly, I
fell back on the bed, pulling him after me. His hips were in my
face. I smothered the area with warm kisses and anxious
mouthings as I grasped the buttons at the top of his levis and
one by one opened them.
More and more of the blond pubic hair brushed softly
against my face as my mouth sought out the area where that
wondrous instrument began. I pulled his levis downwards -- it
took several tugs, ea
[Truncated. --Ed.]