I like science. Well, I like the labs because the desks are higher and the teacher doesn't care if we sit on them. Mrs Lachman doesn't care about much that we do so long as we don't make too much noise. She thinks that the other teachers don't know how hopeless she is at controlling her classes. She usually sets the lesson from a chapter in our textbook and then goes and hides in her office.
Jonathon is sitting on the desk in front of me. He's talking to Simon on my right about sports or something. They're both on several of the school's sports teams. Jonathon, the serious jock, is sitting with his legs apart and his hands are gesticulating as he re-lives some moment in a previous game where he laid out an opponent.
If I keep my head down low enough pretending to do my work I can see straight up the leg of his shorts. I can follow the line of his thigh up to the leg band of his tightey-whities and gaze upon his basket hanging there. Today it's a bit cold and his balls are pulled up tight to his body making his basket seem smaller than I know it really is. I can imagine tracing my tongue up his thigh and placing my lips around his balls compact form. The heat of my mouth making them relax and fall deeper into my throat.
Jonathon leans back and scratches. I lick my lips. His eyes swivel in my direction and I look quickly down at my books. Waiting, I look back up to see him looking at me before he turns back to Simon and grunts and nods. He knows. I know he knows. I want him to know, but.
I pretend to stretch so that I can gaze over more of his body. His beautiful blond hair always perfectly cut and styled. His baby blue eyes, that flashing smile. The line of his long neck as it curves down and meets his chest. The curve of his biceps as they disappear inside his T-Shirt. It's always those tantalizing places as flesh disappears inside his clothes that holds my interest most. The places I most want to explore more with my eyes, my mouth.
And if he knows why doesn't he say something, do something? Like call me faggot when his friends do. Or could it be? I want it to be, but how?
The bell goes. PE next. I hate PE. The scrawny nerd of the class they make my life difficult. I cut class and feign sickness sometimes. But I need to go often enough to stop the teacher from becoming suspicious. And to get my fix of even more of Jonathon's flesh. The curve of his bum in speedos for swimming. He's on the swimming team so the others don't say anything, but they hassle anyone else who wears speedos. The powerful vee of his back as he stands at the end of the pool and stretches before diving in. The massive broad sweep across his shoulders compared to his narrow waist and pert bum.
But it's winter and I wont get to see that much of his flesh today. I try and peek sometimes as we change but I usually don't get to see much. I change too far away so that the other jocks don't push and shove me. It's raining so we won't be outside thank heavens, no muddy fields to be accidentally tripped in today. Coach tells us to haul out some equipment for gymnastics.
Because it's not a team sport I can manage to evade attention most of the time. We're lined up for the vault and I notice that my shoelace is undone. I freeze as I feel a groin pushing up against my buttocks whilst I am bent over tying my laces.
"Oh, hey. Sorry. Didn't realize you hadn't moved forward."
It was Jonathon! Damn, he's stepped back now. But for a moment. I feel too tongue tied to make any response. ("Yes please," seems somehow to be begging for trouble.) Many a wet dream will be born from this.
I try my hardest but fall off the end of the vault and suddenly he is on top of me. I can't help it and squeal like a girl as I hear my arm snap. Jonathon is saying sorry over and over as he puts his arms around me and tries to lift me up. I want him to keep his arms there but I squeal again with agony as I feel the bones grate in my arm and he pulls away. The ambulance comes and takes me away.
I have to go to theatre. They want to put some screws in. I'm lying starving in this uncomfortable hospital bed when his head appears around the doorway.
"Hey, can I come in?"
I nod.
"Sorry about that," he points at my swaddled arm, "I'm really sorry. If there's anything I can do."
I shake my head.
"Why are they keeping you here? I thought you'd just get a cast."
"They have to operate."
"Oh no. Did I break it that bad. Shit. I'm really sorry. What's that?"
He's pointing to a drip machine thingy.
"I can't eat or drink until they've done the operation, that's to ... you know."
He sits down in a chair and scratches himself. I feel my dick twinge and the sensation of the funny hospital gown is weird. No underwear, scratchy hospital gown on my balls and dick and my favourite lust object sitting two feet away. I can't help it. My dick pulses again. What's worse, one hand is encased in bandages and shit and the other hand is chained to a drip machine so I can't even re-arrange things to make it less obvious. And now I can't stop thinking about it and how it feels, which is just making it grow more!
I see his eyes linger on it before he looks back up to me, a small grin on his lips. We look at each other silent for a moment, and then he starts fishing around in his school bag.
"I bought you these," he says pulling a pile of Mad Magazines out of his bag, "I'll put them in here for later."
He opens the door on the cabinet beside me. Shit, my clothes are folded there and my underwear is on top. I look out the window pretending to be interested in some bird in the tree. I look back as Jonathon is zipping up his bag.
"Let's watch TV." He picks up the remote and turns it on.
"Move over, you can't see the screen so well from down in the chair. It's set up to be watched from on the bed."
I gasp with the pain of my arm as I try to wiggle over.
"Oh hey. Shit! Sorry. I forgot. I'm sorry."
He puts a hand on my shoulder and does a good imitation of a puppy dog.
"Well, come on. I've moved over now."
He settles down on the bed beside me. Shoulder to shoulder, hips to hips, legs to legs, and we watch the box. My dick pushes up against the hospital gown some more and then subsides as I laugh at `Friends'. I can feel the warmth of his body as it presses against me. If only.
The episode is almost over when a nurse and orderly arrive to take me to theatre. Jonathon is asking the nurse how long I'm going to be.
"I'll wait here for you."
She tells him to go home, that I wont be up to visitors for hours. But I'd like to wake to his smiling face -- and not just today.
Mum arrives in after work. They want to keep me overnight, to make sure there are no problems from the operation. Mum sighs, it'll mean she'll have to take time off work tomorrow to take me home.
"Who bought you these?" She says lifting the Mad Magazines out of the cabinet but she doesn't wait for a reply as she lifts my clothes out, "I'll bring you some clean clothes tomorrow. Are your still wearing your underwear?"
"No, I had to put on this gown and nothing else. A nurse had to help me."
"Where'd they put them then?"
"With my clothes."
"Not here."
I shrugged. Mum picked up her bag and my clothes, kissed my forehead and wandered off. My underwear, it was there. I saw it when ... the Mad magazines. I smiled and my dick pulsed weakly still affected by the anaesthetic.
The night passed terribly. I was exhausted but the pain of my arm and the horribly uncomfortable mattress kept me awake. I watched the sun come up and sat there starving thinking of breakfast. They finally brought me some cold toast when Jonathon appeared.
"The nurse said you're going home today," he looked down at the open cupboard on the beside cabinet, "where are your clothes?"
"Mum took them home."
A worried look passed across his face and then he flashed one of his winning smiles, "Guess you wont be able to use that hand for a while for any ... ahm ... schoolwork then."
"No."
"Well, see you when you get back to school."
And he turned and left. What. Was that it? But I thought? Yeh, I bet you did. Mind back out of the sewers.