Harrad Sex. Ed. Day 5
By
Tim Stillman
Well, hi, me, standing in front of my full length mirror tonight in my room. Door firmly locked. I am naked. And, of course, hard. I am stroking my dick and hoping it will at least be longer. I am kind of confused by today. I wish I could hold Jordi naked in class like I did day before. Oh he was so warm and it was great just hugging him, and right after he tells the world, or at least the class, which will be all over school, and all over town now, so he did tell the world. And god, that sucking he gave me, and he swallowed all my cum. I never ever want to be sucked anybody else in the world but by Jordi Enright. Amen.
Sigh.
The confusion started this morning. Might as well get to it. Try to untangle it all now in my head. I walked into class, already unbuttoning my shirt, can't wait for today's session. But all the kids are gathered round in a semi-circle over in the back corner. I was hearing some grunts and some curses. And some slaps. Mr. Morgan was in the middle trying to stop something that turned out to be a fight between Larry and Ralph. Ralph got a bloody nose before Mr. Morgan, stronger than he looks, pulled them, finally apart, with the help of Matthew and Devon. Matthew has a square face and build and is strong. Devon is smaller and frail, like Jordi, but not as much so.
Ralph and Larry were sent to the front of the room. The rest of us, still dressed--oh don't let this be a downer; yesterday was so fuckin' fantastic. And I mean fuckin' in the way Mr. Morgan told us to use the word, not as a curse word. Larry and Ralph were silent and sulking. Ralph had a handkerchief to his nose, which was not bleeding real badly. Mr. Morgan was between them, hands on their shoulders. He asked them what it was about. Well, let's make this brief, cause I want to get to the sex stuff.
Seems like Jordi and me stepped over the emotional line yesterday. Least as far as Ralph and Larry were concerned. They were the two jocks in class. Football heroes. Ralph said he wasn't a homo. Mr. Morgan said never use that word or any like it again. Ralph, sweating and breathing hard, bent half over, holding the no longer white handkerchief to his nose said, "Hey, I'm a man. I like girls. Okay, I ain't above peeing off a bridge or having a jack off contest like the rest of the guys in the world I guess. But yesterday--fuck--sorry-but hell, man, I ain't like Jordi and Timmy--ever hear two sissier names in your life? They were dead certain to be f--the way they are. But I am not. I like girls.
"I've broken the cherries of three of them. Why's it set up this way? Boys with boys. Girls with girls. This ain't no q--gay high school, is it? And you think I'm stupid because I'm a jock. Because I take care of my body. Because I make it work well for me. I'm not pale milk like Albert or lettuce leaf frail, like Jordi. I don't have a big dick. And yeah, it's so amusing that Bobby, the class nerd, has a bigger dick than me and everyone else in class. So just stop with the clichés. Stop with the hugging and the lovers crap or I am leaving. Big deal. Period. The end. And ain't is in the dictionary so fu--forget it."
Mr. Morgan turned to Larry and asked what started the fight, in his mind. He sighed. He said, "Look, you got all this high flyin' freedom in here and all that. And that's okay with me. But I'm a jock too and I like the ladies myself. You know that this school is mostly white? You notice that of all the ten students in here, I'm the only Black. Man, I'm a token. And you, every one of you, you don't have anything to do with me, in this class, like in all the others. We sit with `our kind' at lunch, and you sit where you please, and it's never with us. Now look I'm with Ralph on this. I ain't no gay either.
"I thought this was going to be a boy/girl class. I just wish if it has to be this way, I don't have to stand on my tippy toes to see what the rest of you are doing and just have to shove my way in and then it doesn't even count for any of you. You are so li-be-ral--well in lots of ways it's the same old honky bullshit and I'm tired of being left out of stuff even if it's stuff I don't really want to be part of in the first place."
"Ok. Class. Strip." Mr. Morgan said.
He told Larry and Ralph to do the same. Larry asked if he was going to send them to the principal's office? He told them no. It would be solved here. They breathed relief. Everybody went to their desks and took off their clothes. None of us were hard then. It had been pretty bad so far today. Please let it get better.
Mr. Morgan stood at his desk. He was silent for a while; looking through a book for a moment, then put it back on his desk. He sat on the desk edge as usual. He asked the class what they thought of the emotions of yesterday and the ones of today.
No one said anything for a while, so Mr. Morgan said, "OK. I'll start. There was this comic strip--can't think of the name--"For Better or Worse" or "Luanne" maybe--college girl home for the Christmas holidays. Her girl friend is there to meet her at the airport; sees her friend talking to a handsome young man, before walking over to her. Her girlfriend says, "Someone you met on the plane?" The girl nods. "So exchanging cell numbers?" "No." "Email addresses? Home addresses? University numbers?" Again, no. Then what? Come on, he's hot. He weird or anything?" her girlfriend asks. Her friend says, "He seemed nice." Then the light bulb turns on, for the confused girl, "Oh, of course; you're playing hard to get." "No," said her friend, "Playing hard to hurt."
There was some laughter. But if that was a comic strip, it wasn't very funny. And it was true. And you don't have to be a girl to know exactly what it means either.
So we talked about that for a while. Mr. Morgan said emotions like hate and violence-we're comfortable with that- blood sports are sacrosanct in our country almost; we like to see people hurt and get hurt in fights on Utube; the more girl gangs the better; raunchy movies, the girls gone wild thing; Hustler TV channel--and we get really really scared of the gentle emotions. Because we don't know how to handle them."
"It's embarrassing and it's wrong," Larry said. "A guy and a girl is not easy, saying the love stuff, but two guys?"
"Larry," Mr. Morgan said, "before we go further with this, I want to apologize for your not being included as much as you have the right to be. I think bigotry still exists in many people. Even the most liberal of people have it tucked away neatly inside somewhere if you just scratch the surface in the right way. It's time for us to work on that. And Ralph, I know for a fact you are not stupid. You're a bright guy. You make good grades. The thing is--and think about this, class--we are bigoted against you too."
"What the hell does that mean? I ain't---"
"Yes, Ralph. You are Caucasian and you are strong and muscular and you have a hairy body. Your dick is the thickest of everyone's in class. And you too are a football star. Larry--stupid people expect him to play sports because of his skin color, forget that he is a hard working toughly talented player, as are you, but people think things about you too, Ralph that are untrue and mean and antiquated."
"Is this a sex ed. Class or what?" asked Devon and everybody laughed. "Could we get to some sex stuff, already? Please?"
Some laughter.
"I think the fight kind of has thrown me..I'm babbling, I fear..." Mr. Morgan smiled. "Here's an idea--just have fun jacking off today...no wait...only by yourselves...try not to look at anybody else. Or get turned on by them...memories are nice. Just the good feeling is okay. If you want to cum more than once, that's good too. Looking in the text at the pictures and reading some of the descriptions is fine, but that's all. When you cum, clean up, get dressed, and just close your eyes and rest or read the next two chapters in your text, till the bell rings.
"Try to make as few sounds as you can as you jack...I've a plan for tomorrow. Whetting your appetite...if you want to jack tonight once or even twice. Go ahead, but not after midnight."
"Can we get wet or eat after midnight?" Big Dick Bobby asked.
The class laughed.
"That would be ok. Just as long as you're not gremlins."
Everybody, including Larry and Ralph, joined in.
So we just masturbated and felt our tits and rubbed our naked bodies and spread our legs and enjoyed a long lazy jack off; my eyes closed. Just hearing other boys, so close to me, how beautiful and different everybody's skin smells from everybody else's I've come to notice, silently masturbating is a huge huge kick, especially imagining Jordi masturbating, thinking of me? I was afraid to ask.
But I was for damn sure thinking about Jordi and that hot moist dark deep mouth and killer snake of a tongue, of his and his hands cupping my balls...and about then, I came.
What a deal. To come in tenth grade high school class...bare as everybody else, and just sitting there, wanking away. Oh we did it before Harrad, in class. Through our pockets behind our textbooks. But this, to be so open with it. As a nice guy once said to me--to be forever free--well, jacking off like this takes me back to when we had to hide it. Man, are we lucky not to have to do that anymore. And that makes this one of the sexiest things we've done in here.
Also, it's kind of a breather from the involved sex stuff we've been having. And I wanna get back to that tomorrow, but it's just such a huge gooey load of fun to shoot my huge gooey load of cum in the air and land it on the back of--whoops! Didn't mean to--the back of Jimmy's red hair. Jimmy felt the splatter and reached back, dipping his finger in the cum and looking at it and turning to me.
And he's mad as hell for about two thirds of a second. Someone says, "There's something about Jimmy." Which cracks us all up, including Jimmy. And Mr. Morgan too.
The bell rang and we dressed. I walked--don't think, just do it; do it now; shut up brain; just do it--to Jordi's desk, and said, as he tightened his belt round his thin waist, "Can I talk with you before school tomorrow?" My voice only seemed to crack one time. And that, I have no fear, was only in my imagination. The way the words, like peanut butter, the crunchy kind, got stuck in my mouth, and I had to fumble them through glue, like, twice, was not, however, in my imagination.
Jordi smiled dreamily. He put his hand on my arm. "Six thirty behind the gym ok?"
I couldn't speak. I just nodded.
And then I had to go to fu--goddam Math.
Jordi.
I go up to the mirror in my room. I kiss my reflected lips, pretending they are Jordi's and I come--splat--on the mirror. Where is the dog, like the one in "Happiness" to come lick it off for me?????? "Happiness where are you? I haven't got a clue.." The song said.
But I do.