Date: Wed, 9 Oct 2013 06:19:30 +0000 (UTC)
From: fiveholepunch@comcast.net
Subject: Boarding School Dormer

Please give to Nifty.


Boarding School Dormer


We were twelve and thirteen-year-old boys, the youngest, at a boarding
school.  The older boys were in a separate wing.  We lived four to a room.
In the evenings, after study hall and before lights out, we would visit
other rooms or other boys would visit ours.  After lights out, we usually
entertained ourselves, but sometimes we would sneak around.  We did all
sorts of stuff together.  Sometimes there would be just two boys visiting
in a room before lights out.  That was serious.  This is some of what
happened.

We often gathered together, on one bed, naked, and masturbated together
looking at a dirty magazine.  There were several magazines that made their
way from room to room.  We liked looking at the pictures, but we also liked
looking at each other.  Often the magazine was only an excuse to begin our
activities.  Since we had single beds, some or all of us would have to sit
cross legged Indian-style to gather around the magazine.  The biggest or
oldest boy, usually the same, could lay claim to stretching out.  We liked
that because we could see him play with his bigger cock, I know I did.
With so little space, we were in close contact, skin to skin; we could feel
the heat from each other.

This was especially the case when we all sat side-by-side with our backs up
against the wall next to the bed.  We would be shoulder to shoulder as we
masturbated, legs touching along their length.  Usually the older boy sat
in the middle and he got to hold the magazine while we younger boys had to
lean over to get a closer look.  At other times, the magazine passed back
and forth, in turn, up and down the line.  We liked to make dirty comments
that grew more and more grandiose describing what we would do sexually with
the women if we were in the picture.  We of course expressed our doubts
jokingly about each other's abilities to achieve these exploits, but each
of our spoken imaginings inflamed and ratcheted up our desire with every
declaration.

After a short time had passed, usually the older boy would tell one of the
younger boys to jerk his cock.  I liked to do this.  I loved the feel of
his bigger and fatter cock.  I also liked it because the older boy had more
hair; it was fun to feel it and to pull on it.  At other times, the oldest
boy would just reach over and start playing with his younger dorm mate.  I
well remember the excitement of looking back and forth, first at the
pictures in the dirty magazine and then looking up to see one of my
classmates being masturbated by another.  We'd giggle and laugh at our
shared naughtiness.  The older boy would usually order us to do things like
turn the page of the magazine while he leaned back and let us do the work
jerking his penis.

We learned a lot about cocks and sex.  We learned how to masturbate cut and
uncut cocks.  We learned about testicles and how they pulled up when
nearing an orgasm.  We also learned about come; the smell, the feel.  Most
of us saw another boy's come long before we saw our own.  We all wanted to
come, but I remember being able to have several orgasms each night before I
was able to actually shoot sperm.  We also studied pubic hair growth, our
own and each other's, in detail.  After a year at the boarding school I
could pretty much tell whether or not one of my classmates could ejaculate
merely by how ruddy the skin was on his penis and scrotum and how much hair
he had grown.  And there was the indelible and memorable scent of maturity.

We also learned other things about sex, not just the biological and
physical, but the psychological which became much more interesting.  As
with any male group dynamic, hierarchies began to assert themselves.
Dominance and submission, with more or less overt sadomasochistic elements,
were lessons learned; slowly by some, more quickly by others.  As an
example: it was a test of "manhood" to apply, as well as withstand another
boy's, forceful and violent masturbatory jerking.  Often testicles were
bounced up and down painfully.  Everyone laughed, even the boy being
abused.

Things moved from the exploratory basics toward the obvious exercises
dominance and submission as the weeks and months went by.  The inevitably
ballet, the back and forth, of who would suck whom took place along
predictable lines.  One boy would tell another to suck him; there would be
vociferous protests.  An older boy might stand up before a younger one with
his jutting, perhaps dripping, erection inches from the seated boy's face;
there would be more refusals.  You wondered what it would be like.  Fear
and excitement went hand-in-hand.  Sooner or later you would consent.  The
thrill of doing it, the submission and the humiliation before the other
boys, then the thrill of remembering, the thrill of your seduction;
eventually would lessen and diminish.  But then, after passage of time,
whether a semester or another school year, you would have the thrill of
seducing another and you would have that excitement again.  Making another
take your cock in front of the other boys and knowing that they want to
suck it; knowing their humiliation is that they don't want the other boys
to know that they want it, their reluctance increasing your hardness and
ardor.

There were other hidden items trafficked amongst the dorm mates.  In
addition to the dirty magazines there was another prized item that excited
the imagination perhaps more than those well-turned pages – lubricant.
This could be, and often was, Vaseline, although baby oil, hand lotion and
the rarest of the rare, cold cream, circulated as well.  Lubricant was
rarely used for commonplace masturbation; it was almost exclusively
reserved for anal penetration.

What of the experience of seduction by an older boy?  Being a novitiate to
the erotic brotherhood, the fearful imaginings of the rumored activities of
the experienced excited.  Knowing the length and thickness of an older
boy's cock in one's hand, led the young border to wonder how such a swollen
member could be taken into one's tight opening.  Fingers, moistened or dry,
were furtively inserted to test the possibility of penetration.  Being
"marked" or claimed by an older boy, being the object of pursuit, elicited
a fearful anticipation of the inevitable.  Some of the attractive newcomers
were disputed prizes, but eventually the jaded boys of a year standing
would serially take the lesser prizes.  Deflowerings were snickered about
by those in the know, records were pursued.

What would generally transpire?  A word or two by the older boy suggesting
an intimate visit to his room was made after a permitted masturbation of
his secretly, or not so secretly, admired member.  The temptation of his
wanting you, you'd blush, your heart racing with desire.  The visit is
thought about and then made.  The self-conscious awareness that the other
smiling boys in the hall may know of your visit and what it means.  The
door closes.  Intimate assurances are given.  Your mouth is dry.  Time
slows as you undress and are naked. His disrobing, the revelation of his
half-hard shaft made as burgeoning underwear is slowly drawn down and off.
You stare in trepidation.  You recline. Your legs are raised and
lubrication is intimately applied to your twitching ring.  Kneeling, your
seducer smears his hardened member and tells you to relax.  Guided
concentricity, pressure.  A dilation, a slip from grace, a curse.  Again,
but deeper; you hold your breath.  A grunt of frustration, a word of
encouragement.  You try, but it's too tight.  An objection, or not, it
matters not, it will happen.  It hurts and you gasp. Satisfaction and
insistence above you.  You clench your teeth, grimace and try to keep the
welling tears from falling down.  More girth.  Stifled involuntary cries
and perhaps pleading, to no avail.  Full depth.  Developing pubes press
against the distending ring.  Desperation.  Shallow thrusts, increases and
decreases in pressure.  Thigh to thigh, wrinkled sack to cleft,
perspiration.  Grunts elicit groans.  The ancient tempo asserts itself.
More is given and more is taken.  Your fingers clutch and you arch
higher. The pounding rhythmically shakes through your being.  Exhalations
intertwine.  A swelling, a peak, a flooding, a collapse.

The Pause.

A slippery sliding withdrawal. A void.  A look to the object of pleasure.
A messy wiping up and the fumbling dressing.  Awkward parting.  The looks
of others on the way to your room.  The awareness of slippery puffiness,
the throbbing. Later, the undercover reflection.  The desire.

What of the closed doors?  Many times the boy who repeatedly refused the
entreaties of an older boy to allow him to take him anally before a group
of his peers would allow such a seduction in private.  We soon learned what
two boys in a room where others were forbidden access meant.  Of course it
was quickly known which boys had secluded themselves away from the others.
Often times you could see the embarrassment of the seduced boy, his face
flushed and eyes teary, as he went back to his room; the older boy smiling
at his success, basking in the envious eyes of the other dormers.

Often, in a few days or weeks, all modesty would be lost.  Penetration
would be witnessed by others; their envious lust fueled the taken boy in
his gratified acceptance of the dominant boy's phallus.

Legs up, smiling as the lubricating cream was smeared carefully on the
sensitive wrinkled anal ring, you could see the wide-eyed desire in the
reclining boy as he gazed between his legs at the other boy's erection
being prepared for insertion.  Giggles from both boys.  Then the
seriousness of finding the hole and a push from the dominant boy.  A gasp
and groan as the smile of the reclining boy dissolves into an "ohh" of
penetration and if the dominant boy is fully endowed, an "ohh" of pain, a
grimace and a forceful, squinting closure of eyes.  Bestial coupling.  This
timeless dance of innocence and experience, repeating itself over and over,
without end.

_______________________


I will tell you of my seducer and the seducer of probably two dozen more
during my lower house years. His name was Michael. His physicality was
uninhibited by too great an intellect, unrestrained by reflection. He was
not a boy, and not a fully developed teenager – yet.  He, in his
thirteenth year, was a heightening, smooth fleshed, male animal. The
quintessence of adolescence. Michael was admired for what he was, the ideal
we wished to be. He was both slightly feared and semi-consciously
loved. All the boys had seen him at sport and knew of his power and
strength. All the boys had also seen him naked in the dorm, in the
shower. Michael had been gifted, befittingly, with a penis worthy of a
hero. It was large and broad, but not grotesquely
disproportional. Perfectly hooded, it hung splendidly above pendulous orbs
halfway to hirsuteness. The delicious fear that existed in our dorms was
knowing that Michael would have boys at his will, that such a magnificent
display of maleness admired from afar could, and often for many, would be
used in the most intimately possible way. It happened to me and I witnessed
it being bestowed upon others.

Michael would have his boys the first time in an almost invariable way. I
know this because I compared notes with other boys in the dorm; my
experience and theirs matched up almost exactly. Michael would ask you back
to his room in a friendly way, but he wouldn't mention anything directly
about sex beforehand. The other three boys that were Michael's roommates
would know enough to make a quick exit when Michael brought a new boy back
to the room if they hadn't already been informed that their absence was
expected.

Most boys knew why Michael was inviting them to his room. I can tell you
that my experience was one of heart pounding trepidation. Michael would
flop down on his bed and say something casual like, "Hey, you want to fool
around a little?" He'd pat the bed and, if you weren't shy, you would join
him. Michael would unbelt and unzip his pants and wait for you to follow
suit. Then he would pull out his impressive piece of meat and flop it
around enticingly. Michael would wait for you to do the same, offering
encouragement if necessary. He would ask to feel yours and then would ask
if you wanted to feel his. It was thrilling and, for most boys,
awe-inspiring to handle such a large tool. Michael would get half hard
before moving onto the next step of his seduction.

Michael would offer to suck his young partner first. For a few boys, since
they were so young, this was their first blow job, for others it
wasn't. One thing that could be said about Michael was that he was
genuinely interested in seeing that the other boy would enjoy himself - up
until the point where his lust for penetration took over. Michael would
then invite his young partner to take his half-hard maleness into his
mouth. I remember it as not only a physically thrilling experience, but as
an honor, to service such an awe-inspiring member. Sometimes he would ask
the boy to suck his balls, each one a mouthful, but not always.

At this point Michael would say something along the lines of, "Hey, do you
wanna try something?" Michael would then maneuver you in his bed, onto your
side facing the wall, and have you bend your knees so that your buttocks
were presented to him. He would play with your bottom until he felt that
you were ready and then he would retrieve some lubricant, usually Vaseline
that he had nearby. Your breath would catch at the slippery feeling of
Michael's fingers circling your most intimate opening, the delicate
intrusions that increase in intensity causing delicious involuntary
twitches. From this position Michael would be able to control the insertion
of his firmed, but still flexible member. Usually the virgin boy could
accept the skinned back head up until the first inch or two of Michael's
widening shaft. There was a not unexpected progression from uncomfortable
moans and tense grimaces to an inevitable sharp cry followed by a pleading
to halt the proceedings.

Michael would stop and withdraw. He would encourage the boy to turnover,
face down lengthwise on the bed, and put his head on the pillow.  A quick
bestraddling would allow Michael to take a downward approach to the boy's
now somewhat loosened anus. A reinsertion was fairly easily accomplished
and Michael could introduce more of his member's length with the boy
pinioned beneath him. Michael would tell the boy to bite the pillow if it
became too uncomfortable. Generally you were able to slowly accept three or
four inches of Michael's shaft in this position.

After suitable period of time gently sliding his thick-girthed member in
and out to loosen his partner's virgin opening, Michael would withdraw and
have the boy get up and take a position on his back, his neck and shoulders
against the wall, perpendicularly across the mattress. Michael would place
a pillow beneath the boy's bottom and have the boy lift his legs, fully
exposing his reddened, stretched ring. Michael would then reinsert himself
and slowly take the boy below him, first to the limit that had been
achieved while the boy was on his tummy.

But then, there were no more half measures.  Michael would take the boy
fully, all of his six inches would be going in. No protestations, no pleas
would be heeded; at this point Michael would have what he wanted. And most
boys, if not then, then shortly after their defloration, would relish being
taken. Michael's muscular legs would press the submitting boy's thighs
forcefully back with his insistent thrusts. It was an overwhelming
onslaught.

When it happened to me it took my breath away. I felt myself fully
penetrated. Michael's thick shaft had stretched my anus more than it ever
had been before and his thick shaft filled my rectum deeper than I could've
ever imagined. There were fitful spasms as my body tried to expel what it
couldn't. I wrapped my legs and arms around Michael's sweaty torso trying
to avoid being driven against the wall.  The swirl of sensations was too
much, I could only gasp and moan, unable to form words.

The moans and the cries from the penetrated would drive Michael's lust
until, rising up and with gritted teeth; he loosed his spurting semen into
the taken boy pressed submissively below his taut flanks. Michael withdrew
fairly quickly after he had had his way. He would get up, wipe himself
clean and then, for short period of time before getting dressed, dance
about, flopping his hanging member in joy at having had another boy. I know
my reaction and the reaction of many other boys was to gaze at that
instrument of ecstasy that had been within. I know I reveled in having
intimately shared such a magnificent penis.

Michael good-naturedly helped us up.  For a few boys some of Michael's
semen immediately slid from their still dilated opening and onto the bed's
top blanket. It was a source of embarrassment, but Michael didn't seem to
care; rather it affirmed his success. I know in my case and in most other
boys' cases, we had to change our underwear soon after we made our way back
to our own rooms. And yes, we were subject to quite a bit of embarrassing
teasing by those boys who knew what had happened.  I know I was flushed
with erotic ardor for the remainder of the day after my having been taken
by Michael. I masturbated as soon as I could be alone in the boy's
lavatory. When I came, I felt stretched muscles of my anus burning with a
warm glow. When I showered that evening I felt my bottom surreptitiously. I
knew I wanted Michael to take me again.


Dear Reader,

   I had this story lying around for some time; unfortunately I lost track
of it.  Please forgive the fact that it is far from perfect, but I thought
I would post it rather than trash it as it has some satisfying passages.


Your humble author,

   Five Hole Punch



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