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Message-ID: <33086asstr$1004044204@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Peregrinf" <dfowler@catskill.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} Carl Naked in School 5/15 (mf exhib oral)
Date: Thu, 25 Oct 2001 17:10:04 -0400
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Carl Naked in School 5/15 (mf exhib oral)

Tuesday Afternoon

Maybe it was playing softball outside, or maybe it was
Stephanie's attention in the shower, or maybe Beth jacking me
off, but I was somehow more comfortable as I made my way to my
next class. 

I was very conscious of the touch of air all over my naked body,
which I hadn't been before. It felt good. I sought the word I
wanted, mentally working on my journal for Mr. Turner - it felt
really sensuous.  This had to be what sensuous was. It was like
every nerve ending was wide awake. My flesh felt incredibly
alive. 

I knew my nipples were stiff, and my cock was throbbing again. 

"Ah, Mr. Walker," Miss Mitchell, the vice principal who'd made me
strip greeted me. "How are you doing today?" 

"Oh, good afternoon, Miss Mitchell," I answered politely.
"Better, thank you." 

"You seem much more at ease this afternoon," she observed. 

"Yes'm, I guess I am." I glanced down at myself, pinking up at
the sight of my hardon pointing at her lewdly. "It's still pretty
embarrassing. I wish I didn't get like this so easily." I
gestured at my rigid dick. 

She actually smiled slightly. "I find it rather flattering,
actually." 

"Oh! Uhm, sorr - I mean - oh," I stammered. 

"If you want to get to your next class in time for some relief,
Mr. Walker, you'd best hurry." 

For a moment I thought about asking her to do it then and there,
but decided not to and hurried away to Civics. 

Mrs. Jacobs glanced at the clock as I entered the room, one of
the last, just before the bell rang. "Ah, good afternoon, Mr.
Walker." 

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Jacobs." I hesitated. She was gray haired,
with sharp blue eyes behind bifocals. She'd been teaching here
practically forever. A twinge from my steaming balls decided me.
"I - ah - think I'd better take some relief." 

She pursed her lips. "Indeed? Very well. Did you want
assistance?" 

I glanced around. A half a dozen girl's hands went up, and one
guy'?! It was Phil Burton!! My eye skipped past him quickly and
lighted on Marilyn Beaverton. She was smirking knowingly as she
held her hand up, not eagerly but languidly. She licked her lips,
giving me a heavy lidded look. 

"Uh, Marilyn?" I asked. She had a rep around school. I'd
overheard one guy say she'd go down for a wooden nickel and give
four cents change back. I figured it would be easier for the
girl, and maybe me, if it was someone experienced. 

She bounced her way up from her seat. She wore skirts as short
and sweaters as tight as she could get away with under the dress
code, and her nipples were always poking out - boob ends showing,
some guys called it, others called it "high beams." She was
blond, with blue eyes, and a body that would give the Pope a
hardon. 

She smiled at me, and her tongue danced along her luscious lips
teasingly. "Look Ma, no hands," she whispered softly, grinning,
her eyes flashing. I gaped as she deliberately put her hands
behind her back, and sank slowly to her knees in front of me.
There was a gasp throughout the room. 

"Oh, my goodness!" Mrs. Jacobs dropped into her chair, looking
like she was about to faint. 

"There's nothing in the rules about how I do it, is there?"
Marilyn asked innocently. 

Then, while Mrs. Jacobs leafed desperately through the brochure,
Marilyn leaned forward. Her tongue flicked out and touched just
the very tip of my dick, catching the thick, clear drop of
pre-cum that was about to fall. 

I didn't remember what the rules said, and at that point I didn't
care. "Aahhhhh!" Without meaning to, I sighed, as her soft, warm
lips closed around the head of my cock. I had to steady myself
with one hand on the desk. 

Her tongue stroked the underside of my hardon, stroked that oh-so
sensitive spot just behind the head, like hot velvet, and I felt
my prick ooze a stinging, ecstatic wave of hot seepings. 

"Mmmmmmmm," Marilyn purred, smacking her lips. "Delicious," she
added, before closing her mouth on my cock once again. 

"Oh God," I whispered. 

She leaned forward, and I watched my prick slowly vanish in her
mouth, her lips, bright red with lipstick, sliding along its
throbbing length. Half my cock was engulfed by her warm mouth.

The whole classroom seemed to be holding its breath. 

She drew back, sucking gently, then slid forward again, deeper,
and it was all I could do to keep from passing out with pleasure.


Out, in, she moved a little faster, took me a little deeper with
each stroke. I felt my cock head strike the back of her throat,
felt her throat work, and take me deeper. 

Holy shit! She was deep throating me. I watched as she buried her
nose in my pubic hair. 

One more stroke and I was over the edge. She must have felt my
cock pulsate, and shoved forward, the last bit of my prick
vanishing, and I began to unload straight down her throat. 

Pulse, pulse, pulse, my groin convulsed as I poured wave after
wave of cum into her mouth. Marilyn took it all, backing off at
last, her nostrils flaring as she drew in a breath, catching the
last few spurts on her tongue. The gentle touch of her fingers on
my balls made my groin wring itself dry with a final ecstatic
spasm. 

When I was finally done erupting, she eased off, spat out my
already softening dick, rolled the last drizzle of cum in her
mouth around on her tongue with obvious relish, and swallowed it.


"Ooops!" She giggled, using her finger to capture a little
dribble that had escaped to trickle down her chin, and licked her
finger clean. 

Then she carefully used her mouth to clean off my cock one last
time. 

When she held her hand up, what could I do but help her to her
feet? 

The class burst into applause, and she curtsied daintily before
jiggling her way back to her seat. 

Mrs. Jacobs was sagging weakly in her chair, fanning herself with
the brochure before tossing it aside and polishing the steam off
her bifocals with a tissue. 

I felt like I'd had the stuffings sucked out of me. I'd been
Hoovered! My legs were rubbery as I made my way to my seat. 

"Well, now!" Mrs. Jacobs began. "I think this would be a good
time to discuss the factors which led to the development of this
program which Mr. Walker is participating in. Perhaps we should
begin by listing those factors." 

She went to the whiteboard, and began to scrawl shakily as the
class volunteered their ideas. I just sat there and tried to
catch my breath. 

After that little episode, I thought anything else that happened
that day would be an anticlimax (pun intentional, and thank you,
Mr. Turner for teaching me that word), but I was wrong. 

Oh, band practice wasn't quite as memorable, but it did have its
moments. You've got to admit, marching around an athletic field
wearing nothing but shoes and socks while blowing a trombone
ranks right up there on the "strange" scale. 

Mr. Peters accepted the situation without comment. I still wasn't
clear whether I'd be wearing my uniform on Saturday or not, but I
was afraid to ask, frankly. 

Or was I? I was getting a bit more comfortable with being naked
in front of all these people. The thought of parading around in
the nude at halftime was certainly intimidating. But it was
exciting - well, arousing is more accurate - as well. 

Then we were into practice and I didn't have time to think of
anything else. You try marching and blowing through about twenty
feet of brass tubing, trying to make meaningful sounds, and see
how much day dreaming you can do! 

There was a light wind blowing, it was about 75 degrees, I guess,
and the sun was bright. In spite of having to concentrate on what
I was doing, I was intensely aware of being naked as the breeze
stroked my skin. The sun was hot on me, too. The only word for it
was sensuous, believe me. 

Then, at the end of practice, Mr. Peters threw me a real curve. 

There we were in ranks, and Mr. Peters called me out. "Mr.
Walker, front and center, please." 

Wondering what I'd done wrong, I slipped through the files from
my usual place in the middle of the second row from the back.
"Yessir?" I asked, suddenly a bit more self-conscious at being
singled out and standing with the whole band looking at me, all
pink and white and tan. 

"You have the honor of dotting the `I' this Saturday!" he
announced. 

Well, it was supposed to be an honor. We usually open our
halftime show by filing on to the field and forming the school
name, Central High, in script. There's one musician selected to
dot the "i" in "High." Mr. Peters selects the player he thinks
has deserved the honor most, by whatever criteria he uses - I've
never quite figured out what it is. 

Anyway, that player is supposed to march in his or her usual
place in the file, and then at the top of the loop of the "l" in
"Central" he marches straight off alone while the rest of the
band circles around to start the "High" below the "Central." He
then wanders around sort of at random as if lost. As we near the
end of the maneuver he looks around frantically, then runs a
circle around the whole formation before finding his place at the
top of the "i" just as the last beat comes down on the school
fight song. 

"Me, sir?" Damn, my voice cracked! 

"You're `it,' Mr. Walker. Any problem with that?" 

I thought furiously. Surely they wouldn't want me to do that in
the nude! "Uh, no sir, I guess not." I'd never done it before,
but we all knew the routine well enough. It was all a matter of
timing, was all. 

"Very good!" He slapped me on the butt! "Back in place, Mr.
Walker." 

I slipped back through the ranks, Stephanie, who played a
crackerjack flute, giving me a wink and a smile, reaching out to
brush my cock with her fingers as I passed her, much to my
surprise. 

I was still mulling over the honor, and my butt was still
stinging from Mr. Peters's slap when he dismissed us for the day.


I hurried to get my trombone in its case and get to my clothes.
After strapping my trombone to the bike, wishing, as I always
did, that I played trumpet instead, I pedaled homeward. A carload
of senior girls cruised past me with a bunch of cheery greetings,
waves and one wolf whistle. 

If nothing else, I was acquiring some popularity! 

I walked in to find Sis already in the kitchen, scarfing down
cookies and milk. Apparently she either didn't have some extra
curricular something, or they gave her time off for good
behavior. 

"How was school?" she asked uncustomarily. 

"Okay," I answered, my head in the fridge as I sought the milk. 

"It's on the counter," she pointed out. "Cookie?" 

"Yeah." 

"You're welcome," she responded sarcastically. 

"Uh, I'm sorry, thanks," I mumbled around a cookie. 

"What's it like, going around school naked?" 

I wasn't sure I wanted to talk about it with her, but decided it
had to be done, sooner or later. I dropped into the chair across
from her, dunking a cookie in my milk. "Embarrassing," I
admitted. 

"I heard you got hard," she observed. 

"Guys do that, when they get sexually excited," I explained. 

"So's they can get their penis inside the girl," she said. "I
learned about that in sex ed last year." 

"Last year?! You're only eleven!" 

She made a face. "I know some girls my age who've already lost
their cherries." 

"Oh. I guess you start younger than I did." 

"Not ME!" she protested. "Jeepers!" 

"I didn't mean you YOU," I assured her. "I mean your generation."


She giggled. "I'm only four years younger than you." 

"Four years is a long time," I mumbled. 

"Yeah, I guess so," she agreed, "more than a third of my life,
more than a quarter of yours." She drank some milk and licked off
the mustache it gave her. "Uh - Mom said you might go naked
around the house sometime." 

"I don't know." I was blushing again, both embarrassed and
aroused at the thought. 

"I wouldn't mind if you did," Sis went on. "It might even be a
good thing." 

"Oh? And just how is that, Squirt?" I asked wryly. 

"Well, I mean, I'd like, maybe, get used to what a naked boy
looks like," she pointed out. "Mom said she was really shocked
the first time she saw a guy naked with a .... 

"Hardon?" I asked. 

"Yeah. It'd kinda get me used the idea of having something like
that put in me," she explained. "When I do decide to have sex, I
mean." 

I thought this over. "I suppose it might." 

"So. Will you?" 

"Will I what?" I asked. 

"Get naked," she explained like I was being stupid or something,
which I guess I was. 

"Right now?!" 

She picked up her glass and took it to the sink. "It's as good a
time as any," she pointed out. "Done with the milk?" 

I shoved it in her direction, my hand shaking. She picked it up,
almost dropped it and put her other hand under it as she carried
it to the refrigerator. 

"I'm going to my room," I mumbled, fleeing as she wet a sponge
and mopped the cookie crumbs off the table. 

My own sister was giving me a hardon!

Up in my room, I paced. I was suddenly very aware of my clothes,
how they constricted me, smothered me. My dick was trying to
stiffen, knotted over by my shorts and jeans. My shirt felt tight
under my armpits. 

Hell, it wouldn't hurt to be naked in my room, at least, would
it? 

My hands were shaking as I unfastened my belt. Then I had to sit
down to take off my shoes before I could get my pants down. I
shucked off my socks at the same time, and stood up again. 

Draping my jeans over a chair, I unbuttoned my shirt, practically
tore it off. 

My dick tented out my jockeys. 

I stretched, like a cat, one of those long, crackling,
work-every-muscle-to-the-limit stretches that leaves you feeling
like your whole skeleton has about separated at the joints and
you're about to fall in a heap of disconnected bones. 

Then I skinned my shorts down and off. My cock stood out stiffly,
and I shivered at the touch of the air all over my body. I wasn't
cold. I just felt so alive! 

I turned to get to my homework, and only then realized that I'd
left my books and my trombone downstairs. 






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