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All the usual disclaimers that are usual apply here. This is a work of fiction involving sex acts between consenting persons of various ages and conditions of life. If you can't handle that or if you are not of the legal age or mindset, go no further but remove this material from your possession forthwith.
If you have faggot sensitivity, you ought not read this story. I'd really like to hear from some of you with either positive or negative comments. I'd really like to hear from YOU so I'll have some idea how I'm doing and what it is you like to read. Thanks.
I used two returns between paragraphs to simplify formatting for you. This is a hyphen -. This is an en-dash --. This is an em-dash ---. Other high-ascii characters that PC's can't understand have been stripped.
Try to keep in mind that while 42 is the meaning of life, it is not the only possible solution and that sexual dimorphism is Mother Nature's excuse for being kinky.
Enjoy!
Jon
PS... This is a work in progress, so the parts may come rather far apart...
In The Beginning...
Part 1 of ?
by Jon Hold
Copyright 2005 by Jon Hold, all rights reserved.
Being a somewhat idealized look at my somewhat precocious end-of-childhood experiment, uh... excuse me, experience....
I was the precocious sort of brat that teachers admire for their ability, and despise for the way they act. By the time I turned thirteen everyone, including my parents, had more than had their fill. Keeping me with my peer group was thought to be a good idea, at least by current theory, but a bunch of junior high kids were NOT my peers. Not by any count. Some bright soul got the great idea of putting me in a position where, not only would my mind be challenged, but there would be kids big enough to slap me down when I got too wise-assed.
So that's how I ended up starting High School in my thirteenth year. Well, sort of, anyway. Three days a week at the high school and two days a week at the local Community College taking math and science classes --- and I hadn't actually turned thirteen yet --- by a few months.
My first day at the new school was NOT good! Not only was the entire concept of separate classrooms strange to me, but everyone was taller, faster and more physically powerful than me. First and second periods got me confused and upset and physical education (i.e., organized sadism highlighted by personal torture) in the third period finished me off. I had no clue about jock straps, pubic hair, big dicks and balls and public nudity --- but even worse, I looked and acted confused and scared and the typical class wits/bullies took instant advantage. The Coach caught me just in time to keep me from running home. He took me into his office and made me sit in one place until I'd calmed down and then had his assistant take the next class while he took me to the office.
On the way to the office the Coach yelled out, "Hey, Johnstone!" and a cute blond kid only about an inch taller than me came running over.
"What classes do you have on your long schedule?" Coach asked. (Our High School had a split schedule. One long (Monday, Wednesday, Friday) and one short (Tuesday, Thursday).)
"Uh..." the kid said, thinking, and then checking a piece of paper from his backpack, English, Sociology, Art, Russian, World History, Study Period and Gym."
"Good! Come with us." Coach commanded.
Johnstone and I followed the Coach without comment. Understandable, I guess. I was still sort of in shock. I'd never seen anyone like Coach before. About 6' 6"; about 260 pounds, about 4 ounces of it fat; Black hair; grey eyes and, most noticeable to me, hands big enough to fit around my head --- and looking strong enough to crush my head flat if I irritated him. He wasn't really scary. I was too impressed by him to be scared of him. I think he's the first man I ever really lusted after.
After quelling a recalcitrant office girl with a look, Coach got me signed up for the same classes Johnstone had and told him he was now responsible for me as a "younger brother" and then just left the two of us standing there.
I was just standing there, sort of dazed. Johnstone punched me in the arm, lightly, and said, "Come on. We're already late for class."
As we walked to class (not all that quickly. I NEVER saw Johnstone in a hurry unless something was important to HIM) Johnstone explained to me that as long as I was one of "Coach's Boys" no one would fuck with me, but teachers would tell him if I were a problem or not doing my work and that Coach REALLY didn't like hearing that shit --- and had a way of making boys really, really, really wish he hadn't heard it!
Then he explained that I was to call him "Billy" and that the "younger brother" thing was the way Coach had older boys on his team watch out for the younger guys, although, as a Freshman, Billy hadn't expected to be an older brother for at least two more years. I stuck with Billy and in-between classes he told me all sorts of stuff about how the school worked and how I should act and who was fun and who to stay away from (especially Mr. Areas, the math teacher, who was pissed because he thought that I thought I was too smart to be taught by him. I was, but who was counting?)
"Are you really that smart in math?" Billy asked.
Bashfully, I nodded a reluctant "Yes."
"I suck in math. HEY! Do you think you know enough Algebra to maybe help me? Only if you want to, of course."
I didn't want to sound cocky or better than Billy, so I didn't tell him that the reason I was taking math at the college is that I was studying Calculus and Matrix Algebra. So all I said was, "Sure. Maybe I can pay back some of the help you're giving me... if I'm good enough at algebra."
Billy clapped me on the back and hugged me up against his side as we walked, not caring if the other kids saw us hugging. I glowed in the feeling of acceptance. Right then, I'd have done anything for Billy. My mom wasn't much on touching, and my dad had died before I was born, and I don't remember him at all. I really liked Billy touching me. It felt good.
Everything went swell until lunchtime. Outside of the cafeteria the bullies from my PE class stopped me. Seems like Coach had arranged for them to run laps, a lot of them, to keep them out of trouble. And, of course, it was all MY fault.
Billy told them to back off and they told Billy where he could stick it. Billy just grinned, stuck his fist up in the air and yelled, "Ganesha" (the name of our school). Guys, big guys, started getting up from lunch tables all around the area and heading our way. Billy just stood there and waited while a couple of tons of Jock muscle gathered around us.
"Well, Boys'. The Pussy' is my little brother and if you try to fuck with him again, you won't even be able to run laps. Now shag ass, punks. And try to find someone your own size to pick on."
I'm not going to say that Billy was insufferably smug when he said that, but I will say that it's a good thing he had all that back-up!
We went and sat with some of the bigger guys and had lunch.
End of part 1