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From: "Peregrinf" <dfowler@catskill.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} Carl Naked in School 1/15 (m exhib mast)
Date: Tue, 23 Oct 2001 19:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

The idea for this series obviously 
comes from the "Karen Naked at School" 
series posed by Karen Wagner back in 
June of this year. I felt the males who 
participated in the school program 
should be given the opportunity to tell 
of their experiences. I can only offer 
Karen my thanks for the inspiration. I 
hope I have done her orginal concept 
justice. 

Peregrinef


Carl Naked in School 1/15 (m exhib mast)

I'm sure you've read Karen's story of 
her week naked in school. The only 
trouble with it is that she tells it as 
if she were the only one walking the 
halls and going to class with it all 
hanging out, so to speak. Well, let me 
tell you MY story. 

As she explained at the beginning of 
her tale, there was to be one girl and 
one boy from each class, frosh, junior 
and senior, chosen each week to take 
part in the program. Well, that first 
week, I was the junior class boy. My 
name is Carl Walker, and, like Karen, 
I'm a junior. I know her, but not well 
-  we're on different academic tracks, 
have different extracurriculars and 
move in different social circles, 
though I suppose our pictures will be 
side by side in the yearbook - Wagner, 
Walker?. 

I know I'm seen as a bit of a  nerd. 
I'm a geek, I admit it.. I'm on the 
fast track to college, probably 
physics. I'm five foot eleven, and 
still growing (I hope), on the skinny 
side, maybe 150 pounds, blond hair, 
blue eyes. 

Anyway, at the same time Karen was 
called into the principal's office and 
made to strip, I was called into Miss 
Mitchell's office. She's the Assistant 
Principal, not someone that I'd had 
much to do with. Oh, I'd seen her 
around, said "Hi" to her a few times. 
She was very formal. It was always 
"Hello, Mr. Walker," from her, never 
"Hi, Carl," or just "Hi." 

But it's a formal school. Respect is 
emphasized all the way around. 
Something to do with minimizing 
violence or something, but to all the 
teachers we are "Mr." this or "Miss" 
that, and they are "Mr." or  "Mrs." or 
"Miss" so-and-so. 

Believe it or not, there's even a dress 
code! No tube tops, no hot pants, no 
hats. They stopped short of the jacket 
and neck tie, at least. Now I was about 
to find out it was all or nothing!

She's wasn't bad looking, Miss 
Mitchell, kind of skinny, on the tall 
side. You couldn't tell a lot about her 
figure, `cause she usually wore a suit. 
You know, a skirt that came below her 
knees, a white blouse with a sort of 
fluffy bow tie and a jacket like a 
blazer. She wore her hair short and it 
had a touch of silver in with the gold, 
so I guess she was a natural blond. 

She was kind of old, maybe fifty, I 
guess. Severe looking, if you know what 
I mean - gray eyes, pursed mouth. I 
remember once I saw her laughing, some 
joke from a teacher I guess, and it 
surprised me. She looked - nice. Some 
guys said she was a dyke, but I never 
believed `em, and from my dealings I'm 
even more sure now I'm right. 

Anyway, like I say, I was called into 
her office at the same time Karen was 
called into the principal's, and I 
guess I was told pretty much the same 
thing Karen was, and given a brochure 
about it. You know, that a new program 
had begun, and I was chosen as the 
junior boy who would have to attend all 
classes in the nude for the week. 

Oh, yeah, she said it had something to 
do with us learning to treat girls as 
something other than simply sex 
objects, to learn to harness our 
natural energies, to behave more 
maturely, to become comfortable with 
our bodies, blah, blah, blah. I was so 
shocked I was hardly listening. 

Well, I mean, you could have fried an 
egg on my face! I mean, yeah, I'd heard 
stuff about some new program, rumors, 
but I hadn't believed half of what they 
were saying. And I thought I'd be the 
last person in the world they'd choose 
even if they were true. I mean, I was 
brought up to be modest. I was kind of 
shy, to tell you the truth, and hadn't 
dated much - well, at all, really. 

But I'm not gay or sexless. Half the 
time I'm walking around with a woody, 
trying to peek down the blouses of the 
girls, or up their skirts, trying to 
imagine what their breasts looked like. 
Stuff like that. I've got some hot Web 
sites book marked on my computer, only 
my Mom doesn't know it, of course. 

I hate to admit it, but at fifteen, 
almost sixteen, I was a virgin. 

Anyway, there I am, holding that 
brochure with a photo of a naked girl 
and boy on the cover, and she's saying, 
"Strip, Mr. Walker, or I will have 
someone help you do it." 

"Naked?" I asked stupidly. 

"Naked." It was the same, no-nonsense 
tone she'd use when she caught someone 
horsing around in the hall, or when she 
took cigarettes away from some dork 
stupid enough to get caught with them. 
Mind you, I don't touch `em, and I 
don't drink, either. I guess I've got a 
reputation as a real straight arrow, 
and here I'm being told I was going to 
walk around school naked for a week! 
Shit!. 

But, after taking a look at the two 
security officers smirking at me, I put 
down my stuff and began unbuttoning my 
shirt, LL Bean, of course, white, short 
sleeved oxford, button down collar and 
all. I emptied the pocket, wondering 
where I was going to keep my 
calculator, my pencils and stuff. 
(Don't even THINK it!) 

When I got the shirt off one of the 
guards took it and I sat down to take 
off my shoes next, then my socks, 
trying to put off the inevitable as 
long as I could. All I had to do was 
think about being naked with a girl 
and, well, I rose to the occasion, if 
you know what I mean. Like, already I 
had a hardon that would punch a hole in 
concrete, for chrissakes! 

"Pants," she ordered when I'd finished 
tucking my socks in my shoes. "You will 
be allowed shoes and socks, by the 
way." 

Big deal! I thought. Standing up again, 
I fumbled with my belt, got it open, 
undid the button, ran my zipper down. I 
was scarlet from head to toe as I bent 
to slide my jeans down, trying not to 
look at her, trying to hide the hardon 
trying to crawl through the fly of my 
jockeys. The guard took my jeans and 
put them in a box with my shirt. 

Then it was my underpants. I turned my 
back on her, but it wasn't much help, 
giving her a good look at my butt as I 
skinned them down, facing the guy who'd 
already taken my shirt and jeans. I 
straightened, my dick sticking out like 
the bowsprit of some friggin' sailing 
ship or something, bobbing up and down 
heavily. 

"You can put your shoes and socks on, 
if you'd like." 

I burned red. "Oh, yeah, thanks." I had 
to sit down in full view of her, my 
dick sticking up from my lap like a 
flagpole. It was even drooling a bit of 
pre-cum! 

Somehow I did manage to get my socks 
and shoes on. I quick got up and turned 
toward the door, wanting to get away 
from her so much I wasn't even thinking 
of what was probably waiting outside 
the door. 

"Don't forget your books, and the 
pamphlet, and find the time to 
familiarize yourself with it" Miss 
Mitchell reminded me as I reached for 
the door. "And your pencil and pen and 
calculator." 

"Oh, uhm, yes'm, Miss Mitchell." I sort 
of sidled toward her, trying to hide my 
dick from her, but it didn't really 
work. I saw her eyes flick down to my 
cock, and for just a moment I thought I 
saw her lips twitch and maybe there was 
a gleam of interest in her eyes? I 
fumbled and dropped stuff, finally 
getting it all corralled. Holding it 
front of my crotch didn't do much good, 
since my dick stuck out like an iron 
bar. 

"Remember the rules, Mr. Walker," she 
reminded me. "Three five minute 
bathroom breaks, you use the  girl's 
locker room for gym, and you are to 
remain nude through all extra-
curricular activities as well, save 
those where you are required to wear 
protection, such as certain sports, in 
which case only the necessary 
protection is to be worn. Oh, and one 
other thing." 

"Yes'm?" I had my hand on the doorknob, 
ashamed even to look in her direction, 
at the same time dreading what I was 
going to face outside the office.  

"In view of the adolescent male libido 
- you do know what `libido' means, 
don't you, Mr. Walker?" 

"Uh, yeah," I admitted. "I think so. 
Sex drive, right?" I risked looking at 
her. 

There was the hint of a smile at the 
corners of her mouth. "Close enough. 
Anyway, I believe you'll find, if you 
haven't already, that a prolonged 
period of sexual arousal without relief 
results in what I believe is called a 
case of blue balls. Do you know what 
I'm talking about?" 

I nodded numbly. 

"In view of your condition," her 
gesture took in my throbbing hardon, 
"the rules allow for you to ask for 
relief at the beginning of each class 
period. You'll be permitted to 
masturbate, or even seek assistance in 
relieving your sexual tension. But it 
can only be done in full view of the 
class, and only in the first five 
minutes of the class period." 

"In front of the whole class?" For the 
first time in two years my voice 
cracked. 

"That's the rule, Mr. Walker. In front 
of the class. The teachers have, of 
course, received a full briefing on 
this program, so they will not be 
surprised. In fact, I suspect they will 
be expecting the request," she 
concluded. "It's all in the brochure, 
Mr. Walker. Please take the time to 
familiarize yourself with the rules. No 
clothes, no backpack, even, nothing to 
conceal your body from your fellow 
students. You can't even use your hands 
- not that they would do much good as 
long as you have that erection. And you 
must cooperate with any reasonable 
requests your teachers or fellow 
students may make of you during the 
week." 

I gulped. "This is n...." 

"These are the rules, Mr. Walker. Try 
to conduct yourself with dignity and a 
good nature and I think you may even 
learn to enjoy the situation. You'll 
find your clothes outside the south 
entrance at the end of the day, and 
please use that entrance all this week 
both coming and going. There is a box 
in which to deposit your clothes before 
you enter the building. Now you'd best 
hurry to your first class." 

Just as I reached for the doorknob I 
heard some cheering and commotion out 
in the hallway, and froze, my dick 
actually wilting. 

"Ah, I suspect the other chosen ones 
have probably emerged. On your way now, 
Mr. Walker. And try to enjoy yourself. 
Your clothes will be waiting you 
outside the school at the end of the 
day." 

So I opened the door and stepped out, 
into a wall of sound, girls shrieking, 
boys applauding as I turned scarlet. 
Perversely, my dick shot back to 
attention, looking like a torpedo 
seeking a target. I tried to like, be 
casual, thinking of how Michelangelo's 
statue of David looked, but it didn't 
really work. I mean, shit, he wasn't 
circumcised (I am) and he didn't have a 
hardon like a baseball bat! 

Then the bell rang and I had to hurry 
to make it to physics, my first class. 
As I pushed through the throng, I felt 
more than a few touches on my bare 
butt, and someone, I don't even know if 
it was a boy or a girl, even grabbed a 
quick feel of my throbbing dork. It was 
a good thing they didn't stroke me or 
they would probably have wound up with 
a handful of cum! 

"Ah, Mr. Walker, it's good to see you 
so - uhm - alert this morning," Mr. 
Cranover greeted me cheerily as I 
walked in to a wave of titters and 
chuckles. Mercifully, there weren't too 
many girls in the class. Some of the 
guys looked embarrassed by my state and 
some gave me sympathetic smiles. 

"G'morning," I mumbled, heading for my 
seat and the safe concealment of my 
desk. 

"You look a little tense this morning, 
Mr. Walker," Mr. Cranover observed. 

"I'm okay," I assured him, a bit 
testily, I admit. I slid awkwardly into 
my seat. It was cold on my fanny, and 
my dick stuck up from my lap, resting 
against the desk itself.  

"Just remember the rules, Mr. Walker," 
he reminded me. "Now, let's go on with 
our discussion of Newton's laws of 
motion." 

Maybe he was being kind, but at least 
he didn't call on me the whole period. 
By the time we were halfway through 
class, though, I was feeling twinges 
that had me worried. Shit, I'd been 
hard for half an hour. If I didn't get 
some relief I was going to be bent over 
like a croquet hoop. 

For a moment I thought of jacking off 
behind the concealment of my desk, 
rules be dammed. Then I saw Lori, a 
cute blond cheerleader -- bright, too --
 next to me, looking sideways at me, 
licking her lips, and realized, as I 
stiffened even more, that I'd never get 
away with it. Like, there was no room, 
and my cock was actually leaning up 
against the desk itself, drooling, no 
less! If I came it'd look like Old 
Faceful with my cum shooting straight 
up into the air! As it was, every time 
I took a breath the underside of my 
dick rubbed up and down, up and down, 
against the desk, only serving to keep 
me rigid as a flagpole. 

I was in trouble. Surreptitiously, I 
checked the brochure I'd been given, 
quickly reading the part about 
relieving my tension. It was quite 
explicit about having to do it during 
the first five minutes of a class, and 
in front of the class. 

I thought I'd get a chance between 
classes to duck into the john and take 
care of my problem, but sure enough, 
one of the security people just 
happened to be outside the door to 
escort me to my next class. 

"I need to go to the john," I said. 

"I'll go with you," he assured me 
politely. 

I thought of trying to pee through the 
hardon I was carrying. "Never mind." I 
tried to ignore his smirk as I waddled 
down the hall, kind of bow legged, 
trying to keep from jostling my aching 
balls. 

Oh Jeeze! French with Mademoiselle 
Duclos was next! I'd had a hardon for 
her since the first day. She was maybe 
thirty, wore tight sweaters and short 
skirts, had short black hair and bright 
blue eyes, lips designed to be kissed, 
or maybe wrapped around a cock. Half 
the guys in class, and maybe some of 
the girls, too, had a crush on her. 

But I also knew that if I didn't do 
something soon, I'd be crawling through 
the rest of the day. 

Shit! 

"Ah, bon jour, Monsieur Walker," she 
greeted me cheerily as I entered the 
room. "I am so `appy to see you this 
morning. And you are `appy to see me, 
non
?" 

I thought I saw the tip of her tongue touch her upper lip as she looked right 
at my dick. Damned if I didn
't get even harder right there in the doorway. Oh God, I wanted to curl up and 
die, because I knew what I was going to have to do if I was going to survive 
the next five minutes. 

"
Bon jour, Mademoiselle Duclos
," I greeted her, fidgeting nervously rather than going to my desk. 

"You per
'aps 
`ave a leetle problem, Monsieur Walker? Or, maybe it is not so leetle a problem?
" She pushed some papers around on her desk, and I saw she had a copy of the 
same pamphlet I
'd been given by Miss Mitchell, and it was open to the page covering the 
- ah 
- relief clause. 

So, I find myself, stark naked, facing the class, my dick standing out hard and 
strong. Now, you remember that dream you have some times, where you
're naked in school? Well, this was no dream. And there were some foxy girls in 
that class. And in the third row, there was Beth, who I
'd taken to the movies only last Saturday as our first ever date, and then I
'd shuffled and stammered as we stood at her door, and then she went in and I 
hadn
't even asked her for a kiss. 

I started to cramp and winced. Flaming red, I moved to the front of the room 
and put my stuff on the teacher
's desk. I couldn
't bear to look at anyone, fidgeting nervously. 

"Time is passing, 
Monsieur
 Walker," Mademoiselle Duclos reminded me, shoving a box of tissues in my 
direction. "I anticipated this problem and prepared the class should you need 
relief, so they know what to expect." 

They knew, all right. They were practically panting to watch me do my thing. I 
wanted to crawl in a hole and die. 

Instead I gave in to the inevitable, wrapped my hand around my dick and pumped 
it a couple of times, and it felt so good! My balls tightened up and I looked 
at Beth, and her glasses were practically fogging up as she studied my dick. 
Then she looked into my eyes, and licked her lips, and I went off like a 
cannon. I barely got the tissues up in time to catch the thick, hot spurts of 
cum. I mean, I saw stars, and my knees went weak and my toes curled. I kept 
cumming and cumming, until it felt like my balls were wringing themselves dry. 
Finally I sagged wearily and managed to suck in some air, which smelled of my 
cum. 

"Very good, Monsieur Walker!" Mademoiselle Duclos said, applauding, and the 
whole class burst into applause and whistles and cheering while I was still 
trying to get my breath back. "No, no, do not go to your seat. Stay here for a 
few moments, if you please." 

I was barely able to move anyway. 

"Now, class, with Monsieur Walker
's assistance, we shall go over some of the slang anatomical terms in French." 

I blushed more than ever as she drew me out from behind her desk, her hand hot 
on my bare arm. Reaching between my legs, she gently lifted and fondled my 
still tender balls, my cock rising like the Phoenix from the ashes, still 
drooling from its last eruption. 

"Ze formal term for one of these is 
`
testicule
,
' The slang is, however, is 
`
couilles
.
'" She explained. "The word for penis is 
`
bitte
,
' which is literally 
`bollard,
' which means, how would you say it, 
`a post,
' like you might tie a ship to?" she continued, spelling out each word on the 
white board after touching, on me, what she was talking about! 

"Monsieur Walker entered the room with 
`
un bander
,
' meaning to have a 
`ard-on. 
`e could, in fact 
`ave been said to have been 
`
bander comme un cerf
' which means 
`hard as a deer
' or 
`
comme un tigre
,
' like a tiger." Grinning at me, she growled deep in her throat, stroking the 
underside of my quickly stiffening dick. 

"And ze term for the manipulation he so kindly, and productively demonstrated 
for us is 
`
branlage
' or sometimes 
`
branlette
.
' 

She caught a gob of post cum drooling off my cock and theatrically sucked it 
off her finger. "And, I am happy to 
say,  Monsieur Walker's `foutre,' as it 
is called, is quite delicious." 

I was hard as stone again. 

It was going to be a very long day, and 
a longer week! 

peregrinf

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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