SCHOOL DAZE ________________________________________________________________
Chapter 1
School had been both a joy and a hardship for me. My studies interested me; my teachers seem to sense my keen desire to understand whatever it was that they were teaching. My mind would wrestle with the subject matter, turn it over and over and finally come up with the right conclusions. My mind was growing at a rapid pace: But so was my body!
I was almost a head taller than anyone else in my class. My physical development had come about early, as it turned out, and I was to suffer many of the "pains" that go with growing up too fast. The part of school I did not enjoy was the sports. Those things that I could do on my own, I did do -- not so much from any pleasure or sense of satisfaction, but more from a sense of frustration. Team sports were not for me. I took up swimming; and when it was not the swimming season, I tried wrestling. The latter was a fiasco, however. Being large for my age there were few if any opponents and my strength at first slowly, and at an ever increasing pace, began to excel over all my contemporaries. There was no competition.
The other fellows in my class had fun. They laughed and fooled around a lot, joking with one another. They seemed to leave me out of their activities more and more. I didn't realize that they resented me. They kidded me about my studies -- "Here comes the Whiz Kid!". And as the second and third year of high school were by, they were more and more reluctant to invite me into their games. I didn't try to win all the time -- in fact, I tried very hard to not win: But it never came out quite right.
I suppose the worst of it was, that as I grew, my coordination did not seem to keep pace. It was very much like a kitten growing up. One week it can jump from the arm of a chair to the table top and the next, the same jump catapults the poor cat clear across the table top. Later I understood. But then I did not.
At least there was one thing of which my peers held me in awe. But even that seemed to come out not quite right. In the locker room, after phys-ed, the guys would joke about the various girls in the class they had been out with, where they'd gone. Most of it was about what they did or which they had done. I never quite knew how to react; but it made little difference most of the time. They paid no attention to me. The only time I was included in their kidding around was when they, half joking and half in awe, taunted me about the size of my tool. Like the rest of me, that had developed early and well. I was almost half again both the length and width of any other guys' -- and that was in its natural state.
I remember one day in the shower, there was only Pete and Jim. I was at the opposite end and they were paying me no attention. They were too busy talking about one of the girls that seemed to be real popular. They were telling each other how they'd feel her up, reach inside her blouse and play with her tits; and how she would unzip their pants, reach inside and massage their balls and play with their rods until the swelled up and were real hard. Hearing them talk made mine begin to feel funny and I was afraid that it, too, would get hard. I glanced at them both as they talked about Betty Lou. Pete was explaining how she had fondled him, getting his prick real hard as she ran a moist hand over the head of his cock. Both of theirs' were rising and beginning to stand straight out.
Jim was coaxing Pete to show him what she had done. In fact he was pleading with Pete to do the same thing to him. My own cock was begging to stretch upwards and I knew that if they saw me with a roaring hard on, I would be in for the razzing of my life. At home, in my room, when I played with it, it filled both of my large hands and there was still plenty left over for me to admire. I turned my back to them so they could not see, grabbed my towel and quietly left by the other door. What I did not realize is that they could have cared less. They were too engrossed in what they were doing. Pete was showing Jim what Betty Lou had done to him much to Jim's delight. He was groping the larger sac hanging below the very hard rod his other hand pumped. Jim had already reached to Pete's long shaft and was returning the favor.
I quickly dressed. I was upset and I wanted to get out of there. I left the gym and started for the exit. Then I remembered I had left my books in my locker on the third floor and I needed them to do my home work for Monday. I retraced my steps and went up the stairs to the third floor. Although the lights had been turned off (it was almost closing time for the school building) I could see that someone else was also over by the lockers. It was Betty Lou.
"Hi," I said, as I approached her. She was standing at the locker next to mine.
"Hi," she answered me. She was getting a note book out of her locker. Crash! The note book and half a dozen books fell out of the locker. I bent down and helper her pick them up. "Thanks. Sometimes I think I'm awfully clumsy."
I just smiled, sheepishly. I never felt comfortable with girls. And then I remembered what Pete and Jim were saying about Betty Lou.
"You OK?," she asked, looking up at me.
"Oh yes," I stammered. "We were just talking about you."
"You were? Hope you were saying something nice about me. Who were you with?"
I began to get flustered. All I could remember was Pete and Jim and their conversation. "Pete and Jim," I blurted out.
"What where they saying?" she asked as she moved a little closer to me.
"Oh nothing," I lied. And then thinking that this was too abrupt, I added, "Pete was just mentioning he'd gone out with you the other night."
She smiled. "Did he tell you what happened?"
"No," I said, embarrassedly.
She smiled and then said, "Would you like me to tell you about it? You've never gone out with me, and you might like to sometime."
I just stood there and stared with my mouth open. She might want to go out with me? Pete's story about her. I didn't know what to say -- or do!
"I'd like to go out with you. I've watched you and you've got so much more than Pete has."
"I have?"
"Oh yes. Would you like me to tell you about what I did with Pete?"
I couldn't answer. I didn't know what to say.
She smiled. "Boys are different from girls and I like to play with big boys." I could feel my cock grow heavy, thinking about what Pete had said. "Pete and I had a real good time the other night. I got him real hot -- that's the way I like to get him. He had a real hand full. I like to get my fingers around that shaft of his and feel it get harder and harder." I could feel my own cock lengthening out, down my pants leg. I knew that it must be straining against the fabric.
She moved closer as she spoke, taking her hand and rubbing it the full length of my now throbbing tool. "I opened his fly," she went on, "taking out his long dong. The head was a purplish color as it swelled up. I wrapped my fingers around the shaft, just below the head, and that made it get real shiny and glisten."
As she said this, I could feel her hand slowly slide the zipper on my levis down, a notch at a time, until it had reached bottom. And then a small hand reached inside, cupping my balls in a gentle caress as the other hand drew an aching tool out through the opening, inch by inch. Suddenly the whole implement popped out. And once it was free, it began to swell. It became longer and longer, rounder and harder. She had stopped talking, now. She was staring intently at her handy work.
I remembered Pete saying how she took his cock in one hand and pumped it slowly up and down as she teased his balls with the other. A small but firm hand gripped my balls where the sac met the base of a roaring hard on. Gently tugging in one direction, she stroked my taut implement up and then back, milking the head so the ridge around the edge glistened. Over and over she slowly did this watching the monster swell up even more. Her gaze was hypnotized by it. I could feel the well deep down inside of me begin to rumble. I didn't want to cum. Not yet.
This was greater than jacking off had ever been! I followed her gaze downwards starring at my own cock as she manipulated it. A small bead of pearly liquid began to ooze from the slit at the end. She ran her tongue over her lips as she watched the bead grow. Slowly she knelt down and touch the head of my cock with her tongue, licking away the droplet that had formed only to have another appear in its place. Again the soft tongue softly wrapped itself around the throbbing head and cleaned the fluid away.
The hand gripping my ball sac had firmly pulled them downwards. The other slid down the full length of my rock hard implement making the head glisten even more. I could feel the cum beginning the surge forward, but the hand around the shaft of my cock tightened, holding it back. Her lips glided over the head gripping it tightly where it joined the shaft. Her tongue teased it unmercifully. Slowly her head sank lower and lower as she took each successive inch followed by a swirling tongue massaging the full length of my rod. Her lips were at the base. I could feel her throat grip the head as it milked it, preparing for the onslaught that was to come.
The hand gripping my ball sac slowly relinquished its hold and began massaging and teasing. Oh god, it was near! I could feel the cum start at the base of my cock. It exploded upward as her throat gripped the swollen cock head. It shot into her throat. She thrust her head forward to get more. Again and again, love juice shot upward, pouring into that grasping throat.
I could feel my cock soften and yet that mouth kept at it -- sucking, massaging the softening shaft, the tongue stroking the length of the rod and wiping the head clean with loving care. This time, I could feel another explosion coming. My cock was swollen but still soft. This time she was going to suck me off before it got rock hard! I could feel the cum slowly rise the length of the semi flaccid shaft. It escaped the slit at the end as her tongue coaxed out each and every drop, giving me a pleasure I had never known before.
As she drained the last drop from my now spent tool, I wondered what it must be like to be able to do that -- to give someone that much pleasure; and what it would be like to hold a man-tool in my own throat as tightly, draining all its juices. Oh God, what a feeling!
Chapter 2
My mind worked like a compact disc. Every sensation, every feeling of that episode was faithfully reproduced over and over. That anticipated joy that burst forth in such unexpected intensity haunted my memory. Since that had been the last day before spring break, there had been no more real "chance encounters." Fantasy had filled the void, however. As I leaned back in my desk chair, one leg propped up on my bed, my generously filled hand held the aching evidence of my thoughts. The flaccid tool extended well beyond my open palm. Slowly I closed my fingers around the fleshy tube and wrung one last drop of excitement from it.
It was now time to put my favorite toy away, along with the thoughts that were such explicit instructions in its exquisite use. I had to finish my home work since school was opening again tomorrow. But it was hard for me to keep my mind on plane geometry when it wanted to be on something more solid.
School opened. It started out just like any other day. The routine was the same (why would it change?). And yet I felt that something was different. Little did I know that it was me that had changed. The same classes, the same people, the same subjects -- everything was the same. But with a week to remember and to savor the firm lips draining my strength through that narrow slit at the end of my cock, a firmness now pressed between my levis and right leg. I didn't have to look down to know it was there -- I could feel it. What surprised me most, however, was that I didn't care if it showed. My normal shyness had disappeared. I ran my hand down over my badge of man-hood, smoothing the cloth that trapped it next to my leg. I secretly smiled. I enjoyed both the feel of it and the touch of my hand on the long shaft. What I was not prepared for was the next encounter with this new found gratification.
The day wore on. My interest focussed upon just one thing. I wished the day would be over so I could be alone, so I could free my monster and gently stroke it. I wanted to wrap my fingers around that firm shaft and pump it slowly, ever so slowly, while I watched it lengthen, struggle to grow in my hand. Its head would become a shiny purple. My thoughts alone had an effect. But fortunately the results were hidden under my desk. Occasionally I would drop my hand down, cupping it around the warm growth. Other times I would shift my position, rubbing the long, cloth covered shaft against the edge of the desk.
The day wore on. Finally, the last period and it would be over. Then I could be alone! That last period was going to be a difficult one, though. Before the spring break, the coach had been working on our endurance swimming. It meant a long, tough hour in the pool. Maybe that would be good for me,though. The exercise might work of some of my excess "steam." As it turned out, it should have. Boy did the coach give us a workout! And it almost seemed as though he gave me more of one than the rest of the fellows. I didn't mind, though. At least it kept my mind off of other things.
Usually after having been in the pool for an hour I skipped taking a shower. Who needed more water? And if I wasn't clean by now, a lousy shower wasn't going to do it. But after that workout, I ached. A warm shower sounded good.
While I was enjoying the warm spray on my face and chest, I heard Pete and Jim come into the shower behind me. They paid no attention to me -- they were yakking a blue streak at each other. And about the same old subject -- girls. I turned to look at them as I let the warm water stream down my back. Pete was talking about his latest exploit as he gently fingered himself. The words passed by me, but I was fascinated watching him as he grasped his tool and slowly rubbed his thumb around the swelling head, over the slit at the end. Slowly he began pumping his hand on the growing shaft. It wasn't long before Jim began fondling his own balls. His rod began to rise. Their voices droned on. Suck, tongue, balls -- isolated words drifted through the haze as I watched them manipulate themselves.
It was only then that I began to realize the heavy weight that was growing between my own legs. As they talked and stroked their members, I could feel mine lengthen. The head of it felt like a lead weight, full, round. I could feel the head slowly rise as the shaft struggled, lifting it in barely perceptible increments from its downward position. I didn't have to look. I knew my cock was now grown to enormous proportions and was standing almost straight out. Their cocks were hard and upright. I was fascinated looking at those man sized organs overflowing the yet boy like hands.
"Oh wow! Look at that!" exclaimed Pete. He was looking at my cock. It was standing erect, head bulging, and staring back at him. "Is that real?" he said admiringly, as he took a step closer to look down at it. Jim moved closer also, starring down, too. His hand seemed to grip his own cock even tighter as he looked. I could feel their eyes caress the long shaft all the way down to the sac that hung heavily below.
"I don't believe it," Jim gasped in awe. I looked down at it too. It was hard. It was firm. The head pointed upwards and the narrow slit at the tip seemed to quiver. "God, that's really something!" he added.
Pete looked up at me and asked pleadingly, "Can I touch it?" I nodded. Suddenly his two hands were grasping my tortured rod and were stroking it. It seemed to grow even more as he wrapped his fingers around the blood filled column. And then there were two more hands struggling to fill themselves with my straining implement. They massaged my ball sac, stroked the long upright tube, and gently rubbed the swollen head at the end, tantalizing several lubricating drops from the willing opening at the end.
As they grasped my angrily growing monster, trapping it with twenty tightly clenched fingers stroking up and down I reach out and found a firm shaft planted in each of my palms. I closed my fingers about each, pulling them both towards me. I pumped up and then down feeling each shaft slide through my fist all the way from the flange at the rounded heads down the long firmness to the base where another stroke began.
This had to be it! The warm, tingling sensation as their hands played with my balls, glided up and down my shaft like a piston, and teased the round head that ached for release. My hands were full. I could feel one cock throb in my left hand as I stroked it long and slowly. The other rod in my right hand pulsed with an anxiety that was soon to be realized. My balls began to tingle and I could feel the cum start its long trip up the rock hard shaft and push its way out of the slit in the inflamed fullness at the end. As it moved upwards, I could feel the juices moving up both shafts as I coiled my fingers even more tightly about them.
And then it happened. Cum spurted from three fountains. Pete's cock shot a wad upwards that landed on my left pec and then slowly ran down over the taut nipple. Jim repeated the action. Again and again. And with each new explosion of their cum I responded in kind. Each load seemed to catapult from my cock with more force than the one before. Over and over they shot at me. Their white, pearly juices were washing over me as I continued to pump both cocks up and down, up and down. One more time. Their hands moved up and down my cock, coaxing more and more fluid up the shaft. The rigid hardness was gone from it, now. The urgency was gone, too. Now there was just the sheer joy of feeling their fingers stroking my long shaft -- up and down; up and down. Their rods were no longer like steel. They now conformed to the shaped of my hand. I had a long, throbbing implement in each hand. I closed my fingers tightly around each shaft, stroking yet another explosion of warm cum from each one.
The three cocks reluctantly gave less and less. But the six hands continued to work drawing yet another response. Suddenly, both Pete and Jim exploded one final time. Greater and more than they had before. I was looking down at the two heads pointed upwards towards me. As I coaxed my fist upwards and then back down the final time, I saw the slit at the end of both cocks widen, open, and the last fountain of pearly fluid shoot forth. Upward it rose. Past my cum stained and dripping chest. Both loads caught me squarely between the open lips. I tasted their cum! The salt, the flavor of their man juice filled my mouth and then slowly ran down my throat. It was delicious! I wanted to drink more or it. My cock exploded again and again in my desire to taste another drop.
But that was not to be this day. Spent, we each reluctantly released the cocks we had so fondly held, teased, pumped, and momentarily satisfied. Only a single drop glistened at the tip of each. Pete grasped all three cocks together and slowly milked the remaining drop out. Releasing them, he licked his hand as he winked at me. I smiled back. I remembered that taste, the taste of cum. I slowly ran my tongue over my lips. I knew that I was going to taste it again and I couldn't wait.
Chapter 3
The days passed in fast succession. The school term was rapidly roaring to its climax -- exams for everyone and graduation for some. My attention was divided amongst many things; but it always seemed to return to a focal point. I knew that I had changed. Inwardly, I knew it, and I liked the change. As it turned out, I had changed more than I had thought. Even my parents noticed that I seemed to be taking a more active interest in everything around me.
It was as if I had come alive. My studies were coming along fine. My swimming was taking up more of my time, though. The coach said he was pleased with my progress and that next year there was no question but that I would be among the top in the state for my events. But that would take practice and training. Each day he would spend as much time with me as possible. Sometimes it meant staying after classes had ended. But he didn't seem to mind. And I sure didn't if it meant winning any state competitions!
My new found friends, Pete and Jim, were as busy as I. I had not realized it, but Pete was a year older than the two of us and he was going to graduate this year. I was sorry about that. I felt closer to him than I did to Jim. Maybe it was because he was older and had been around a little bit more, but he made me feel comfortable. I liked him. In fact, I liked him a lot. Although he was several inches shorter, he acted like a big brother to me at times. Yes, we had developed a strong relationship.
After that time in the showers where the three of us jacked each other off, I had thought a lot about it. Many times, when I was home alone in my room, my mind would return to the wonderful sensation of holding those two warm, throbbing cocks in my hands; feeling those rods stiffen and become excited as my fingers tightened about them. And most of all, watching those two cock heads explode all over me time and time again, splashing their pearly fluid on my chest and the thick love juice slowly running down. I had tasted Pete. His last load had escaped his stiffened rod. I wondered now whether or not I had in fact pointed that pulsing head so that last, exciting load could reach my lips. I could still taste it, as I slowly licked my lips.
As I lay here on my bed thinking, I looked down. Both my hands were filled with my own love muscle. I watched as I slowly brought both hands up the long rod and then pushed them away from me exposing the engorged, purple head, quivering at the end. Pete's cock was smaller than mine, but his was shaped about the same. I looked at my cock and then slowly pumped my hands one more stroke. I was looking at Pete's cock -- that was Pete's organ that I held -- that was growing larger and larger in my hands. Lovingly, I stroked it over and over and over until a glistening drop ran from its head. It lubricated my hands making the motion easier.
This was Pete's cock that I was playing with and I wanted it to last as long as possible. But the sight fascinated and thrilled me. The touch of the long shaft against my palms, the feel of the fingers as they massaged it brought new excitement. I lay there, propped up on a pillow, watching the wonderful sight in front of me. How could I prolong the wonderful sensation? Maybe if I somehow moistened my hands even more. The natural lubrication caused by my manipulations oozed from the narrow slit at the end. My hand slid smoothly over the large head. I closed it, palm engulfing the entire angry bulb at the end of my cock and slowly rotated it as I gripped it firmly. Oh god! The sensation was slowly driving me wild.
Suddenly, I remembered that there was some petroleum jelly in the medicine cabinet that was used to "lubricate" burns, scrapes, etc. I quickly got up and went down the hall to get it. My anxious cock stretched out in front pointing the way. Keeping one hand working gently, I fumbled with the lid on the jar with my other hand. I got it open. I smeared a large glob of the substance on the palms of both hands and then reached down and grasped the steely protrusion anxiously awaiting the soothing touch. Both hands slid up and down the long shaft -- easily, effortlessly. My fingers tightened and I pumped again. This time my cock slid through my fist imparting a startling and thrilling sensation deep inside. My straining grip tightened.
I went back to my bedroom. I stood in front of the mirror marveling at the gorgeous sight. My cock was as large as I had ever seen it. It glistened. Just looking at my cock made it jerk upwards vainly trying to reach even further out. I slowly took one hand, grasped the head firmly and then drew it downwards as far to the base as I could and held it there. With the other hand, I encased the swollen head firmly, palm over the tortured tip. I rotated my fist first clockwise as far as I could and then reversed the motion. The throbbing traveled down the length of the stretched shaft. The balls handing below began to tingle in their sacs. The hand holding the cock at its base took on even more of a strangle hold as the other one massaged the head. I released the head and with my thumb, I traced the flange that circled the head. I then gripped the shaft tightly just below the pulsing knob. With the thumb, I teased the wide slit at the end. A drop appeared. I smeared it over the smooth surface exulting in the touch. This happened again and again, each time making the shaft strain with expectation.
I wanted to see it spit. I wanted to taste it. I wanted to feel that incredible sensation as the cum started deep down inside and moved with ever increasing urgency towards the shaft, then upwards to explode from the throbbing end in a rushing load of white juice.
I lay down on the bed as I continued to work on my aching tool. Raising my feet over my head, I found that I could point that wondrous implement right at my own mouth. Slowly I pumped with one hand as I grasped the ball sac with the other. I watched my cock grow even more. I could see the head pulse. I could feel the head pulse. My tongue drew a trail of saliva around my dried lips as a small bead at the end grow into a drop. And then it began to get even larger and was beginning to fall. My cock was only inches from my mouth and my tongue reached to greet the voyager. It ran down the outstretched surface finally reaching the back of my throat. I had to have another. My back strained even more as I brought my cock closer to the gapping mouth. My hand pumped. Up and down. My tongue reach out. It just touched the new droplet forming and licked it away.
One more try and my lips were able to caress the bulbous end. My tongue wildly swirled about the opening as my hand guided what I had wanted desperately, what I had waited so long for. I felt the pressure at the back of my mouth as the cum poured forth, filling it with a sticky, delicious substance. I drank it. I wanted more. My hand continued to manipulate my long shaft as my lips sucked the head of it even further into my mouth. My tongue coaxed load after load of sweet tasting lover juice from that wondrous organ, praying in between each explosion that there would be more.
They were slower and slower in coming. But the sensation none the lesser for it. Each wad that filled my mouth brought with it a fulfillment and yearning I had never known before. I wanted more. I could feel the shaft soften. The giant head no longer reached all the way to my mouth, but instead hung a few inches above my face where I could see the still swollen implement issuing forth the last remaining drops of passion. I aimed them gently towards my waiting lips, drinking each one as a parched desert traveler strains for a drink of water.
Suddenly, there was one last surge; one final convulsion. Some, but not all went were I wanted it to. Some splashed on my face. I licked as much of it off with my tongue as I could. The rest I wiped off with my hand and then licked that clean.
Lowering my legs back down to the bed, I lay back holding my love muscle in my hands. I dreamt that that had been Pete's cock that I had licked, touched with my lips. That it was his long shaft that I had sunk in my throat. And that it was his cum that I had drunk over and over again. The thought both thrilled me and relaxed me. And I knew that someday, someday, if only in my dreams ------------.
Chapter 4
"Come on. We gotta get goin'," a voice said. I looked up, rubbed my eyes. Rubbed them again in disbelief. A youthful figure stood next to my bed smiling down at me. His feet were set wide apart.
"Hi, Pete," I stammered. He just stood there -- blond,tousled hair, bronzed face, and a gleaming smile a mile wide! Broad shoulders accented the narrow waist: A tight tee shirt displayed the well developed pecs -- each nipple could be plainly seen. The flat washboard stomach and the low riding levis all added to the vision. Both hands had their thumbs hooked in the front pockets. The right one, though, had its fingers extended over the flaccid protrusion that stretched downwards almost halfway to his right knee.
As I swung my feet over the side of the bed he took a step closer to me straddling my knees. "Oh God," I thought, "That wonderful cock just inches from my mouth!" Impulse overwhelmed me. I threw my arms around his waist and buried my face in his crotch. My parted lips closed over the cloth bound tool, breathing warm,moist air through the fabric. He didn't move. He just said softly, "We gotta get going." His tone belied any urgency. Still pulling him towards me with my left arm, I reached up with my right, cupping the firm breast. The movement told my lips that his firmly encased tool wanted to be free. It was straining to grow.
I reached under the tee shirt, gently grasping his tit between my thumb and fore finger. It was hard. I squeezed it softly and my hungry lips again received the response. Slowly, I fell back on the bed, pulling him after me. His hips were in my face. I smothered the area with warm kisses and anxious mouthings as I grasped the buttons at the top of his levis and one by one opened them.
More and more of the blond pubic hair brushed softly against my face as my mouth sought out the area where that wondrous instrument began. I pulled his levis downwards -- it took several tugs, ea
[Truncated. --Ed.]