Message-ID: <37006asstr$1024776606@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Message-ID: <20020620190814.61215.qmail@web21309.mail.yahoo.com> From: Ashley Creek X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Thu, 20 Jun 2002 12:08:14 -0700 (PDT) Subject: {ASSM} Field Day {Will "Crash" Reuther} (m+f exhib reluc, mf m-1st, hs) Date: Sat, 22 Jun 2002 16:10:06 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, RuiJorge This story is a bit outside the usual envelope for the "Naked in School" series, but it is soundly based on my own perverted fantasies, when I was that age. --Will "Crash" Reuther --------------------------------- Do You Yahoo!? Sign-up for Video Highlights of 2002 FIFA World Cup <1st attachment, "Fielday.txt" begin> Field Day (m+f exhib reluc, mf m-1st, hs) by Will "Crash" Reuther I. It was intended as a gigantic pep-rally concept: Field Day. On Friday, all the athletes would wear the uniforms of their sports, and the rest of us were expected to attend school in our standard gym suits, to show our unanimous support for all of the school's teams. Then, that evening, there was supposed to be a dance, where we'd all wear the same athletic outfits we'd worn all day, at school. I must say, the football players looked pretty silly, wandering around all day with their shoulder pads on. Some of them could barely fit in their desks without spilling over and blocking the aisles! And the basketball team got a lot of appreciative comments, too, for those were the years when basketball shorts were still, in fact, short. Of course, the rest of us--boys and girls alike--were all in short, gym shorts for the day, too. Only, somehow, it looked better, or at least more interesting, on the basketball players, than on most of the other boys. But what everyone seemed to have failed to account for--even the administration, which had approved the concept, and with some enthusiasm, I had been given to understand--was the boys' swim team. Now, the girls' team were in their swim suits, too, but they wore their warm-up outfits--even if they dared to leave the jackets open, either completely or, at least, far enough to look very sexy. But the boys' team had apparently concluded that "uniforms," strictly speaking, were what you wore when in actual competition, and did not include warm-up outfits. So, to a man, they'd shown up at school, Friday morning, wearing nothing but their swim briefs--their tiny, little, blue swim briefs, which were barely large enough for the school's name to be legible! We were told, later, that the principal was furious, but by the time the word had gotten to him--for he apparently didn't feel that his duties required him to be in his office at first bell EVERY single day--those boys had already been wandering proudly around campus before school, finished first period, and had already moved on to second period. The assistant principal--who was also the coach of the swim team, by the way, and was subsequently suspected of having had a hand in putting the boys up to their daring caper--had apparently been fairly persuasive in pointing out that, if they cracked down on the boys at that point, the impact on the entire day's activities would only have been counter-productive. Two of the swimmers--Chet Raymond and Carlos Tedesco--were in my first-period class with Mrs. Bismarck. As we had gathered in the room before the teacher arrived, all the sexiest girls were teasing those two boys, though not without a sincere tone of appreciation. And two of the girls--Tina Marshall and Faith Penn, if I recall correctly after all these years--had kissed both of them, apparently with the intention of discovering whether their swim briefs could hold up to the strain. From what I could see, it was a close call! But, when Mrs. Bismarck walked into the room, just a few minutes before the bell, Chet and Carlos walked calmly to their desks, as if they carried rolls of quarters in their swim briefs every day of their lives! Mrs. Bismarck made a little something of the matter, but apparently knew better than to push it too far. "These are the team uniforms!" Chet insisted with a big smile. "If you've never seen them before, you should start attending the swim meets." "Yes," Carlos agreed. "If there were anything wrong, they wouldn't let us wear them in public, at all, would they?" "I commend your proper use of the subjunctive," Mrs. Bismarck declared, "but I suppose most of the class is showing a bit more leg than is usually permitted, today." The class laughed appreciatively, a few of the girls blushed, and I smiled lasciviously at Louise Bunsen's lovely, naked thighs, beneath the desk just to the left and forward of my own. Mary Decker poked Louise, then tilted her head in my direction when Louise turned; and I smiled at Louise, and she smiled back and made a point to look directly at my own, hairy thighs. The day progressed, with nearly all our bare legs tramping along the corridors between classes. We were used to seeing each other in these outfits on the playing fields, of course. It was just that, indoors, in the ordinary classrooms, what we'd all seen often enough before took on an added dimension that just could not be denied. It was just those boys on the swim team, wearing very nearly nothing at all, who stuck out like sore thumbs, in each of their classes and in the hallways every time we changed classes. But it just seemed like there wasn't anything anyone was going to do about it. II. Except, that is, for Mr. Baker in Biology, which I took third period. Both Chet and Carlos were in that class, too. When the bell had rung and we were all in our places, it was Carlos upon whose naked chest Mr. Baker's eyes first landed. "Mr. Tedesco?" "Yes, sir!" Carlos replied with the utmost respect and attention. "And which team do you represent, this morning?" "The swimming team, sir! The boys' swim team!" "Aha. I see, I see. So, it's not as though it is unusual for you to be seen wearing so much of your birthday suit?" "This is our full uniform, sir!" Carlos was outwardly stone-faced, but some of the girls sitting near him could not contain their giggles. Mr. Baker ignored them, at least for the time being--or, I suppose I must acknowledge that it became apparent, quite soon enough, that he only pretended to ignore them. "I'm sorry, Mr. Tedesco, but I'm not sure I can tell exactly where it is that you are wearing that uniform." Open laughter broke out from several places in the room. "Could you perhaps stand up, so that I could be certain?" Carlos calmly rose from his desk, to display that, hidden beneath the desk top, he had in truth been, at least nominally, decently covered. Someone gave out a wolf-whistle. Carlos stoically pretended to ignore it, but I noticed that his mouth was working gently, as if he were chewing gum, in order to suppress a broad smile of his own. "Very good, Mr. Tedesco. Very good," Mr. Baker smiled. "I am both relieved and gratified to be assured that you have not chosen to expose yourself completely--without some good, educational purpose, at least." There were some more titters running around the classroom, but it had begun to dawn on us that Mr. Baker had something up his sleeve--and that it had a lot to do with the fact that Carlos was wearing no sleeves at all. "Would you indulge us, Mr. Tedesco?" Mr. Baker said, as he turned his back on the class and moved toward the front blackboard. "Do you mind?" he added, beckoning Carlos forward. Carlos hesitated for an instant, then walked slowly to the front of the class. Before, he had moved calmly; now he only moved slowly. "I know we have already covered this unit earlier in the year," Mr. Baker said, as he reached for one of the chart rolls that hung at the top of the blackboard, "but I thought I might give you all a chance to review it, in anticipation of the final exam." A tentative groan escaped automatically from the class at the mere mention of the word "exam." Mr. Baker ignored it and pulled down the human anatomy chart--the one that pretends to show both genders in cutaway view, but chastely ignores the external details of the two crotches. "I know you have all studied this chart diligently," Mr. Baker said, turning toward the class again and showing a wry smile. There were a few, various, sarcastic reactions from among those in the class. "Do you really think these charts are adequate, though, Mr. Tedesco?" "There do seem to be a few things missing," Carlos admitted, with a gentle smirk. "Ah, yes. Indeed there are," Mr. Baker said gently, as he pushed a table against the blackboard, just to one side of the anatomy chart. "Would you mind, Mr. Tedesco? So that all in the class may see?" He set a chair in front of the table, but sideways, and indicated that Carlos should climb up, onto the table. Carlos climbed easily, in two brisk, athletic steps, then turned to face the class, standing just beside the chart of the male body with its gut split open. He had bargained to display himself that day, but now he was an official focus of attention, standing on the table at the front of Mr. Baker's classroom. The muscles of his chest flexed superbly, and the bulge in his swim briefs was prominent, of course; I could not tell if it was particularly enhanced. "May I have a volunteer from the class?" Mr. Baker asked. "A volunteer for what?" Mary Jo Lawrence blurted out. Mr. Baker held out the wooden pointer with the black rubber tip. "Thank you for volunteering so promptly, Miss Lawrence. Could you come forward, please?" Now, the word around the locker room had always led me to believe that Mary Jo was one of those girls who should have had no trouble passing any imaginable quiz on the male anatomy. Accordingly, an expectant buzz washed quickly through the classroom, before settling into a pregnant silence. "I'll ask you, please, to use the pointer gently," Mr. Baker said, as Mary Jo walked cautiously to the front of the room. "We wouldn't want to cause Mr. Tedesco any injury, would we!" Carlos laughed openly and eyed Mary Jo confidently as she took the pointer and gave Carlos' body a quick look-over, top to bottom, at close range. "Now, Miss Lawrence," Mr. Baker said, leaning back against the edge of his desk, "would you be so kind as to refer to the old, familiar chart--and point out for us, some of the most prominent features of Mr. Tedesco's anatomy--the ones we don't usually see in the classroom?" Mary Joe smiled broadly, tapped the chart sharply, then teasingly nudged Carlos' chest with the tip of the pointer. "Well, these are his nipples," she said clearly. "I don't know what on earth they're good for, but there they are!" Mr. Baker joined the rest of us in laughing uproariously. "Very good, Mary Jo!" he exclaimed. "Could you continue?" She continued, working downward, pointing out the definition of Carlos' pectoral muscles, then indicating, according to the chart, the approximate location of several of his major internal organs. Carlos was remarkably stoic. Though Mary Jo jabbed sharply at the chart, she seemed to tickle him with the pointer, each time it touched his skin. "And this is his navel, of course," Mary Jo went on. "According to the Bible, there would have been only two people, in all time, who didn't have a navel. It looks like Carlos was born normally, like all the rest of us. "And I suppose that brings us to the parts we still can't see," Mary Jo smirked, as she nudged Carlos' package with her pointer. "Somewhere in here, given that he appears to be a boy, are his penis and testicles. The chart doesn't show them, either, but I'm pretty certain they're in there." The laughter was nervous--though perhaps somewhat less so from the boys than from the girls. "Very good, Miss Lawrence," Mr. Baker said. "You have been both explicit and accurate, and I appreciate it. Rest assured that I have already recorded an 'A' for you, for the day, as well as another 'A' for extra credit." "What about me?" Carlos asked, shifting nervously on his feet. "You've already got two 'A's of extra credit so far, Mr. Tedesco. Would you care to go for more?" "Extra credit?" Carlos beamed. "Bring it on!" Mr. Baker turned to the class. "All right, this is an extra credit day for all of you, then--unless you choose to decline it. Before we continue, I'll offer any of you a pass to the library for study hall, for the rest of the hour, if you feel that you are too sensitive to go on with this. Any of the girls, perhaps?" There were several girls who came forward, carrying their books, to claim permission slips to leave the room. I noticed that Mary Decker started forward, too, but she heard someone laugh at her, and she apparently decided that she could stick it out, after all. The rest of us squirmed in our seats. None of the boys could admit to being fearful, of course, though we could hardly believe what it seemed was about to transpire. III. "Very well," Mr. Baker said, locking the door and pulling the shade after the squeamish girls had made their departure. "Are you ready to continue, Miss Lawrence?" "I get more extra credit?" she asked. "Absolutely!" Mr. Baker assured her. "Your participation in this exercise is most appreciated." "We're not going to . . . ?" "This is strictly educational, Miss Lawrence. And if you change your mind about assisting, at any point, you may withdraw without losing any of the extra credit you have already earned." "Okay," she smiled. "What's next?" "Well, you had mentioned some hidden features. Would you care to assist Mr. Tedesco, or would you rather he did this for himself?" "How much assistance do you want me to give him?" "I'm only talking about uncovering what is hidden, Miss Lawrence, so that we may all learn about it properly. Would you prefer to do that yourself, Mr. Tedesco? Or would you appreciate Miss Lawrence's help?" "I have always appreciated Miss Lawrence," Carlos declared in a sincere voice, looking right at her--though admittedly at some point (or two points) rather lower on her body than her eyes. "I'm not afraid." "Then, Miss Lawrence, would you care to do whatever is necessary for you to complete your presentation?" "I guess he asked for it!" Mary Jo giggled, setting down the pointer for the moment. Carlos cocked his head slightly, shifted his gaze toward the back wall of the classroom, and seemed to steel himself for an unprecedented experience. Mary Jo reached for his waist, as the class waited expectantly--save for some guy near the back of the room who let out a wolf whistle. "You may have more admirers in the class than you counted on, Mr. Tedesco," Mr. Baker noted wryly. "I've noticed him, in the locker room," Carlos teased. Mary Jo joined the rest of us in laughter. When we had settled down, Mary Jo reached upward again and gently plucked at the sides of Carlos' swim briefs. For just an instant that seemed to last an eternity, she paused before slipping her fingers under the fabric and tugging gently downward. I don't think I'd ever noticed a guy exposed that slowly, before. In the locker room, the shy kids undress as quickly as possible, just to get it over with so they can cover themselves again, all the sooner; while the guys who have enough experience or self-confidence not to be shy, strip with casual expedition, for it doesn't matter to them. Only the women in burlesque shows and strip clubs are supposed to be revealed slowly--for it isn't called a strip TEASE for no good reason. Mary Jo pulled Carlos' swim briefs down very gently--and tantalizingly slowly. Not that it took long for him to be exposed, for the top edge of his briefs barely covered his pubic hair, in the first place! The hair, his shaft, then his entire glory--all were revealed by the descent of his briefs, in exactly the way the rising curtain in a theater reveals the stage set of the performance that is to follow. And Carlos' cock popped right up, as soon as its tip was released, just the way the corpse in a murder mystery comes into view from behind the rising curtain. There was no sound in the room, except that the clock, high on the wall, chose precisely that instant to advance, with its usual dull thud, to the next minute. We never in our lives would have expected one of our number to be stripped naked in an ordinary classroom. (Obviously, the boys' locker room and swimming pool don't count!) Mary Jo kept pulling Carlos' briefs down his legs, at the same deliberate speed. I failed to notice whether she was watching what she was doing or what she had already uncovered, for I was as transfixed as everyone else in the room. I--well, of course, just about every boy in the classroom, I suppose--had certainly seen Carlos naked before in gym, ever since junior high! Perhaps some of the girls had had the same privilege in private. I wouldn't know about that. But Carlos was a handsome guy. Even for the other boys, you didn't have to be gay or bi to recognize that! His body was well defined; his muscles were firm without being overdeveloped; he had no noticeable fat on his bones, nor were his bones--with the one, prurient exception--visible in any place where they shouldn't have been; his skin was smooth and perfect; and his cock was straight, clean, and well sculpted. (Congratulations to his mother's obstetrician on that last point!) Carlos moved only enough to step out of his briefs, once Mary Jo got them down to his feet. He was looking vaguely around the room now, not particularly at any one of us, nor scanning the room with any particular deliberation. I guess he knew he wasn't the worst guy in the world to be standing in front of the classroom as a standard of male anatomy, and I would have to suspect, accordingly, that it might not have been the first time he had been nude in mixed company. Mary Jo set his briefs on the table, just beside his feet, and picked up the pointer again. Then she looked toward us, to see if we were ready for her to proceed. We seemed to be incapable of any response, so she looked toward Mr. Baker. He gave her a brief nod of his head, but said nothing. The chart on the wall was no longer relevant. Censored to protect the virginal sensibilities of public-school classrooms, it showed nothing of the features of Carlos' body that had just been revealed. Still, Mary Jo seemed to know exactly what she was doing, which, all of itself, gave me a hard-on in my jock-strap. She raised the pointer to Carlos' cock and gently lifted it even higher than it was standing on his own. "This is a penis," she declared in a clear and firm voice. "In the male, it is used for urination--but, in its erect state, like this, its purpose is to deliver sperm into the vagina of a woman, in an attempt to make her pregnant." There were a few minor titters from about the classroom, but in general we were rapt that a girl was reciting these salient facts about how a boy's sex works. "The sperm are manufactured and stored," Mary Jo continued, "in the testicles." She lowered the pointer until Carlos' cock reached its own level, then gently nudged his balls, right and left. He gave a wry smile as the pointer touched him, but there was no reason to believe the touch had caused any physical pain. "The penis is constructed in such a fashion as to be able to penetrate far enough into a woman's vagina, during sexual intercourse, to enable the sperm to travel toward her ovaries to meet an ovum and fertilize it. When this encounter is successful, pregnancy ensues." I was amazed at how frankly Mary Jo was relating all this. I was beginning to wonder if she knew more about this than I did! "Very good, Miss Lawrence," Mr. Baker said. "Unless you have anything else to say, I will ask if anyone in the class has any questions." Joannie Messer raised her hand and naively asked, "How much sperm is there in an ejaculation. I don't mean the number; I know that's, like, thousands or something. I mean. I guess, how much--um, semen, is it?--how much actually comes out? What volume, I guess?" The class laughed; Joannie blushed. But Mr. Baker did not dismiss the inquiry. "That is a good point, Miss Messer," he declared, before the laughter could die down. "Mr. Tedesco, would you care to participate in answering Miss Messer's question?" Carlos shook his head, as if he couldn't believe it, and his cock waved gently, in harmony. "Crime-in-Italy!" he gasped. "You want me to . . . ?" "Would you prefer to do it yourself," Mr. Baker interrupted, "or would you like to have some assistance?" "Depends!" Carlos grunted. "Who . . . ?" "Miss Lawrence!" Mr. Baker said sharply. "Do you wish to continue in assisting Mr. Tedesco? You are not obliged to do so. Or, Miss Messer, would you care to be of some help, and to observe the demonstration more closely? Or are there any other volunteers?" He said all this quickly, to get it all out before anyone could answer too hastily. Terry Hart raised her hand. "I don't exactly want to volunteer," she said, "but I wondered if--well, as long as he's just standing there, you know--if we could have a chance to get a closer look?" "That's a very good idea, Miss Hart," Mr. Baker said. "Please feel free to come forward. Is there anyone else who would like a closer look? I'm sure Mr. Tedesco won't mind if we show our appreciation for his participation, today." There was a polite smattering of applause, but mostly we left our desks and gathered at the front of the room--some of us closer to the exhibit than others. Mary Jo held her ground, and Terry crowded in close, as well, as if to call her own bluff. The rest of us more or less jockeyed for position, depending on how closely we wanted to witness the next part. "Now, who would care to help Mr. Tedesco?" Mr. Baker asked, after a few moments. "Mary Jo? Terry? Joannie?" "I guess I can give this a try," Mary Jo said, scrambling up onto the table beside Carlos. "Remember, now," Mr. Baker said. "The question had to do with the quantity of the ejaculate. So be certain you catch it in this!" He handed Mary Jo a test tube. This was patent confirmation of what Mr. Baker expected Mary Jo to do to Carlos, and we were all stunned--though transfixed with anticipation. Mary Jo stood up beside Carlos and leaned in to give him a nice little kiss. "Will that help?" she asked him sweetly. "I guess so," Carlos gasped. Then Mary Jo had her fingers on his rod, almost before anyone noticed it. Carlos did fairly well, at least at first, at being stoic, despite the fact that he was the one standing naked in front of the class, having his pecker milked. But it wasn't long before his responses gave way to the involuntary. Still, you might almost have missed it, if you weren't familiar with how sneaky orgasms can be, sometimes. Mary Jo didn't miss a thing, though. She had that test tube up to the tip of his cock just at the right moment, and she never lost a drop! It was sort of strange, watching him pump it into that confining volume. Then again, I'd never really had an opportunity to watch any guy jack off before! Carlos seemed to be in good humor as he finished delivering his load. He put his arm around Mary Jo and kissed her, to thank her for her kind ministrations, then stood quietly beside her as Mr. Baker took the test tube, announced the measurement of the volume Mary Jo had collected, efficiently prepared a slide, and slipped it into the projection microscope. And there, on the big screen, just on the other side of Carlos from the anatomy chart, were his little buggers, swimming about madly in a vain search for an ovum that wasn't there. "Well, Mr. Tedesco," Mr. Baker exclaimed, "you seem to be quite fertile. Serious warning, girls! Don't ever let Carlos have his way without some protection. He's got what it takes to do you in!" "That's only half the story, isn't it?" Eddie Dockery said provocatively, as we filed back to our seats. "I mean, I'm sure all the girls appreciated that lesson, but--I mean--are you going to give them more extra credit than you give us guys. I mean, like, we already, basically, knew all about, um, that, you know." "Well, that's a reasonably good point, Mr. Dockery," Mr. Baker said earnestly. "Now, let's see, it depends, of course. We would need another volunteer." Up on the table, Mary Jo, standing right beside Carlos--who was still naked and randy despite having blown his load--blushed. Carlos looked at her, smiled, and nudged her. "Mary Jo!" Chet called out enthusiastically, prompting applause and cheers from the rest of the class. Mr. Baker looked toward her. "This better be worth, like, a ton of extra credit!" Mary Jo gasped. "That should be the least of your worries, Miss Lawrence!" he warned her. "This is all in the interests of education, though. Is it something you want to do?" She certainly looked reluctant, but she gulped and nodded her head. "Would you care to have Mr. Tedesco assist you?" "That would be nice," she squeaked. "I'll warn you to maintain control of yourself, Mr. Tedesco," Mr. Baker said sternly. "I may be a studly guy," Carlos commented with a bit of a smirk, "but I'm a little bit spent, just now." There was a mixture of laughs and whistles from the class. Then Carlos reached out and gently tugged the zipper down the front of Mary Jo's red gym suit. When the zipper reached the belt, the white of Mary Jo's bra was already visible. Carlos paused and easily undid the catch on the belt, then pulled the zipper the rest of the way down. He stepped behind her, so he wouldn't get in the way--though it looked like his erection may have bumped her as he did so, for the size of the top of the table limited his range of mobility a bit--and deftly pulled the top of the suit back and off her shoulders. As Carlos lowered the suit down Mary Jo's arms, her bra--an item of clothing I had seen, before that day, worn only by women in movies and the Sears catalogues!--came fully into view. And it was only a moment later that Mary Jo was stepping out of her gym suit and stood before us, clad only in bra and panties. Carlos playfully tossed the gym suit to a girl in the front row, for safe-keeping. Carlos turned and smiled at Mary Jo. His erection seemed fully renewed. She smiled wanly at him, and he leaned in to kiss her tenderly. She gently touched his naked hip, and his erection bobbed in response. Carlos stepped behind Mary Jo again, to unhook her bra. He looked studious as he did so, but it didn't look like it took him long to figure out how the catch worked. I wondered how many times he had ever done that! The class gasped as the bra fell from Mary Jo's breasts. Mary Jo didn't have the biggest tits in school, by far--but they didn't sag a millimeter as they were freed from the support of her brassiere! I mean, it was not as if we were surprised to see them--it was not as if we didn't know, perfectly well, that once Carlos had pulled her bra off, her breasts would be visible to us! But we gasped, nonetheless, as the perfection of her beauty was revealed. There was utter silence for a few moments, but when Carlos tossed the bra deftly to still another girl, Eddie started clapping, and we all joined in the applause. It was not over, though, for now Carlos knelt on one knee and gently grasped the elastic waistband of Mary Jo's panties. I saw her look up at the ceiling--either in desperation or in supplication, I suppose--and then the rest of her was revealed to us. As Mary Jo stepped out of her panties, still avoiding looking at all of us who were staring so avidly at the perfect nakedness of her body, I became painfully aware of the severe restriction my jockstrap imposed on my own erection. For as Carlos stood up, beside Mary Jo--both of them naked now, with Carlos clearly randy and ready to commit fatherhood upon her very being--I began to wish that I were up there with them, ready to take my own turn. "Can we have a closer look?" Eddie asked frantically, raising his hand but neglecting to wait to be called upon. "Just be patient, Mr. Dockery," Mr. Baker smiled sternly. "I have a feeling I wouldn't be able to trust you as much as I can trust Mr. Tedesco." Mr. Baker handed the pointer to Carlos, as Mary Jo eased over toward the edge of the table next to the anatomy chart. "I suppose we should start with the breasts," Carlos said with a smirk, slapping the chart as sharply as Mary Jo had, just to tease her. But when he brought the sharp, phallic tip of the pointer to her chest, he nudged her as gently as if it were but a feather. I mean, we could see how her breast moved as he touched the pointer to her flesh, but clearly the touch was soft, and gentle, and loving. Carlos ran the pointer around the circumference of both her breasts, then confidently pointed out the difference between the areolae and the nipples. I had to reach down to my crotch and tug at my jock strap, through my shorts, to give my cock a little room to escape. "My opinion is," Carlos told the class, while staring at Mary Jo, "that boys have nipples, either to remind us what we don't have behind them--or maybe just because God really does have a sense of humor." Most of the class laughed uproariously. When Carlos had thoroughly sketched Mary Jo's breasts, he drew the pointer down her cleavage, directly to her belly-button. "This isn't anything we don't all have," he smiled, "but I do tend to have a thing for girls who show theirs off!" Mary Jo gave a look of exasperation, and Carlos moved on. "Now, you see, this is what's really amazing!" he declared with obvious enthusiasm. "The fact that boys have useless nipples is one thing. But what always amazes me is that girls actually do have pubic hair, just like we boys do!" "Yeah, man!" some boy at the back of the room exclaimed. Mr. Baker's dark scowl turned in that direction, just too late to identify the source. "I mean, girls don't usually have hairy chests," Carlos continued, briefly touching the pointer to a spot perfectly between Mary Jo's breasts again, then turning to face us and running the tip of the pointer through the moderately light thatch on his own torso. "So you don't expect--or, at least, I never expected--that they'd have pubic hair, too." He drew the pointer awkwardly down his own body and nestled it into his pubic hair as we all watched him, then moved the pointer and buried it into the tangle of Mary Jo's delta, to reinforce the point of which we were all very much aware. Carlos faced us for a little while, showing himself off again, every bit as much as he called attention to Mary Jo's natural beauty. We were all invited to contemplate the similarities and differences between Mary Jo's pubic hair and his own. It was on the same place on both of them, though the patches were shaped rather differently--but the most obvious difference was about what hung below the pubic hair on Carlos' body, and what did not show on hers. "We boys carry our sex organs on the outside of our bodies," Carlos soberly and needlessly informed us. "A girl's sex organs are inside." We nodded, to signify our understanding. Carlos tapped his erection with the pointer, to send it bobbing slightly from side to side, then let the tip rest on his testicles. "The sperm is produced in the testicles, where it can be kept at the proper temperature at all times. It is not obvious right now, but when the weather is hot, my balls hang down a couple of inches; and when the weather is cold, they tuck up tightly between my legs. It's all controlled, like a thermostat, to ensure that my sperm are kept lively and flourishing, so that when it's time for me to make a baby, I will be fertile." I scratched my crotch furtively; my cock slipped farther out of its confining elastic and began to head down the leg of my gym shorts. I noticed that a girl in the next row blushed, but I think that was only over the frank explanation Carlos was giving; I don't think I had popped out into plain sight. "Now, during the sex act," Carlos continued, "my penis is designed to go inside a girl's body, to deliver my sperm directly into her womb, where her ova may be waiting--if we're not lucky, that is. Mary Jo, perhaps, for this part, it would be better if you sat down, on the edge of the table." I saw her swallow hard, but she understood exactly what Carlos meant, for she sat down on the table, spread her legs wide, and planted her heels firmly at the edge of the table. "You see," Carlos smiled broadly, "Mary Jo knows exactly what to do!" Carlos jumped down from the table, and his erection bobbed crazily, as he took his position just to one side of Mary Jo's wide-spread legs. "Perhaps this would be a good time for the class to come forward again," Carlos said to Mr. Baker, "so they all can observe closely." Mr. Baker had the class come forward, one row at a time, to file past Mary Jo and inspect her crotch. As I waited my turn, I heard Carlos point out, over and over again, that there were three holes in Mary Jo's crack: the front one for urination; the back one for defecation; and the one smack in the middle, her vagina, for sex and having babies. I realized my cock was hanging out of my jock-strap, down the left leg of my shorts, at this point, but I couldn't very well check to see whether it was hanging down too far, without calling too much attention to it. IV. When we had all returned to our seats, though, Mr. Baker called on me. "Would you care to volunteer to assist us, too, Mr. Wilson?" Obediently, I stood up. "If you are to assist us," Mr. Baker added, "I think it would be best if you would leave your clothing at your desk, Mr. Wilson. I wouldn't want you to have an unfair advantage over our other volunteers!" I understood at once that Mr. Baker had noticed some effect of my disarranged clothing. I wasn't sure how much I'd been showing, nor how much anyone else might have seen, but it was clear that Mr. Baker was getting back at me--and that there was no way I could avoid my fate. Oh, well! If Carlos could stand naked beside Mary Jo Lawrence, why couldn't I! I kicked off my shoes without bothering to pull the laces, skinned out of my shirt at the same time, shoved my shorts and jock strap down together (to hide from my fellow students any proof of the circumstance that Mr. Baker had already noticed), and then stripped off my socks; thus fully exposed to my classmates' sight, I strode forward to join Carlos and Mary Jo. "I believe Mr. Tedesco has omitted a salient feature, in the demonstration he has otherwise so ably conducted. Would you, Mr. Wilson, by any chance, know what it was that he has neglected to mention?" "Um, um," I stammered. "Clit!" Carlos whispered hoarsely at me, through clenched teeth. The simple syllable was incoherent to me, but Mary Jo giggled, reached out to take my hand, and asked Mr. Baker, "May I help him?" "If you would be so kind, Miss Lawrence," he said. Mary Jo drew my trembling hand to her crotch and pressed my fingers against her naked flesh, not very far above her piss hole. My erection felt like stone, and I feared I would faint. "Luke is pressing his fingers against Mary Jo's clitoris," Carlos soberly intoned. I didn't know what the hell he was talking about. But he was lying, anyway: my fingers weren't pressing against anything--not of my volition, at any rate. It was Mary Jo who was pressing my fingers urgently against her own, most private flesh. "Earlier," Carlos continued, "Mary Jo helped me to provide a sperm sample. To do that, I had an orgasm--a release of sexual tension in which a wave of intense pleasure passes through every nerve in the body and, in men, triggers the mechanism by which the semen is ejaculated from the penis and, in theory at least, into the woman's vagina. In women, however, the orgasm does not always occur during sexual intercourse, for, strictly speaking, the female's orgasm is not necessary either to ovulation or to the process of conception. It does, however, help greatly in allowing the woman to enjoy the pleasure of the sex act." My mouth was agape. I'd never heard any of this before! Carlos looked down at what Mary Jo was causing my fingers to do to her, and he smiled pleasantly. "Now, a lot of guys seem to think," Carlos continued, "that if they come, the girl must have enjoyed it, too." Several girls in the class giggled knowingly. "Maybe there are some girls who are lucky that way, and if so I salute you. But what triggers the orgasm in the woman is not the presence of the penis in her vagina, but pressure against the clitoris, which is what Luke is rubbing, right now. You can't really see it, so there's no use in calling you forward again to try to see where it is. Most of the time, you can't even feel it! But Mary Jo knows where it is, and she's making sure Luke's fingers are exactly where they'll do her the most good." Carlos turned to look at Mary Jo's face. I looked up, too, from what I was pretending to be doing. Mary Jo wasn't paying any attention. Her head was thrown back, there was an intense grimace on her face, and she was deep in the throes of something I recognized. Boy, did that scare me! But Mary Jo wasn't letting me quit! I was trying to figure whether I needed to try to get out of the way of anything, but with my fingers tethered to Mary Jo's clit, there wasn't very far I could go. Then she started making noises. Carlos stood quietly as it happened, while I had just enough presence of mind to wiggle my fingers a little, where Mary Jo was grasping them tightly between her labia, to help her get it over with. Her tits were heaving with her breathing, and she started moaning, then gasping. And we all watched her come; we all observed her orgasm. Her gasping turned into guttural groans, and then she broke into little squeals, as a wave of intense pleasure passed through every nerve in her body, just as Carlos had explained it. The class was stunned. Carlos' orgasm had seemed almost silly, in the circumstances; Mary Jo's was spectacular. She pressed my fingers, to get me to stop wiggling them, as she crested the wave and rode down the other side. Then Carlos put an arm about her shoulder, and she collapsed against his side, turned toward me, and smiled broadly. "You did good, Luke," she told me, and I was inspired to bend over and kiss her. Actually, I was inspired to rape her, but my gentlemanly inhibitions kicked in just in time, and I just gave her a kiss, to thank her for allowing me--teaching me!--how to give her that much pleasure. At the kiss, the class giggled for a few seconds, then broke into a hearty round of applause. "That was very good, Luke," Mr. Baker added. "I think you'll notice the results on your next report card. I grinned like an asshole, wondering what good that would do to the piece of iron that seemed to have replaced my cock, in the process. "There's one other thing we haven't covered yet," Carlos said, just as I began to wonder what could possibly happen next. "What's that, Mr. Tedesco?" Mr. Baker asked. "We'll need one more volunteer," Carlos smirked, "a boy who's got a little something more than either Luke or I. You guys know who you are. I've seen it in the showers. Would one of you care to volunteer?" "You're talking about me," Chet said immediately. "Oh, what the sh--; I mean, what the, what the, what the HECK!!" Chet strode brusquely to the front of the class. I would have said that, but for his bare feet, he STOMPED to the front of the room. And everyone could plainly see that at least as much was resting inside his swim briefs as Carlos and I were showing, right out in the open. "You want to do the honors?" Chet challenged Mary Jo. "Stand up on the table, Chet," Mr. Baker instructed. "You, too, Carlos!" Carlos gave Mary Jo a sweet little kiss before getting up. Chet clambered onto the table on the other side of her, then Mary Jo plucked at the sides of Chet's swim briefs and calmly drew them down his thighs. Mary Jo seemed calm, at least. Maybe that's what getting off does to girls! I wasn't calm, at all, though! I can't speak for Chet. As the class began to notice the difference between Carlos and Chet, Mary Jo slipped off the table. I offered her my hand, and she took my arm, slipping in beside me and stretching her arm around my waist, as well. While the class pondered Chet's natural endowment, I was the one who had the naked girl at my side, as Mary Jo and I stepped out of the way. We guys all knew who in our class was uncut--if we paid attention, that is. I mean, you're not supposed to stare in the showers, of course! But I think we all check each other out, now and again. In my opinion, any guy who claims he's never noticed, is too afraid of HIMSELF to admit to looking! "Well, who wants to explain this, gentlemen?" Chet shrugged. "Most guys are circumcised, like Carlos, here. I'm not." It seemed that that was all the more he had to say on the subject. "Do you have anything to add, Mr. Tedesco?" Mr. Baker prompted. "Well, all I know is second-hand," Carlos giggled. "That didn't seem to prevent you from describing Mary Jo's orgasm quite competently." "Well," Carlos blushed, "maybe that's just because I'm, I guess, more interested in her sexuality than in Chet's cock." "Ah, yes, Mr. Tedesco. I suppose that is a reasonable point. Do you think you could give it a try, though?" Carlos turned to Chet. "You do the show; I do the tell? Otherwise, I'm going to have to stretch it out for you." Chet gulped, nodded, and reached down to grab his cock. This only made the class giggle again. "Okay," Carlos sighed. "Soon after I was born, they cut a little piece off of me. For Jewish boys, this is a religious ceremony. For the rest of us, around about the time we were born, it was a fairly common practice, usually done in the supposed interests of hygiene. I don't know why Chet escaped the practice, but, somehow, he did." Chet shrugged. Hell if HE knew why he'd been treated differently! "Now, the part that's cut off is called the foreskin. Chet, if you would pull yours back, everyone will be able to see that what's underneath is just like what I've got left." Chet deftly slipped back his prepuce to expose the glans. "How far back can you slide it?" Carlos asked him. Chet shrugged again and pulled it even farther, to the point that it seemed he'd turned it inside out. "Can you see?" Chet asked, turning toward the class. "This part underneath, called the glans--and that's g-l-a-n-s, NOT g-l-a-n-D-s, by the way--is the same as what you see on my penis." Carlos moved close beside Chet, so that their dicks were close together. Mr. Baker invited the class to come forward again, to inspect both boys and their respective cocks. I don't know how Chet managed to stand there for so long, sliding his foreskin back and forth for everyone to see, without shooting off! For my part, Mary Jo and I had our arms around each other, and I found it even more incomprehensible how I was managing to keep myself from lifting her onto the edge of Mr. Baker's desk and raping her on the spot, while everyone else in the class had a good look at how Chet's dick was different from Carlos'! Then it was Mary Jo, again, who had the privilege of waving Chet's magic wand for him and collecting his ejaculation in another test tube! She did it efficiently, and with aplomb. She must have had practice, doing that, before! There was only a little time left in the hour, and I think we all thought we were done and that it was time for us to get dressed again. "There's one more thing, Mr. Baker," Mary Jo insisted, smiling broadly as she aimed her double-barreled rack in his direction. "Is it for educational purposes, Miss Lawrence?" "I think so," she exclaimed coyly. "I mean, I think Carlos did a very good job of explaining everything, but don't you think the class might find it enlightening to observe it, first hand?" "You are volunteering for this?" our teacher asked. "If it's all right with you, Mr. Baker." "You will need a volunteer to help you," he pointed out. "I think I have one," she smiled. And she walked back to me and took my hand. "Will you help me, Luke? Please?" "Help you with what?" I asked blankly. I could not comprehend how obvious it was! Chet, Carlos, and Mary Jo all giggled at me but said nothing more, assuming I'd get the point soon enough. Both Chet and Carlos scrambled down from the table, then helped lift Mary Jo onto it. She lay down on her back, and Carlos beckoned me to join him at the end of the table where her feet hung over. "Okay," he whispered to me. "I don't know if you've ever done this before, but, trust me, it's not very hard to do. Do you remember what I said before?" "What?" "Do you remember when I showed you where her pussy is?" "Um, yeah." "Well, she's ready for you. I can tell. So, just climb up and slip your dick in there. Okay? Ignore the class--unless that turns you on, that is. Just slip it in and do what comes naturally. You'll be fine." Losing your virginity as a classroom exercise must have some merits. Well, for a guy, I suppose, losing your virginity sooner rather than later just about always has to be a plus. Still, when you don't really know what you're doing, having every eye in the class watching you, the first time you sink your dick between a girl's legs, isn't a particularly calming thought. Not that sex is something to be calm about, in any circumstances! It's just that, when you're the one performing it, bare-backed and without a net, as it were--well, I guess the tension of the situation does add something to the experience. I just wished I had Mary Jo in my bed--or hers, for that matter!--rather than on top of the table in Mr. Baker's classroom. But I didn't know what else to do! I got up on the table with Mary Jo, afraid I was going to fall off in the throes of passion, and she pulled me down to her and kissed me again. Then Carlos resumed his running commentary. "You will observe the obvious signs of arousal," Carlos instructed the class. "Notice how Mary Jo's nipples are puckered." I lifted up, so Carlos could poke gently at her goose-bumped areolae with the rubber tip of the pointer. "That's where the most erectile tissue is, in the girl," Carlos continued. "In the boy, of course, the erectile tissue is very obvious." As if mesmerized, I lifted my body so that Carlos could bat the pointer against my erection, which could scarcely move, so hard it was. "You may also notice signs of moisture in Mary Jo's vulva." I didn't know she had a Swedish car. Oh, no, that's not what he said at all! The pointer reached under my erection to probe obscenely at Mary Jo's moist labia. "Now Luke will place his erection at the entrance to Mary Jo's vagina." I did as I was instructed, holding myself up, at arm's length from the table, above Mary Jo's intoxicating nakedness, so that the class could see that I was, truly, poised to fuck her. Mary Jo looked up at me and smiled, and I could hardly believe it! "And now, Luke," Carlos commanded, "if you would please thrust slowly forward, so we can all see it, as your cock enters Mary Jo's pussy." To hear the words spoken--and the more vulgar words, in the classroom setting, to boot!--only emphasized the public aspect of my pubic performance! I could hardly believe, either, how smoothly it was accomplished. Had Carlos not commanded me to move slowly, I surely would have been inside her before I would even have noticed! But, moving slowly, it overwhelmed me. My cock slipped gently between the lips of Mary Jo's pussy, and I could tell, from the way she looked up at me as I entered her, that it felt as good to her as it did to me. Mary Jo took me all in, and her smile only broadened as my phallus filled her being. I lowered myself to her, feeling her breasts flatten as my chest gently crushed them--and I kissed her with all the love I could muster. "They are now engaged in the act of sexual intercourse," Carlos brusquely announced. "Luke has penetrated Mary Jo's vagina, and his penis is positioned to consummate mating with her." I did not fathom why he had wanted to phrase it in that way--especially after having used the more profane words, just moments before--but Mary Jo thrust her hips gently at me, and her invitation overwhelmed all else. "You will notice how Luke's buttocks heave as he thrusts himself into Mary Jo," Carlos explained. "He is thrusting his penis deep into her vagina, then pulling back just far enough to thrust again, without breaking their coupling, without allowing his penis to fall away from her vagina. This is important, for it is the tender friction of the walls of the vagina upon the penis that creates the physical sensations leading to orgasm. You will notice also, I'm sure, that the pace of Luke's thrusting is picking up speed. This is normal, as the physical sensations he is feeling encourage him to complete the sex act and to deliver his sperm to her. At this stage of intercourse, it is generally the case that the faster he thrusts, the closer he is to sexual climax." I suppose all that was true. All I felt was an overpowering urge to press my cock all the way to Mary Jo's ovaries; and beneath me, her body seemed to strive for the same result. It felt so good--and yet I felt I was not far enough inside her, yet, to achieve my orgasm. Oh, if only my cock were even longer! If only Mary Jo's buttocks did not swell quite so enticingly below her pussy! If only my hips didn't smack against her thighs quite so soon, every time I thrust myself into her! But it was happening! I was in her--though not nearly far enough--and my body was almost ready to impregnate her. "Does it feel good, Mary Jo?" Carlos teased her. "Oh, God!" she gasped. I wished he'd just leave her alone. "Do you have anything to say, Luke?" "Jesus!" I muttered. "Many people do find the act of sexual intercourse to be something of a religious experience," Carlos wise-cracked. "I don't think we'll be in any real danger of running over into the next period." No indeed! And, oh, how wonderfully different it felt from when my own right hand assuaged my normally frustrated tensions! "Ride her hard, Luke!" someone from the class called out. It almost sounded like it was a girl's voice, but I really was in no condition to pay attention. For it was real--and it was happening. Suddenly I was impelled to break my rhythm and thrust myself more strongly than ever into Mary Jo's honey pot. "Here it comes, folks!" Carlos beamed. "You see that look Luke's gotten on his face? It marks the point of no return!" I wanted to kick Carlos in the nuts, but I was too busy with the pressure that was building inside my own. Mary Jo thrust back at me with equal force to mine, and frantically I pulled back for another gargantuan attempt to get my cock right up to where her ova were waiting. Her arms already around my back, she reached down to my naked ass, to pull me even farther inside her, too. And beneath me, I could tell, she was as frantic as I was. And then it started, as I felt some gateway open up within my testicles. It's something I hardly ever notice when I masturbate, but I've found it to be the hallmark of a good fuck. The gateway opens, and I know I've done my job. It takes a few seconds, still, for the flood to escape, but then I can feel it coursing down the bore. Some guys say this part feels like they need to piss, but it's never felt like that for me! No! The flood is a release far more intense than anything my bladder can produce, and I enjoy it particularly when I can feel the entire course of the vanguard, down the bore, the entire length of my cock, deep into the pussy I'm fucking. And the best part of all is when it all spews forth, at last! That day, by some wonderful miracle, Mary Jo came, too, just as I did. As my sperm shot from my cock like speeding bullets and I pumped and pumped at her for all I was worth, her pussy throbbed about me, helping to milk me of everything I had available to give her. I felt the physical reverberation, too, as my spurt battered the walls of her vagina, sending shock waves back to combine with the throbbing of her orgasm. I felt four of the shock waves, in fact, matching the first four of my spurts, before the pressure had been released enough that the rest of my ejaculation, though still copious, merely flooded her womb, rather than spritzing it. And, at that point--especially if you've never been there before!--you just press forward and ride it down to earth. I was vaguely aware of the applause, even before I had finished. It's one of the most enduring and automatic reactions of the back rooms of our contemporary society: when any group of sexually stimulated young people watch a couple fuck, there is always applause when the boy comes. Whether it's fraternity brothers watching pledges prove their manhood, which is very easy to comprehend; whether it's in mixed company at an unchaperoned party, in which case the boys are eager to make it plain to the girls in the room that the show was worth while, and the girls are eager to prove to the boys that they are sexually sophisticated enough to declare that they have pretended to enjoy the spectacle as well; or whether it's a slumber party in which there are only other girls to watch a lone boy prove to them that one of their number is "bad" enough to be willing to prove that she is not a virgin; it is always the same: there is practically unanimous applause as soon as it is obvious that the boy is shooting his wad. The girl can lie there like a lump, for all the more any of these audiences may care! All the boy has to do is advertise his orgasm, and the room will be happy to acknowledge his grand performance. But Mary Jo was, by no means, lying there like a lump! She was still coming, too, and she was as anxious to advertise my natural talent at pleasuring her as I was to know that, notwithstanding the unusual circumstances, my own theoretical cherry had been definitively dispatched to oblivion. Yet I was exhausted, both physically and sexually, and I collapsed upon Mary Jo, gasping for breath, while she was still grasping at me, both inside and outside her body, to finish the climax I had been lucky enough to have caused for her. And so she captured me, and rode me onward, far beyond the point that I could have made any further contribution to her pleasure. V. The hour was almost expired by this point, and Mr. Baker brusquely urged the four of us, the day's volunteers, to hurry and get dressed before the next class might arrive and misunderstand our educational endeavors to be nothing more than gross debauchery. Well, "getting dressed," such as it was, was not particularly difficult for Chet and Carlos, and the class was amused to watch them pull on their swim briefs and carefully tuck their genitals into those little slips of cloth. It must have looked somewhat like a magic show in reverse! I don't know, actually, what it looked like. I was busily scrambling back to my desk, where I had left my own clothing--and where I hoped none of it had been purloined during my earnest work as a volunteer. But Mary Jo, in nothing resembling a hurry as far as anyone could tell, was busy taking a bow! And just as I had almost reached my clothing, I was called back to the front of the room to take a bow with her. So the four of us were still at the front of the class--Chet and Carlos already back in their swim briefs; but Mary Jo and I still stark naked--accepting the adulation of our classmates, when the class bell interrupted us. Mary Jo calmly retrieved her red gym suit and slipped into it. She did not bother with her panties or her bra, nor her shoes and socks. She'd let herself be fucked in front of the whole class! What did she care if her tits wobbled delightfully, all the rest of the school day! Nor did I have time to spare, any longer! In fact, it took me much too long just to scramble into my gym shorts, for they were all bundled up and twisted with my jock strap. I'd pulled the whole bunch off so quickly that they could not go back on without being separated and turned right-side-out again, and once my shorts were ready there simply was no longer any time to cope with the athletic supporter. I had only just gotten my shorts over my privates (assuming my performance had not divested them permanently of that status) when the next class began to arrive. I had to pull my tee-shirt on very hastily, grab up my books and what remained of my clothing in utter haste, and escape to the hallways barefoot and hanging free. I barely got to my next class on time. I had no chance even to try to get my shoes and socks back on, before I got there. Then Mr. Wilkes, noticing only that I was barefoot, perversely insisted that, inasmuch as I had entered his classroom dressed for a broad-jump into the sand pit, I shouldn't be allowed to waste classroom time putting my shoes back on. He even called upon me to recite, that day, at the front of the room for the second class period in a row. My only good luck was that my exertions with Mary Jo had so exhausted my libido that, standing before Mr. Wilkes' class, it was not apparent that I wore even less than it seemed. <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. The post was sent as an email attachment and has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software. ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}| |Archive at Hosted by | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+