Date: Sun, 05 May 2002 17:16:56 -0600 From: Dream Spinner Subject: The Brewsters Celebrate National Teacher's Day" (t/t, t/b, m/t, m/b, humil) Caution/Welcome. This is a story involving four brothers, one twelve-year-old, one fourteen- year-old, and two sixteen-year-old twins, celebrating National Teacher's Day like all children across America. Well, okay, maybe not like all children, but their intentions are good. This story is posted at free gay adult story sites for adult entertainment only. Permission is not given to copy electronically nor in any other form for the purpose of redistribution or posting at sites other than those described here. This is the thirty-fifth story in the Brewster boys special events and myths series. This National Teacher's Day impress your favorite teacher with your thoughtfulness and show him how smart you are, give him a pack of condoms as a gift. Apples, praise, and story ideas can be sent to the author, J.O. Dickingson, at authorsix@hotmail.com THE BREWSTERS CELEBRATE NATIONAL TEACHER'S DAY "So, is he cool or a troll or what?" "Oh no, he's way cool," responded nine-year-old Charles Elwood. It was a warm Sunday afternoon and he and his four heros, the Brewster brothers, were hanging out at the local playground. "You're sure he's been checking you out." "Fuck yeah. Bobby told me what to watch for," Charles responded, looking up admiringly at his most favourite hero of them all. "Bobby. . . ." "What?" Bobby responded defensively. "What have you been telling Chucky?" "Hey, I'm just helping Chucky out. I don't wanna see him hurt." "What did Bobby tell you, Chucky?" Brett asked. "Well," the nine-year-old replied hesitantly, staring down at his foot as he dug his toe into the grass. He didn't want to get Bobby in trouble. "He said when Mister Moore was looking at other guys I should watch his face, especially his eyes. He said if Mister Moore really was checking us out in the lockers and showers when we have swim classes that his face would look like he's admiring something, you know, like a teacher looks when he looks at you when you've done something good." He looked up at Bobby for confirmation. "You know the look I mean," Bobby explained to his brothers. "That all Bobby told you?" Brett persisted. "No," responded Charles honestly, hoping he was doing the right thing. "He said if Mister Moore really was checking us out he'd look at us like he was hungry, like he'd look at our butts like a guy looks at a double scoop of ice cream on a hot day," he said with a giggle. Bobby's brothers glanced at each other. That sounded like something Bobby would say. "And that it wouldn't be a sneaky look," Charles continued, spilling it all out, "like he was thinking how he could trick us or something, cuz guys who really like boys don't trick them." The boys knew what Bobby meant and the look he was trying to describe. "And," Charles continued, glancing at Bobby, "that he wouldn't start nothin' with a guy, but he wouldn't stop a guy if the guy did somethin' first." "You know what Bobby meant by that?" "Sure. Like if Mister Moore really did like boys he wouldn't try to touch a boy where a guy shouldn't touch without asking first, not even pretend it was by accident. But if he seen a boy touching himself or something he wouldn't have a cow and make him stop like other adults would." The boys glanced at each other again. They could not fault Bobby's advice. "So, has he tried to touch you, or anyone?" Charles shook his head in the negative. "But you think he'd like to." Charles nodded in the affirmative. "And you've seen him looking at you like Bobby said." Charles nodded in the affirmative again. "So what do you guys think?" Bobby asked, looking at his brothers one by one. He knew if anyone could come up with a solution to Chuck's problem, his brothers could, which was how the whole conversation had started that afternoon. "Well, I guess we'll have to give him an opportunity to do something with Chucky and see what he does, but some place safe for Chucky just in case," suggested Brett. "Done that," responded Bobby. "Tell them Chucky." "You mean that cramp thing?" "Yeah." "Well," Bobby's young fan began after thinking for a moment, "the other day after gym after everyone had gone, I told Mister Moore I had a cramp in my leg, up here," he said, indicating his thigh close to his crotch as he looked again at Bobby for confirmation. "And when he looked down I sortta stuck my hips out so he could see I had a boner, but he didn't do nothing, like touch it or nothing, though I could see in his eyes he really wanted to. He just said I probably just strained something but if it kept hurting to let him know and he'd phone my parents to take me to see a doctor." "So?" Bobby asked. "I dunno, he might be, and he might not be," observed Brett. "How we gonna find out?" Charles asked. The four brothers looked at each other. "We'll find a way," Brett promised. That was good enough for Charles. After living next to the Brewsters for almost five years, he knew they were good for their word. It being almost suppertime, the boys headed home. As they walked into the kitchen to the delightful aroma of Sunday supper, they found their father on the phone. "That's wonderful James, absolutely wonderful," Barry was saying. "I'm so happy for both of you. Have you set a date?" At the mention of their uncle's name the boys' ears perked up, and with the mention of "both of you" their father had their complete attention. "I see. In Palm Springs. Yes, I understand. How do you plan on, well, you know, announcing this?" Barry listened with a frown. "That's true. But this does make things official. Yes. Well, I'm pleased you chose me to be the first to know. Yes, if you feel that strongly, I think you're doing the right thing. Yes, I'll tell Brenda. I"m sure things will work out all right. Yes I'll say hello to the boys for you. All right. We'll talk to you soon. Bye." "You'll tell me what?" Brenda asked as she finished setting the table. "Go wash up boys." "Can we hear the news first?" asked Brett. The four boys and their mother looked at Barry. She was too curious to correct Brett's grammar, and that was rare. "James is getting married." "Married!" shouted the five. "That's wonderful," Brenda exclaimed. "That's impossible!" blurted Bobby at the same time. "After all this time it is hard to believe, isn't it?" responded Brenda, looking at her fourth youngest. "I was beginning to think he was going to be a confirmed bachelor like your brother Cory," she added, looking at her husband. "He can't get married," Bobby protested, almost hysterically. "We were so sure that he and, well, I mean, we were sure at least that he's," he stumbled. Looking at his brothers in frustration, he continued, "Well, like, what the fu-, fu-, fu-, fu-." "Take a deep breath and calm down honey," Brenda said, going to her son's side. His stuttering difficulty had almost disappeared, except when he got over excited, thanks she was sure to the dedicated help his high school tutor Zac was providing every Monday night. "Bu-, bu- bu-." "I'm excited for him too," Brenda said, putting her arm around Bobby. "I figured this love interest of his that he's been hinting about these past months was serious." "So did we," wailed Bobby. Brenda looked at her fourth youngest and brushed the hair out of his eyes. He was such a sensitive, caring child. All her boys were. And she was sure she'd be saying the same about the triplets. Already the three could not bear to be apart from one another. "Com'on, Bobby, let's go get washed up," said Brett, extending his hand to his younger brother. Brenda watched them as they headed out of the room. Her boys cared so much about each other also. Oh, they had their squabbles as all brothers do, but deep down inside she knew they loved each other. She smiled warmly as she began to set supper out on the table. She was very fortunate. The boys, meanwhile, crowded into the bathroom and closed the door behind them, eager to talk about what they'd just overheard. "Uncle James is getting married?" asked Brent incredulously as he looked at his brothers for confirmation. "Sure the hell sounds like," responded his twin, Brett, as he brushed his long blond hair out of his eyes. "What the fuck happened?" asked Bobby. "I thought Uncle James was gay. I thought he and Giovanni's dad were serious." "So'd we all," responded Benny. "Who knows what's going on," Brent shrugged. "Adults are always surprising you." "We'll have to email Giovanni and see what he knows." "Fuckin' right," Bobby said angrily. "Right after we eat," Brent said as the boys opened the bathroom door. "You boys are supposed to use water when you wash your hands," called Brenda from the kitchen. "I didn't hear any water running." "Oh yeah," the boys chorused, turning as one and stepping back into the bathroom. "Palm Springs?" asked Brenda as the boys stepped into the kitchen and sat at the table a few minutes later. "Well, that'll be costly for us to go, but we'll make it somehow. But Saint Paul Desert Episcopal? I thought he'd get married in the Anglican church. His fianc‚ must be Episcopal." "Well ," Barry began, not sure how to begin as Brenda passed him the bowl of peas. "Phone him back after we eat and offer to have the wedding here," Brenda continued as she helped herself to the mashed potatoes. Barry didn't mind the interruption considering what he had to explain to his wife. "I'd be delighted to help him and his wife-to-be plan their wedding. Is she from Palm Springs? Is that why he's having the wedding there?" "He didn't say where his intended is from," Barry responded, which was the truth. He passed the peas on to Bobby. "Well, even if he insists on having it in Palm Springs, I'd be delighted to help them. And your sister will be too, I know. I'll phone her after we eat." "Ah, dear, James didn't ask for any help, yours or Tammy's." "Of course he didn't. He wouldn't. He'd never think to ask a favour of others. That's the way he is. That's the way you and all your brothers are. But you know I've planned hundreds of fund-raiser banquets, and dozens of anniversaries for others. I can be of help. Bobby, use your knife to put your peas on your fork, not your finger," she interrupted. "Besides, after waiting all this time to get married, he needs something extra special, something he and his bride wouldn't plan on their own. He is forty-two after all." "He said it's going to be a private ceremony. Just a couple very close friends of his and his, ah, his intended." "We're not invited?" she asked in surprise, putting down her half-buttered bun. "No. They're not inviting any family." "No family? Well! I'm sure your sister and I will convince him otherwise. I know he's not a young man, but a wedding is a wedding, and it's no wedding without family. What about your parents? I know it'll be hard for them to travel to California all the way from Canada, but he is their son. Surely he's inviting them?" Taking the bowl of peas from Brent, she absentmindedly added a spoonful to her uneaten peas on her plate and passed the bowl to her husband. "He has to invite the whole family," she continued without waiting for an answer. "I can't believe that he isn't planning on doing so. We'll just have to see that he does!" she concluded, taking the bowl of potatoes from Brent and thrusting them at Barry angrily. Barry took the bowl of potatoes and wisely said nothing. He knew once Brenda was on a roll there was no stopping her. That was what made her one of the top fund-raisers and most called upon volunteers in Crestview Heights. Besides, this was a sensitive topic, not one that he wanted to discuss with her in front of the boys. That James was gay he'd known for some time but it was going to come as a big surprise to his wife, and that was going to be enough for her to handle without her worrying what the boys would think when they were told their uncle was gay. As for his sons, they were a bit young yet to be in on such discussions, especially Bobby and Benny, and considering what he knew of the boys' experimentation with same sex relationships, he didn't want them to get confused and to begin worrying about their own sexual identity. The rest of their supper was spent in silence. Assuring their parents they had their homework done, the boys were given permission to go on the net after supper. They gathered around the family computer and anxiously connected with their Hotmail account. Typical of their openness with each other, they'd never seen a reason to have separate accounts. As they'd hoped, there was an email from Giovanni. "Guess what," began the message. "My dad and your uncle are going to get married, in a real church! In California where there's a church that will marry two guys. Isn't that fucking awesome? Dad and your Uncle told me this afternoon. They were sortta nervous about it. I can't want for the ceremony." "So, Uncle James is getting married after all, just not to a girl," Brett said with relief. "And to Giovanni's dad! Fucking wicked!" said Brent and the boys high-fived. "So Giovanni's gonna be at the wedding and not us?" asked Bobby as he read over Benny's shoulder. "Yeah. I guess so." "That's not fair." "Yeah. That really sucks. We're the ones who got them together." "Yeah. If we didn't have those tickets to Dream Street we'd never have gone to Orlando, and if we hadn't gone to Orlando Uncle James wouldn't have gone to that fancy restaurant, and we'd never have met Giovanni, and Giovanni and us wouldn't have arranged for Uncle James and his dad to accidentally meet at Disney World." "Right!" "Well, we'll just have to change their plans!" "Yeah, us and Mom." "Let's go talk to her now." "Right!" The boys shut off the computer and headed back for the kitchen. Like their mom, when they made up their minds, they didn't waste any time and there was no stopping them. "Gay?" Well, nothing maybe except for that word. Brett skidded to a stop in the hallway and his three brothers slammed into him. It was their mother's voice, and she was not happy. Having been in trouble many times, they knew the different tones their mother had depending on how serious the trouble was, and the tone they'd just heard was not a tone you wanted to hear. "That's right," Barry said. "So that's what this is all about, this Palm Springs nonsense," Brenda responded, her voice reflecting her opinion of "this nonsense". It was a phrase that the boys had heard their grandmother, their mother's mother, use when discussing things she did not agree with. The boys looked at each other. They could not recall the last time they'd heard their mother so distressed. Well, they could. It was a couple weeks ago when she'd found the pack of cigarettes in the back pocket of Benny's blue jeans when she'd gone to put them in the wash. She didn't believe for one moment that they really belonged to a friend. No, on second thought, it was more recent, last week when one of the parents with kids in the elementary school had suggested they ban the Harry Potter books from being read at school because they dealt with wizards and witchcraft. She'd had some choice words to say about the intelligence of book burners when she got home from the PTA meeting that night. "That's why they're going to Saint Paul Desert Episcopal. It's one of those churches that performs gay marriages," Barry explained. "Well, we'll have to put a stop to that," Brenda snapped. "Dear ," began Barry. "James will not go sneaking off to Palm Springs to . . . to . . . to marry some man," snapped Brenda. "Dear ." "If he thinks I'm going to be in favour of that, he doesn't know me very well. That's all I have to say!" Their mother's voice made it clear that was final, and Barry, and her sons, knew it. The boys headed to their room. Now was clearly not the time to be talking to their mother. They were atypically quiet that night, for obvious reasons. They were totally perplexed, and totally dismayed. They'd expected their mother to be surprised, but her violent reaction to the discovery their uncle was gay had been totally unexpected, especially considering her support of the gay- inclusive scout movement, and their decision to have a gay Pride day. She was one of the most tolerant adults they knew, and that was one of her attributes the boys had come to appreciate. Of course it is easy to be tolerant until it affects you personally. They could see where a mother might have concerns upon learning she had a gay brother-in-law, especially when he'd spent some time alone with her sons. They could also see where marriage could be an issue. Some people had very firm beliefs that marriage could only be between a man and a woman, and even those few states who made it legal were constantly having the law challenged. Women seemed to be particularly sensitive about marriage stuff. Even so, for the boys, and especially Brent and Brett, Brenda's unexpected reaction had an especially devastating effect. If she felt that strongly about their uncle, what was going to be her reaction when she found out about them and their boyfriends? The twins had been thinking about coming out to her, especially after sort of admitting to their dad they were gay that first night after returning to school in January when he'd caught them making their version of cheese balls. They'd had doubts, but now they had even more. As for Benny and Bobby, the two had not really thought much about whether they were gay or not, but their mother's comments that night also left the two boys wondering about their sexuality, and what their mother's reaction would be regardless if they were gay or bi or just enjoyed sex with guys. To get their minds off their dilemma and disappointment, the boys concentrated on Chuck's problem. If there was anything that could occupy their minds for hours it was thinking about sex and dreaming up sexual adventures, whether for fun or for revenge. That Sunday night, however, even scheming how they could find out if Chuck's teacher was gay and the fun that they and Chucky could have if he was, could not match their distress over what they'd overheard their mother saying. Well, at least for half an hour anyway. They were, after all, healthy red-blooded boys. The plan they came up with was totally brilliant. Charles thought so when they told him about it as they waited for the school bus the next morning. "Hi Mister Blackburn," greeted Bobby, giving their bus driver a huge grin. "Great day, huh?" James Blackburn looked at the twelve-year-old suspiciously. "Yes," he said hesitantly, wondering what the prankster was up to and making sure that Bobby didn't touch him as he went by to slap a "kick me" sticker or something on him. Actually the last sticker had been left on the seat of his bus so when he stood up a bright pink label reading "kiss here" was affixed to his backside. Of course he couldn't prove it was one of the Brewsters, but they couldn't prove it wasn't either. As he pulled out, he kept one eye on Bobby in the passenger mirror and one eye on the traffic. Unfortunately he didn't have a third eye and he was so busy wondering what Bobby was up to he missed his next pickup until everyone began to holler half a block past the students staring down the street at their bus. Bobby grinned even wider. Getting off the bus, Bobby paused to greet Mister West, who was on morning supervision, with the same huge smile, and with the question as to why Mister Blackburn might have commented that he'd hoped Mister West had noticed he'd lost ten pounds on his new diet. Leaving the teacher standing there thinking there was only one reason the obese bus driver might say that, and that having to do with an amorous affair that he still could not explain and that kept resurfacing even though it had been two years, Bobby gave a gleeful skip. This was starting off to be a great day. That night as he sat at his desk at home marking papers, Gordon Moore reached for another peanut butter cookie and picked up the handwritten note that had accompanied the anonymous gift. "Dear Mister Moore. I no it isn't teacher appreshiation night yet, but I just wanted to let you know how much I appreshiate how hard you work so I baked you these peanut butter cookies. I hope you like peanut butter. An admiring student." The spelling and grammar weren't the best, but the intention was good, especially considering the student who had left it. The note wasn't signed, but he'd had enough practice trying to match unsigned assignments and test papers with student names that he was pretty certain this particular note and gift was from Charles Elwood. That wasn't a big surprise. Charles tended to be on the hyper side, and was often a mischief maker, but at the same time he was basically a good student with good intentions. He yawned and leaned back. It must have been a more arduous day than he'd realized. He closed his eyes for a second. Maybe it was the tedium of marking. . . . His body might have needed a short nap, but his mind kept on as he thought about the marking he had to do, the lessons he had to plan, and all the activities that were being arranged for the upcoming Teacher Appreciation Day and Education Week. When he woke up, he couldn't remember any details, but he knew he'd also dreamed about being visited by Charles and the Brewster brothers, former students of his. That was not a big surprise. He'd been thinking of Charles just as he fell asleep, and anyone who had anything to do with any of the Brewster family could not help remember them. Besides, all five boys were hot eyecandy that one could not help thinking about, awake or asleep. He was still thinking about his dream in class the following afternoon as the students worked on their multiplication worksheet, wishing he could recall what it had been about. "Mister Moore?" Charles asked. "Yes?" he answered as he snapped out of his day dream. "Well, you know, like, National Teacher Appreciation Day is coming up," he began. "Yes," Gordon replied with a smile. At the age of nine and ten students were so obvious. "Well, me and the guys been talking, and we'd like to give you a day off that day." "Oh would you now," he said with a wider smile, knowing where that was leading. "And while I have a holiday, just what might you boys be doing?" "Well, it wouldn't be a holiday exactly, just that for a day you wouldn't have to teach." "And how would that happen?" "We'd have some students from the junior and senior high come teach us." "Oh, really?" Gordon responded, taken by surprise. He had been sure part of the plan had been that the boys would take a holiday themselves. "Yeah. You know, you been talking about how its gonna be different when we go to junior high school, and in health we been talking about how your body changes, and your attitudes and stuff, when you are a teenager. We thought it'd be great if some guys from junior high came and talked to us about stuff like that." "Well, you know, that's really not a bad idea," Gordon responded, truly feeling that the idea had a lot of potential. "That's really quite good actually," he continued as he thought about it. "But a full day might be a bit much. Let's try for a period." "Half a day," bartered Charles. "All right, I'll see what we can do for half a day." "Thanks, Mister Moore," Charles responded with a huge grin that his teacher knew was more than just pleasure from being praised. The boy was up to something. Still, it had been a great idea. Who did students listen to better than other students? And it was on topic. A few days later Principal Beeswick called the grade nine boys together and announced that one of the teachers at the elementary school had sent an invitation to have a couple grade nine boys speak to his grade four class on Teacher Appreciation Day about what it was like to be a junior high student. Of course being grade nine students, nobody was willing to step forward to volunteer and Dallas Sterns observed just loud enough for everyone to hear that it was a nerdy thing that someone like Benny would probably do. "Sure, I'll volunteer," Benny responded eagerly. "Thank you, Benny," the principal responded, not really surprised. The Brewster clan was mischievous and had a wild reputation, but they were not slackers when it came to volunteering, probably a trait they'd picked up from their mother. Addressing the rest of the student assembly, he continued. "Actually, what the letter requested was that we send several of our student leaders, students who could talk to the elementary boys about what it takes to be cool in junior high, and what it is like to be a teenager." "Oh, in that case, forget Benny," responded Dallas, quickly raising his hand. "If it's leaders you're looking for there's no question who you should send, and I accept." "Right," agreed Ron Wall, his best friend, raising his hand also. "Sign me up with Dallas." "Hey, if it's about being cool, look no further," suggested Ryan, grinning at the rest of the class and glancing over at his buddy Troy, who also quickly volunteered. The two hockey players glanced about at the rest of the class, and particularly the girls, hoping they were favourably impressed. Benny smiled. He loved it when a plan fell into place. Speaking of which, over at Crestview Heights High School, Conrad Blackwell and Jason Smyth-Jones had been called down to the office at that very moment and told they'd been specifically requested by the grade four teacher at the elementary school to come over and talk to his class about what was cool about being a high school student. That they had been selected had not been a particular surprise, both boys figuring they were among the coolest in the school, and both knowing their parents' money and position also bought them a lot of favours. Actually, the request topped off what had been a remarkably great day. That noon they'd finally done what they'd been trying to do for months, they'd taped the Brewster twins making a bet with them about who would score the most baskets in the exhibition basketball game Monday, May 6, which was arranged to kick off Education Week, with them having to wear panties the next day if they lost and the Brewsters having to bring guys to the prom dance the next month if they lost. At last they had the proof they needed about the betting, and if they won, they would finally expose the twins for the faggots that they were! Benny and his brothers were not the only ones planning events for Teacher Appreciation Day. Their mother, serving as the President of the Crestview Heights Parent-Teacher Association, was devoting all her attention and energy to organizing activities for the Elementary, Junior High, and High Schools in Crestview Heights. First she began a project in which elementary students and their parents were to draw special thank you cards for their teachers, thanking them for some special attribute they had or for some special thing they had done for the student, and she organized a committee that would see that for each day for the week each teacher would receive a little gift from the PTA as part of what they were calling a survival kit, sparkling stickers for their class on Monday, novelty pencils on Tuesday, a coupon for a six-inch sub and medium drink at the local Subway for themselves on Wednesday, and the like. Junior high students were to bring baking from home and serve before school coffee, juice and pastries, and she began another committee to organize students to perform a number of skits and musical selections in a special assembly in which parents would speak about the contributions of teachers. To her delight, Bobby and Benny offered to bake peanut butter cookies, with the help of their older brothers. She was not quite so pleased when she'd returned home to find not just a couple dozen cookies, but a dozen sheets of cookies and her kitchen in a total mess. She agreed with Barry that she should have known better, considering her sons' tendency to go overboard, and she had to agree also when he said he and the boys would take care of any excess baking. When it came to sweets, he was just as bad as his sons. At any rate, the cookies disappeared quickly. Within the next few days a variety of individuals were surprised to find anonymous donations of peanut butter cookies arriving at their offices or their homes, including Mayor Maartens, Superintendent of Schools Al Bell, the director of the YMCA Lance Cross, and various student leaders at the high school. A third committee was to oversee a high school project in which students were to interview and take photos of the teachers for the local newspaper and to put on a Teacher Appreciation web site. The biggest plan of all was to have a fund-raising supper on Teacher Appreciation Day Tuesday the Seventh of May to kick off the week with students serving the teachers and having guest speakers and entertainment. That committee she chaired herself and took up most of her time, but again her sons pitched in offered to help look after the triplets, who were coming to adore their older brother and giggled just at the sight of them. Throughout it all, accustomed to the hectic pace, the four boys kept up their school work, the twins attended their basketball practices and found time to spend with their boyfriends, Benny attended his soccer practices and spent time alone with Justin, and Bobby attended his baseball practices and spent time with Aaron. All four continued participating in their clubs and pursuing their hobbies, and, of course, all four managed to spend some quality time with each other. Between his job and helping his wife, chauffeuring his boys to their various events, and helping look after the triplets, Barry was kept busy too. And, he was never so busy as to not take an interest in his boys, setting aside time to help Benny with his model building and Bobby with his insect collection, to relax in the family room with Brett to listen to and discuss America's great trumpet players, and to disappear with Brent on occasion, the boys assumed, to discuss his new found pagan interests. So the days passed by and before they knew it Teacher Appreciation Day arrived. One o'clock that Tuesday afternoon, Ryan, Troy, Dallas, Ron, Jason and Conrad showed up at the elementary school in their finest, Tommy Hilfiger and Ralph Lauren polo shirts, designer cargo pants and zip-offs, Nike and Roots baseball caps, and top of the line runners. Hair carefully gelled and combed and underarms given an extra swipe of deodorant, the boys looked like they were about to go out on a date, not meet with a bunch of nine and ten year old elementary students. Their egos motivated them to do strange things, and besides, volunteering for this project certainly was not going to hurt their school marks. Most important of all, it was guaranteed to impress the girls, who went all gushy when it came to caring and sensitive guys. What could be more caring and sensitive then helping a bunch of snot-nosed grade four students learn what it took to be cool? The boys had even prepared speeches and for the first period they explained to the boys in Gordon Moore's class, who had been combined with the boys in Mrs O'Malley's grade four class for the afternoon while the girls were receiving a similar presentation from a group of junior and senior high girls under Mrs O'Malley's supervision, the importance of looking cool, which brands and styles of clothing were in and which were out, what cool guys did and didn't do. Dallas being the son of a judge, and Ron the son of the high school principal, they had figured they were the logical ones to talk about how to act cool in front of other guys and nerd things to avoid, and of course how to impress girls. Ryan and Troy were known by quite a few of the boys as hockey players, so were naturals to talk about junior high sports and how cool it was to be a jock. Jason and Conrad had prepared speeches on what they had titled "cool clothes, cool clubs and other cool clues." Although they thought they had long speeches prepared, they were done well before the end of the first period, and as they prepared to answer any questions the class had, they wondered how they were going to fill the next three periods. They were, of course, unaware that Charles and the Brewster brothers had ensured that was not going to be a problem. The initial questions from the class were predictable, the boys being interested in what subjects were taught compared to grade four, how hard they were, what the teachers were like, what the school rules were, and the like. "So, like does everyone get along, or do you have bullies and stuff at junior high too?" asked one of the students. "Oh, everyone pretty much gets along," responded Troy, "though sometimes guys pick on others. If you're cool you don't get picked on, just if you're a total geek or a fem." Glancing about the room, he already could pick out those who were nerds and those who were fems. "What's a fem?" one of the more innocent boys asked. "Boys who act like girls," Ryan explained. Several boys snickered as they glanced at each other, evidently having the name of several of their classmates in mind. "So what do they do to kids they don't like?" asked a small boy, a skinny blond-haired boy that looked like he was used to being picked on. "The usual stuff, pushing them around, taking their homework, teasing them," responded Dallas. "A favourite is giving wedgies." "What's that?" "Yanking up a guy's underwear so it gets caught up the crack of his butt," explained Ryan, glancing at the boys' teacher out of the corner of his eye to see if he was going to get in trouble. "Do each other so we can see how it's done," suggested Charles. Ryan looked at his buddies, and then at the teacher for direction. "That's a good suggestion," the boys' teacher said. "Go ahead." The six boys had been brought up to always listen to their teacher, and Ryan and Troy had especially liked Mister Moore when they'd had him as a teacher as it was. Besides, giving each other wedgies was not that big a deal. Reaching behind Troy, Ryan slipped his hand down the back of his pants and yanked up his boxers. Troy did the same Dallas, thereby setting up a cycle with Dallas yoking Ron who did Jason, who did Conrad who did Ryan. "So what kind of underwear is cool in junior high?" asked Charles. "Boxers," the four junior high boys responded together. "Or boxer briefs," added Dallas. "And in high school?" "The same," responded Jason. Only Charles noticed he and Conrad exchange glances. "Does it matter what brand?" asked another student. "Oh yeah," Troy responded. "They got to be brand names, like Tommy Hilfiger or Calvin Klein, or Abercrombie and Fitch. You don't want to wear something cheap like from the bargain basement of J.C. Penny's." "It true that guys have to strip down to their underwear and wear special gym shorts every day?" "That's right." "Isn't it embarrassing stripping down to your underwear?" one of the boys asked, and the class giggled. "You get used to it." "Besides, it's just in front of other guys." "Show us." "Show you?" asked Dallas, raising his eyebrows in surprise as he looked at Charles. "Yeah. Pretend you're in the boys change room getting ready for gym and show us how you strip down to your underwear," Charles explained. "You just take off your clothes," Dallas said with a shrug. "You don't do anything special." "Even in front of boys of different ages?" asked Charles, glancing of course at the two high school students. "Sure," responded Ryan with a shrug. "In hockey we do it all the time." He glanced over at Troy for confirmation and his buddy nodded. "So let's see the six of you strip down to your underwear." "Charles's request is a fair one. Go ahead and show the boys it's no big deal," Gordon Moore urged, surprised he'd said that the moment the words were out of his mouth. He always believed in having his students actively participate in his lessons, and for some reason, he found himself particularly eager to support Charles's ideas that day. He had a sudden flashback to the dream he'd had that night he'd fallen asleep marking papers, something about being impressed with Charles's ideas, but it was only a momentary flash. The boys looked at each other. Asking them to show how they took off their clothes was a dumb request as far as they were concerned, and that the teacher was actually agreeing with the suggestion they strip down to their underwear was even dumber, even though Troy and Ryan knew from having taken grade four from Mister Moore that he was a progressive teacher and often used student ideas in developing his lessons. The six of them glanced at Mister Moore now, but he gave no indication that he was about to change his mind. Even though it was dumb, the six felt compelled to obey him, and somehow that compulsion was stronger than the obedience expected of a student when a teacher asked him to do something. The six boys had a feeling that they'd done this before, or at least that they'd had specific instructions to obey Mister Moore, even those who'd never had him as a teacher. Glancing at each other again, they slowly reached up and began to unbutton their designer shirts. Self-consciously slipping them off, they folded them and placed them on the floor beside them. Untying and removing their runners, they hesitated, hoping Mister Moore would stop them, each of them not wanting to be the first to take off his pants. Jason and Conrad had special reason to be praying the boys' teacher would stop them, and each wondered how the Brewsters could possibly be so lucky as to have made the bet for this particular day. Knowing they would not be at school for the afternoon gym classes, they had fulfilled their end of the bet with the smug knowledge that they had not only trapped the brothers on tape, but had come through on their end without any danger of being exposed. Who would have thought in their wildest dreams that they'd be asked to strip in front of a class of grade four students? When it was evident that Mister Moore was not about to stop them, each of the boys self- consciously pulled down his fly and unbuttoned or unsnapped his pants and slowly pushed them down, Conrad and Jason of course holding back as they struggled with the humiliation they were about to experience and the unreasonable eagerness to do whatever the grade four teacher asked of them. The four junior high boys stared down at the floor as they stepped out of their trousers, their faces turning red as they stood there in front of the twenty-eight grade four boys and their teacher in only their socks and gaunches. "Well?" Mister Moore asked, raising his eyebrow as he looked at the two high school students. "The boys from Crestview Junior High have shown there is nothing embarrassing about stripping down to their underwear in front of guys younger and older than themselves." The two boys glanced at each other, the strain showing on their faces. "Well, really, I ," began Jason. "If you believe there is nothing embarrassing about stripping down to your underwear in front of other boys then drop your trousers," he said encouragingly but firmly. He believed it should not be embarrassing to strip down to one's underwear, or even further. He especially appreciated the beauty of the bodies of teen and preteen boys. Most of all though, he had this deep compulsion to support Charles Elwood. Jason and Conrad slowly pushed down their trousers, revealing the panties they'd "borrowed" from their mothers' dresser. The two handsome sixteen-year-old grade eleven students stood there in frilly pastel panties with dainty embroidery, their faces fire-engine red as Mister Moore and the four junior high students stared at them in surprise, and the twenty-eight grade four students giggled and snickered. None of them, well none except the well-informed next door neighbour of the Brewsters, had heard of boys wearing panties, and even the most fem of their classmates certainly was not that much of a girl. For all six boys standing there with their pants lowered each minute that passed by seemed like an hour. "Show us your pit hair," requested Charles finally, having seen that Ron and the two high school students had underarm hair. Ron's hair had only recently begun to grow and Ron was actually proud of the fact he was one of the few grade nine boys who had begun to get pit hair, along with a few fine hairs on his upper lip. He readily raised his arms and showed off the fine, silky hairs growing in the hollow of his arms. Conrad and Jason did likewise, hoping their thick bushes would help offset the humiliation of being caught wearing panties. The only saving grace of that was that none of their high school classmates were present to witness this latest humiliation. "You guys got girlfriends?" asked Charles. The four junior high boys grinned as they glanced at each other, remembering how they'd felt about girls when then were nine and ten years old. That had certainly changed. "Yeah, we do," Ryan responded for all six of them. He and Rochelle had been an item now for three months, as were Troy and Eliza. Ron and Dallas had only moved in over the summer so didn't have anyone specific they were seeing, but both had taken out Ashley Whitford. Of course with her big headlights so'd every other boy in grade nine unless he was such a nerd or a fem that he didn't like girls or a girl wouldn't be caught dead with them. Jason and Conrad, having had special reason to prove their masculinity and that they were straight with the persistent rumour that they were gay cross dressers and lovers, reinforced every few months by incidents like this afternoon, had dated a variety of girls over the school year. "I imagine good-looking boys like you six have a lot of girl friends," Gordon Moore observed, knowing that girls was one of the top things on a boy's mind in grade nine and grade eleven. He could also see how embarrassed they were, and figured the comment would at least help boost their self image. "Well, yeah," Ron said with a shrug and a satisfied leer, pleased by the complement as the thirty-eight-year-old teacher suspected he and the others might be. They were good-looking boys and there were a number of girls who found them attractive. "Well, I don't like girls," one of the boys in the back of the room observed. "Yeah, girls are dweebs," one of his friends commented in support. "You'll like girls. Just wait," Troy advised knowingly. "No way. Never," the boy responded, and several of his classmates nodded in agreement. "So, like, you and your girlfriends kiss and stuff?" asked Charles. The boys, those in the class and their six guests, glanced at Mister Moore to see if he had any objection to the question. He evidently didn't. To grade four the question was racy, though for the six teens it was a logical question to ask. "Well, yeah, sure," Troy responded. "Show us how to kiss," requested Charles. "Well, there's no girls here or we would," Troy replied. This kid and his "show us" was starting to get him and the others annoyed. "Three of you can act like you're the girls," suggested Charles. "Yuucck!" responded one of his classmates. Whether he was responding to the idea of acting like a girl, or of two boys kissing Gordon Moore didn't know, but the latter thought was causing a stirring in the grade four teacher's trousers. "We don't wanna look like nerds our first time," pressed Charles. "It'd be way cool if you'd show us how." The six teenagers could not believe the suggestion. By the time they'd approached the end of grade four they'd known what fags were. That was the worse insult a guy could hurl at another guy. They also had a bit of an idea what fags did, and one of the things they did was kiss each other. So it was either that the kid was a totally ignorant nerd, or the kid was having a bit of fun at their expense. Which they were not sure. Chuckling uncomfortably, they looked at the boys' teacher for help, expecting him to finally intervene. There was no way he'd agree to what the kid had just asked them to do. "I think that's an excellent idea. Being in junior and senior high isn't just about wearing the right clothes," Gordon Moore said. "Go ahead, show the boys how cool junior and senior high boys kiss." He knew the position he'd just put the six teenagers in, and he felt a twinge of guilt as a teacher and as a responsible adult for doing so. That guilt, however, was easily overridden by other factors. He'd frequently heard his students insult each other by calling each other fags in the hallway and on the playground, and he'd reprimanded them whenever he knew who the culprits were, not just because he was gay, but because it was improper to use sexual orientation as an insult. In a small way, having these six boys kiss each other in front of the class would show them the tenderness that boys can express toward each other, even if it was under the guise of pretending to be with a girl. Even if just seeing two boys kiss made one of them think twice next time he was tempted to call another boy a fag it would be worth it. Certainly another reason was that seeing the good-looking teenagers locked in a kiss would be erotic. The third, and most compelling reason though, was because Charles had asked them to, and he felt honour- bound to support whatever Charles suggested for some mysterious reason that was impossible for him to ignore. The boys glanced at Gordon Moore unbelievingly, and then at each other in dismay. Surely the boys' teacher knew about fags and the disgust they'd feel kissing each other, even if it was just an act, never mind the embarrassment. "Go ahead boys," Gordon Moore prompted, his voice taking on the firm, teacher tone. They did not want to do this. Of everything they'd been asked to do so far, this was the worst. They knew it was just to show the boys watching how to kiss, and they did want to impress them with their sophistication in such matters, but kiss another guy? That was revolting. Of course they did want to teach the boys how to act cool, and they did feel an obligation to obey Mister Moore, even the boys who'd never had him as a teacher. Giving in to that strangely strong sense of obligation, and rationalizing that they were just demonstrating how to kiss, they hesitantly turned and faced each other, the six of them standing there with their pants about their ankles. They would pretend to be the guy and the other person would have to pretend to be the girl. Awkwardly putting their arms about each other, taking several tries to decide whose arms were above the other's just like they still did when they initiated a kiss with their girlfriends, they gave each other a quick peck on the cheek and pulled apart before they gagged. They were not surprised when Charles next asked them to kiss on the mouths like guys and girls, nor were they surprised to hear his teacher's support. As weird as the situation was, by then they had caught on. Wanting to get it over with, they reluctantly but obediently wrapped their arms about each other and kissed on the lips, making sure they did so long enough that they wouldn't be asked to do it again, and each wondering if their best friend actually liked it keeping the embrace so long. The four boys, standing there in their boxers, and the two in their panties, stared down at the floor as they felt their faces begin to pink again. "What does necking mean?" asked Charles. The six teenagers were beginning to hate this kid. "Well," replied Jason, reluctant but determined to move things along as fast as he could, "it means kissing, and hugging and caressing, stuff like that." "You ever touch your girlfriend's boobs?" asked one of the students from Mrs O'Malley's class, glancing over at Mister Moore fearfully and preparing himself for the reprimand. To his relief, there was none. "Yeah, I have," smiled Ryan, thinking of the times he'd done so with Eliza Decore, and answering more for the benefit of his buddies and the two high school students than the snot- noses all squirming and giggling with each question. "Your girlfriend have big boobs?" asked Charles. This time for sure everyone expected the thirty-eight-year-old teacher to put a stop to the questions, but to their surprise he still did nothing. "Yeah," Ryan responded. Eliza Decore did. As he thought about them, he immediately felt a response in his boxers, and he immediately dropped the thought, but once started, the thought was not going to go away so easily, and each time it came back his dick swelled that much more. He could not believe this! Of course the thought of getting a boner in front of the bunch of little kids while standing there in his boxers with his pants about his ankles made his dick swell still more. "What does a girl's boobs feel like?" asked another of the students as the group of boys realized that their teacher was giving them far more range than they'd ever had before in their sex education and health classes, and like all nine and ten year olds, deciding to push their luck as far as they could. They'd all thought he was a good teacher before that day, and that assessment was increasing with each minute. This was going to be a wicked afternoon! "Soft, warm, nice," Ryan responded weakly, his dick beginning to rise up. "What about the rest of you guys? You like to neck with girls?" a third student asked. The five boys nodded uncomfortably, each of them having a similar problem as Ryan though not as advanced. "Your boxers are starting to stick out," Charles observed, and the class of boys giggled as the six teenagers turned redder. There was no question this kid was a major pain. "It true that when older guys think about girls it makes their dicks get bigger?" The boys nodded again as their boxers began to tent and their faces began to turn so red their ears were hot. It was embarrassing enough for that to happen when they had their pants on, never mind standing there in their boxers, and in front of a teacher and a bunch of snot-nosed elementary boys. "Take down your boxers and show us," requested Charles. No way! The six teenagers and the class of boys glanced at Mister Moore, the six with dread and the rest with hopes exceeding anything they'd ever hoped before. "That's a good request, Charles." "It is?" the six teenagers asked, their hearts sinking. This had to be all a dream, or more appropriately, a nightmare. No way could this be happening for real. As for the elementary students, they were beside themselves with excitement. "Of course it is," the boys' teacher responded. "Boys this age," he said, gesturing at the class, "should know that what's happening to you is perfectly normal and nothing to be afraid of. Go ahead and show the boys." He did believe that boys as young as grade four should know about erections, and that getting erections was a normal part of being a boy. Many had older brothers that they were bound to accidentally discover in that condition, and for some even possibly their dads. He also knew deep down that having the six boys drop their underwear and show the class their swollen dicks was considered wrong by most adults, and he was bewildered that he'd told the boys to do it. He was even more bewildered by this compulsion to agree with whatever Charles asked, which was the driving force behind his comments. Certainly what the six teens were about to do was going far beyond even his own most secret and wildest desires. The six teenagers were also bewildered. They could not believe they'd been told to drop their underwear, and they could believe even less the insane obedience that was making them do whatever the teacher okayed. Each of them fought the compulsion, but it was too strong. One by one the boys pushed down their underwear, boxers and panties, revealing their erect dicks. Nothing could be more humiliating. "They all got hairs," one of the boys giggled, resulting in snickers and giggles from the others. "And boners," snickered another, causing the entire class to titter. Several squirmed in their seats, having the same problem as the six teenagers, the difference being that for those sitting it was still a strange and bewildering event. "How do you get them soft again?" asked Charles, his young soprano voice full of innocence. "Good question, Charles. Who would like to answer?" Gordon asked, as if the question was as innocent as asking the right stance for serving a ball on the volleyball court. The words had come out of his mouth before he even had time to consider what he was saying. "Well, it will go soft on its own," responded Ron with an edge to his voice. He had never been so embarrassed in his life, nor so angry, and it was his anger that he was focussing on as he answered. Only a pervert would allow things to go this far, a fag pervert. When he told his dad what he'd been forced to do he'd have this perv teacher fired. Gays had no right to be teachers where they could prey on young boys and push their gay agenda. He'd heard his dad himself say that, and his dad was a school principal so he knew about that sort of thing. "That what you usually do to get it soft?" Ron turned even brighter red, along with his buddies. No way was he answering that. "Charles asked you a question," Gordon found his voice saying as he fought for control. It was as if he was possessed, or hypnotised, though he knew a person could not be hypnotized to do something he didn't want to do. He couldn't possibly want the boys to suffer such embarrassment, could he? Gordon shook his head. He had to end this! Still, no matter how hard he tried, he could not tell the boys to do something that was contrary to what Charles Elwood had asked them to do. Ron stared at the teacher in equal disbelief. He opened his mouth to object. His lips quivered and he wished he could shrink and totally disappear as his lips formed a circle and he knew what he was about to say. "No, that's not what I usually do," the hapless teenager found himself saying. He closed his eyes and prayed. 'Please don't ask me what I usually do. Please!' he said silently. "What do you usually do?" Charles pressed. Ron had been taught right from kindergarten to obey his teachers. His dad was a principal after all. He knew that didn't apply to answering questions like this, but he felt a strong compulsion to do what this teacher asked, and he knew this teacher was going to support whatever his students thought up. He tensed as he fought the response that had formed in his mind and was demanding to be voiced. His lips trembled. He couldn't admit that. Not before his best buddy, and the two boys who were becoming close friends, and the two high school students, especially not before them. They'd think he was a total looser. He couldn't admit it before a teacher. Not before a class of twenty-eight grade four students. "I . . . I . . . well . . . I masturbate," he whispered, wishing he would die. "Show us how you do that." No! Fuck no! The snot-nosed brat had voiced the request before he even thought of the kid asking it. Show us how you do that! That phrase was going to haunt him forever, him and his friends. Ron found his hand slowly reaching for his erect cock. He fought it, thinking of the movies where a guy had been possessed and his hand had its own mind. That was what this was! He immediately thought of Benny's brother and his brother's goth friend. Everyone said the two worshipped the devil. This had to be the reason. That weirdo with the black lipstick and the nose studs and barbells and lip piercing had to have cursed him. Probably because of something he'd said to Benny. Ron was so engrossed in his thoughts he was not even aware that he'd grasped his swollen dick and was slowly pumping his fist up and down the length. "I think it'd be cool if Jason and Conrad showed us how two boys can jerk each other," suggested Charles. "Good idea, Charles," Gordon responded predictably. Boys often jerked each other off as they experimented with sex in junior high, sometimes even in elementary school, and teenagers often jerked each other off to satisfy those hormonal urges when there were no girls available to do the job. It would be good for these boys to see there was nothing wrong with two boys satisfying their urges. More and more Charles's ideas were seeming so valid. "Go ahead boys." Jason and Conrad had by then come to the same conclusion Ron had. There could be no other explanation, and now that they thought about it, it did seem to them this kid hung around the Brewsters a lot. They had to be hexed. There could be no other reason why they were reaching for each other's cocks. Like Ron, each stared at his hand as if his hand had a mind of its own. Jason stared in disbelief at his fingers as they wrapped about Conrad's dick, and as his best buddy wrapped his fingers around his own throbbing cock. It felt so different holding onto another boy's boner, and so different having someone else's hand grasping his throbbing cock instead of his own. The two boys stared as they slowly began pumping their fists up and down the length of each other's swollen dick. "Is there another way a guy can make his dick go soft?" asked Charles, looking at Dallas. "Well, yeah, he can, well, you know, do it with a girl," Dallas replied without thinking as he stared at his best buddy jerking himself off, and at the two high school boys jerking each other. They'd reached for each other rather quickly as far as he was concerned, but then what would you expect from two boys who wore panties for fucksake! "Suppose she doesn't want to screw?" "She could jack him off," he responded, his cock jerking with desire as he stared at Ron's blood-engorged cock. "Anything else?" Charles pressed. "Well, some girls will take it up their butt." "A guy's dick?" asked one of the boys in surprise. "Yes." "Ewwww," several of them said and they all made faces as they looked at each other. "Any of you guys ever have anything stuck up your butt?" asked Charles, knowing the answer, along with several others who'd been at the 7-11 six weeks ago when the two hockey players had their pants pulled down to reveal they had rubber plugs stuck up their asses. "Yeah," Ryan and Troy responded, knowing that they could not deny it "Show us you're a ," began Charles, and the two boys turned and bending over with their backs to the class, pulled apart their cheeks to reveal their assholes, knowing that was what he was going to ask, and knowing his weirdo fag teacher would not just agree, but express what a wonderful idea it was. "Looks like they're itching to have something shoved up them," observed Charles, and his classmates snickered. "Not my dick," said one of the boys, the class having gotten totally out of control and the boys now saying whatever came to their minds much to their teacher's dismay, though it was not a surprise considering the leniency he'd allowed. "Let's see how many pieces of chalk we can stick up their bums," suggested Charles, having been coached to make the suggestion by Benny in preparation for this day. One by one the boys in the class stepped forward and taking a stick of chalk from their teacher, eased it into the butthole of one of the boys, leaving just the tip stuck out. The two boys stood there haplessly and let it happen. Each time a new piece of chalk was slid up into their rectums their dicks jerked with arousal, to the amusement of the line of nine and ten year olds and to their total embarrassment. By this time few of the preteens were still soft, and their tiny dicks bulged out their tight blue jeans. Fourteen sticks each later, their buttholes were stretched open an inch-and-a-half. Again after Charles's suggestion, the two teenagers began to twist the bundle of chalk and to work it in and out of their buttholes. Despite their humiliation, the two boys were finding the anal stimulation highly erotic. Gordon Moore could not help but notice the look in their eyes, and he wondered just what experience the two boys had. He also envisioned something other than fourteen pieces of chalk stuck up their smooth, attractive butts, and that something throbbed hotly in his trousers. "There any other way a girl can get a guy's dick soft?" Charles asked Dallas, the only boy left standing there and not messing around in some way. He thought for a moment. "She could suck it," he replied with a sinking feeling in his stomach. "I think Ron should suck yours to show us how that's done," said Charles. Everything was happening exactly as his heros had said it would, and Charles smiled as he looked from one teenager to the next. The Brewster brothers were totally awesome, and he knew after this afternoon his reputation among his classmates was going to be wicked too. Dallas felt at least partially relieved that he was not going to be the one doing the sucking, though having his cock sucked by another guy in front of a bunch of guys was only slightly better. The two boys looked at each other, their eyes wide in disbelief and silently begging forgiveness for what was about to happen. Even that perverted suggestion the boys' teacher supported, and despite their feelings of repugnance and humiliation, the two teens could not resist obeying. As Ron dropped to his knees and took his best buddy's stiff cock in his mouth, he continued to jerk himself. Slipping his lips down the length of Dallas's shaft, he sucked on it gently as he eased his lips back up. Dallas, despite the embarrassment, quivered with the pleasure of having his erect cock surrounded by a hot, moist mouth, even if it was a guy's. Again upon Charles's suggestion, Mister Moore called the boys up row by row to watch the three pairs of teens more closely. All of them, even the nerdiest, had ranging boners themselves as they crowded around and watched the six teenagers, Troy and Ryan bent over and working the chalk in and out of their holes, Ron pounding his dick while he sucked on Dallas's, and Jason and Conrad stroking each other. Gordon was painfully stiff himself, something more than a few of his students noticed, who of course with snickers and nods and winks, proceeded to let the rest of the class know. As the boys approached their climaxes, Charles again suggested they gather around to watch, and so with the class forming a two person deep circle around the six teenagers, the group of nine and ten year olds watched intently and more than just a few watched in total surprise as the six boys came, five of them spurting out their seed onto to classroom floor, and Dallas spurting his in Ron's mouth. They all knew about sperm from their sex education classes, and several, Charles included, had seen sperm before, but those select few were the exceptions. Most of the class stood there pop-eyed and with raging bones as they stared at the creamy white fluid spurting out of the dicks of the five boys and landing on the floor, and the cum of the sixth oozing out from the corners of the mouth of his buddy. Reading about sperm in a textbook and actually seeing what it looked like, and seeing it come squirting out of a guy, were totally different things. Several of the boys could not resist reaching down and squeezing their own stiff dicks and giving them a few quick pulls as they stared at the swollen, blood-engorged cocks of the six teens throbbing out their juices. The six teens stood there, their dicks still stiff and now dripping with cum, and their faces blushing a bright red. They knew it was the first cum most of the boys in the room had ever seen, and something that a few of them had not even realized could be produced without a girl. As they stared down at the classroom floor even their ears were red with embarrassment. Long pendants of cum hung from several of the cocks, and the tips of the others had the final bubble of creamy juice clinging to the opening. The six teens inhaled and exhaled deeply as they continued to stare down at the floor, unable to look up into the faces of the awestruck youngsters. Second and third periods had gone by amazingly fast. There being forty minutes left, Charles once again took the lead and suggested that the six teenagers apply their skills to the boys in the class to show them first hand what it was like, and to satisfy the evident desires bulging out the blue jeans and shorts of the preteen boys. Totally defeated and just wanting the afternoon to end, the six teenagers slipped off their shoes, stepped out of their trousers and underwear, and removed their socks upon Charles's suggestion. Totally naked, they dropped to their hands and knees and six of the more daring grade four boys pulled down their flies and stepping in front of the six teens pushed down their blue jeans and underwear. Their slender, stiff cocklets all jutted up in the air above their tiny hairless balls like misplaced thumbs, half of them being fully skinned and half circumcised. The six teenagers opened their mouths and slipped them over the six young, tender dicks. As one the six grade four youngsters tensed with the delightful and awesome experience of having their young dicks surrounded by hot, moist mouths. In the past they had heard guys telling other guys to suck their dicks as an insult, and several of them had even said it themselves. In the future, some of them would be making it an invitation, not expressing an insult. As the group of teens began to suck on the smooth, throbbing dicks of the six grade four boys, many of whom were still awed by the experience of having a boner never mind having it sucked, four others pushed down their jeans and underwear and dropped to their knees to place the tip their slender dicks against the four exposed buttholes not stuffed with chalk. They were small enough that they did not need any lubrication, and the four boys similarly quivered with the sensation of having hot, moist flesh surrounding their tiny organs as they sank their three and four inch dicklets up the rectums of the four teenage boys until their smooth pubes were pushing against the naked buttocks of their partners. Gordon Moore did not know which way to look as ten of his young students engaged in their first sexual experience. It was so hot seeing the six teenage boys on their hands and knees working their lips up and down the slender, pink erections of the flushed and awed elementary boys, and to see the four nine-year-olds grasping the backsides of four of the teens as they thrust their hips to and fro, driving their dicklets in and out of the boys' hot, moist rectums. He'd seen the look of concentration in the eyes of many of them as they'd struggled with mathematics problems and absent mindedly pressed their tongues between their lips. They had the same look now as they concentrated on what was happening to them or they were doing, and on the unique pleasure rippling through their aroused flesh, right down to the tongues clamped between their lips in some cases. It was not long before the friction had developed an itch that had to be satisfied at all costs and the four boys fucking ass for the first time began to bang the teenagers with an urgency like they'd never felt before as the six boys getting sucked began to squirm with the same need. Faster and faster they pumped their hips and they squirmed more and more as the strange, unfamiliar tension built up in their loins. They became tenser and tenser as they sought satisfaction for the itch surrounding their tender dickheads. Fear and awe of the unknown combined with the acute pleasure they were feeling, a pleasure that was building up stronger and stronger between their legs. Finally one by one each of the first ten boys trembled and shook with his dry orgasm, for nine of them their first such experience. They bucked uncontrollably and gasped as if in pain, and for many their first powerful orgasm was akin to pain, a sweet pain they would seek many times in the future. Ripples of pleasure passed up their stiff poles, the foreskins now drawn tight so the blood-engorged flesh looked like little pink sausages. The look of awe and of ecstasy on the faces of the ten preteens Gordon Moore would cherish for a long time. Finally the boys withdrew their dicks from the grasping mouths and tightly clenched buttholes. As the ten boys stepped back, the next ten boys stepped forward, each of them eager for satisfaction. Many of the first ten left their pants down and they played with their still stiff dicklets as they watched their classmates being serviced. As they watched their buddies thrusting their hips to and fro in the first fuck of their lives, and as they saw their buddies' eyelids droop and their tongues lick their rosy lips as they quivered with the sensation of having their dicklets sucked off for the first time, they recalled the intense pleasure they had felt. Finally the last eight boys stepped forward. Having watched twenty of their classmates getting sucked off or fucking ass, they were eager to discover that pleasure that had made their buddies quiver and moan with such ecstasy. Like the twenty boys before them, most were unprepared for the exquisite pleasure that rippled through their loins as they worked toward the first orgasms of their young lives. Like their classmates as they reached that peak they lost all control of their bodies and they quivered and quaked as their young dicks burned with fire and their bodies were raked with the ultimate pleasure a male can know. Some, including Charles, had already discovered that delight, but that did not make their experience any less powerful. Watching his students, and those of his colleague's class, jerking and trembling with the first orgasms of their lives was so hot the thirty-eight-year-old teacher was leaking pre-cum big time. His thick, seven-and-a-half inch sausage throbbed hotly in his white jockey briefs, and he could no longer hold back. Pulling down his fly and unbuckling his belt, he unsnapped his trousers and let them fall to his ankles. His students glanced at each other and exchanged grins. They watched their favourite teacher with anticipation as he slipped his fingers under the elastic band of his underwear and pushed them down. His thick, massive cock stuck out from his body above his hairy balls and below a thick patch of hairs. The knob was a deep purplish colour and was dripping with pre-cum he was so aroused from having seen two dozen young, virgin boys getting off for the first time in their lives. Of course he had no way of knowing how many, if any, of his students, who even at their young age, had already discovered the joys of gay sex, but he knew from his personal experience that there had to be at least a handful who had experimented with other boys. With only eight boys having sought satisfaction that third round, two of the guest students, sixteen-year-old Jason Smyth-Jones and fourteen-year-old Troy Kholler, had been left with idle mouths, the boys who'd paired up with them having preferred to try ass fucking. Gordon Moore now stepped up to the two teenagers, who were kneeling side by side. Having already sucked off two preteens, the two boys hesitated for only a moment when Gordon presented himself to them, not because they were eager to suck him off, but because they knew they were not going to have any choice. The teacher had an exceptionally large dick, and compared to those of his students it seemed even larger. As Jason began to lick the man's hairy balls and to suck one and then the other into his mouth, Troy began to lick the knob of his erect member, and was rewarded with a fresh flow of pre-cum as he ran his tongue over the opening. After the sex-laden afternoon, it took less than two minutes for the thirty-eight-year-old teacher to blast, to the cheers of his students. Rope after rope of thick, creamy cum shot from his dick, some of it landing in Troy's mouth, some of it spraying the fourteen-year-old's face, and some landing on the classroom floor. He'd never felt so horny and had never shot such a violent load in all his life. With thirty-four sweaty, randy students and one teacher crowded in the stuffy room, and with thirty-five hot, pulsating dicks, seven of them having shot off a load, the still air in the classroom smelled of cock and hot, sweating boys. This was going to be a day to remember. They all knelt, stood or sat there in and on their desks in a daze as they sucked in the lust-laden air until Mister Moore noticed that there was less than five minutes left to the period. As the six teenagers quickly got dressed, Mister Moore and his students pulled up their underwear and trousers and the class returned to their seats. After thanking the six boys for coming over to talk to his students and dismissing his class, Gordon Moore headed down the hallway still in a daze. He could not believe what had happened that afternoon. It had been a dream come true no, it was even wilder than anything he could have ever dreamed up. The upcoming teacher reception over at the YMCA in a few hours paled in comparison to the events that had occurred in his classroom. Nothing could ever possibly match what had happened. As he headed across the parking lot to his car, the images of his young charges and the six teens engaged in a hot orgy vivid in his mind, little did he realize how wrong he was about the upcoming evening. Dallas, Ron, Jason and Conrad had immediately headed home for showers. After an afternoon of messing around with other guys they felt filthy, physically and mentally. Besides, in a couple hours they were expected to be helping out at the reception for teachers, and they all smelled like dick. Having it shoved in their mouths and up their asses, that was no surprise. Troy and Ryan had the same intention, but they could not wait to get home to get rid of the chalk still stuck up their assholes. What they did not know as they stepped into the back alley a few blocks from the school was that they were being followed. One of their classmates had been told if he followed the boys as they left the elementary school he'd see something interesting, and he, of course, had told a couple buddies, who had told a couple others. Now as the two fourteen-year-old hockey players squatted behind a dumpster with their trousers and underwear about their ankles and reached behind themselves to pull out the pieces of chalk protruding from their buttholes, there suddenly appeared around them a dozen of their classmates. They squatted there staring up at their teammates and friends in disbelief, and the dozen boys stared back down at them totally speechless. They would not be speechless for long. By the time everyone gathered at the YMCA that evening, what they'd seen would be common knowledge. There would no longer be any doubt that the two hockey players had a thing for getting their asses stuffed, and, apparently, together. Of course there were twenty-eight grade four students who already knew that, and who knew about the panty-wearing high school students, and a lot of other things. They could hardly be expected to keep the afternoon a secret, and it would only be a matter of time before older brothers overhead what had happened and would spread the news about their six special guests. Now very much aware of the pleasure that their wieners could provide them, those twenty-eight students would be seeking that pleasure again, alone in their beds, during sleep overs with best buddies, and in tree forts and park bushes and wherever else they could find some privacy. Charles, already considered a hero for initiating much of what had happened that afternoon at school, was going to be considered even greater a hero once his classmates learned about the cam recorder he'd installed in his classroom for the afternoon with the help of the Brewster brothers. Two hours later Gordon Moore arrived at the YMCA where the Crestview Heights teachers were being treated to a reception in their honour. A number of his colleagues greeted him, remarking on the happy smiles of his students and the laughter and enthusiastic buzz they'd heard coming from his room that afternoon, and observing that next year they'd have to try an activity such as he'd had. The experienced and popular teacher just smiled, and wondered what his colleagues would say if they knew what had really happened in his room that afternoon. As one of the student servers came by with a plate of cheese wedges and crackers and another with a tray of wine, he pictured the gaggle of naked boys quivering in awe with their first orgasms in the front of his classroom only a few hours ago. It was going to be difficult focussing on the speeches that evening considering the more pleasant thoughts he had to dwell on. Recalling the opening of the YMCA on President's Day just over a year ago, several of the honoured guests who would be speaking later chose to refrain from the complementary drinks in fear of a repeat of the embarrassing situations they'd found themselves in when they had to stand up and speak back then. They never had been able to figure out why they'd suddenly had to piss so badly, nor why they'd found themselves sporting erections that would not go down. At any rate, it had been an evening they had recalled and an incident they'd feared repeating every time they had been asked to speak ever since. Mayor Anthony Maartens was one of those who was called upon to speak frequently and who recalled very well the embarrassment of having an obvious erection while speaking to the crowd on that opening day. So while the junior and senior high students circulated with trays of snacks, wine or punch as the adults mingled and talked, he chose to resist the temptation of eating or drinking anything that might cause it to happen again. There was one influence, however, that he could not avoid. Although he was married and had two sons, Mayor Maartens had a roving eye. It was common knowledge that he had a mistress, and that he fancied himself quite a lady's man, an attitude that he had evidently passed on to his older son. At the moment he was talking to Martha Owen, the Chairwoman of the School Board, a married woman of forty with three children and humongous boobs which he could not keep his eyes off of. He'd always been a breast man, and for the past two weeks for some reason he'd become totally fascinated and distracted by thoughts of the buxom matron. Someone who was new at this speaking business was Matt Collins, the seventeen-year-old captain of the football team. He had been asked to speak in praise of the teachers on behalf of those students involved in extracurricular sporting events, and had been sent a complementary box of peanut butter cookies, which he thought a strange incentive but which he had readily consumed. Like the mayor, the six-foot-four, muscular athlete had also found himself having strange and compelling thoughts these past two weeks. In his case, he could not stop thinking about sweaty armpits not just thinking about them, but getting totally turned on by the thoughts of them. That was what he was thinking about at that very moment David Tateson, the basketball captain, walked by in his basketball strip carrying a tray of wine glasses above his head. Catching a whiff of his musky underarm deodorant, he felt an immediate urge to stick his nose in David's hairy pits. Unable to resist, he turned and followed the tall, lanky teenager, inhaling deeply and thrilling with the scent of his deodorant. He would have followed him all over the gym had not the Superintendent of Schools, Albert Bell, stopped him for another glass of wine. The superintendent was in the middle of a conversation with James Forsythe, the CEO of Forsythe Enterprises and a very influential individual in the community, Lance Cross, the twenty-nine-year- old athlete and youth worker who managed the YMCA facility and was also going to be speaking, and portly Charlie Winsloe, President of the American Legion and chairman of the YMCA Board. Each of the men exchanged their empty wine glasses for full ones, except for Lance, who like the mayor, had boned up on the night the YMCA opened and was refraining from drinking and eating at least until the speeches were over, and Matt had to move off. It would have been suspicious if he'd just hung around David sniffing. Each of the four men were finding themselves similarly distracted that evening, and over the past couple weeks, Albert Bell and Lance Cross, who were also recipients of complementary peanut butter cookies, had found themselves victims of strange and compelling thoughts. As much as he tried to concentrate on their conversation, Superintendent Bell found all he could think about was Lance Cross's hot buns, and being a straight man all his life and married for half of it, he could not fathom why that would be other than for the past two weeks he'd been unable to keep his eyes and thoughts off the butts of every young man he crossed paths with. He knew some men became depressed when they reached the big five zero, and some began flirting with younger women to affirm their youth and masculinity, but he'd never heard of someone reaching the age of fifty suddenly having a fixation on the butts of young men. Still, that was the only significant event in the recent past that he could think of that could be a cause of those most unusual compulsive thoughts. Lance, who was also as straight as they could come, was at the same time, stealing overt glances at young Cole Bentley standing nearby talking to his father, and imagining the youth, who anyone who was in the know knew was gay, on his knees sucking his dick, little realizing that at that very same moment Charlie Winsloe standing beside him was stealing glances at Cole's bubble butt and imagining fucking it. Of course for the portly bisexual President of the American Legion and present Chairman of the YMCA Board, thoughts of fucking tight butts of handsome young men, teens, and even preteens was nothing unusual. For Lance however, although thoughts about having sex with guys did occasionally arise, they were of a much different nature. Also, those thoughts had only begun shortly after the first annual Crestview Heights Gay Pride Day where he'd found himself nibbling and licking cream pie off the crotch of the junior high school physical education teacher, Mike Harris. There was no doubt in his mind that the teacher had come in his thong while he'd been licking the pie off his crotch. That was disturbing enough, but even more disturbing, was that he had creamed his trousers at the same time. How he could have been turned on by an obvious and perverted simulation of a queer act had perturbed him ever since. It had been so disturbing that he'd made a concerted effort to date and to make out with as many women as he could since then to prove to himself that he was straight. Being handsome, athletic and outgoing, he'd had little trouble getting dates, or making out for that matter, and he'd finally only recently put the memory of the Gay Pride pie eating contest to rest. So, understandably, the sudden emergence of these thoughts about the gay Cole Bentley a couple weeks ago had been particularly disturbing. Unaware of Lance's concerns, James Forsythe was stealing glances at Martha Owen and envying Mayor Maartens, who was blatantly looking down her low-cut dress at her boobs. Like the mayor, he had a mistress on the side and was known to frequent the local brothel, and he also considered himself a lady's man. Preferring women who had a bit of meat on their bones, as he put it, he found the matronly Chairwoman particularly attractive. Spending a night in the sack with her and showing her what a night with a real man was like would certainly be a far more pleasant way to spend the evening than at still another social gathering filled with boring speeches and inane talk. Such daydreams were common stuff for the businessman who found himself at a lot of social gatherings filled with boring speeches and inane talk. Spotting David Tateson heading to the kitchen with the tray of empty wine glasses, Matt quickly caught up to him and followed him into the kitchen. As David waited for them to load the tray with full glasses, Matt slipped up beside him and bending over as if examining something on the floor, inhaled deeply. "Oh man, it sure is hot in here," he observed. "Yeah, it is," David said. It was hot in the kitchen, and even though the building was new, the air conditioning was having a difficult time handing the circulation of air with the exceptionally large crowd of people in the main gymnasium. At least wearing basketball strip, he and his teammates were not going to be as hot as Matt, who like his teammates, was wearing his green and gold Crestview Heights High School football uniform. Even without all the protective padding, it had to be hot in his heavy football jersey. "Must be hot carrying those trays around," Matt said pointedly. "Don't your arms get sore carrying them over your head?" "Hey, I'm a basketball player, you forget? I'm used to having my hands above my head," David observed with a grin as he raised his hands in the air. Matt could not resist the temptation. He quickly reached out and ran the tips of his fingers under David's right armpit and then the left. His fine silky hairs were just barely damp. "You're beginning to sweat." "Yeah, a little," David said, taken aback by the football player's action. "I don't smell, do I?" "No," replied Matt after a moment, his mind obviously somewhere else. His tray ready, David picked it up and headed back to the main gymnasium. As he circulated about the crowd, he thought about the strange incident with Matt. If they'd been close buddies his actions might have made a bit more sense, but they hardly knew each other. He bowed his head and tried to sniff at his armpits. He hoped they weren't beginning to stink. Matt hung back meanwhile, and raising his fingertips to his nose, inhaled deeply. The fragrance of David's deodorant caused his dick to swell in his tight football breeches. He inhaled again, deeply. Was there the faintest hint of the smell of sweat under that musk? Mayor Maartens' oldest son, Danny, who was Student's Union president that year, was also going to be speaking in praise of the teachers, and so like Matt had not been expected to serve. If anyone had been paying close attention, they would have noticed the high school preppie and aspiring young politician was spending an exorbitant amount of time near nineteen-year-old Cole Bentley. For the past two weeks he'd been unable to get Cole out of his mind, which was strange considering they were not friends, and that knowing Cole was gay, were never going to be friends. Danny, like his father, thought he was God's gift to women, and the handsome, five-foot- ten teenager with his blond, gelled and highlighted hair, long fine eyelashes and dark black eyebrows, had no difficulty attracting members of the opposite sex. He also thought that anyone who was gay was a misfit and should be shipped out of the country. His biggest fear was that some girl might find out about his incidences with members of his own sex on Bastille Day and on Gay Pride Day. Neither had been of his own choosing, having been brought off inside his uniform on the Bastille float by his nemesis, the Brewster brothers, and having had to fuck Conrad Blackwell up the ass to pay a bet to the Brewsters on Gay Pride Day, but the disturbing fact remained that he'd gotten hard, and gotten off, with members of his own sex, not just once, but twice. He was adamant that there was no way that he could be gay, but if that was so, why had he gotten hard in those two incidences? That had troubled him, and that lately he'd been having dreams about Cole and waking up with an erection, and had been unable to get him off his mind during the day, intensified those troubled feelings. Cole had noticed the handsome American-Dutch boy glancing covertly at him of course, the nineteen-year-old having an eye for any hot looking male, even if he was straight and had a reputation with the girls. He knew from personal experience that there were many straight men, including many husbands and fathers, who liked to slip their dicks up a guy's ass. The son of the mayor would be quite a catch, not just because of his societal position, but even more so because he was a hot-looking stud. So would Lance Cross, whom he'd noticed giving him the eye too. He'd had his eye on Lance ever since he'd moved to the community, and although there had been no indication the twenty-nine-year-old would be interested in having a gay experience, there was no indication that he wouldn't consider a one-time stand either. Cole had seen him working out in the gym at the YMCA, and he had one hell of a great-looking body. Cole, while not fat, had inherited from his father's side the propensity to be on the chubby side, and he both envied and was turned on by anyone with a muscular build, even if they were ten years his senior. Speaking of chubby, Cole had also noticed Charlie Winsloe giving him the eye. He knew the portly, fifty-four-year-old grandfather was bi, and in fact Charlie had first fucked his butt during that wild Veteran's Day Celebration a year and a half ago, and a couple times after that in the bushes along the gay stroll in Murray Park. Although Charlie was far from his preferred sexual partner, Cole Bentley could not turn down anyone who had the same plumbing as he did. Clearly, on this particular evening, he was not the only one who had the hots. The sophomore theology student didn't know what was making everyone so horny that night, but in that a number of them were clearly interested in him, he certainly was not complaining. James Forsythe Junior and Jon Weiss, a grade eleven honour student who had more academic awards than anyone else in the school, were two other individuals who were feeling particularly horny that night. Jon, a good-looking clean-cut seventeen-year-old who was presently going out with Della Sterns, the daughter of the new judge, was doing his best to concentrate on the speech he was going to be giving but he was finding new and weird thoughts that had entered his mind lately impossible to ignore, especially when in the presence of James. James was similarly finding it difficult to ignore the thoughts that had been plaguing him these past couple weeks, especially now in the presence of Jon. What neither boy knew, and what bewildered both of them, was that they'd been having nightly wet dreams about each other over the past several weeks. Jon, who had been interested only in girls up until two weeks ago, figured it had to be the result of his raging hormones and the stress of studying, combined with the lack of any sexual outlet besides his right hand. Jon was still a virgin, and he figured probably the only one left in the school, and possibly the entire state, well, besides Della Sterns. He knew the teenage body and the human mind operated in strange ways. How the brain worked had actually been one of his science fair projects back in junior high. James, on the other hand, was certain the Brewster brothers had something to do with his current problem, but he could not recall anything that had happened in the past two weeks that could possibly tie his present obsession with Jon Weiss to them. In fact it had been a remarkably boring month with the only unusual thing happening being a box of peanut butter cookies being mailed specifically to him. That, he'd figured, could have come from several different girls he'd taken out that month, and in that he was playing the field, he couldn't very well come out and ask each one of them without rasing their suspicions and endangering his current popularity. It seemed the only one who wasn't distracted at the moment was Brenda Brewster, who was checking up on everyone to make sure everything was going smoothly, from the kitchen help who was preparing the trays of cheese and cracker snacks and pouring the wine and punch, to the students doing the serving, to the volunteers who were preparing the food for the evening banquet, to the special guests who would be speaking that night. Her four sons and their best friends were helping her with the arrangements of course, and at the same time keeping an eye on those to whom the brothers had delivered special anonymous packages of peanut butter cookies laced with sleeping pills, and whom they'd visited later on to implant some post-hypnotic suggestions, strengthened by Brent's spell book. They were pleased to see that others whom they'd figured didn't need the extra little help were performing true to form. As the four boys and their best pals passed each other, they grinned and high-fived. They loved it when a plan came together. Brenda finally began ushering everyone to their places. The student and adult speakers were seated at the head table on the left side of the stage where other students would be serving them along with the teachers of Crestview Heights Elementary, Junior, and Senior High schools who were seated along the right and left sides of the gym. The parents and the rest of the community, who were sitting in the middle, lined up at the buffet tables to help themselves. Mayor Maartens made sure he was sitting beside Martha Owen where he could keep a good eye on her boobs. James Forsythe, along with his wife and son, sat at one of the tables closest to the head table where he could keep an eye on Martha Owen's boobs also, something which was obvious to not just his wife and son but most of those around him despite his efforts to be discrete. The mayor's wife and his youngest son, fourteen-year-old Eric, a month away from his fifteenth birthday, joined them along with Blake Whitford, another prominent businessman, his wife Arlene, and his fourteen-year-old daughter Ashley. Unbeknownst by anyone else at the table, Ashley had been one of the girls who'd fallen victim to the Brewster brother's subliminal message prank on Boxing Day a year and a half ago, and Eric had been one of those boys who'd watched her frigging herself in the change booth. As she sat down beside him, Eric thought about that as he stole a discrete glance at her huge breasts bulging out her sweater and he felt his dick stir in his pants. When Ashley smiled at him he was sure he was going to flood his boxers right then and there! Matt Collins had watched where David Tateson had sat with his parents and as he sat beside Martha Owen and waited to be served, he made no effort to be discrete as he stared at the handsome teen basketball player and repeatedly brought his fingertips to his nose until the delightful aroma of David's pits had worn off. As they placed his plate of food before him, he didn't even notice. He had to find a way to get a good whiff of those enticing pits so conveniently exposed by David's basketball tank top. He could think of nothing else, and just the thought had his cock aching. Sitting beside Matt was Superintendent Albert Bell, who had purposefully chosen the seat after Lance Cross had sat down in the next seat. As he covertly eyed the handsome young man and tried to figure out what the hell had come over him, Lance searched the room for Cole, and spotting him and his parents, the Reverend and Mrs Bentley, he felt himself becoming aroused as he thought about having sex with him, and wondered too why he was having such persistent and perverted thoughts. Charlie Winsloe had no such problem as he and his wife sat down with Cole and his parents, the portly businessman choosing the seat beside Cole so he could perhaps cop a feel or at least give the young man's leg an occasional squeeze even though his wife was sitting beside him. Danny Maartens was sitting next to Lance at the head table, and he too had not noticed much of anything going on around him as he sat there dreaming about Cole and what he'd like to do with him. Finally unable to stand it any longer, he excused himself and snuck away to the men's showers and locker room, leaving his food barely touched, a sure sign of problems for any teenage boy. Feeling guilty but eager with anticipation also, he quickly removed the combination lock from his locker and opening the door, removed the special package he'd left there upon arriving at the YMCA that evening. Last weekend he'd invited Cole to the YMCA to play a few games of handball, and when they'd headed for the showers afterward he purposefully forgot to remove his watch. Heading back to the locker while Cole had headed on to the showers, he'd transferred Cole's jock strap from his locker to his own just as he'd dreamed doing a week earlier. He now brought the prize to his nose and inhaled deeply. It had been a week, but he could still smell the musky fragrance of Cole's sweaty balls in the cup. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply and as his cock began to swell he reached down with his other hand and squeezed it. The wealthy, conceited playboy, God's gift to womankind, could not believe how hot he was feeling as he stood there in his nine hundred dollar Hugo Boss ice-blue-on-navy pinstripe suit and new peach-coloured two hundred dollar Eton shirt, his nose buried in the soiled cup as he stroked his rapidly growing cock through his new suit pants. Matt Collins could no longer just sit there either. Excusing himself, he headed straight over to David's table. Telling David that he was nervous about his speech, he asked if he'd mind going somewhere to listen to it. He had, of course, decided where that would be before he'd excused himself: the men's change room. It was the logical place. Nobody would have a reason to go there that evening so he wouldn't have to worry about being caught, and besides, it was an appropriate setting for what he really had in mind. To their surprise, they found Danny Maartens standing there by the lockers looking very guilty and very flushed. Having heard the door opening, he'd had just enough time to shove the jock strap he was sniffing in the inside pocket of his designer suit. Thinking quickly, he explained that he'd come down to the lockers to recite his speech, figuring he'd have privacy. That delighted Matt in that it gave his excuse for going to the lockers to practice his speech credence. Although he didn't really want to, Matt offered to leave, but Danny said that he was done and quickly headed for the door, hoping to escape before his two classmates noticed the bulge in his trousers. His departure further delighted Matt. Taking his cue card out of his pocket, he began to read his speech, but with David's sweaty armpit foremost on his mind, and having it there within his reach, he found even reading his speech difficult. "Man, you are nervous," David observed. "Yeah, I really am," Matt admitted. He was nervous, though not about the same thing as David was thinking. "When I'm nervous about shooting a basket, I breathe real deep and slow and concentrate on the basket to calm myself," he advised. "What do you do when you play football?" Matt was about to tell him when an idea came to his mind. It was crazy, but he was desperate. "I concentrate on the sweatiest guy on the team," he said. "Really?" asked David, surprised by the unusual answer. "Yeah," admitted Matt. "On his armpits actually. There is nothing that brings a guy back to reality and makes him concentrate than the smell of a sweaty armpit." "Really?" the lanky basketball player repeated, raising an eyebrow. He supposed that was true. A sweaty armpit certainly did catch your attention. He suddenly wondered if Matt was trying to tell him something, like he had BO or something. "Yeah. Would you mind?" "Mind?" "Doing two dozen pushups and letting me smell your pits." "You're serious." "Yeah." "Well," David said uncertainly. "If you think it will help, I suppose I can. This isn't one of those bloopers and practical jokes things like you see on TV is it?" "No," replied Matt. "I'm serious." With a shrug of the shoulders, David dropped to the floor and began doing pushups. Grateful that this wasn't about his personal hygiene, it was the least he could do to help a fellow athlete. For a teenager in his physical condition, two dozen pushups was not a difficult thing and when he was done he was barely panting. As he sat on the change bench, Matt squatted down to his left and leaning forward, inhaled deeply. David's pit smelled much more like sweat than deodorant now, and Matt was delighted. He inhaled deeply several more times and finally dared to nuzzle the damp, hairy pit. David was so surprised he said nothing, and receiving no objection, Matt pressed his nose into David's pit and inhaled deeply. Matt's cock was swelling rapidly and he sighed and closed his eyes as he delighted in the rank odour of David's hairy pit. David sat there in his gym strip staring at the football jock, also in full uniform, in disbelief as Matt burrowed his nose deeper in his pit. This was totally unbelievable. As his seven-inch cock throbbed hotly in his tight football pants, Matt also found what he was doing impossible to believe. Even more impossible to believe was how hot he was feeling. Meanwhile back in the main gym, Superintendent Bell had fought the compulsion to innocently and gently rub Lance's thigh with the back of his hand for as long as he could, and having received no objection when he'd "accidentally" brushed his hand against Lance's thigh, he rubbed his leg up against Lance's. Still receiving no objection, he dared to slip off his shoe and run his foot up under Lance's pant leg. He stared down at his plate, unable to summon the courage to look Lance in the eye. Lance at that moment was having no difficulty giving Cole the eye, and Cole grinned as he pushed back his chair and turned slightly so Lance could see his crotch as he suggestively ran his hand along his right thigh. Feeling Albert Bell's toe easing up and down his leg, Lance imagined that it was Cole's toe as he looked across the gym at the attractively plump, effeminate-looking nineteen-year-old. He could not believe he was doing this, and he could not believed how horny it was making him feel. At the same time Charlie Winsloe dared to reach over and place his hand on Cole's other thigh, having mistaken his action as a sign to him. Cole, accustomed to being ogled by men, playfully flirted with Lance while he let Charlie stroke his thigh under the table, all the while engaging his totally unsuspecting mother and father in conversation. Having wolfed down his meal, Jon Weiss caught the eye of James Forsythe Junior, which was not hard to do considering James had been watching him from the moment he'd taken his seat, and nodded toward the door before getting up and heading in that direction. James eagerly got up and followed him, somehow feeling like a puppet on a string. Actually, it was a reasonable feeling considering he seemed to have no control over his feelings or his actions lately. "Wassup?" James asked as they stepped into the hallway. "Me," replied Jon, taking the seventeen-year-old boy's hand and placing it on the bulge in his suit pants. "So I see," James responded as he squeezed the bulge, a combination of guilt and arousal sweeping over him. "I need you," Jon breathed deeply. "I need you bad." He did, and he'd decided as he'd watched James during the meal that there was no point denying his strange and totally unexpected desire. James had appeared to be having the same feelings about him, and Jon had decided that if he came out and satisfied his maddening lust perhaps he would get it out of his system and be able to return to normal. "Let's go to the can," James suggested, wanting it also, and also wanting it over with. Stepping into the farthest stall, Jon wasted no time dropping his suit pants and his boxers, and James just as eagerly squatted down behind him and began to rim his butt just like the two had dreamed doing two weeks ago. For some strange reason James had a momentary flash of peanut butter cookies as he licked Jon's crack, and of hearing voices. It only lasted a moment. As he resumed running his tongue up and down the crevice between James's butt cheeks, he could not believe how erotic it was, and his dick sprang to attention. Jon's dick was rapidly swelling too as he felt James's hot, moist tongue running up and down his crack, and then darting at his asshole. He'd had no idea the seventeen-year-old lapping at his ass was gay, but he had to be to be licking his asshole so eagerly. Nor had he had any idea that getting your ass licked and your asshole sucked could be so enjoyable. What was going on in his head was a total surprise and a mystery, but he was not about to suggest they stop. At that point James could not have been stopped even if he'd wanted to. He fastened his mouth against Jon's pucker and began to blow his spittle up the teenager's ass as he reached down and groped his boner through his trousers and imagined shoving it up Jon's rectum. Back in the gym, James's father and Mayor Maartens also had boners, and the two men cautiously slipped their hands under the table and groped themselves as they thought about Martha Owens. As the high school band marched in and up onto the right side of the stage to commence the short entertainment program, the two men shuffled their positions in pretense they were watching the band while in reality they were adjusting the bulges in their trousers. Ever so slowly and discretely, Anthony Maartens pulled down his fly and slipped his hand inside his trousers and his boxers to stroke his swollen dick, all the while wishing he could be fondling Martha Owens' boobs with the other. To his surprise, a few moments later he felt a slender, soft hand push his aside and slipping into the fly of his trousers, begin to fondle his dick through his boxers. He looked at Martha in surprise, and then with a large smile, and she smiled coyly back at him. Women simply could not resist him! Meanwhile, under the table, Benny squeezed the mayor's cock through his boxers and tugged on it, the fourteen-year-old having slipped under the table while everyone had been distracted by the entry of the band. Having heard the band entering, Matt Collins and David Tateson had reluctantly headed back to the gym, but neither sweating, lusting teen was going to be content to sit and listen to half an hour of dumb musical recitals, poetry readings by the elementary school, and a reader's theatre skit by the junior high. Instead, the two horny students slipped behind the curtains at the back of the stage and resumed what they'd been doing in the change room. Both were throbbing hotly and aching to release a load. Wrapping his arms about David, Matt bent over and began to lick and suck on the basketball captain's pits. The two jocks quivered with arousal and their dicks leaked the first drops of pre-cum as their gonads took over for their brains. At the same time, Albert Bell reached around and placed his hand on Lance Cross's butt, giving in to the urges and thoughts that had been plaguing him for the past two weeks. Convinced that his atypical behaviour was the result of having turned fifty, he'd decided if he gave in to his impulses he'd be so repulsed by actually doing what his mind had been dreaming that it would shock him back to reality. When Lance made no objection, he began to slowly massage the twenty-nine-year-old's backside with his hand as he continued to rub his leg against Lance's. He was rewarded with a hot hand being placed on his thigh, and then slowly stealing up to his crotch, where it slowly and carefully pulled down his fly. Instead of repulsion, Albert Bell found his lust quickly increasing. Slipping his hand inside the man's trousers, Lance encountered a very hard and very hot cylinder, the product of Albert's lust. If someone had told him a month ago that he'd be sitting at a head table at a reception honouring teachers squeezing the Superintendent of Schools' erect cock while fantasizing about making out with the town's gay whore, he'd have told them they had to be taking crack. He could not explain this absurd and totally out-of-character behaviour, but it was too strong to fight, and although he was repulsed by what he was doing and thinking, he had never felt so turned on in his life. It was the weirdest combination of feelings he'd ever felt. He had to wonder if the stress of his new job as director of the YMCA was causing him to have some strange type of mental breakdown. As the band left and the elementary students took their place up on the stage, Cole Bentley stepped out for a leak and Charlie Winsloe quickly followed. Stepping up to the urinals beside the young man, the portly businessman eyed the boy's dick as he pulled out his own, and certain Cole had purposefully gone to the washroom in the hopes he would follow, he began to reach out for the boy's cock. Before he had a chance to take it in his hand, Danny Maartens came in, and to his disappointment, stepped up on the other side of Cole and pulled down his fly. Not having to take a piss himself, Charlie had no choice but to tuck his dick away and step back. Returning to his seat, he pulled his chair up close to the table and reaching under it, he began to slowly and carefully rub himself as he thought of Cole, keeping an eye on his wife and Cole's parents in case they became suspicious. Danny, of course, had seen Cole leave, and like Charlie, had assumed Cole had headed to the washroom in the hopes he would join him. The moment Charlie had left, Cole had reached over and slipped his fingers about Danny's semierect dick, but he'd barely given it half a dozen tugs when the two were interrupted by a sudden rush of men taking advantage of the break to relieve their bladders. Disappointed, the two boys headed back to the gym, but feeling too horny to be content to return to their seats to listen to the entertainment, they decided on the spur of the moment to slip behind the curtains at the back of the stage for a bit of dick fun, unaware of course that Matt and David were already there. The two jocks were so hot and so close to reaching an orgasm that they didn't even notice they'd been joined. Seeing the captain of the football team with his nose shoved up the armpit of the captain of the basketball team, and the two jocks obviously fully erect, Danny and Cole simultaneously reached for each other's flies and pulled them down. Slipping their fingers inside each other's trousers and through the fly of each other's boxers, they cupped each other's sweaty balls and played with them as they wrapped their left arms about each other and drew each other close. Slipping their fingers about each other's semierect dick, they withdrew each other's organ and began to fiddle with each other. Danny struggled with his emotions and the thoughts running through his mind, trying to justify why he was feeling so horny and why he was playing with another guy's prick, and why he was deriving such pleasure having a guy messing with his privates. Why it was feeling so good was no mystery to Cole. What he couldn't figure was what had made the mayor's sixteen-year-old son so randy. By this time Matt and David had noticed they'd been joined behind the curtains of course, but knowing Cole's reputation, they had not been that surprised and had returned to what they were doing. Of course Jon and James had immediately stopped what they were doing the moment they'd heard the washroom door open, and the two boys had stood there completely motionless as they strained to hear what was happing outside their cubicle. If they were caught together in the stall, the entire school would know by morning, and they would never be able to show their faces in Crestview Heights Senior High again. Their hearts now pounding in their chests out of fear rather than lust, it seemed like forever before they heard the door close the final time. After waiting a bit longer and hearing nothing, Jon stood on his toes and carefully peaked over the door of the stall. Seeing nobody, he quickly opened the door and he and James made a hasty exit from the washroom. Despite their fear and having almost been caught together, the two boys were still feeling randy as hell, and were desperate to satisfy the lust that was driving them mad. Out of sheer desperation, and having nowhere else to go, the two boys daringly slipped under the head table while everyone's attention was focussed on the junior high drama club as the students began their skit. Jon eagerly pushed down his trousers and boxers and James slipped his finger up Jon's spit- filled butt and began to finger fuck him as he stroked Jon's dick with his other hand. As everyone laughed at the antics of the drama club, James pushed down his pants and underwear and replaced his finger with his stiff, aching dick. Driven by pure lust, he began to hump Jon in a desperate attempt to satisfy the desire burning in his loins, and Jon constricted and relaxed his sphincter in time with his thrusts. Meanwhile, behind the curtains, Danny had given in to his desires and was passionately returning Cole's kisses as the two boys jerked each other off. Danny had no idea why he was behaving so, but he knew he'd never felt so horny in his life and that he had to get off a load. Only feet away from the two boys, Matt Colins was snorting and panting like a pig as he licked David Tateson's armpit and delighted in its sweaty fragrance. His lust throbbed in his loins, and as he buried his nose in David's sweaty pit, he felt his balls constrict and he creamed his boxers. He shuddered and inhaled deeply as he felt his load spurt out of his cock and spread over his stomach and down over his groin. Seconds later Danny and Cole shot off in each other's hands, spraying each other's trousers in their lust. At the same time, James Forsythe grasped his partner under the table and Jon Weiss felt him shooting his load up his rectum as the junior high drama club bowed and the audience clapped their appreciation. Unaware of all the sex action going on around her, Brenda thanked the entertainers for their performance and called upon the mayor for his opening comments. Benny had by that time slipped back out from under the table, but not before taking out his scout knife and snapping off the tab of the mayor's fly. The man had desperately reached down to pull up his fly as Brenda had begun to speak, and had found to his dismay that he was not able to. Praying for the best, he stood and headed for the podium. Meanwhile Danny had hastily tucked his still dripping dick back in his pants and had dashed from behind the curtains and headed for his seat, his cum running down his leg, as David, sweaty and dishevelled and looking like he'd been rolling on the floor, slipped out from under the table and took his seat. Glancing down as he stepped up to the podium, Mayor Maartens began to flush as he saw his gaping fly below his ample stomach, his striped boxers clearly visible in the opening. Of course those at the closest tables had clearly seen his problem as he'd headed for the podium, including his wife and his younger son, who had quickly glanced over at Ashley. From the look on her face he wanted to crawl under the table and never show his face for the rest of the evening. How could his dad! As he began to speak, Mayor Maartens felt his erection slowly moving inside his boxers, slipping closer and closer to the opening, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it other than to reach down, and that would only draw everyone's attention to his crotch. As he felt his knob begin to peak through the opening of the fly of his boxers, he suddenly cut his opening remarks off, and quickly dropping his hands to hold his program in front of his crotch and turning beat red, he beat a hasty retreat to his seat, his dickhead now poking out his fly to see where they were headed. Even though he'd acted quickly and had covered himself, Brenda had seen everything, as had her boys who had turned as red as the mayor in their efforts to stop from laughing. Several others had caught a glimpse of the mayor's pride and joy, including the reporter for the Crestview Heights Senior High School student newspaper and the editor of the local weekly who was particularly amused considering his Worship's frequent complaint that the newspaper was not giving him enough exposure. His son Eric was as red as his father and totally devastated, embarrassed for his father but even more concerned about the ribbing he was going to get at school and the humiliation of looking girls in the eye knowing they'd seen his father's dick peaking out of his boxers. Anthony Maartens' older son sitting up at the head table with him was embarrassed for his father too, but at the moment was more concerned about his own problem. Having reached down to ensure his own fly was secure, he'd discovered a very large, slimy wet spot on the leg his navy blue suit pants, and although he'd shot off his load, he was still sporting an erection that had no signs of going down. Another individual who was very much aware of his Worship's shame was the Chairwoman of the Board of Education who was called upon to speak next. Flustered by what she'd seen, and by the obvious amorous attentions of both the Mayor and James Forsythe, she suddenly found her mind had gone blank. Well, not exactly blank, but what image she did have certainly had nothing to do with what she'd been prepared to say. Being the type of woman who'd made love to only one man all her life, her husband, and that under the sheets and in the dark, the sight of the Mayor's erect penis poking out of his boxers had been particularly unnerving. Being an experienced speaker, she was able to make up a new speech on the spot, but that one was much shorter than the one she'd prepared. Brenda called upon Matt Collins next and the football captain got up slowly and stepped forward to speak on behalf of all jocks. He walked awkwardly, as if he'd pulled a ham string or something, his cum-soaked boxers feeling markedly wet and markedly cold. He was a handsome, muscular youth, the type of boy a mother and father would be proud of and high school girls had day dreams about, all of whom would be shocked had they known what he'd just done with a fellow jock behind the stage curtains. He looked particularly smart in his football kit, or at least he would have. At the moment his hair was mussed and his face was flushed a bright red and streaked with sweat as if he'd just stepped off the football field. His green and gold jersey was dishevelled, and his tight white football breeches clearly revealed a long cylindrical bulge down his right pant leg. When you are sporting a seven-inch erection, it is not an easy thing to hide when wearing a pair of tight football pants. It was one thing to be well hung and have people notice, but from the length and width of this particular bulge you would have to be naive to think it was in its normal state. Being seen with a boner was bad enough, but his tight white breeches were also sporting a large stain at the end of the bulge, and that, as far as everyone was concerned, could only be one thing. While Matt spoke, Superintendent Bell did everything he could to get rid of his erection, concentrating on the boy's words, and when that did not work, on every unpleasant thing he could think of, from boring Board meetings to dealings with angry parents and obnoxious government officials. It did not work, and as he stood, his dick was still tenting out his trousers. Not only that, but he had a large pre-cum stain at the end of the bulge that many assumed in their embarrassment for him was a salad dressing stain, except of course the Brewster brothers, who began a whisper chain what it really was. Following right after Matt, the truth was easily believed, and there was more than one person who wondered if the Superintendent had been turned on by the evident arousal of the high school boy who'd spoken before him. That was certainly a concern that would find its way to the trustees before the next meeting of the Board. Lance Cross was the next to speak, and as he stood with his erection jutting out his trousers, he thought back to his embarrassment of having been in the same condition the night he'd MC'd the opening of the YMCA. At least this time his parents were not in the audience. What he did not realize was that this time in groping his ass, Albert Bell had pulled out the back of his boxers and tucked in his shirt so that his boxers were not only showing, but had become uncomfortably wedged up his crack. When he realized later how he'd looked, he could have died of mortification. His embarrassment was nothing compared to that of Danny Maartens however. First, his dripping cock had oozed out a dribble of cum down his leg that was embarrassingly cold and wet and that had soaked into the fine fabric of his suit pants. Second, the outside of his expensive Hugo Boss ice-blue-on-navy pinstripe suit and new peach-coloured two hundred dollar Eton shirt had been sprayed by his and Cole's explosions. The colour of his suit and his shirt made the stains particularly visible. Worst of all, however, was that upon stepping up to the podium, he'd reached into the inside pocket of his expensive designer suit jacket for his speech on behalf of the Student's Union, and in retrieving it, had watched helplessly as a used, unwashed jock strap fell at his feet. The gym was deadly silent, and as Danny nervously read his speech nobody was paying the slightest attention to it, and he knew it. Those who had been embarrassed for him because they'd thought he'd slopped his dinner all over himself, were now twittering with amusement that what he'd slopped all over his shirt and pants was not dinner, and while half mused about the jock strap being his own, the other half was wondering who his boyfriend was. His kid brother sitting next to the stage was so red he was glowing, and Danny could only imagine what his father was thinking, not that his father had any room to talk. As for his mother, he'd never be able to look her in the face again. This was not a good night for the Maartens family. Honour student Jon Weiss was the last speaker to step up to the podium, his hair dishevelled, his suit rumpled, and the back of his trousers hopelessly glued to his butt. His asshole felt shockingly wet and shockingly empty as he stood there in front of his teachers and his fellow students. As he began to speak, he felt James's spittle and cum slowly oozing out his butthole and down his leg, making it impossible to remember what he'd memorized, and making him sound like an idiot, which was even more embarrassing than his appearance. He nervously reached up to the bridge of his glasses and pushed them back up his nose as he inhaled nervously. The smell of James Forsythe's balls and cock on his fingertips was the final straw and Jon stood there helplessly before his teachers, his classmates, and his parents as his nuts constricted and he shot his load in his boxers. More than just a few boys and men in the audience knew from the look in his eyes and the whimper in his voice as he concluded his speech what had just happened. Certainly the Brewster brothers and their best friends knew, and they were so delighted at how their plan had unfolded that they were giddy. Jon slowly backed up and crab-walked back to his seat, keeping his backside to the curtains in the back of the stage. He had never felt so embarrassed in all his life. As people began to mix and mingle in the social that followed, those on the stage made a hasty retreat to the washrooms to clean up. The Maartens and Forsythe families disappeared as fast as was politically correct, and Matt Collins, David Tateson, and Jon Weiss encouraged their parents to leave as soon as possible. The boys were relieved that their compulsive behaviour seemed to be over, but disturbed by how hot they had felt that evening. They had a lot to think about, their masculinity and how they were going to face each other at school the next day being at the top of the list. Lance Cross, Charlie Winsloe, Martha Owen, and Albert Bell all stayed to mingle, each waiting until they were home to satisfy their needs individually and manually, and for some to finally put an end to their obsessive thoughts. Cole Bentley left ahead of his parents, but did not arrive home that night. Parents and students visited with each other and paused by the teacher tables to express their appreciation. As honoured guests the teachers felt obligated to stay and mingled with each other and with the parents and students long into the night. All approached Brenda Brewster and congratulated her on still another successful fundraiser and entertaining evening. As she protested that it was really the work of many, Gordon Moore found himself being surrounded by a group of his present and former students. "Hi, Mister Moore," greeted Charles with a wide grin. "Great evening, huh?" "Yes, it is." "Was a great afternoon too," Charles said with an even wider grin. "Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it," his teacher responded, realizing now that the rush of the afternoon was over that his students probably would be talking about that afternoon for many days to come. He could not blame them. "Oh yeah, it was wicked," said Kenny, Charles's redheaded, freckle-faced classmate and best buddy. "That's why we come to see you," continued Charles. "Oh?" "We'd like to thank you." "Well, you're welcome." "I mean, we'd like to thank you special," said Charles, emphasizing the word "special" and raising his eyebrows meaningfully. "Somewhere else," added Bobby who had joined Charles and Kenny along with his brother Benny, his best buddy twelve-year-old Aaron, and Benny's classmate and best friend, Justin. "I see," responded Gordon, looking at one bright-eyed boy to the next and wondering if they meant what he was thinking. As if reading his mind, Charles took his hand and began to lead him out of the gym. Although he knew that he shouldn't be going with the boys even though he could not be sure of their intentions, Gordon Moore found himself going anyway. It was not because he felt any compulsion to do so, his strange urge to do whatever Charles suggested seeming to have finally disappeared. It was much simpler he found it impossible to resist the charms of the gaggle of young boys that had surrounded him, especially after the afternoon's experience. Entering one of the small conference rooms, the boys surrounded the teacher as Benny closed the door and locked it. "Ah, boys, I don't know what you ." Before he could finish the six boys pressed up against him and as Benny and Justin slipped off his suit jacket, Bobby and Aaron began to unbutton his shirt and Charles and Kenny dropped to their knees and began to untie his shoes. "Ah, really, boys," he protested as the boys slipped his shoes off and began to tug on his socks as Bobby struggled with his tie and Benny unbuckled his belt. "Boys, I don't think we should ," he cautioned as Bobby and Aaron slid off his shirt and Benny and Justin pulled down his suit trousers. "Really," he protested as he felt four hot hands slip under the elastic band of his underwear and begin to push them down. The five-foot-ten, hundred-and-sixty-pound teacher watched his diet and jogged daily and his solid, muscular body was evidence of it. As one of those hands slipped around his exposed balls and others began to caress his buttocks, his chest, and his thighs, his dick began to swell and all thoughts of protesting disappeared. As the boys caressed his naked body they quickly unbuttoned and unzipped and chucked their own clothes. The six now naked boys surrounded the thirty-eight-year-old teacher and began to rub their smooth, nude bodies against his, rubbing their slender thighs against his and running their hands over his firm, muscular body as they rubbed their warm, smooth chests against him. They ran their fingers through the hair on his chest and through his coarse pubic hairs and Kenny, Charles, and Bobby spread their legs and rubbed their smooth, hairless pubes against his hairy legs. Aaron, having just begun to develop fine, silky hairs above his dick, brushed his soft patch against the teacher's swelling dick while Benny and Justin dusted off his butt with their pubic bushes. All six boys rubbed their penises against his body, caressing his thighs and his backside with their dicks, and then guiding him down to his knees, the six boys rubbed their swelling dicks against his hairy chest and his teats and against his cheeks and his lips. Charles and Kenny reached down and began to stroke his swelling cock and fondle his hairy balls as Bobby a