The Crimson Circle
Copyright© 2025 by jamesbreitbart
Chapter 27
Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 27 - The story of Nolan Pierce, a freshman at a prestigious boarding school with an influential network of secret societies and a number of storied traditions - many of which involve nudity.
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft mt/Fa mt Mult Teenagers Blackmail Drunk/Drugged NonConsensual Gay Heterosexual School Alternate History Humiliation Group Sex Orgy Polygamy/Polyamory Interracial Anal Sex Exhibitionism First Masturbation Oral Sex Voyeurism Foot Fetish Public Sex Teacher/Student Nudism Politics
Nolan Pierce
Thanksgiving had involved more excitement than I’d planned, and I was looking forward to seeing Owen and the rest of my dorm again by the end of it. I hugged Mom and Dad goodbye at 8:00 a.m. Saturday and boarded the train. I’d restocked my reading list from my bookshelf at home: Slaughterhouse-Five, The Great Gatsby, and The Perks of Being a Wallflower. We got delayed outside of Richmond again, but it only cut into my layover in DC, so I didn’t mind.
I’d finished Gatsby and Wallflower by the time we got to DC, so I bought a copy of Freakonomics and The Atlantic Monthly at the newsagents. At Wilson, The Atlantic had a reputation as being a somewhat more intellectual travel read than Time or Newsweek, although this edition had a big article about how Hollywood was embracing Jesus movies. Gross.
It was 8:00 by the time I actually got to Wilson. Most of my floor was already there, having come up on Saturday, but I knew Owen was going to get in later. His parents were each trying to maximize the amount of time he was spending with them instead of the other one, which ended up maximizing the time he spent back home altogether. I said brief hellos to a few people and got naked before slipping into bed and going straight to sleep.
I was woken up few hours later by a warm body slipping into bed with me.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“2:30, Owen answered.”
“I should probably be getting up.”
“Stay with me a minute.”
I rolled over so that I was facing Owen and wrapped my arm around him, gently stroking his back as we lay in bed together. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No, I’m exhausted.”
“Then do you want to hear about the Sissipahaw Streaking Club?”
“Mm-hmm.”
I told him about Tyler’s predicament and my plans to give him an alternative outlet for his rebellious energies while undermining the mixture of religiosity and regional chauvinism that controlled Sissipahaw, and creating a ready-made group of kids who could be used to run errands for the Illuminati (although Tyler didn’t know about that part).
When we walked to the cafeteria, a light snow was falling. It was still exciting for Henry and I even if Wilson didn’t grant snow days for anything under a foot. They were serving ziti (some combination of pasta, tomato sauce, and cheese was a perennial favorite for the cafeteria staff).
Jamie was waiting for me when I got back to the dorm.
“Have you checked your email?”
“Not since I got back.”
“You’d probably better.”
When I got back to my dorm, I discovered another email from the Conduct Council. I had a hearing scheduled for Thursday. The hearing itself wasn’t a problem, as my schedule for Thursday had cleared out with the seasonal suspension of the Wilson Streaking Club, and I knew I was likely to get a favorable panel that would swing things as far as possible in my favor. Still, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to it, and feared that I would get an actual detention.
The snow had all melted by the time I made my way to the conduct council hearing rooms Thursday evening. I found that my panel was chaired by Jamie, and included Ethan Rothschild, Jonah Haverford, Bram Callister, and Declan Walsh.
“Sorry to keep you in suspense,” Jamie opened the meeting, “but we think Jas might have ratted you out again and I didn’t want him to overhear and come after me for leaking information to you.”
“Ratted me out for what?”
“The tattoo. We got an anonymous report stapled to a printed out copy of Delvecchio’s blog post.”
I groaned. That blog post was causing me no end of trouble. “Can I plead that, like, Delvecchio didn’t read me my Miranda rights or something?”
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