Date: Sun, 05 May 2002 17:16:56 -0600
From: Dream Spinner <authorsix@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Brewsters Celebrate National Teacher's Day" (t/t, t/b, m/t, m/b, humil)
Caution/Welcome. This is a story involving four brothers, one
twelve-year-old, one fourteen- year-old, and two sixteen-year-old twins,
celebrating National Teacher's Day like all children across America. Well,
okay, maybe not like all children, but their intentions are good. This
story is posted at free gay adult story sites for adult entertainment only.
Permission is not given to copy electronically nor in any other form for
the purpose of redistribution or posting at sites other than those
described here. This is the thirty-fifth story in the Brewster boys
special events and myths series. This National Teacher's Day impress your
favorite teacher with your thoughtfulness and show him how smart you are,
give him a pack of condoms as a gift. Apples, praise, and story ideas can
be sent to the author, J.O. Dickingson, at authorsix@hotmail.com
THE BREWSTERS CELEBRATE NATIONAL TEACHER'S DAY
"So, is he cool or a troll or what?"
"Oh no, he's way cool," responded nine-year-old Charles Elwood. It was a
warm Sunday afternoon and he and his four heros, the Brewster brothers,
were hanging out at the local playground.
"You're sure he's been checking you out."
"Fuck yeah. Bobby told me what to watch for," Charles responded, looking
up admiringly at his most favourite hero of them all.
"Bobby. . . ."
"What?" Bobby responded defensively.
"What have you been telling Chucky?"
"Hey, I'm just helping Chucky out. I don't wanna see him hurt."
"What did Bobby tell you, Chucky?" Brett asked.
"Well," the nine-year-old replied hesitantly, staring down at his foot as
he dug his toe into the grass. He didn't want to get Bobby in trouble.
"He said when Mister Moore was looking at other guys I should watch his
face, especially his eyes. He said if Mister Moore really was checking us
out in the lockers and showers when we have swim classes that his face
would look like he's admiring something, you know, like a teacher looks
when he looks at you when you've done something good." He looked up at
Bobby for confirmation.
"You know the look I mean," Bobby explained to his brothers.
"That all Bobby told you?" Brett persisted.
"No," responded Charles honestly, hoping he was doing the right thing.
"He said if Mister Moore really was checking us out he'd look at us like he
was hungry, like he'd look at our butts like a guy looks at a double scoop
of ice cream on a hot day," he said with a giggle. Bobby's brothers
glanced at each other. That sounded like something Bobby would say. "And
that it wouldn't be a sneaky look," Charles continued, spilling it all out,
"like he was thinking how he could trick us or something, cuz guys who
really like boys don't trick them."
The boys knew what Bobby meant and the look he was trying to describe.
"And," Charles continued, glancing at Bobby, "that he wouldn't start
nothin' with a guy, but he wouldn't stop a guy if the guy did somethin'
first."
"You know what Bobby meant by that?"
"Sure. Like if Mister Moore really did like boys he wouldn't try to
touch a boy where a guy shouldn't touch without asking first, not even
pretend it was by accident. But if he seen a boy touching himself or
something he wouldn't have a cow and make him stop like other adults
would."
The boys glanced at each other again. They could not fault Bobby's
advice. "So, has he tried to touch you, or anyone?"
Charles shook his head in the negative.
"But you think he'd like to."
Charles nodded in the affirmative.
"And you've seen him looking at you like Bobby said."
Charles nodded in the affirmative again.
"So what do you guys think?" Bobby asked, looking at his brothers one by
one. He knew if anyone could come up with a solution to Chuck's problem,
his brothers could, which was how the whole conversation had started that
afternoon.
"Well, I guess we'll have to give him an opportunity to do something with
Chucky and see what he does, but some place safe for Chucky just in case,"
suggested Brett.
"Done that," responded Bobby. "Tell them Chucky."
"You mean that cramp thing?"
"Yeah."
"Well," Bobby's young fan began after thinking for a moment, "the other
day after gym after everyone had gone, I told Mister Moore I had a cramp in
my leg, up here," he said, indicating his thigh close to his crotch as he
looked again at Bobby for confirmation. "And when he looked down I sortta
stuck my hips out so he could see I had a boner, but he didn't do nothing,
like touch it or nothing, though I could see in his eyes he really wanted
to. He just said I probably just strained something but if it kept hurting
to let him know and he'd phone my parents to take me to see a doctor."
"So?" Bobby asked.
"I dunno, he might be, and he might not be," observed Brett.
"How we gonna find out?" Charles asked.
The four brothers looked at each other. "We'll find a way," Brett
promised. That was good enough for Charles. After living next to the
Brewsters for almost five years, he knew they were good for their word. It
being almost suppertime, the boys headed home.
As they walked into the kitchen to the delightful aroma of Sunday supper,
they found their father on the phone.
"That's wonderful James, absolutely wonderful," Barry was saying. "I'm
so happy for both of you. Have you set a date?"
At the mention of their uncle's name the boys' ears perked up, and with
the mention of "both of you" their father had their complete attention.
"I see. In Palm Springs. Yes, I understand. How do you plan on, well,
you know, announcing this?" Barry listened with a frown. "That's true.
But this does make things official. Yes. Well, I'm pleased you chose me
to be the first to know. Yes, if you feel that strongly, I think you're
doing the right thing. Yes, I'll tell Brenda. I"m sure things will work
out all right. Yes I'll say hello to the boys for you. All right. We'll
talk to you soon.
Bye."
"You'll tell me what?" Brenda asked as she finished setting the table.
"Go wash up boys."
"Can we hear the news first?" asked Brett. The four boys and their
mother looked at Barry. She was too curious to correct Brett's grammar,
and that was rare.
"James is getting married."
"Married!" shouted the five.
"That's wonderful," Brenda exclaimed.
"That's impossible!" blurted Bobby at the same time.
"After all this time it is hard to believe, isn't it?" responded Brenda,
looking at her fourth youngest. "I was beginning to think he was going to
be a confirmed bachelor like your brother Cory," she added, looking at her
husband.
"He can't get married," Bobby protested, almost hysterically. "We were
so sure that he and, well, I mean, we were sure at least that he's," he
stumbled. Looking at his brothers in frustration, he continued, "Well,
like, what the fu-, fu-, fu-, fu-."
"Take a deep breath and calm down honey," Brenda said, going to her son's
side. His stuttering difficulty had almost disappeared, except when he got
over excited, thanks she was sure to the dedicated help his high school
tutor Zac was providing every Monday night.
"Bu-, bu- bu-."
"I'm excited for him too," Brenda said, putting her arm around Bobby. "I
figured this love interest of his that he's been hinting about these past
months was serious."
"So did we," wailed Bobby.
Brenda looked at her fourth youngest and brushed the hair out of his
eyes.
He was such a sensitive, caring child. All her boys were. And she was
sure she'd be saying the same about the triplets. Already the three could
not bear to be apart from one another.
"Com'on, Bobby, let's go get washed up," said Brett, extending his hand
to his younger brother.
Brenda watched them as they headed out of the room. Her boys cared so
much about each other also. Oh, they had their squabbles as all brothers
do, but deep down inside she knew they loved each other. She smiled warmly
as she began to set supper out on the table. She was very fortunate. The
boys, meanwhile, crowded into the bathroom and closed the door behind them,
eager to talk about what they'd just overheard.
"Uncle James is getting married?" asked Brent incredulously as he looked
at his brothers for confirmation.
"Sure the hell sounds like," responded his twin, Brett, as he brushed his
long blond hair out of his eyes.
"What the fuck happened?" asked Bobby. "I thought Uncle James was gay.
I thought he and Giovanni's dad were serious."
"So'd we all," responded Benny.
"Who knows what's going on," Brent shrugged. "Adults are always
surprising you."
"We'll have to email Giovanni and see what he knows."
"Fuckin' right," Bobby said angrily.
"Right after we eat," Brent said as the boys opened the bathroom door.
"You boys are supposed to use water when you wash your hands," called
Brenda from the kitchen. "I didn't hear any water running."
"Oh yeah," the boys chorused, turning as one and stepping back into the
bathroom.
"Palm Springs?" asked Brenda as the boys stepped into the kitchen and sat
at the table a few minutes later. "Well, that'll be costly for us to go,
but we'll make it somehow. But Saint Paul Desert Episcopal? I thought
he'd get married in the Anglican church. His fianc‚ must be Episcopal."
"Well ," Barry began, not sure how to begin as Brenda passed him the bowl
of peas.
"Phone him back after we eat and offer to have the wedding here," Brenda
continued as she helped herself to the mashed potatoes. Barry didn't mind
the interruption considering what he had to explain to his wife. "I'd be
delighted to help him and his wife-to-be plan their wedding. Is she from
Palm Springs? Is that why he's having the wedding there?"
"He didn't say where his intended is from," Barry responded, which was
the truth. He passed the peas on to Bobby.
"Well, even if he insists on having it in Palm Springs, I'd be delighted
to help them. And your sister will be too, I know. I'll phone her after
we eat."
"Ah, dear, James didn't ask for any help, yours or Tammy's."
"Of course he didn't. He wouldn't. He'd never think to ask a favour of
others. That's the way he is. That's the way you and all your brothers
are. But you know I've planned hundreds of fund-raiser banquets, and
dozens of anniversaries for others. I can be of help. Bobby, use your
knife to put your peas on your fork, not your finger," she interrupted.
"Besides, after waiting all this time to get married, he needs something
extra special, something he and his bride wouldn't plan on their own. He
is forty-two after all."
"He said it's going to be a private ceremony. Just a couple very close
friends of his and his, ah, his intended."
"We're not invited?" she asked in surprise, putting down her
half-buttered bun.
"No. They're not inviting any family."
"No family? Well! I'm sure your sister and I will convince him
otherwise. I know he's not a young man, but a wedding is a wedding, and
it's no wedding without family. What about your parents? I know it'll be
hard for them to travel to California all the way from Canada, but he is
their son. Surely he's inviting them?" Taking the bowl of peas from
Brent, she absentmindedly added a spoonful to her uneaten peas on her plate
and passed the bowl to her husband. "He has to invite the whole family,"
she continued without waiting for an answer. "I can't believe that he
isn't planning on doing so. We'll just have to see that he does!" she
concluded, taking the bowl of potatoes from Brent and thrusting them at
Barry angrily.
Barry took the bowl of potatoes and wisely said nothing. He knew once
Brenda was on a roll there was no stopping her. That was what made her one
of the top fund-raisers and most called upon volunteers in Crestview
Heights. Besides, this was a sensitive topic, not one that he wanted to
discuss with her in front of the boys. That James was gay he'd known for
some time but it was going to come as a big surprise to his wife, and that
was going to be enough for her to handle without her worrying what the boys
would think when they were told their uncle was gay. As for his sons, they
were a bit young yet to be in on such discussions, especially Bobby and
Benny, and considering what he knew of the boys' experimentation with same
sex relationships, he didn't want them to get confused and to begin
worrying about their own sexual identity. The rest of their supper was
spent in silence.
Assuring their parents they had their homework done, the boys were given
permission to go on the net after supper. They gathered around the family
computer and anxiously connected with their Hotmail account. Typical of
their openness with each other, they'd never seen a reason to have separate
accounts. As they'd hoped, there was an email from Giovanni.
"Guess what," began the message. "My dad and your uncle are going to get
married, in a real church! In California where there's a church that will
marry two guys.
Isn't that fucking awesome? Dad and your Uncle told me this afternoon.
They were sortta nervous about it. I can't want for the ceremony."
"So, Uncle James is getting married after all, just not to a girl," Brett
said with relief.
"And to Giovanni's dad! Fucking wicked!" said Brent and the boys
high-fived.
"So Giovanni's gonna be at the wedding and not us?" asked Bobby as he
read over Benny's shoulder.
"Yeah. I guess so."
"That's not fair."
"Yeah. That really sucks. We're the ones who got them together."
"Yeah. If we didn't have those tickets to Dream Street we'd never have
gone to Orlando, and if we hadn't gone to Orlando Uncle James wouldn't have
gone to that fancy restaurant, and we'd never have met Giovanni, and
Giovanni and us wouldn't have arranged for Uncle James and his dad to
accidentally meet at Disney World."
"Right!"
"Well, we'll just have to change their plans!"
"Yeah, us and Mom."
"Let's go talk to her now."
"Right!"
The boys shut off the computer and headed back for the kitchen. Like
their mom, when they made up their minds, they didn't waste any time and
there was no stopping them.
"Gay?"
Well, nothing maybe except for that word. Brett skidded to a stop in the
hallway and his three brothers slammed into him. It was their mother's
voice, and she was not happy. Having been in trouble many times, they knew
the different tones their mother had depending on how serious the trouble
was, and the tone they'd just heard was not a tone you wanted to hear.
"That's right," Barry said.
"So that's what this is all about, this Palm Springs nonsense," Brenda
responded, her voice reflecting her opinion of "this nonsense". It was a
phrase that the boys had heard their grandmother, their mother's mother,
use when discussing things she did not agree with.
The boys looked at each other. They could not recall the last time
they'd heard their mother so distressed. Well, they could. It was a
couple weeks ago when she'd found the pack of cigarettes in the back pocket
of Benny's blue jeans when she'd gone to put them in the wash. She didn't
believe for one moment that they really belonged to a friend. No, on
second thought, it was more recent, last week when one of the parents with
kids in the elementary school had suggested they ban the Harry Potter books
from being read at school because they dealt with wizards and
witchcraft. She'd had some choice words to say about the intelligence of
book burners when she got home from the PTA meeting that night.
"That's why they're going to Saint Paul Desert Episcopal. It's one of
those churches that performs gay marriages," Barry explained.
"Well, we'll have to put a stop to that," Brenda snapped.
"Dear ," began Barry.
"James will not go sneaking off to Palm Springs to . . . to . . . to
marry some man," snapped Brenda.
"Dear ."
"If he thinks I'm going to be in favour of that, he doesn't know me very
well. That's all I have to say!"
Their mother's voice made it clear that was final, and Barry, and her
sons, knew it. The boys headed to their room. Now was clearly not the
time to be talking to their mother. They were atypically quiet that night,
for obvious reasons. They were totally perplexed, and totally dismayed.
They'd expected their mother to be surprised, but her violent reaction to
the discovery their uncle was gay had been totally unexpected, especially
considering her support of the gay- inclusive scout movement, and their
decision to have a gay Pride day. She was one of the most tolerant adults
they knew, and that was one of her attributes the boys had come to
appreciate. Of course it is easy to be tolerant until it affects you
personally. They could see where a mother might have concerns upon
learning she had a gay brother-in-law, especially when he'd spent some time
alone with her sons. They could also see where marriage could be an issue.
Some people had very firm beliefs that marriage could only be between a man
and a woman, and even those few states who made it legal were constantly
having the law challenged. Women seemed to be particularly sensitive about
marriage stuff.
Even so, for the boys, and especially Brent and Brett, Brenda's
unexpected reaction had an especially devastating effect. If she felt that
strongly about their uncle, what was going to be her reaction when she
found out about them and their boyfriends? The twins had been thinking
about coming out to her, especially after sort of admitting to their dad
they were gay that first night after returning to school in January when
he'd caught them making their version of cheese balls. They'd had doubts,
but now they had even more. As for Benny and Bobby, the two had not really
thought much about whether they were gay or not, but their mother's
comments that night also left the two boys wondering about their sexuality,
and what their mother's reaction would be regardless if they were gay or bi
or just enjoyed sex with guys.
To get their minds off their dilemma and disappointment, the boys
concentrated on Chuck's problem. If there was anything that could occupy
their minds for hours it was thinking about sex and dreaming up sexual
adventures, whether for fun or for revenge.
That Sunday night, however, even scheming how they could find out if
Chuck's teacher was gay and the fun that they and Chucky could have if he
was, could not match their distress over what they'd overheard their mother
saying. Well, at least for half an hour anyway. They were, after all,
healthy red-blooded boys. The plan they came up with was totally
brilliant. Charles thought so when they told him about it as they waited
for the school bus the next morning.
"Hi Mister Blackburn," greeted Bobby, giving their bus driver a huge
grin.
"Great day, huh?"
James Blackburn looked at the twelve-year-old suspiciously. "Yes," he
said hesitantly, wondering what the prankster was up to and making sure
that Bobby didn't touch him as he went by to slap a "kick me" sticker or
something on him. Actually the last sticker had been left on the seat of
his bus so when he stood up a bright pink label reading "kiss here" was
affixed to his backside. Of course he couldn't prove it was one of the
Brewsters, but they couldn't prove it wasn't either. As he pulled out, he
kept one eye on Bobby in the passenger mirror and one eye on the traffic.
Unfortunately he didn't have a third eye and he was so busy wondering what
Bobby was up to he missed his next pickup until everyone began to holler
half a block past the students staring down the street at their bus. Bobby
grinned even wider.
Getting off the bus, Bobby paused to greet Mister West, who was on
morning supervision, with the same huge smile, and with the question as to
why Mister Blackburn might have commented that he'd hoped Mister West had
noticed he'd lost ten pounds on his new diet. Leaving the teacher standing
there thinking there was only one reason the obese bus driver might say
that, and that having to do with an amorous affair that he still could not
explain and that kept resurfacing even though it had been two years, Bobby
gave a gleeful skip. This was starting off to be a great day.
That night as he sat at his desk at home marking papers, Gordon Moore
reached for another peanut butter cookie and picked up the handwritten note
that had accompanied the anonymous gift. "Dear Mister Moore. I no it
isn't teacher appreshiation night yet, but I just wanted to let you know
how much I appreshiate how hard you work so I baked you these peanut butter
cookies. I hope you like peanut butter. An admiring student." The
spelling and grammar weren't the best, but the intention was good,
especially considering the student who had left it. The note wasn't
signed, but he'd had enough practice trying to match unsigned assignments
and test papers with student names that he was pretty certain this
particular note and gift was from Charles Elwood. That wasn't a big
surprise. Charles tended to be on the hyper side, and was often a mischief
maker, but at the same time he was basically a good student with good
intentions.
He yawned and leaned back. It must have been a more arduous day than
he'd realized. He closed his eyes for a second. Maybe it was the tedium
of marking. . . . His body might have needed a short nap, but his mind
kept on as he thought about the marking he had to do, the lessons he had to
plan, and all the activities that were being arranged for the upcoming
Teacher Appreciation Day and Education Week. When he woke up, he couldn't
remember any details, but he knew he'd also dreamed about being visited by
Charles and the Brewster brothers, former students of his. That was not a
big surprise. He'd been thinking of Charles just as he fell asleep, and
anyone who had anything to do with any of the Brewster family could not
help remember them. Besides, all five boys were hot eyecandy that one
could not help thinking about, awake or asleep. He was still thinking
about his dream in class the following afternoon as the students worked on
their multiplication worksheet, wishing he could recall what it had been
about.
"Mister Moore?" Charles asked.
"Yes?" he answered as he snapped out of his day dream.
"Well, you know, like, National Teacher Appreciation Day is coming up,"
he began.
"Yes," Gordon replied with a smile. At the age of nine and ten students
were so obvious.
"Well, me and the guys been talking, and we'd like to give you a day off
that day."
"Oh would you now," he said with a wider smile, knowing where that was
leading. "And while I have a holiday, just what might you boys be doing?"
"Well, it wouldn't be a holiday exactly, just that for a day you wouldn't
have to teach."
"And how would that happen?"
"We'd have some students from the junior and senior high come teach us."
"Oh, really?" Gordon responded, taken by surprise. He had been sure part
of the plan had been that the boys would take a holiday themselves.
"Yeah. You know, you been talking about how its gonna be different when
we go to junior high school, and in health we been talking about how your
body changes, and your attitudes and stuff, when you are a teenager. We
thought it'd be great if some guys from junior high came and talked to us
about stuff like that."
"Well, you know, that's really not a bad idea," Gordon responded, truly
feeling that the idea had a lot of potential. "That's really quite good
actually," he continued as he thought about it. "But a full day might be a
bit much. Let's try for a period."
"Half a day," bartered Charles.
"All right, I'll see what we can do for half a day."
"Thanks, Mister Moore," Charles responded with a huge grin that his
teacher knew was more than just pleasure from being praised. The boy was
up to something. Still, it had been a great idea. Who did students listen
to better than other students? And it was on topic.
A few days later Principal Beeswick called the grade nine boys together
and announced that one of the teachers at the elementary school had sent an
invitation to have a couple grade nine boys speak to his grade four class
on Teacher Appreciation Day about what it was like to be a junior high
student. Of course being grade nine students, nobody was willing to step
forward to volunteer and Dallas Sterns observed just loud enough for
everyone to hear that it was a nerdy thing that someone like Benny would
probably do.
"Sure, I'll volunteer," Benny responded eagerly.
"Thank you, Benny," the principal responded, not really surprised. The
Brewster clan was mischievous and had a wild reputation, but they were not
slackers when it came to volunteering, probably a trait they'd picked up
from their mother. Addressing the rest of the student assembly, he
continued. "Actually, what the letter requested was that we send several
of our student leaders, students who could talk to the elementary boys
about what it takes to be cool in junior high, and what it is like to be a
teenager."
"Oh, in that case, forget Benny," responded Dallas, quickly raising his
hand. "If it's leaders you're looking for there's no question who you
should send, and I accept."
"Right," agreed Ron Wall, his best friend, raising his hand also. "Sign
me up with Dallas."
"Hey, if it's about being cool, look no further," suggested Ryan,
grinning at the rest of the class and glancing over at his buddy Troy, who
also quickly volunteered. The two hockey players glanced about at the rest
of the class, and particularly the girls, hoping they were favourably
impressed.
Benny smiled. He loved it when a plan fell into place. Speaking of
which, over at Crestview Heights High School, Conrad Blackwell and Jason
Smyth-Jones had been called down to the office at that very moment and told
they'd been specifically requested by the grade four teacher at the
elementary school to come over and talk to his class about what was cool
about being a high school student. That they had been selected had not
been a particular surprise, both boys figuring they were among the coolest
in the school, and both knowing their parents' money and position also
bought them a lot of favours. Actually, the request topped off what had
been a remarkably great day. That noon they'd finally done what they'd
been trying to do for months, they'd taped the Brewster twins making a bet
with them about who would score the most baskets in the exhibition
basketball game Monday, May 6, which was arranged to kick off Education
Week, with them having to wear panties the next day if they lost and the
Brewsters having to bring guys to the prom dance the next month if they
lost. At last they had the proof they needed about the betting, and if
they won, they would finally expose the twins for the faggots that they
were!
Benny and his brothers were not the only ones planning events for Teacher
Appreciation Day. Their mother, serving as the President of the Crestview
Heights Parent-Teacher Association, was devoting all her attention and
energy to organizing activities for the Elementary, Junior High, and High
Schools in Crestview Heights. First she began a project in which
elementary students and their parents were to draw special thank you cards
for their teachers, thanking them for some special attribute they had or
for some special thing they had done for the student, and she organized a
committee that would see that for each day for the week each teacher would
receive a little gift from the PTA as part of what they were calling a
survival kit, sparkling stickers for their class on Monday, novelty pencils
on Tuesday, a coupon for a six-inch sub and medium drink at the local
Subway for themselves on Wednesday, and the like.
Junior high students were to bring baking from home and serve before
school coffee, juice and pastries, and she began another committee to
organize students to perform a number of skits and musical selections in a
special assembly in which parents would speak about the contributions of
teachers. To her delight, Bobby and Benny offered to bake peanut butter
cookies, with the help of their older brothers. She was not quite so
pleased when she'd returned home to find not just a couple dozen cookies,
but a dozen sheets of cookies and her kitchen in a total mess. She agreed
with Barry that she should have known better, considering her sons'
tendency to go overboard, and she had to agree also when he said he and the
boys would take care of any excess baking. When it came to sweets, he was
just as bad as his sons. At any rate, the cookies disappeared quickly.
Within the next few days a variety of individuals were surprised to find
anonymous donations of peanut butter cookies arriving at their offices or
their homes, including Mayor Maartens, Superintendent of Schools Al Bell,
the director of the YMCA Lance Cross, and various student leaders at the
high school.
A third committee was to oversee a high school project in which students
were to interview and take photos of the teachers for the local newspaper
and to put on a Teacher Appreciation web site. The biggest plan of all was
to have a fund-raising supper on Teacher Appreciation Day Tuesday the
Seventh of May to kick off the week with students serving the teachers and
having guest speakers and entertainment. That committee she chaired
herself and took up most of her time, but again her sons pitched in offered
to help look after the triplets, who were coming to adore their older
brother and giggled just at the sight of them.
Throughout it all, accustomed to the hectic pace, the four boys kept up
their school work, the twins attended their basketball practices and found
time to spend with their boyfriends, Benny attended his soccer practices
and spent time alone with Justin, and Bobby attended his baseball practices
and spent time with Aaron. All four continued participating in their clubs
and pursuing their hobbies, and, of course, all four managed to spend some
quality time with each other. Between his job and helping his wife,
chauffeuring his boys to their various events, and helping look after the
triplets, Barry was kept busy too. And, he was never so busy as to not
take an interest in his boys, setting aside time to help Benny with his
model building and Bobby with his insect collection, to relax in the family
room with Brett to listen to and discuss America's great trumpet players,
and to disappear with Brent on occasion, the boys assumed, to discuss his
new found pagan interests. So the days passed by and before they knew it
Teacher Appreciation Day arrived.
One o'clock that Tuesday afternoon, Ryan, Troy, Dallas, Ron, Jason and
Conrad showed up at the elementary school in their finest, Tommy Hilfiger
and Ralph Lauren polo shirts, designer cargo pants and zip-offs, Nike and
Roots baseball caps, and top of the line runners. Hair carefully gelled
and combed and underarms given an extra swipe of deodorant, the boys looked
like they were about to go out on a date, not meet with a bunch of nine and
ten year old elementary students. Their egos motivated them to do strange
things, and besides, volunteering for this project certainly was not going
to hurt their school marks. Most important of all, it was guaranteed to
impress the girls, who went all gushy when it came to caring and sensitive
guys. What could be more caring and sensitive then helping a bunch of
snot-nosed grade four students learn what it took to be cool?
The boys had even prepared speeches and for the first period they
explained to the boys in Gordon Moore's class, who had been combined with
the boys in Mrs O'Malley's grade four class for the afternoon while the
girls were receiving a similar presentation from a group of junior and
senior high girls under Mrs O'Malley's supervision, the importance of
looking cool, which brands and styles of clothing were in and which were
out, what cool guys did and didn't do. Dallas being the son of a judge,
and Ron the son of the high school principal, they had figured they were
the logical ones to talk about how to act cool in front of other guys and
nerd things to avoid, and of course how to impress girls. Ryan and Troy
were known by quite a few of the boys as hockey players, so were naturals
to talk about junior high sports and how cool it was to be a jock. Jason
and Conrad had prepared speeches on what they had titled "cool clothes,
cool clubs and other cool clues."
Although they thought they had long speeches prepared, they were done
well before the end of the first period, and as they prepared to answer any
questions the class had, they wondered how they were going to fill the next
three periods. They were, of course, unaware that Charles and the Brewster
brothers had ensured that was not going to be a problem. The initial
questions from the class were predictable, the boys being interested in
what subjects were taught compared to grade four, how hard they were, what
the teachers were like, what the school rules were, and the like.
"So, like does everyone get along, or do you have bullies and stuff at
junior high too?" asked one of the students.
"Oh, everyone pretty much gets along," responded Troy, "though sometimes
guys pick on others. If you're cool you don't get picked on, just if
you're a total geek or a fem." Glancing about the room, he already could
pick out those who were nerds and those who were fems.
"What's a fem?" one of the more innocent boys asked.
"Boys who act like girls," Ryan explained. Several boys snickered as
they glanced at each other, evidently having the name of several of their
classmates in mind.
"So what do they do to kids they don't like?" asked a small boy, a skinny
blond-haired boy that looked like he was used to being picked on.
"The usual stuff, pushing them around, taking their homework, teasing
them," responded Dallas. "A favourite is giving wedgies."
"What's that?"
"Yanking up a guy's underwear so it gets caught up the crack of his
butt," explained Ryan, glancing at the boys' teacher out of the corner of
his eye to see if he was going to get in trouble.
"Do each other so we can see how it's done," suggested Charles.
Ryan looked at his buddies, and then at the teacher for direction.
"That's a good suggestion," the boys' teacher said. "Go ahead."
The six boys had been brought up to always listen to their teacher, and
Ryan and Troy had especially liked Mister Moore when they'd had him as a
teacher as it was. Besides, giving each other wedgies was not that big a
deal. Reaching behind Troy, Ryan slipped his hand down the back of his
pants and yanked up his boxers. Troy did the same Dallas, thereby setting
up a cycle with Dallas yoking Ron who did Jason, who did Conrad who did
Ryan.
"So what kind of underwear is cool in junior high?" asked Charles.
"Boxers," the four junior high boys responded together.
"Or boxer briefs," added Dallas.
"And in high school?"
"The same," responded Jason. Only Charles noticed he and Conrad exchange
glances.
"Does it matter what brand?" asked another student.
"Oh yeah," Troy responded. "They got to be brand names, like Tommy
Hilfiger or Calvin Klein, or Abercrombie and Fitch. You don't want to wear
something cheap like from the bargain basement of J.C. Penny's."
"It true that guys have to strip down to their underwear and wear special
gym shorts every day?"
"That's right."
"Isn't it embarrassing stripping down to your underwear?" one of the boys
asked, and the class giggled.
"You get used to it."
"Besides, it's
just in front of other guys."
"Show us."
"Show you?" asked Dallas, raising his eyebrows in surprise as he looked
at Charles.
"Yeah. Pretend you're in the boys change room getting ready for gym and
show us how you strip down to your underwear," Charles explained.
"You just take off your clothes," Dallas said with a shrug. "You don't
do anything special."
"Even in front of boys of different ages?" asked Charles, glancing of
course at the two high school students.
"Sure," responded Ryan with a shrug. "In hockey we do it all the time."
He glanced over at Troy for confirmation and his buddy nodded.
"So let's see the six of you strip down to your underwear."
"Charles's request is a fair one. Go ahead and show the boys it's no big
deal," Gordon Moore urged, surprised he'd said that the moment the words
were out of his mouth. He always believed in having his students actively
participate in his lessons, and for some reason, he found himself
particularly eager to support Charles's ideas that day. He had a sudden
flashback to the dream he'd had that night he'd fallen asleep marking
papers, something about being impressed with Charles's ideas, but it was
only a momentary flash.
The boys looked at each other. Asking them to show how they took off
their clothes was a dumb request as far as they were concerned, and that
the teacher was actually agreeing with the suggestion they strip down to
their underwear was even dumber, even though Troy and Ryan knew from having
taken grade four from Mister Moore that he was a progressive teacher and
often used student ideas in developing his lessons. The six of them
glanced at Mister Moore now, but he gave no indication that he was about to
change his mind. Even though it was dumb, the six felt compelled to obey
him, and somehow that compulsion was stronger than the obedience expected
of a student when a teacher asked him to do something. The six boys had a
feeling that they'd done this before, or at least that they'd had specific
instructions to obey Mister Moore, even those who'd never had him as a
teacher.
Glancing at each other again, they slowly reached up and began to
unbutton their designer shirts. Self-consciously slipping them off, they
folded them and placed them on the floor beside them. Untying and removing
their runners, they hesitated, hoping Mister Moore would stop them, each of
them not wanting to be the first to take off his pants. Jason and Conrad
had special reason to be praying the boys' teacher would stop them, and
each wondered how the Brewsters could possibly be so lucky as to have made
the bet for this particular day. Knowing they would not be at school for
the afternoon gym classes, they had fulfilled their end of the bet with the
smug knowledge that they had not only trapped the brothers on tape, but had
come through on their end without any danger of being exposed. Who would
have thought in their wildest dreams that they'd be asked to strip in front
of a class of grade four students?
When it was evident that Mister Moore was not about to stop them, each of
the boys self- consciously pulled down his fly and unbuttoned or unsnapped
his pants and slowly pushed them down, Conrad and Jason of course holding
back as they struggled with the humiliation they were about to experience
and the unreasonable eagerness to do whatever the grade four teacher asked
of them. The four junior high boys stared down at the floor as they
stepped out of their trousers, their faces turning red as they stood there
in front of the twenty-eight grade four boys and their teacher in only
their socks and gaunches.
"Well?" Mister Moore asked, raising his eyebrow as he looked at the two
high school students. "The boys from Crestview Junior High have shown
there is nothing embarrassing about stripping down to their underwear in
front of guys younger and older than themselves."
The two boys glanced at each other, the strain showing on their faces.
"Well, really, I ," began Jason.
"If you believe there is nothing embarrassing about stripping down to
your underwear in front of other boys then drop your trousers," he said
encouragingly but firmly. He believed it should not be embarrassing to
strip down to one's underwear, or even further. He especially appreciated
the beauty of the bodies of teen and preteen boys. Most of all though, he
had this deep compulsion to support Charles Elwood.
Jason and Conrad slowly pushed down their trousers, revealing the panties
they'd "borrowed" from their mothers' dresser. The two handsome
sixteen-year-old grade eleven students stood there in frilly pastel panties
with dainty embroidery, their faces fire-engine red as Mister Moore and the
four junior high students stared at them in surprise, and the twenty-eight
grade four students giggled and snickered. None of them, well none except
the well-informed next door neighbour of the Brewsters, had heard of boys
wearing panties, and even the most fem of their classmates certainly was
not that much of a girl. For all six boys standing there with their pants
lowered each minute that passed by seemed like an hour.
"Show us your pit hair," requested Charles finally, having seen that Ron
and the two high school students had underarm hair.
Ron's hair had only recently begun to grow and Ron was actually proud of
the fact he was one of the few grade nine boys who had begun to get pit
hair, along with a few fine hairs on his upper lip. He readily raised his
arms and showed off the fine, silky hairs growing in the hollow of his
arms. Conrad and Jason did likewise, hoping their thick bushes would help
offset the humiliation of being caught wearing panties. The only saving
grace of that was that none of their high school classmates were present to
witness this latest humiliation.
"You guys got girlfriends?" asked Charles.
The four junior high boys grinned as they glanced at each other,
remembering how they'd felt about girls when then were nine and ten years
old. That had certainly changed. "Yeah, we do," Ryan responded for all
six of them. He and Rochelle had been an item now for three months, as
were Troy and Eliza. Ron and Dallas had only moved in over the summer so
didn't have anyone specific they were seeing, but both had taken out Ashley
Whitford. Of course with her big headlights so'd every other boy in grade
nine unless he was such a nerd or a fem that he didn't like girls or a girl
wouldn't be caught dead with them. Jason and Conrad, having had special
reason to prove their masculinity and that they were straight with the
persistent rumour that they were gay cross dressers and lovers, reinforced
every few months by incidents like this afternoon, had dated a variety of
girls over the school year.
"I imagine good-looking boys like you six have a lot of girl friends,"
Gordon Moore observed, knowing that girls was one of the top things on a
boy's mind in grade nine and grade eleven. He could also see how
embarrassed they were, and figured the comment would at least help boost
their self image.
"Well, yeah," Ron said with a shrug and a satisfied leer, pleased by the
complement as the thirty-eight-year-old teacher suspected he and the others
might be. They were good-looking boys and there were a number of girls who
found them attractive.
"Well, I don't like girls," one of the boys in the back of the room
observed.
"Yeah, girls are dweebs," one of his friends commented in support.
"You'll like girls. Just wait," Troy advised knowingly.
"No way. Never," the boy responded, and several of his classmates nodded
in agreement.
"So, like, you and your girlfriends kiss and stuff?" asked Charles.
The boys, those in the class and their six guests, glanced at Mister
Moore to see if he had any objection to the question. He evidently didn't.
To grade four the question was racy, though for the six teens it was a
logical question to ask.
"Well, yeah, sure," Troy responded.
"Show us how to kiss," requested Charles.
"Well, there's no girls here or we would," Troy replied. This kid and
his "show us" was starting to get him and the others annoyed.
"Three of you can act like you're the girls," suggested Charles.
"Yuucck!" responded one of his classmates. Whether he was responding to
the idea of acting like a girl, or of two boys kissing Gordon Moore didn't
know, but the latter thought was causing a stirring in the grade four
teacher's trousers.
"We don't wanna look like nerds our first time," pressed Charles. "It'd
be way cool if you'd show us how."
The six teenagers could not believe the suggestion. By the time they'd
approached the end of grade four they'd known what fags were. That was the
worse insult a guy could hurl at another guy. They also had a bit of an
idea what fags did, and one of the things they did was kiss each other. So
it was either that the kid was a totally ignorant nerd, or the kid was
having a bit of fun at their expense. Which they were not sure. Chuckling
uncomfortably, they looked at the boys' teacher for help, expecting him to
finally intervene. There was no way he'd agree to what the kid had just
asked them to do.
"I think that's an excellent idea. Being in junior and senior high isn't
just about wearing the right clothes," Gordon Moore said. "Go ahead, show
the boys how cool junior and senior high boys kiss." He knew the position
he'd just put the six teenagers in, and he felt a twinge of guilt as a
teacher and as a responsible adult for doing so. That guilt, however, was
easily overridden by other factors. He'd frequently heard his students
insult each other by calling each other fags in the hallway and on the
playground, and he'd reprimanded them whenever he knew who the culprits
were, not just because he was gay, but because it was improper to use
sexual orientation as an insult. In a small way, having these six boys
kiss each other in front of the class would show them the tenderness that
boys can express toward each other, even if it was under the guise of
pretending to be with a girl. Even if just seeing two boys kiss made one
of them think twice next time he was tempted to call another boy a fag it
would be worth it. Certainly another reason was that seeing the
good-looking teenagers locked in a kiss would be erotic. The third, and
most compelling reason though, was because Charles had asked them to, and
he felt honour- bound to support whatever Charles suggested for some
mysterious reason that was impossible for him to ignore.
The boys glanced at Gordon Moore unbelievingly, and then at each other in
dismay. Surely the boys' teacher knew about fags and the disgust they'd
feel kissing each other, even if it was just an act, never mind the
embarrassment.
"Go ahead boys," Gordon Moore prompted, his voice taking on the firm,
teacher tone.
They did not want to do this. Of everything they'd been asked to do so
far, this was the worst. They knew it was just to show the boys watching
how to kiss, and they did want to impress them with their sophistication in
such matters, but kiss another guy? That was revolting. Of course they
did want to teach the boys how to act cool, and they did feel an obligation
to obey Mister Moore, even the boys who'd never had him as a teacher.
Giving in to that strangely strong sense of obligation, and rationalizing
that they were just demonstrating how to kiss, they hesitantly turned and
faced each other, the six of them standing there with their pants about
their ankles. They would pretend to be the guy and the other person would
have to pretend to be the girl. Awkwardly putting their arms about each
other, taking several tries to decide whose arms were above the other's
just like they still did when they initiated a kiss with their girlfriends,
they gave each other a quick peck on the cheek and pulled apart before they
gagged.
They were not surprised when Charles next asked them to kiss on the
mouths like guys and girls, nor were they surprised to hear his teacher's
support. As weird as the situation was, by then they had caught on.
Wanting to get it over with, they reluctantly but obediently wrapped their
arms about each other and kissed on the lips, making sure they did so long
enough that they wouldn't be asked to do it again, and each wondering if
their best friend actually liked it keeping the embrace so long. The four
boys, standing there in their boxers, and the two in their panties, stared
down at the floor as they felt their faces begin to pink again.
"What does necking mean?" asked Charles.
The six teenagers were beginning to hate this kid. "Well," replied
Jason, reluctant but determined to move things along as fast as he could,
"it means kissing, and hugging and caressing, stuff like that."
"You ever touch your girlfriend's boobs?" asked one of the students from
Mrs O'Malley's class, glancing over at Mister Moore fearfully and preparing
himself for the reprimand. To his relief, there was none.
"Yeah, I have," smiled Ryan, thinking of the times he'd done so with
Eliza Decore, and answering more for the benefit of his buddies and the two
high school students than the snot- noses all squirming and giggling with
each question.
"Your girlfriend have big boobs?" asked Charles.
This time for sure everyone expected the thirty-eight-year-old teacher to
put a stop to the questions, but to their surprise he still did nothing.
"Yeah," Ryan responded. Eliza Decore did. As he thought about them, he
immediately felt a response in his boxers, and he immediately dropped the
thought, but once started, the thought was not going to go away so easily,
and each time it came back his dick swelled that much more. He could not
believe this! Of course the thought of getting a boner in front of the
bunch of little kids while standing there in his boxers with his pants
about his ankles made his dick swell still more.
"What does a girl's boobs feel like?" asked another of the students as
the group of boys realized that their teacher was giving them far more
range than they'd ever had before in their sex education and health
classes, and like all nine and ten year olds, deciding to push their luck
as far as they could. They'd all thought he was a good teacher before that
day, and that assessment was increasing with each minute. This was going
to be a wicked afternoon!
"Soft, warm, nice," Ryan responded weakly, his dick beginning to rise up.
"What about the rest of you guys? You like to neck with girls?" a third
student asked.
The five boys nodded uncomfortably, each of them having a similar problem
as Ryan though not as advanced.
"Your boxers are starting to stick out," Charles observed, and the class
of boys giggled as the six teenagers turned redder. There was no question
this kid was a major pain. "It true that when older guys think about girls
it makes their dicks get bigger?"
The boys nodded again as their boxers began to tent and their faces began
to turn so red their ears were hot. It was embarrassing enough for that to
happen when they had their pants on, never mind standing there in their
boxers, and in front of a teacher and a bunch of snot-nosed elementary
boys.
"Take down your boxers and show us," requested Charles.
No way! The six teenagers and the class of boys glanced at Mister Moore,
the six with dread and the rest with hopes exceeding anything they'd ever
hoped before.
"That's a good request, Charles."
"It is?" the six teenagers asked, their hearts sinking. This had to be
all a dream, or more appropriately, a nightmare. No way could this be
happening for real. As for the elementary students, they were beside
themselves with excitement.
"Of course it is," the boys' teacher responded. "Boys this age," he
said, gesturing at the class, "should know that what's happening to you is
perfectly normal and nothing to be afraid of. Go ahead and show the boys."
He did believe that boys as young as grade four should know about
erections, and that getting erections was a normal part of being a boy.
Many had older brothers that they were bound to accidentally discover in
that condition, and for some even possibly their dads. He also knew deep
down that having the six boys drop their underwear and show the class their
swollen dicks was considered wrong by most adults, and he was bewildered
that he'd told the boys to do it. He was even more bewildered by this
compulsion to agree with whatever Charles asked, which was the driving
force behind his comments. Certainly what the six teens were about to do
was going far beyond even his own most secret and wildest desires.
The six teenagers were also bewildered. They could not believe they'd
been told to drop their underwear, and they could believe even less the
insane obedience that was making them do whatever the teacher okayed. Each
of them fought the compulsion, but it was too strong. One by one the boys
pushed down their underwear, boxers and panties, revealing their erect
dicks. Nothing could be more humiliating.
"They all got hairs," one of the boys giggled, resulting in snickers and
giggles from the others.
"And boners," snickered another, causing the entire class to titter.
Several squirmed in their seats, having the same problem as the six
teenagers, the difference being that for those sitting it was still a
strange and bewildering event.
"How do you get them soft again?" asked Charles, his young soprano voice
full of innocence.
"Good question, Charles. Who would like to answer?" Gordon asked, as if
the question was as innocent as asking the right stance for serving a ball
on the volleyball court. The words had come out of his mouth before he
even had time to consider what he was saying.
"Well, it will go soft on its own," responded Ron with an edge to his
voice. He had never been so embarrassed in his life, nor so angry, and it
was his anger that he was focussing on as he answered. Only a pervert
would allow things to go this far, a fag pervert. When he told his dad
what he'd been forced to do he'd have this perv teacher fired. Gays had no
right to be teachers where they could prey on young boys and push their gay
agenda. He'd heard his dad himself say that, and his dad was a school
principal so he knew about that sort of thing.
"That what you usually do to get it soft?"
Ron turned even brighter red, along with his buddies. No way was he
answering that.
"Charles asked you a question," Gordon found his voice saying as he
fought for control. It was as if he was possessed, or hypnotised, though
he knew a person could not be hypnotized to do something he didn't want to
do. He couldn't possibly want the boys to suffer such embarrassment, could
he? Gordon shook his head. He had to end this! Still, no matter how hard
he tried, he could not tell the boys to do something that was contrary to
what Charles Elwood had asked them to do.
Ron stared at the teacher in equal disbelief. He opened his mouth to
object. His lips quivered and he wished he could shrink and totally
disappear as his lips formed a circle and he knew what he was about to say.
"No, that's not what I usually do," the hapless teenager found himself
saying. He closed his eyes and prayed. 'Please don't ask me what I
usually do. Please!' he said silently.
"What do you usually do?" Charles pressed.
Ron had been taught right from kindergarten to obey his teachers. His
dad was a principal after all. He knew that didn't apply to answering
questions like this, but he felt a strong compulsion to do what this
teacher asked, and he knew this teacher was going to support whatever his
students thought up. He tensed as he fought the response that had formed
in his mind and was demanding to be voiced. His lips trembled. He
couldn't admit that. Not before his best buddy, and the two boys who were
becoming close friends, and the two high school students, especially not
before them. They'd think he was a total looser. He couldn't admit it
before a teacher. Not before a class of twenty-eight grade four students.
"I . . . I . . . well . . . I masturbate," he whispered, wishing he would
die.
"Show us how you do that."
No! Fuck no! The snot-nosed brat had voiced the request before he even
thought of the kid asking it. Show us how you do that! That phrase was
going to haunt him forever, him and his friends. Ron found his hand slowly
reaching for his erect cock. He fought it, thinking of the movies where a
guy had been possessed and his hand had its own mind. That was what this
was! He immediately thought of Benny's brother and his brother's goth
friend. Everyone said the two worshipped the devil.
This had to be the reason. That weirdo with the black lipstick and the
nose studs and barbells and lip piercing had to have cursed him. Probably
because of something he'd said to Benny. Ron was so engrossed in his
thoughts he was not even aware that he'd grasped his swollen dick and was
slowly pumping his fist up and down the length.
"I think it'd be cool if Jason and Conrad showed us how two boys can jerk
each other," suggested Charles.
"Good idea, Charles," Gordon responded predictably. Boys often jerked
each other off as they experimented with sex in junior high, sometimes even
in elementary school, and teenagers often jerked each other off to satisfy
those hormonal urges when there were no girls available to do the job. It
would be good for these boys to see there was nothing wrong with two boys
satisfying their urges. More and more Charles's ideas were seeming so
valid. "Go ahead boys."
Jason and Conrad had by then come to the same conclusion Ron had. There
could be no other explanation, and now that they thought about it, it did
seem to them this kid hung around the Brewsters a lot. They had to be
hexed. There could be no other reason why they were reaching for each
other's cocks. Like Ron, each stared at his hand as if his hand had a mind
of its own. Jason stared in disbelief at his fingers as they wrapped about
Conrad's dick, and as his best buddy wrapped his fingers around his own
throbbing cock. It felt so different holding onto another boy's boner, and
so different having someone else's hand grasping his throbbing cock instead
of his own. The two boys stared as they slowly began pumping their fists
up and down the length of each other's swollen dick.
"Is there another way a guy can make his dick go soft?" asked Charles,
looking at Dallas.
"Well, yeah, he can, well, you know, do it with a girl," Dallas replied
without thinking as he stared at his best buddy jerking himself off, and at
the two high school boys jerking each other. They'd reached for each other
rather quickly as far as he was concerned, but then what would you expect
from two boys who wore panties for fucksake!
"Suppose she doesn't want to screw?"
"She could jack him off," he responded, his cock jerking with desire as
he stared at Ron's blood-engorged cock.
"Anything else?" Charles pressed.
"Well, some girls will take it up their butt."
"A guy's dick?" asked one of the boys in surprise.
"Yes."
"Ewwww," several of them said and they all made faces as they looked at
each other.
"Any of you guys ever have anything stuck up your butt?" asked Charles,
knowing the answer, along with several others who'd been at the 7-11 six
weeks ago when the two hockey players had their pants pulled down to reveal
they had rubber plugs stuck up their asses.
"Yeah," Ryan and Troy responded, knowing that they could not deny it
"Show us you're a ," began Charles, and the two boys turned and bending
over with their backs to the class, pulled apart their cheeks to reveal
their assholes, knowing that was what he was going to ask, and knowing his
weirdo fag teacher would not just agree, but express what a wonderful idea
it was.
"Looks like they're itching to have something shoved up them," observed
Charles, and his classmates snickered.
"Not my dick," said one of the boys, the class having gotten totally out
of control and the boys now saying whatever came to their minds much to
their teacher's dismay, though it was not a surprise considering the
leniency he'd allowed.
"Let's see how many pieces of chalk we can stick up their bums,"
suggested Charles, having been coached to make the suggestion by Benny in
preparation for this day.
One by one the boys in the class stepped forward and taking a stick of
chalk from their teacher, eased it into the butthole of one of the boys,
leaving just the tip stuck out. The two boys stood there haplessly and let
it happen. Each time a new piece of chalk was slid up into their rectums
their dicks jerked with arousal, to the amusement of the line of nine and
ten year olds and to their total embarrassment. By this time few of the
preteens were still soft, and their tiny dicks bulged out their tight blue
jeans. Fourteen sticks each later, their buttholes were stretched open an
inch-and-a-half.
Again after Charles's suggestion, the two teenagers began to twist the
bundle of chalk and to work it in and out of their buttholes. Despite
their humiliation, the two boys were finding the anal stimulation highly
erotic. Gordon Moore could not help but notice the look in their eyes, and
he wondered just what experience the two boys had. He also envisioned
something other than fourteen pieces of chalk stuck up their smooth,
attractive butts, and that something throbbed hotly in his trousers.
"There any other way a girl can get a guy's dick soft?" Charles asked
Dallas, the only boy left standing there and not messing around in some
way.
He thought for a moment. "She could suck it," he replied with a sinking
feeling in his stomach.
"I think Ron should suck yours to show us how that's done," said Charles.
Everything was happening exactly as his heros had said it would, and
Charles smiled as he looked from one teenager to the next. The Brewster
brothers were totally awesome, and he knew after this afternoon his
reputation among his classmates was going to be wicked too.
Dallas felt at least partially relieved that he was not going to be the
one doing the sucking, though having his cock sucked by another guy in
front of a bunch of guys was only slightly better. The two boys looked at
each other, their eyes wide in disbelief and silently begging forgiveness
for what was about to happen. Even that perverted suggestion the boys'
teacher supported, and despite their feelings of repugnance and
humiliation, the two teens could not resist obeying. As Ron dropped to his
knees and took his best buddy's stiff cock in his mouth, he continued to
jerk himself. Slipping his lips down the length of Dallas's shaft, he
sucked on it gently as he eased his lips back up. Dallas, despite the
embarrassment, quivered with the pleasure of having his erect cock
surrounded by a hot, moist mouth, even if it was a guy's.
Again upon Charles's suggestion, Mister Moore called the boys up row by
row to watch the three pairs of teens more closely. All of them, even the
nerdiest, had ranging boners themselves as they crowded around and watched
the six teenagers, Troy and Ryan bent over and working the chalk in and out
of their holes, Ron pounding his dick while he sucked on Dallas's, and
Jason and Conrad stroking each other. Gordon was painfully stiff himself,
something more than a few of his students noticed, who of course with
snickers and nods and winks, proceeded to let the rest of the class know.
As the boys approached their climaxes, Charles again suggested they
gather around to watch, and so with the class forming a two person deep
circle around the six teenagers, the group of nine and ten year olds
watched intently and more than just a few watched in total surprise as the
six boys came, five of them spurting out their seed onto to classroom
floor, and Dallas spurting his in Ron's mouth. They all knew about sperm
from their sex education classes, and several, Charles included, had seen
sperm before, but those select few were the exceptions.
Most of the class stood there pop-eyed and with raging bones as they
stared at the creamy white fluid spurting out of the dicks of the five boys
and landing on the floor, and the cum of the sixth oozing out from the
corners of the mouth of his buddy. Reading about sperm in a textbook and
actually seeing what it looked like, and seeing it come squirting out of a
guy, were totally different things. Several of the boys could not resist
reaching down and squeezing their own stiff dicks and giving them a few
quick pulls as they stared at the swollen, blood-engorged cocks of the six
teens throbbing out their juices.
The six teens stood there, their dicks still stiff and now dripping with
cum, and their faces blushing a bright red. They knew it was the first cum
most of the boys in the room had ever seen, and something that a few of
them had not even realized could be produced without a girl. As they
stared down at the classroom floor even their ears were red with
embarrassment. Long pendants of cum hung from several of the cocks, and
the tips of the others had the final bubble of creamy juice clinging to the
opening. The six teens inhaled and exhaled deeply as they continued to
stare down at the floor, unable to look up into the faces of the awestruck
youngsters.
Second and third periods had gone by amazingly fast. There being forty
minutes left, Charles once again took the lead and suggested that the six
teenagers apply their skills to the boys in the class to show them first
hand what it was like, and to satisfy the evident desires bulging out the
blue jeans and shorts of the preteen boys. Totally defeated and just
wanting the afternoon to end, the six teenagers slipped off their shoes,
stepped out of their trousers and underwear, and removed their socks upon
Charles's suggestion. Totally naked, they dropped to their hands and knees
and six of the more daring grade four boys pulled down their flies and
stepping in front of the six teens pushed down their blue jeans and
underwear. Their slender, stiff cocklets all jutted up in the air above
their tiny hairless balls like misplaced thumbs, half of them being fully
skinned and half circumcised. The six teenagers opened their mouths and
slipped them over the six young, tender dicks. As one the six grade four
youngsters tensed with the delightful and awesome experience of having
their young dicks surrounded by hot, moist mouths. In the past they had
heard guys telling other guys to suck their dicks as an insult, and several
of them had even said it themselves. In the future, some of them would be
making it an invitation, not expressing an insult.
As the group of teens began to suck on the smooth, throbbing dicks of the
six grade four boys, many of whom were still awed by the experience of
having a boner never mind having it sucked, four others pushed down their
jeans and underwear and dropped to their knees to place the tip their
slender dicks against the four exposed buttholes not stuffed with chalk.
They were small enough that they did not need any lubrication, and the four
boys similarly quivered with the sensation of having hot, moist flesh
surrounding their tiny organs as they sank their three and four inch
dicklets up the rectums of the four teenage boys until their smooth pubes
were pushing against the naked buttocks of their partners.
Gordon Moore did not know which way to look as ten of his young students
engaged in their first sexual experience. It was so hot seeing the six
teenage boys on their hands and knees working their lips up and down the
slender, pink erections of the flushed and awed elementary boys, and to see
the four nine-year-olds grasping the backsides of four of the teens as they
thrust their hips to and fro, driving their dicklets in and out of the
boys' hot, moist rectums. He'd seen the look of concentration in the eyes
of many of them as they'd struggled with mathematics problems and absent
mindedly pressed their tongues between their lips. They had the same look
now as they concentrated on what was happening to them or they were doing,
and on the unique pleasure rippling through their aroused flesh, right down
to the tongues clamped between their lips in some cases. It was not long
before the friction had developed an itch that had to be satisfied at all
costs and the four boys fucking ass for the first time began to bang the
teenagers with an urgency like they'd never felt before as the six boys
getting sucked began to squirm with the same need.
Faster and faster they pumped their hips and they squirmed more and more
as the strange, unfamiliar tension built up in their loins. They became
tenser and tenser as they sought satisfaction for the itch surrounding
their tender dickheads. Fear and awe of the unknown combined with the
acute pleasure they were feeling, a pleasure that was building up stronger
and stronger between their legs. Finally one by one each of the first ten
boys trembled and shook with his dry orgasm, for nine of them their first
such experience. They bucked uncontrollably and gasped as if in pain, and
for many their first powerful orgasm was akin to pain, a sweet pain they
would seek many times in the future. Ripples of pleasure passed up their
stiff poles, the foreskins now drawn tight so the blood-engorged flesh
looked like little pink sausages. The look of awe and of ecstasy on the
faces of the ten preteens Gordon Moore would cherish for a long time.
Finally the boys withdrew their dicks from the grasping mouths and tightly
clenched buttholes.
As the ten boys stepped back, the next ten boys stepped forward, each of
them eager for satisfaction. Many of the first ten left their pants down
and they played with their still stiff dicklets as they watched their
classmates being serviced. As they watched their buddies thrusting their
hips to and fro in the first fuck of their lives, and as they saw their
buddies' eyelids droop and their tongues lick their rosy lips as they
quivered with the sensation of having their dicklets sucked off for the
first time, they recalled the intense pleasure they had felt.
Finally the last eight boys stepped forward. Having watched twenty of
their classmates getting sucked off or fucking ass, they were eager to
discover that pleasure that had made their buddies quiver and moan with
such ecstasy. Like the twenty boys before them, most were unprepared for
the exquisite pleasure that rippled through their loins as they worked
toward the first orgasms of their young lives. Like their classmates as
they reached that peak they lost all control of their bodies and they
quivered and quaked as their young dicks burned with fire and their bodies
were raked with the ultimate pleasure a male can know. Some, including
Charles, had already discovered that delight, but that did not make their
experience any less powerful.
Watching his students, and those of his colleague's class, jerking and
trembling with the first orgasms of their lives was so hot the
thirty-eight-year-old teacher was leaking pre-cum big time. His thick,
seven-and-a-half inch sausage throbbed hotly in his white jockey briefs,
and he could no longer hold back. Pulling down his fly and unbuckling his
belt, he unsnapped his trousers and let them fall to his ankles. His
students glanced at each other and exchanged grins. They watched their
favourite teacher with anticipation as he slipped his fingers under the
elastic band of his underwear and pushed them down. His thick, massive
cock stuck out from his body above his hairy balls and below a thick patch
of hairs. The knob was a deep purplish colour and was dripping with
pre-cum he was so aroused from having seen two dozen young, virgin boys
getting off for the first time in their lives.
Of course he had no way of knowing how many, if any, of his students, who
even at their young age, had already discovered the joys of gay sex, but he
knew from his personal experience that there had to be at least a handful
who had experimented with other boys. With only eight boys having sought
satisfaction that third round, two of the guest students, sixteen-year-old
Jason Smyth-Jones and fourteen-year-old Troy Kholler, had been left with
idle mouths, the boys who'd paired up with them having preferred to try ass
fucking. Gordon Moore now stepped up to the two teenagers, who were
kneeling side by side. Having already sucked off two preteens, the two
boys hesitated for only a moment when Gordon presented himself to them, not
because they were eager to suck him off, but because they knew they were
not going to have any choice.
The teacher had an exceptionally large dick, and compared to those of his
students it seemed even larger. As Jason began to lick the man's hairy
balls and to suck one and then the other into his mouth, Troy began to lick
the knob of his erect member, and was rewarded with a fresh flow of pre-cum
as he ran his tongue over the opening. After the sex-laden afternoon, it
took less than two minutes for the thirty-eight-year-old teacher to blast,
to the cheers of his students. Rope after rope of thick, creamy cum shot
from his dick, some of it landing in Troy's mouth, some of it spraying the
fourteen-year-old's face, and some landing on the classroom floor. He'd
never felt so horny and had never shot such a violent load in all his life.
With thirty-four sweaty, randy students and one teacher crowded in the
stuffy room, and with thirty-five hot, pulsating dicks, seven of them
having shot off a load, the still air in the classroom smelled of cock and
hot, sweating boys. This was going to be a day to remember. They all
knelt, stood or sat there in and on their desks in a daze as they sucked in
the lust-laden air until Mister Moore noticed that there was less than five
minutes left to the period. As the six teenagers quickly got dressed,
Mister Moore and his students pulled up their underwear and trousers and
the class returned to their seats.
After thanking the six boys for coming over to talk to his students and
dismissing his class, Gordon Moore headed down the hallway still in a daze.
He could not believe what had happened that afternoon. It had been a dream
come true no, it was even wilder than anything he could have ever dreamed
up. The upcoming teacher reception over at the YMCA in a few hours paled
in comparison to the events that had occurred in his classroom. Nothing
could ever possibly match what had happened. As he headed across the
parking lot to his car, the images of his young charges and the six teens
engaged in a hot orgy vivid in his mind, little did he realize how wrong he
was about the upcoming evening.
Dallas, Ron, Jason and Conrad had immediately headed home for showers.
After an afternoon of messing around with other guys they felt filthy,
physically and mentally. Besides, in a couple hours they were expected to
be helping out at the reception for teachers, and they all smelled like
dick. Having it shoved in their mouths and up their asses, that was no
surprise.
Troy and Ryan had the same intention, but they could not wait to get home
to get rid of the chalk still stuck up their assholes. What they did not
know as they stepped into the back alley a few blocks from the school was
that they were being followed. One of their classmates had been told if he
followed the boys as they left the elementary school he'd see something
interesting, and he, of course, had told a couple buddies, who had told a
couple others. Now as the two fourteen-year-old hockey players squatted
behind a dumpster with their trousers and underwear about their ankles and
reached behind themselves to pull out the pieces of chalk protruding from
their buttholes, there suddenly appeared around them a dozen of their
classmates. They squatted there staring up at their teammates and friends
in disbelief, and the dozen boys stared back down at them totally
speechless. They would not be speechless for long. By the time everyone
gathered at the YMCA that evening, what they'd seen would be common
knowledge. There would no longer be any doubt that the two hockey players
had a thing for getting their asses stuffed, and, apparently, together.
Of course there were twenty-eight grade four students who already knew
that, and who knew about the panty-wearing high school students, and a lot
of other things. They could hardly be expected to keep the afternoon a
secret, and it would only be a matter of time before older brothers
overhead what had happened and would spread the news about their six
special guests. Now very much aware of the pleasure that their wieners
could provide them, those twenty-eight students would be seeking that
pleasure again, alone in their beds, during sleep overs with best buddies,
and in tree forts and park bushes and wherever else they could find some
privacy. Charles, already considered a hero for initiating much of what
had happened that afternoon at school, was going to be considered even
greater a hero once his classmates learned about the cam recorder he'd
installed in his classroom for the afternoon with the help of the Brewster
brothers.
Two hours later Gordon Moore arrived at the YMCA where the Crestview
Heights teachers were being treated to a reception in their honour. A
number of his colleagues greeted him, remarking on the happy smiles of his
students and the laughter and enthusiastic buzz they'd heard coming from
his room that afternoon, and observing that next year they'd have to try an
activity such as he'd had. The experienced and popular teacher just
smiled, and wondered what his colleagues would say if they knew what had
really happened in his room that afternoon. As one of the student servers
came by with a plate of cheese wedges and crackers and another with a tray
of wine, he pictured the gaggle of naked boys quivering in awe with their
first orgasms in the front of his classroom only a few hours ago. It was
going to be difficult focussing on the speeches that evening considering
the more pleasant thoughts he had to dwell on.
Recalling the opening of the YMCA on President's Day just over a year
ago, several of the honoured guests who would be speaking later chose to
refrain from the complementary drinks in fear of a repeat of the
embarrassing situations they'd found themselves in when they had to stand
up and speak back then. They never had been able to figure out why they'd
suddenly had to piss so badly, nor why they'd found themselves sporting
erections that would not go down. At any rate, it had been an evening they
had recalled and an incident they'd feared repeating every time they had
been asked to speak ever since.
Mayor Anthony Maartens was one of those who was called upon to speak
frequently and who recalled very well the embarrassment of having an
obvious erection while speaking to the crowd on that opening day. So while
the junior and senior high students circulated with trays of snacks, wine
or punch as the adults mingled and talked, he chose to resist the
temptation of eating or drinking anything that might cause it to happen
again. There was one influence, however, that he could not avoid.
Although he was married and had two sons, Mayor Maartens had a roving eye.
It was common knowledge that he had a mistress, and that he fancied himself
quite a lady's man, an attitude that he had evidently passed on to his
older son. At the moment he was talking to Martha Owen, the Chairwoman of
the School Board, a married woman of forty with three children and
humongous boobs which he could not keep his eyes off of. He'd always been
a breast man, and for the past two weeks for some reason he'd become
totally fascinated and distracted by thoughts of the buxom matron.
Someone who was new at this speaking business was Matt Collins, the
seventeen-year-old captain of the football team. He had been asked to
speak in praise of the teachers on behalf of those students involved in
extracurricular sporting events, and had been sent a complementary box of
peanut butter cookies, which he thought a strange incentive but which he
had readily consumed. Like the mayor, the six-foot-four, muscular athlete
had also found himself having strange and compelling thoughts these past
two weeks. In his case, he could not stop thinking about sweaty armpits
not just thinking about them, but getting totally turned on by the thoughts
of them.
That was what he was thinking about at that very moment David Tateson,
the basketball captain, walked by in his basketball strip carrying a tray
of wine glasses above his head. Catching a whiff of his musky underarm
deodorant, he felt an immediate urge to stick his nose in David's hairy
pits. Unable to resist, he turned and followed the tall, lanky teenager,
inhaling deeply and thrilling with the scent of his deodorant. He would
have followed him all over the gym had not the Superintendent of Schools,
Albert Bell, stopped him for another glass of wine. The superintendent was
in the middle of a conversation with James Forsythe, the CEO of Forsythe
Enterprises and a very influential individual in the community, Lance
Cross, the twenty-nine-year- old athlete and youth worker who managed the
YMCA facility and was also going to be speaking, and portly Charlie
Winsloe, President of the American Legion and chairman of the YMCA Board.
Each of the men exchanged their empty wine glasses for full ones, except
for Lance, who like the mayor, had boned up on the night the YMCA opened
and was refraining from drinking and eating at least until the speeches
were over, and Matt had to move off. It would have been suspicious if he'd
just hung around David sniffing.
Each of the four men were finding themselves similarly distracted that
evening, and over the past couple weeks, Albert Bell and Lance Cross, who
were also recipients of complementary peanut butter cookies, had found
themselves victims of strange and compelling thoughts. As much as he tried
to concentrate on their conversation, Superintendent Bell found all he
could think about was Lance Cross's hot buns, and being a straight man all
his life and married for half of it, he could not fathom why that would be
other than for the past two weeks he'd been unable to keep his eyes and
thoughts off the butts of every young man he crossed paths with. He knew
some men became depressed when they reached the big five zero, and some
began flirting with younger women to affirm their youth and masculinity,
but he'd never heard of someone reaching the age of fifty suddenly having a
fixation on the butts of young men. Still, that was the only significant
event in the recent past that he could think of that could be a cause of
those most unusual compulsive thoughts.
Lance, who was also as straight as they could come, was at the same time,
stealing overt glances at young Cole Bentley standing nearby talking to his
father, and imagining the youth, who anyone who was in the know knew was
gay, on his knees sucking his dick, little realizing that at that very same
moment Charlie Winsloe standing beside him was stealing glances at Cole's
bubble butt and imagining fucking it. Of course for the portly bisexual
President of the American Legion and present Chairman of the YMCA Board,
thoughts of fucking tight butts of handsome young men, teens, and even
preteens was nothing unusual.
For Lance however, although thoughts about having sex with guys did
occasionally arise, they were of a much different nature. Also, those
thoughts had only begun shortly after the first annual Crestview Heights
Gay Pride Day where he'd found himself nibbling and licking cream pie off
the crotch of the junior high school physical education teacher, Mike
Harris. There was no doubt in his mind that the teacher had come in his
thong while he'd been licking the pie off his crotch. That was disturbing
enough, but even more disturbing, was that he had creamed his trousers at
the same time. How he could have been turned on by an obvious and
perverted simulation of a queer act had perturbed him ever since. It had
been so disturbing that he'd made a concerted effort to date and to make
out with as many women as he could since then to prove to himself that he
was straight. Being handsome, athletic and outgoing, he'd had little
trouble getting dates, or making out for that matter, and he'd finally only
recently put the memory of the Gay Pride pie eating contest to rest. So,
understandably, the sudden emergence of these thoughts about the gay Cole
Bentley a couple weeks ago had been particularly disturbing.
Unaware of Lance's concerns, James Forsythe was stealing glances at
Martha Owen and envying Mayor Maartens, who was blatantly looking down her
low-cut dress at her boobs. Like the mayor, he had a mistress on the side
and was known to frequent the local brothel, and he also considered himself
a lady's man. Preferring women who had a bit of meat on their bones, as he
put it, he found the matronly Chairwoman particularly attractive. Spending
a night in the sack with her and showing her what a night with a real man
was like would certainly be a far more pleasant way to spend the evening
than at still another social gathering filled with boring speeches and
inane talk. Such daydreams were common stuff for the businessman who found
himself at a lot of social gatherings filled with boring speeches and inane
talk.
Spotting David Tateson heading to the kitchen with the tray of empty wine
glasses, Matt quickly caught up to him and followed him into the kitchen.
As David waited for them to load the tray with full glasses, Matt slipped
up beside him and bending over as if examining something on the floor,
inhaled deeply.
"Oh man, it sure is hot in here," he observed.
"Yeah, it is," David said. It was hot in the kitchen, and even though
the building was new, the air conditioning was having a difficult time
handing the circulation of air with the exceptionally large crowd of people
in the main gymnasium. At least wearing basketball strip, he and his
teammates were not going to be as hot as Matt, who like his teammates, was
wearing his green and gold Crestview Heights High School football uniform.
Even without all the protective padding, it had to be hot in his heavy
football jersey.
"Must be hot carrying those trays around," Matt said pointedly. "Don't
your arms get sore carrying them over your head?"
"Hey, I'm a basketball player, you forget? I'm used to having my hands
above my head," David observed with a grin as he raised his hands in the
air.
Matt could not resist the temptation. He quickly reached out and ran the
tips of his fingers under David's right armpit and then the left. His fine
silky hairs were just barely damp. "You're beginning to sweat."
"Yeah, a little," David said, taken aback by the football player's
action.
"I don't smell, do I?"
"No," replied Matt after a moment, his mind obviously somewhere else.
His tray ready, David picked it up and headed back to the main gymnasium.
As he circulated about the crowd, he thought about the strange incident
with Matt.
If they'd been close buddies his actions might have made a bit more
sense, but they hardly knew each other. He bowed his head and tried to
sniff at his armpits. He hoped they weren't beginning to stink. Matt hung
back meanwhile, and raising his fingertips to his nose, inhaled deeply.
The fragrance of David's deodorant caused his dick to swell in his tight
football breeches. He inhaled again, deeply. Was there the faintest hint
of the smell of sweat under that musk?
Mayor Maartens' oldest son, Danny, who was Student's Union president that
year, was also going to be speaking in praise of the teachers, and so like
Matt had not been expected to serve. If anyone had been paying close
attention, they would have noticed the high school preppie and aspiring
young politician was spending an exorbitant amount of time near
nineteen-year-old Cole Bentley. For the past two weeks he'd been unable to
get Cole out of his mind, which was strange considering they were not
friends, and that knowing Cole was gay, were never going to be friends.
Danny, like his father, thought he was God's gift to women, and the
handsome, five-foot- ten teenager with his blond, gelled and highlighted
hair, long fine eyelashes and dark black eyebrows, had no difficulty
attracting members of the opposite sex. He also thought that anyone who
was gay was a misfit and should be shipped out of the country.
His biggest fear was that some girl might find out about his incidences
with members of his own sex on Bastille Day and on Gay Pride Day. Neither
had been of his own choosing, having been brought off inside his uniform on
the Bastille float by his nemesis, the Brewster brothers, and having had to
fuck Conrad Blackwell up the ass to pay a bet to the Brewsters on Gay Pride
Day, but the disturbing fact remained that he'd gotten hard, and gotten
off, with members of his own sex, not just once, but twice. He was adamant
that there was no way that he could be gay, but if that was so, why had he
gotten hard in those two incidences? That had troubled him, and that
lately he'd been having dreams about Cole and waking up with an erection,
and had been unable to get him off his mind during the day, intensified
those troubled feelings.
Cole had noticed the handsome American-Dutch boy glancing covertly at him
of course, the nineteen-year-old having an eye for any hot looking male,
even if he was straight and had a reputation with the girls. He knew from
personal experience that there were many straight men, including many
husbands and fathers, who liked to slip their dicks up a guy's ass. The
son of the mayor would be quite a catch, not just because of his societal
position, but even more so because he was a hot-looking stud. So would
Lance Cross, whom he'd noticed giving him the eye too. He'd had his eye on
Lance ever since he'd moved to the community, and although there had been
no indication the twenty-nine-year-old would be interested in having a gay
experience, there was no indication that he wouldn't consider a one-time
stand either. Cole had seen him working out in the gym at the YMCA, and he
had one hell of a great-looking body. Cole, while not fat, had inherited
from his father's side the propensity to be on the chubby side, and he both
envied and was turned on by anyone with a muscular build, even if they were
ten years his senior.
Speaking of chubby, Cole had also noticed Charlie Winsloe giving him the
eye. He knew the portly, fifty-four-year-old grandfather was bi, and in
fact Charlie had first fucked his butt during that wild Veteran's Day
Celebration a year and a half ago, and a couple times after that in the
bushes along the gay stroll in Murray Park. Although Charlie was far from
his preferred sexual partner, Cole Bentley could not turn down anyone who
had the same plumbing as he did. Clearly, on this particular evening, he
was not the only one who had the hots. The sophomore theology student
didn't know what was making everyone so horny that night, but in that a
number of them were clearly interested in him, he certainly was not
complaining.
James Forsythe Junior and Jon Weiss, a grade eleven honour student who
had more academic awards than anyone else in the school, were two other
individuals who were feeling particularly horny that night. Jon, a
good-looking clean-cut seventeen-year-old who was presently going out with
Della Sterns, the daughter of the new judge, was doing his best to
concentrate on the speech he was going to be giving but he was finding new
and weird thoughts that had entered his mind lately impossible to ignore,
especially when in the presence of James. James was similarly finding it
difficult to ignore the thoughts that had been plaguing him these past
couple weeks, especially now in the presence of Jon. What neither boy
knew, and what bewildered both of them, was that they'd been having nightly
wet dreams about each other over the past several weeks.
Jon, who had been interested only in girls up until two weeks ago,
figured it had to be the result of his raging hormones and the stress of
studying, combined with the lack of any sexual outlet besides his right
hand. Jon was still a virgin, and he figured probably the only one left in
the school, and possibly the entire state, well, besides Della Sterns. He
knew the teenage body and the human mind operated in strange ways. How the
brain worked had actually been one of his science fair projects back in
junior high. James, on the other hand, was certain the Brewster brothers
had something to do with his current problem, but he could not recall
anything that had happened in the past two weeks that could possibly tie
his present obsession with Jon Weiss to them. In fact it had been a
remarkably boring month with the only unusual thing happening being a box
of peanut butter cookies being mailed specifically to him. That, he'd
figured, could have come from several different girls he'd taken out that
month, and in that he was playing the field, he couldn't very well come out
and ask each one of them without rasing their suspicions and endangering
his current popularity.
It seemed the only one who wasn't distracted at the moment was Brenda
Brewster, who was checking up on everyone to make sure everything was going
smoothly, from the kitchen help who was preparing the trays of cheese and
cracker snacks and pouring the wine and punch, to the students doing the
serving, to the volunteers who were preparing the food for the evening
banquet, to the special guests who would be speaking that night. Her four
sons and their best friends were helping her with the arrangements of
course, and at the same time keeping an eye on those to whom the brothers
had delivered special anonymous packages of peanut butter cookies laced
with sleeping pills, and whom they'd visited later on to implant some
post-hypnotic suggestions, strengthened by Brent's spell book. They were
pleased to see that others whom they'd figured didn't need the extra little
help were performing true to form. As the four boys and their best pals
passed each other, they grinned and high-fived. They loved it when a plan
came together.
Brenda finally began ushering everyone to their places. The student and
adult speakers were seated at the head table on the left side of the stage
where other students would be serving them along with the teachers of
Crestview Heights Elementary, Junior, and Senior High schools who were
seated along the right and left sides of the gym. The parents and the rest
of the community, who were sitting in the middle, lined up at the buffet
tables to help themselves.
Mayor Maartens made sure he was sitting beside Martha Owen where he could
keep a good eye on her boobs. James Forsythe, along with his wife and son,
sat at one of the tables closest to the head table where he could keep an
eye on Martha Owen's boobs also, something which was obvious to not just
his wife and son but most of those around him despite his efforts to be
discrete. The mayor's wife and his youngest son, fourteen-year-old Eric, a
month away from his fifteenth birthday, joined them along with Blake
Whitford, another prominent businessman, his wife Arlene, and his
fourteen-year-old daughter Ashley. Unbeknownst by anyone else at the
table, Ashley had been one of the girls who'd fallen victim to the Brewster
brother's subliminal message prank on Boxing Day a year and a half ago, and
Eric had been one of those boys who'd watched her frigging herself in the
change booth. As she sat down beside him, Eric thought about that as he
stole a discrete glance at her huge breasts bulging out her sweater and he
felt his dick stir in his pants. When Ashley smiled at him he was sure he
was going to flood his boxers right then and there!
Matt Collins had watched where David Tateson had sat with his parents and
as he sat beside Martha Owen and waited to be served, he made no effort to
be discrete as he stared at the handsome teen basketball player and
repeatedly brought his fingertips to his nose until the delightful aroma of
David's pits had worn off. As they placed his plate of food before him, he
didn't even notice. He had to find a way to get a good whiff of those
enticing pits so conveniently exposed by David's basketball tank top. He
could think of nothing else, and just the thought had his cock aching.
Sitting beside Matt was Superintendent Albert Bell, who had purposefully
chosen the seat after Lance Cross had sat down in the next seat. As he
covertly eyed the handsome young man and tried to figure out what the hell
had come over him, Lance searched the room for Cole, and spotting him and
his parents, the Reverend and Mrs Bentley, he felt himself becoming aroused
as he thought about having sex with him, and wondered too why he was having
such persistent and perverted thoughts. Charlie Winsloe had no such
problem as he and his wife sat down with Cole and his parents, the portly
businessman choosing the seat beside Cole so he could perhaps cop a feel or
at least give the young man's leg an occasional squeeze even though his
wife was sitting beside him.
Danny Maartens was sitting next to Lance at the head table, and he too
had not noticed much of anything going on around him as he sat there
dreaming about Cole and what he'd like to do with him. Finally unable to
stand it any longer, he excused himself and snuck away to the men's showers
and locker room, leaving his food barely touched, a sure sign of problems
for any teenage boy. Feeling guilty but eager with anticipation also, he
quickly removed the combination lock from his locker and opening the door,
removed the special package he'd left there upon arriving at the YMCA that
evening. Last weekend he'd invited Cole to the YMCA to play a few games of
handball, and when they'd headed for the showers afterward he purposefully
forgot to remove his watch. Heading back to the locker while Cole had
headed on to the showers, he'd transferred Cole's jock strap from his
locker to his own just as he'd dreamed doing a week earlier.
He now brought the prize to his nose and inhaled deeply. It had been a
week, but he could still smell the musky fragrance of Cole's sweaty balls
in the cup. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply and as his cock began to
swell he reached down with his other hand and squeezed it. The wealthy,
conceited playboy, God's gift to womankind, could not believe how hot he
was feeling as he stood there in his nine hundred dollar Hugo Boss
ice-blue-on-navy pinstripe suit and new peach-coloured two hundred dollar
Eton shirt, his nose buried in the soiled cup as he stroked his rapidly
growing cock through his new suit pants.
Matt Collins could no longer just sit there either. Excusing himself, he
headed straight over to David's table. Telling David that he was nervous
about his speech, he asked if he'd mind going somewhere to listen to it.
He had, of course, decided where that would be before he'd excused himself:
the men's change room. It was the logical place. Nobody would have a
reason to go there that evening so he wouldn't have to worry about being
caught, and besides, it was an appropriate setting for what he really had
in mind.
To their surprise, they found Danny Maartens standing there by the
lockers looking very guilty and very flushed. Having heard the door
opening, he'd had just enough time to shove the jock strap he was sniffing
in the inside pocket of his designer suit. Thinking quickly, he explained
that he'd come down to the lockers to recite his speech, figuring he'd have
privacy. That delighted Matt in that it gave his excuse for going to the
lockers to practice his speech credence. Although he didn't really want
to, Matt offered to leave, but Danny said that he was done and quickly
headed for the door, hoping to escape before his two classmates noticed the
bulge in his trousers. His departure further delighted Matt. Taking his
cue card out of his pocket, he began to read his speech, but with David's
sweaty armpit foremost on his mind, and having it there within his reach,
he found even reading his speech difficult.
"Man, you are nervous," David observed.
"Yeah, I really am," Matt admitted. He was nervous, though not about the
same thing as David was thinking.
"When I'm nervous about shooting a basket, I breathe real deep and slow
and concentrate on the basket to calm myself," he advised. "What do you do
when you play football?"
Matt was about to tell him when an idea came to his mind. It was crazy,
but he was desperate. "I concentrate on the sweatiest guy on the team," he
said.
"Really?" asked David, surprised by the unusual answer.
"Yeah," admitted Matt. "On his armpits actually. There is nothing that
brings a guy back to reality and makes him concentrate than the smell of a
sweaty armpit."
"Really?" the lanky basketball player repeated, raising an eyebrow. He
supposed that was true. A sweaty armpit certainly did catch your
attention. He suddenly wondered if Matt was trying to tell him something,
like he had BO or something.
"Yeah. Would you mind?"
"Mind?"
"Doing two dozen pushups and letting me smell your pits."
"You're serious."
"Yeah."
"Well," David said uncertainly. "If you think it will help, I suppose I
can. This isn't one of those bloopers and practical jokes things like you
see on TV is it?"
"No," replied Matt. "I'm serious."
With a shrug of the shoulders, David dropped to the floor and began doing
pushups. Grateful that this wasn't about his personal hygiene, it was the
least he could do to help a fellow athlete. For a teenager in his physical
condition, two dozen pushups was not a difficult thing and when he was done
he was barely panting. As he sat on the change bench, Matt squatted down
to his left and leaning forward, inhaled deeply. David's pit smelled much
more like sweat than deodorant now, and Matt was delighted. He inhaled
deeply several more times and finally dared to nuzzle the damp, hairy pit.
David was so surprised he said nothing, and receiving no objection, Matt
pressed his nose into David's pit and inhaled deeply. Matt's cock was
swelling rapidly and he sighed and closed his eyes as he delighted in the
rank odour of David's hairy pit. David sat there in his gym strip staring
at the football jock, also in full uniform, in disbelief as Matt burrowed
his nose deeper in his pit. This was totally unbelievable. As his
seven-inch cock throbbed hotly in his tight football pants, Matt also found
what he was doing impossible to believe. Even more impossible to believe
was how hot he was feeling.
Meanwhile back in the main gym, Superintendent Bell had fought the
compulsion to innocently and gently rub Lance's thigh with the back of his
hand for as long as he could, and having received no objection when he'd
"accidentally" brushed his hand against Lance's thigh, he rubbed his leg up
against Lance's. Still receiving no objection, he dared to slip off his
shoe and run his foot up under Lance's pant leg. He stared down at his
plate, unable to summon the courage to look Lance in the eye. Lance at
that moment was having no difficulty giving Cole the eye, and Cole grinned
as he pushed back his chair and turned slightly so Lance could see his
crotch as he suggestively ran his hand along his right thigh. Feeling
Albert Bell's toe easing up and down his leg, Lance imagined that it was
Cole's toe as he looked across the gym at the attractively plump,
effeminate-looking nineteen-year-old. He could not believe he was doing
this, and he could not believed how horny it was making him feel. At the
same time Charlie Winsloe dared to reach over and place his hand on Cole's
other thigh, having mistaken his action as a sign to him. Cole, accustomed
to being ogled by men, playfully flirted with Lance while he let Charlie
stroke his thigh under the table, all the while engaging his totally
unsuspecting mother and father in conversation.
Having wolfed down his meal, Jon Weiss caught the eye of James Forsythe
Junior, which was not hard to do considering James had been watching him
from the moment he'd taken his seat, and nodded toward the door before
getting up and heading in that direction. James eagerly got up and
followed him, somehow feeling like a puppet on a string. Actually, it was
a reasonable feeling considering he seemed to have no control over his
feelings or his actions lately.
"Wassup?" James asked as they stepped into the hallway.
"Me," replied Jon, taking the seventeen-year-old boy's hand and placing
it on the bulge in his suit pants.
"So I see," James responded as he squeezed the bulge, a combination of
guilt and arousal sweeping over him.
"I need you," Jon breathed deeply. "I need you bad." He did, and he'd
decided as he'd watched James during the meal that there was no point
denying his strange and totally unexpected desire. James had appeared to
be having the same feelings about him, and Jon had decided that if he came
out and satisfied his maddening lust perhaps he would get it out of his
system and be able to return to normal.
"Let's go to the can," James suggested, wanting it also, and also wanting
it over with.
Stepping into the farthest stall, Jon wasted no time dropping his suit
pants and his boxers, and James just as eagerly squatted down behind him
and began to rim his butt just like the two had dreamed doing two weeks
ago. For some strange reason James had a momentary flash of peanut butter
cookies as he licked Jon's crack, and of hearing voices. It only lasted a
moment. As he resumed running his tongue up and down the crevice between
James's butt cheeks, he could not believe how erotic it was, and his dick
sprang to attention. Jon's dick was rapidly swelling too as he felt
James's hot, moist tongue running up and down his crack, and then darting
at his asshole. He'd had no idea the seventeen-year-old lapping at his ass
was gay, but he had to be to be licking his asshole so eagerly. Nor had he
had any idea that getting your ass licked and your asshole sucked could be
so enjoyable. What was going on in his head was a total surprise and a
mystery, but he was not about to suggest they stop. At that point James
could not have been stopped even if he'd wanted to. He fastened his mouth
against Jon's pucker and began to blow his spittle up the teenager's ass as
he reached down and groped his boner through his trousers and imagined
shoving it up Jon's rectum.
Back in the gym, James's father and Mayor Maartens also had boners, and
the two men cautiously slipped their hands under the table and groped
themselves as they thought about Martha Owens. As the high school band
marched in and up onto the right side of the stage to commence the short
entertainment program, the two men shuffled their positions in pretense
they were watching the band while in reality they were adjusting the bulges
in their trousers. Ever so slowly and discretely, Anthony Maartens pulled
down his fly and slipped his hand inside his trousers and his boxers to
stroke his swollen dick, all the while wishing he could be fondling Martha
Owens' boobs with the other. To his surprise, a few moments later he felt
a slender, soft hand push his aside and slipping into the fly of his
trousers, begin to fondle his dick through his boxers. He looked at Martha
in surprise, and then with a large smile, and she smiled coyly back at him.
Women simply could not resist him! Meanwhile, under the table, Benny
squeezed the mayor's cock through his boxers and tugged on it, the
fourteen-year-old having slipped under the table while everyone had been
distracted by the entry of the band.
Having heard the band entering, Matt Collins and David Tateson had
reluctantly headed back to the gym, but neither sweating, lusting teen was
going to be content to sit and listen to half an hour of dumb musical
recitals, poetry readings by the elementary school, and a reader's theatre
skit by the junior high. Instead, the two horny students slipped behind
the curtains at the back of the stage and resumed what they'd been doing in
the change room. Both were throbbing hotly and aching to release a load.
Wrapping his arms about David, Matt bent over and began to lick and suck on
the basketball captain's pits. The two jocks quivered with arousal and
their dicks leaked the first drops of pre-cum as their gonads took over for
their brains.
At the same time, Albert Bell reached around and placed his hand on Lance
Cross's butt, giving in to the urges and thoughts that had been plaguing
him for the past two weeks. Convinced that his atypical behaviour was the
result of having turned fifty, he'd decided if he gave in to his impulses
he'd be so repulsed by actually doing what his mind had been dreaming that
it would shock him back to reality. When Lance made no objection, he began
to slowly massage the twenty-nine-year-old's backside with his hand as he
continued to rub his leg against Lance's. He was rewarded with a hot hand
being placed on his thigh, and then slowly stealing up to his crotch, where
it slowly and carefully pulled down his fly. Instead of repulsion, Albert
Bell found his lust quickly increasing.
Slipping his hand inside the man's trousers, Lance encountered a very
hard and very hot cylinder, the product of Albert's lust. If someone had
told him a month ago that he'd be sitting at a head table at a reception
honouring teachers squeezing the Superintendent of Schools' erect cock
while fantasizing about making out with the town's gay whore, he'd have
told them they had to be taking crack. He could not explain this absurd
and totally out-of-character behaviour, but it was too strong to fight, and
although he was repulsed by what he was doing and thinking, he had never
felt so turned on in his life. It was the weirdest combination of feelings
he'd ever felt. He had to wonder if the stress of his new job as director
of the YMCA was causing him to have some strange type of mental breakdown.
As the band left and the elementary students took their place up on the
stage, Cole Bentley stepped out for a leak and Charlie Winsloe quickly
followed. Stepping up to the urinals beside the young man, the portly
businessman eyed the boy's dick as he pulled out his own, and certain Cole
had purposefully gone to the washroom in the hopes he would follow, he
began to reach out for the boy's cock. Before he had a chance to take it
in his hand, Danny Maartens came in, and to his disappointment, stepped up
on the other side of Cole and pulled down his fly. Not having to take a
piss himself, Charlie had no choice but to tuck his dick away and step
back. Returning to his seat, he pulled his chair up close to the table and
reaching under it, he began to slowly and carefully rub himself as he
thought of Cole, keeping an eye on his wife and Cole's parents in case they
became suspicious.
Danny, of course, had seen Cole leave, and like Charlie, had assumed Cole
had headed to the washroom in the hopes he would join him. The moment
Charlie had left, Cole had reached over and slipped his fingers about
Danny's semierect dick, but he'd barely given it half a dozen tugs when the
two were interrupted by a sudden rush of men taking advantage of the break
to relieve their bladders. Disappointed, the two boys headed back to the
gym, but feeling too horny to be content to return to their seats to listen
to the entertainment, they decided on the spur of the moment to slip behind
the curtains at the back of the stage for a bit of dick fun, unaware of
course that Matt and David were already there. The two jocks were so hot
and so close to reaching an orgasm that they didn't even notice they'd been
joined.
Seeing the captain of the football team with his nose shoved up the
armpit of the captain of the basketball team, and the two jocks obviously
fully erect, Danny and Cole simultaneously reached for each other's flies
and pulled them down. Slipping their fingers inside each other's trousers
and through the fly of each other's boxers, they cupped each other's sweaty
balls and played with them as they wrapped their left arms about each other
and drew each other close. Slipping their fingers about each other's
semierect dick, they withdrew each other's organ and began to fiddle with
each other. Danny struggled with his emotions and the thoughts running
through his mind, trying to justify why he was feeling so horny and why he
was playing with another guy's prick, and why he was deriving such pleasure
having a guy messing with his privates. Why it was feeling so good was no
mystery to Cole. What he couldn't figure was what had made the mayor's
sixteen-year-old son so randy. By this time Matt and David had noticed
they'd been joined behind the curtains of course, but knowing Cole's
reputation, they had not been that surprised and had returned to what they
were doing.
Of course Jon and James had immediately stopped what they were doing the
moment they'd heard the washroom door open, and the two boys had stood
there completely motionless as they strained to hear what was happing
outside their cubicle. If they were caught together in the stall, the
entire school would know by morning, and they would never be able to show
their faces in Crestview Heights Senior High again. Their hearts now
pounding in their chests out of fear rather than lust, it seemed like
forever before they heard the door close the final time. After waiting a
bit longer and hearing nothing, Jon stood on his toes and carefully peaked
over the door of the stall. Seeing nobody, he quickly opened the door and
he and James made a hasty exit from the washroom.
Despite their fear and having almost been caught together, the two boys
were still feeling randy as hell, and were desperate to satisfy the lust
that was driving them mad. Out of sheer desperation, and having nowhere
else to go, the two boys daringly slipped under the head table while
everyone's attention was focussed on the junior high drama club as the
students began their skit. Jon eagerly pushed down his trousers and boxers
and James slipped his finger up Jon's spit- filled butt and began to finger
fuck him as he stroked Jon's dick with his other hand. As everyone laughed
at the antics of the drama club, James pushed down his pants and underwear
and replaced his finger with his stiff, aching dick. Driven by pure lust,
he began to hump Jon in a desperate attempt to satisfy the desire burning
in his loins, and Jon constricted and relaxed his sphincter in time with
his thrusts.
Meanwhile, behind the curtains, Danny had given in to his desires and was
passionately returning Cole's kisses as the two boys jerked each other off.
Danny had no idea why he was behaving so, but he knew he'd never felt so
horny in his life and that he had to get off a load. Only feet away from
the two boys, Matt Colins was snorting and panting like a pig as he licked
David Tateson's armpit and delighted in its sweaty fragrance. His lust
throbbed in his loins, and as he buried his nose in David's sweaty pit, he
felt his balls constrict and he creamed his boxers. He shuddered and
inhaled deeply as he felt his load spurt out of his cock and spread over
his stomach and down over his groin. Seconds later Danny and Cole shot off
in each other's hands, spraying each other's trousers in their lust. At
the same time, James Forsythe grasped his partner under the table and Jon
Weiss felt him shooting his load up his rectum as the junior high drama
club bowed and the audience clapped their appreciation.
Unaware of all the sex action going on around her, Brenda thanked the
entertainers for their performance and called upon the mayor for his
opening comments. Benny had by that time slipped back out from under the
table, but not before taking out his scout knife and snapping off the tab
of the mayor's fly. The man had desperately reached down to pull up his
fly as Brenda had begun to speak, and had found to his dismay that he was
not able to. Praying for the best, he stood and headed for the podium.
Meanwhile Danny had hastily tucked his still dripping dick back in his
pants and had dashed from behind the curtains and headed for his seat, his
cum running down his leg, as David, sweaty and dishevelled and looking like
he'd been rolling on the floor, slipped out from under the table and took
his seat.
Glancing down as he stepped up to the podium, Mayor Maartens began to
flush as he saw his gaping fly below his ample stomach, his striped boxers
clearly visible in the opening. Of course those at the closest tables had
clearly seen his problem as he'd headed for the podium, including his wife
and his younger son, who had quickly glanced over at Ashley. From the look
on her face he wanted to crawl under the table and never show his face for
the rest of the evening. How could his dad!
As he began to speak, Mayor Maartens felt his erection slowly moving
inside his boxers, slipping closer and closer to the opening, and there was
absolutely nothing he could do to stop it other than to reach down, and
that would only draw everyone's attention to his crotch. As he felt his
knob begin to peak through the opening of the fly of his boxers, he
suddenly cut his opening remarks off, and quickly dropping his hands to
hold his program in front of his crotch and turning beat red, he beat a
hasty retreat to his seat, his dickhead now poking out his fly to see where
they were headed.
Even though he'd acted quickly and had covered himself, Brenda had seen
everything, as had her boys who had turned as red as the mayor in their
efforts to stop from laughing. Several others had caught a glimpse of the
mayor's pride and joy, including the reporter for the Crestview Heights
Senior High School student newspaper and the editor of the local weekly who
was particularly amused considering his Worship's frequent complaint that
the newspaper was not giving him enough exposure. His son Eric was as red
as his father and totally devastated, embarrassed for his father but even
more concerned about the ribbing he was going to get at school and the
humiliation of looking girls in the eye knowing they'd seen his father's
dick peaking out of his boxers. Anthony Maartens' older son sitting up at
the head table with him was embarrassed for his father too, but at the
moment was more concerned about his own problem. Having reached down to
ensure his own fly was secure, he'd discovered a very large, slimy wet spot
on the leg his navy blue suit pants, and although he'd shot off his load,
he was still sporting an erection that had no signs of going down.
Another individual who was very much aware of his Worship's shame was the
Chairwoman of the Board of Education who was called upon to speak next.
Flustered by what she'd seen, and by the obvious amorous attentions of both
the Mayor and James Forsythe, she suddenly found her mind had gone blank.
Well, not exactly blank, but what image she did have certainly had nothing
to do with what she'd been prepared to say. Being the type of woman who'd
made love to only one man all her life, her husband, and that under the
sheets and in the dark, the sight of the Mayor's erect penis poking out of
his boxers had been particularly unnerving. Being an experienced speaker,
she was able to make up a new speech on the spot, but that one was much
shorter than the one she'd prepared.
Brenda called upon Matt Collins next and the football captain got up
slowly and stepped forward to speak on behalf of all jocks. He walked
awkwardly, as if he'd pulled a ham string or something, his cum-soaked
boxers feeling markedly wet and markedly cold. He was a handsome, muscular
youth, the type of boy a mother and father would be proud of and high
school girls had day dreams about, all of whom would be shocked had they
known what he'd just done with a fellow jock behind the stage curtains. He
looked particularly smart in his football kit, or at least he would
have. At the moment his hair was mussed and his face was flushed a bright
red and streaked with sweat as if he'd just stepped off the football field.
His green and gold jersey was dishevelled, and his tight white football
breeches clearly revealed a long cylindrical bulge down his right pant leg.
When you are sporting a seven-inch erection, it is not an easy thing to
hide when wearing a pair of tight football pants. It was one thing to be
well hung and have people notice, but from the length and width of this
particular bulge you would have to be naive to think it was in its normal
state. Being seen with a boner was bad enough, but his tight white
breeches were also sporting a large stain at the end of the bulge, and
that, as far as everyone was concerned, could only be one thing.
While Matt spoke, Superintendent Bell did everything he could to get rid
of his erection, concentrating on the boy's words, and when that did not
work, on every unpleasant thing he could think of, from boring Board
meetings to dealings with angry parents and obnoxious government officials.
It did not work, and as he stood, his dick was still tenting out his
trousers. Not only that, but he had a large pre-cum stain at the end of
the bulge that many assumed in their embarrassment for him was a salad
dressing stain, except of course the Brewster brothers, who began a whisper
chain what it really was. Following right after Matt, the truth was easily
believed, and there was more than one person who wondered if the
Superintendent had been turned on by the evident arousal of the high school
boy who'd spoken before him. That was certainly a concern that would find
its way to the trustees before the next meeting of the Board.
Lance Cross was the next to speak, and as he stood with his erection
jutting out his trousers, he thought back to his embarrassment of having
been in the same condition the night he'd MC'd the opening of the YMCA. At
least this time his parents were not in the audience. What he did not
realize was that this time in groping his ass, Albert Bell had pulled out
the back of his boxers and tucked in his shirt so that his boxers were not
only showing, but had become uncomfortably wedged up his crack. When he
realized later how he'd looked, he could have died of mortification.
His embarrassment was nothing compared to that of Danny Maartens however.
First, his dripping cock had oozed out a dribble of cum down his leg that
was embarrassingly cold and wet and that had soaked into the fine fabric of
his suit pants. Second, the outside of his expensive Hugo Boss
ice-blue-on-navy pinstripe suit and new peach-coloured two hundred dollar
Eton shirt had been sprayed by his and Cole's explosions. The colour of
his suit and his shirt made the stains particularly visible. Worst of all,
however, was that upon stepping up to the podium, he'd reached into the
inside pocket of his expensive designer suit jacket for his speech on
behalf of the Student's Union, and in retrieving it, had watched helplessly
as a used, unwashed jock strap fell at his feet. The gym was deadly
silent, and as Danny nervously read his speech nobody was paying the
slightest attention to it, and he knew it. Those who had been embarrassed
for him because they'd thought he'd slopped his dinner all over himself,
were now twittering with amusement that what he'd slopped all over his
shirt and pants was not dinner, and while half mused about the jock strap
being his own, the other half was wondering who his boyfriend was. His kid
brother sitting next to the stage was so red he was glowing, and Danny
could only imagine what his father was thinking, not that his father had
any room to talk. As for his mother, he'd never be able to look her in the
face again. This was not a good night for the Maartens family.
Honour student Jon Weiss was the last speaker to step up to the podium,
his hair dishevelled, his suit rumpled, and the back of his trousers
hopelessly glued to his butt. His asshole felt shockingly wet and
shockingly empty as he stood there in front of his teachers and his fellow
students. As he began to speak, he felt James's spittle and cum slowly
oozing out his butthole and down his leg, making it impossible to remember
what he'd memorized, and making him sound like an idiot, which was even
more embarrassing than his appearance. He nervously reached up to the
bridge of his glasses and pushed them back up his nose as he inhaled
nervously. The smell of James Forsythe's balls and cock on his fingertips
was the final straw and Jon stood there helplessly before his teachers, his
classmates, and his parents as his nuts constricted and he shot his load in
his boxers. More than just a few boys and men in the audience knew from
the look in his eyes and the whimper in his voice as he concluded his
speech what had just happened. Certainly the Brewster brothers and their
best friends knew, and they were so delighted at how their plan had
unfolded that they were giddy. Jon slowly backed up and crab-walked back
to his seat, keeping his backside to the curtains in the back of the stage.
He had never felt so embarrassed in all his life.
As people began to mix and mingle in the social that followed, those on
the stage made a hasty retreat to the washrooms to clean up. The Maartens
and Forsythe families disappeared as fast as was politically correct, and
Matt Collins, David Tateson, and Jon Weiss encouraged their parents to
leave as soon as possible. The boys were relieved that their compulsive
behaviour seemed to be over, but disturbed by how hot they had felt that
evening. They had a lot to think about, their masculinity and how they
were going to face each other at school the next day being at the top of
the list. Lance Cross, Charlie Winsloe, Martha Owen, and Albert Bell all
stayed to mingle, each waiting until they were home to satisfy their needs
individually and manually, and for some to finally put an end to their
obsessive thoughts. Cole Bentley left ahead of his parents, but did not
arrive home that night.
Parents and students visited with each other and paused by the teacher
tables to express their appreciation. As honoured guests the teachers felt
obligated to stay and mingled with each other and with the parents and
students long into the night. All approached Brenda Brewster and
congratulated her on still another successful fundraiser and entertaining
evening. As she protested that it was really the work of many, Gordon
Moore found himself being surrounded by a group of his present and former
students.
"Hi, Mister Moore," greeted Charles with a wide grin. "Great evening,
huh?"
"Yes, it is."
"Was a great afternoon too," Charles said with an even wider grin.
"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it," his teacher responded, realizing now
that the rush of the afternoon was over that his students probably would be
talking about that afternoon for many days to come. He could not blame
them.
"Oh yeah, it was wicked," said Kenny, Charles's redheaded, freckle-faced
classmate and best buddy.
"That's why we come to see you," continued Charles.
"Oh?"
"We'd like to thank you."
"Well, you're welcome."
"I mean, we'd like to thank you special," said Charles, emphasizing the
word "special" and raising his eyebrows meaningfully.
"Somewhere else," added Bobby who had joined Charles and Kenny along with
his brother Benny, his best buddy twelve-year-old Aaron, and Benny's
classmate and best friend, Justin.
"I see," responded Gordon, looking at one bright-eyed boy to the next and
wondering if they meant what he was thinking.
As if reading his mind, Charles took his hand and began to lead him out
of the gym. Although he knew that he shouldn't be going with the boys even
though he could not be sure of their intentions, Gordon Moore found himself
going anyway. It was not because he felt any compulsion to do so, his
strange urge to do whatever Charles suggested seeming to have finally
disappeared. It was much simpler he found it impossible to resist the
charms of the gaggle of young boys that had surrounded him, especially
after the afternoon's experience. Entering one of the small conference
rooms, the boys surrounded the teacher as Benny closed the door and locked
it.
"Ah, boys, I don't know what you ." Before he could finish the six boys
pressed up against him and as Benny and Justin slipped off his suit jacket,
Bobby and Aaron began to unbutton his shirt and Charles and Kenny dropped
to their knees and began to untie his shoes. "Ah, really, boys," he
protested as the boys slipped his shoes off and began to tug on his socks
as Bobby struggled with his tie and Benny unbuckled his belt. "Boys, I
don't think we should ," he cautioned as Bobby and Aaron slid off his shirt
and Benny and Justin pulled down his suit trousers. "Really," he protested
as he felt four hot hands slip under the elastic band of his underwear and
begin to push them down. The five-foot-ten, hundred-and-sixty-pound
teacher watched his diet and jogged daily and his solid, muscular body was
evidence of it. As one of those hands slipped around his exposed balls and
others began to caress his buttocks, his chest, and his thighs, his dick
began to swell and all thoughts of protesting disappeared.
As the boys caressed his naked body they quickly unbuttoned and unzipped
and chucked their own clothes. The six now naked boys surrounded the
thirty-eight-year-old teacher and began to rub their smooth, nude bodies
against his, rubbing their slender thighs against his and running their
hands over his firm, muscular body as they rubbed their warm, smooth chests
against him. They ran their fingers through the hair on his chest and
through his coarse pubic hairs and Kenny, Charles, and Bobby spread their
legs and rubbed their smooth, hairless pubes against his hairy legs.
Aaron, having just begun to develop fine, silky hairs above his dick,
brushed his soft patch against the teacher's swelling dick while Benny and
Justin dusted off his butt with their pubic bushes.
All six boys rubbed their penises against his body, caressing his thighs
and his backside with their dicks, and then guiding him down to his knees,
the six boys rubbed their swelling dicks against his hairy chest and his
teats and against his cheeks and his lips. Charles and Kenny reached down
and began to stroke his swelling cock and fondle his hairy balls as Bobby
and Aaron caressed his now firm and tingling teats while Benny stroked his
butthole with his index finger and Justin knelt down and pressing his
smooth lips against the teacher's lips, eased his hot, moist tongue inside
the teacher's mouth. Gordon's hands roamed over their naked bodies,
caressing smooth, rounded butt cheeks and tender, sensitive thighs, and
running over smooth chests and fondling their little nips until they were
firm. As he felt one hot, small hand leave his dick and another replace it
and then that one being replaced by a third and a fourth, he ran a finger
along the narrow crevice of a young boy butt while his other fingers found
a small, stiff cocklet and wrapping around it, tugged on the little tube.
As the boys pressed against him he was aware of other hot, hard little
dicklets rubbing against his naked body. His stiff cock, being caressed by
several small, hot hands, began to leak pre-cum. The dark-haired, handsome
bachelor teacher was in heaven.
Anthony Kurtz, meanwhile, had been taken aside by Brent and Brett, who
along with their boyfriends Cam and Billy, lead the forty-six-year-old
biology teacher to one of the music practice rooms. The boys' teacher had,
of course, seen Billy and the Brewster brothers naked and engaged in hot
sexual activities with each other and other boys at Beltane and at Ostara,
and he knew the boys had seen him similarly engaged with members of both
sexes. So, as the boys began to remove his clothing, he readily began to
unbutton and unzip their clothing also, having had more than a few jerk off
fantasies imagining himself and the two gorgeous, effeminate blond twins,
the dark and eccentric teen coven member with whom he'd still to have sex,
and the smooth, cocoa-skinned, hot-looking Thai boy whom he knew was a
constant companion of Brett's and whom he assumed was his beloved.
It was not long before all five were naked and sprawled out on the
carpeted floor of the music room, the twins running their fingers though
the thick mat of dark brown hair covering his chest and caressing his
nipples as Billy and Cam stroked his hairy thighs. He reached down and
stroked the backsides of the twins and ran his middle finger along their
ass cracks, and as he fingered their buttholes he felt both boys readily
open up to his probing fingers. As he slowly and carefully slipped the
middle finger of each hand up the hot, moist hole of the two boys, they
hunched up and began to suck on his teats as he felt the two other teens
begin to kiss and lick his thighs. As Cam knelt down and began to suck on
his balls, he threw his legs in the air and Billy began to lick and suck on
his exposed asshole. He trembled with delight and finger fucked the twins
all the more vigorously.
It was not long before all five of them were fully erect. The four
teenagers began to body lick the hirsute teacher, wetting and matting the
hair of his body with their spittle as he fondled one pair of cocks and
then another depending on whose he could reach. Pulling back their
foreskins, the boys rubbed their dick heads against his body, thrilling
with the sensation of his coarse hairs against their exposed, tender dick
heads. Brent and Brett rubbed their dicks in his thick, dark brown beard
and brushed them past his lips, and then as they turned and bent over to
suck and lick his erect, throbbing cock, they squirmed as they felt his
beard brush against their smooth buttocks and then his hot, moist tongue
lap against first Brett's butthole and then Brent's.
The four horny teenage boys caressed and kissed the aroused teacher,
moving at random from one position to the next, once kissing his asshole
and then his balls, then a teat and then on the lips. Hands roamed and
stroked, entwining with chest hair and pubic hair. His beard brushed
against their pubes and their buttocks. As their desires throbbed in their
stiff cocks the four boys surrounded their teacher and began to rub their
cocks against him, one rubbing his stiff dick between the crevice of his
buttocks, another pressing his smooth, flat stomach against the teacher's
hairy abs and gyrating his hips so their cocks rubbed against each other,
the third rubbing his dick along the teacher's hairy chest, and the fourth
brushing his dick head along his moist lips.
Meanwhile in the conference room, Gordon Moore was laying on his back on
the shiny surface of the conference table sucking on the young stiff
dicklets of his two students, Charles standing on one side of his head and
Kenny on the other. The two nine-year-olds glanced at each other and
grinned as they squirmed with the pleasure rippling through their aroused
young cocklets. They'd like their teacher the moment they'd begun his
class, and now they worshipped him. Benny was standing at the foot of the
table, his stiff, five-inch cock up the teacher's butt, and as he worked
his hips to and fro, easing his cock in and out of the teacher's anus, his
brother Bobby and his brother's buddy Aaron were sucking on the teacher's
hairy nuts as the handsome thirty-eight-year-old jerked the stiff dicks of
the two young boys. Justin meanwhile ran his tongue over the knob of the
teacher's stiff cock, licking it like it was an ice cream cone as he
reached down and fiddled with his own stiff prick.
A hot, stiff cock up his ass, two young stiff wieners in his mouth, and a
slender, stiff dick in each hand, the grade four teacher was in ecstasy.
The two young boys sucking on his balls began to run their tongues up and
down the length of his cock while Justin continued to lick the knob, and he
quivered with the exquisite delight of having three tongues assaulting his
manhood. Suddenly Charles and Kenny began to buck uncontrollably as their
dry orgasms hit them, and the simultaneous orgasm of his two nine-year-old
students caused their teacher to begin to fountain as he sucked on the
boys' tender, pulsating wieners. His cum shot out of the tip of his madly
whipping cock and looped back down to cascade over the knob of his cock and
down the shaft. Bobby and Aaron lapped up his thick cream as their own dry
orgasms hit, and as he felt their little cocklets throbbing hotly in his
fingers, he felt Benny shove his cock up his ass and quiver as he pumped
his seed up the teacher's hole. Life could not have been any better than
it was at that very moment.
In the music room meanwhile, the four randy teenagers and Anthony Kurtz
were also reaching their peak. The four boys, surrounding their teacher,
quivered as their nuts contracted and their hot cum throbbed out the tip of
their twitching cocks, spraying their teacher on all sides. At the same
time his thick seven-inch sausage spewed out his own copious load. The
five gyrated against each other as their cocks throbbed out their cum,
spraying thick creamy juice over each other's naked body. They inhaled and
exhaled deeply, sucking the cum-scented air deep into their lungs as their
balls pumped their loads up their shafts and out the quivering tips of
their throbbing cocks. The five of them caressed each other, running their
fingers through the creamy man juice, mixing it together and smearing it
over each other so it was impossible to tell whose was whose. The air was
filled with the fragrance of spent cum, and the five inhaled and exhaled
deeply as the flush of post-climatic pleasure flooded over them.
The front page headline in the local newspaper that week was "A Night To
Remember" and it had indeed been such a night, from the twenty-eight nine
and ten year-olds, many of whom had come for their first time that day, to
the teenagers who had shot off their loads either willingly or unwillingly,
to the prominent citizens of the Crestview Heights community who hadn't
felt so randy in decades. The teachers of the three schools certainly
would remember the evening, if not with fondness because of the accolades
bestowed upon them, then certainly with amusement at the embarrassment of
the speakers. Certainly having had their first sexual experience with
their teacher, but decidedly not their last, Charles and Kenny would
remember this night for the rest of their lives. So would the randy teens
who had shot off that night, both those who had been willing participants
and those who'd been humiliated before their peers and their parents and
teachers. Brenda would certainly remember the evening as one of the
highlights in her term as president of the PTA. As for her four sons, it
was going to an extra special holiday to remember. There was nothing
comparable to that warm feeling when a plan comes together. Well, perhaps
besides the rush of seeing some well-deserved humiliation, and of course
the pleasure of having an orgasm, and the rush of having a hot orgy. And
when you have all four in one day, it is one hell of a fucking holiday to
remember!