Ninety Degrees and Getting Hotter
Disclaimer:
Warning: this story contains sexual content, contact between teenage boys, and other themes that may offend. If the subject matter offends you, is not to your tastes, or if you are under legal age for your area, then find something else to read. The following story it true, but names have been changed.
I'm a geek. I didn't know it while in eighth grade, but I was. That was the '50s and for grades 1-8 I attended a parochial school where everyone had to wear uniforms - starched white shirts & ties for boys; white blouses & blue skirts for girls. Apart from a few "lay" teachers, all the teachers were Dominican nuns. At that time, nuns wore "habits" that looked like they'd come from medieval times. Actually they did! In first grade I was convinced there were three genders, boys, girls and nuns. I was interested in boys and knew it from the earliest age.
Unfortunately being a chubby near-sighted geek, my only contact with boys came when the class bully would jump on my back, knock me to the ground, and make me eat grass. He never knew that I'd much rather eat him!
In those days, there must not have been academic standards for schools. Mine didn't teach science, art or music. Just the four "R"s: reading, 'riting, 'rithmetic and religion. And because the school didn't have a gymnasium, there was no phys-ed and I never once saw another boy naked. I had a crush on James, the most beautiful boy in the world, or so I thought. I recently got out our graduation pictures, and he was, indeed, pretty damn hot!
One day near the end of the last semester, the class was separated into boys and girls. We boys went to another classroom where one of the priests gave us a sex education lecture. Remember, this was the pre-AIDS, pre-drugs, pre-sex, Catholic fifties. Once I realized what the topic was, I was literally on the edge of my seat with a perpetual hard-on, hoping that he would say something about this phenomenon. Most of the lecture was about avoiding "impure thoughts" by praying to Jesus, Mary & Joseph, the model family. But just at the end he mentioned that we might sometimes experience a growing and hardening of our "private members." Thank god - I finally knew that I wasn't the only one with this problem. I'd even fashioned a homemade jock strap to try to contain it, not having ever seen the real thing.
To say I was an introvert is an exaggeration. Bookish and naive, I rarely made friends. I really liked two brothers, Matt & John, who lived a block away, but we had nothing in common other than a cub scout troupe, the den mother of which was my mom. Her advice was, "You won't have friends unless you're a friend." I just didn't know how!
There was a lot of pressure that eighth year of grade school to attend the neighborhood Catholic high school. I was reluctant because late in that year I'd made a new friend. Lee and his family had moved into a house at the far end of my block. We were both the same age, ready to begin high school that fall. (At that time, high school comprised grades 9-12.)
Lee was a model hunk, handsome as a devil with ripped abs, great smarts, and he played several sports. And being Protestant, he seemed exotic, the only non-Catholic in our homogenous middle-class neighborhood. I'll never know why he befriended me, but I think he saw me as an amusing challenge. For example, when going somewhere he'd make me walk four paces ahead so he could watch oncoming pedestrians laugh at me. I was so taken with him that I'd willingly endure almost any indignity.
Before you anticipate too much, please know that Lee was straight as an arrow. I never got to touch him, though all I could think about was having his gorgeous cock in my mouth. How did I know it was beautiful, you might ask. Well, being a sports buff, Lee dragged me swimming and I saw the inside of a locker room for the first time in my life. After stripping he looked at me and asked, "Why are you hard?" My hardon was about the same length as his flaccid swinging six-incher against a backdrop of pendulous low-hangers. Of course I couldn't answer his question. "Because you make me that way" just wouldn't fly!
Being 16 year-olds, of course we talked about sex, usually on the phone late at night. We'd even masturbate together long before the term, "phone sex" had been coined. Eventually this evolved into a live encounter, which is the subject of this short piece.
We were in my bedroom one afternoon and he was going through a list of things that were "wrong" with me - he often did that! When he came to, "and your dick points up at an angle" that got my attention for sure, and that of my little pointy friend down there! I of course defended it as normal and pressed him for what he thought it should be. "Straight up, like mine." "Show me" I demanded, not believing what a great opening this could be. He proceeded to fondle himself through his jeans to get hard and I found a protractor in the desk drawer just to keep it all academic!
Soon we were on the bed with jeans around our knees. Lee was hard and his 7" did, in fact, point straight at the ceiling. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen! I made a show of placing the protractor next to it but must have appeared too interested, or perhaps my hand was shaking or my mouth drooling! Anyway, he grabbed the protractor, placed it beside his cock, and said, "There, see?"
"OK," I agreed, adding, "Now how do we get these things to go down?" To my astonishment, Lee began to jack off and of course I followed suit. He stared at the ceiling, no doubt imagining tits & twats, while I just starred at his rock-hard cock and swinging balls. To my amazement, when he appeared to be close to cumming, Lee encircled the base of his cock with thumb & forefinger and squeezed tight to prevent ejaculation. He called it, "stopping it" and said that although it cut the pleasure a bit short, it was a lot less messy. Fuck that, I made a big mess on my stomach, which he looked at, proclaiming it to be "too watery." Some weeks later I got a chance to verify that his cum was, in fact, much less "watery" than mine, but that's another story.
This is a true story, and my first for Nifty. Comments? E-mail me at toughen@aol.com.