Chapter 4

Tuesday Morning

The next morning, as I was leaving for school, Mom gave me a hug, something she hadn't done in years - well, ok, I'd made her stop a couple years ago. I thought I had outgrown them.

It felt good.

I left early, hoping to get there before anyone else so I could at least strip in peace, but the closer I got to school the slower I pedaled, dreading the moment I'd have to take off all my clothes.

And with good reason, it turned out. After locking my bike in the rack I went around to the south entrance, where I'd found my clothes the day before, and there was like a mailbox with a sign on it that said "Boys' Clothes Here." There was a fair gathering already, of girls, nothing but girls. I wondered if Karen and the other chosen girls were facing a similar gauntlet of boys outside the north entrance.

Either the other two boys had beaten me here, or were coming later. No one else to share my shame with. Oh joy.

I put my trombone and books down and started to undress. By the time I was down to my underwear I was flaming red. Trying to keep my back to everyone (it wasn't possible, I was surrounded) I skinned my jockeys down, then sat down on cold, damp grass to put my shoes back on. Bundling everything together, I dropped the clothes in the mailbox, the tip of my already rock-hard cock brushing the cold metal. It was like an electric shock, and I flinched and the girls giggled.

"Hi, Carl," one of them simpered, batting her eyes at me. "Whatcha got there?"

"Looks like a dick to me," another said, "but it's too small."

"You wouldn't think so if you'd seen it next to Freschetti's!" someone else answered with a cackle that brought shrieks of glee from the group. I guess that was supposed to make me feel good.

All I could think was that Freschetti was going to kill me if he ever had the chance.

"It's not how much you have that counts, it's how you use it," a familiar voice put in primly, and Beth pushed her way through the crowd. "Hi, Carl."

"Uh, hi!"

"Oh, and I suppose you'd know?" one of the other girls asked skeptically.

Beth didn't answer, she just tucked her arm into mine and guided me away, smiling secretly, like she really did know.

"Thanks!" I said gratefully. "You - uh - kinda put yourself on the spot, though, didn't you?"

"Maybe," she admitted, giving me an impish look.

"You know I've never - uh - done it," I confessed.

She shrugged. "Neither have I."

"I didn't think you had," I assured her quickly.

She gave my arm a squeeze. "I know. That's one of the things I like about you."

"But now, everyone else is going to think..."

She shrugged again. "Let 'em." Then she looked up at me, that impish smile on her face again. "We could prove 'em right, you know."

Before I could react, she squeezed my arm again, and then let me go and walked away, her pony tail flipping pertly, counter to the sway of her hips while I gaped after her. I hadn't realized she could move like that!

Thanks to this little by-play I took my "relief" in my first period class! I thought, momentarily, of asking for some help, but couldn't bring myself to do it. Instead I pumped my prick a half dozen times and ejected what felt like a quart of cum into the rag offered by Mr. Cranover. At least he didn't use my eruption as a demonstration of ballistics or something, but let me get to my seat, still drooling and wiping.

I wondered if there was a way to measure the viscosity of cum.

French was more of Mademoiselle Duclos using me as a live model for her French anatomy lesson. She didn't just point. She trailed her fingers over my skin; my nipples suddenly became an erogenous zone, my belly, probing my navel even. She brushed them through my pubic hair.

My cock was throbbing in minutes, even though I'd jacked off less than an hour before.

She stroked my butt, made me turn around and bend over even. Then she put her hands on either side and spread my cheeks! Her finger tickled my asshole (oignon from the French for onion) and I damn near came right then and there!

By the time she was done I was at the boiling point. My dick was drooling pre-cum; cold sticky strands flicked down to stick to my thigh as I hurried toward math, already aching.

"You look to be in some distress, Mr. Walker," Miss Gallison, my math teacher observed as I hesitated in the doorway. I looked down, noticing that my cock was practically purple.

"Uh - yes'm," I agreed.

"We'll wait for the rest of the class, if you don't mind," she said in that no-nonsense tone of voice of hers.

I was stepping nervously from one foot to the other, as if I needed to pee really badly, only that wasn't what I needed. I was so horny I would have fucked her if she'd asked me to. Not likely, since her girl friend was a secretary in the school office. "Yes'm."

The last of the class filed in just as the bell rang, and Miss Gallison clapped her hands to bring them to order. I noticed Freschetti glowering at me.

"Mr. Walker has a problem which needs to be remedied before we proceed. Perhaps someone would like to help him?"

Oh JEEZ! I wanted to crawl in a hole, any hole -- dick first, of course, at this point!

Sure enough, up went Beth's hand before anyone else's. Like I think I said, she was always the first to volunteer, but I was a little surprised she did this time. A couple of other girls raised theirs. The guys all seemed to be sitting on theirs, no surprise.

"Mr. Walker?"

I looked at Beth, saw a hopeful look in her sweet brown eyes, and my dick gave a lurch. "Uh, okay. Uh, Beth, please?"

"Will he need to show you how to do it?" Miss Gallison asked Beth as she made her way to the front of the room.

"I don't think so. I saw him do it in French class yesterday," Beth answered, pushing her glasses back up her nose, nibbling on her lower lip nervously, looking very serious.

"Very well, please proceed," Miss Gallison ordered, checking her watch. "You have three minutes, according to my watch."

Beth licked her lips, and her warm, soft hand closed around my throbbing hardon gently, and my dick wept with joy.