Chapter 5

Tuesday Afternoon

Maybe it was playing softball outside, or maybe it was Stephanie's attention in the shower, or maybe Beth jacking me off, but I was somehow more comfortable as I made my way to my next class.

I was very conscious of the touch of air all over my naked body, which I hadn't been before. It felt good. I sought the word I wanted, mentally working on my journal for Mr. Turner - it felt really sensuous. This had to be what sensuous was. It was like every nerve ending was wide awake. My flesh felt incredibly alive.

I knew my nipples were stiff, and my cock was throbbing again.

"Ah, Mr. Walker," Miss Mitchell, the vice principal who'd made me strip greeted me. "How are you doing today?"

"Oh, good afternoon, Miss Mitchell," I answered politely. "Better, thank you."

"You seem much more at ease this afternoon," she observed.

"Yes'm, I guess I am." I glanced down at myself, pinking up at the sight of my hardon pointing at her lewdly. "It's still pretty embarrassing. I wish I didn't get like this so easily." I gestured at my rigid dick.

She actually smiled slightly. "I find it rather flattering, actually."

"Oh! Uhm, sorr - I mean - oh," I stammered.

"If you want to get to your next class in time for some relief, Mr. Walker, you'd best hurry."

For a moment I thought about asking her to do it then and there, but decided not to and hurried away to Civics.

Mrs. Jacobs glanced at the clock as I entered the room, one of the last, just before the bell rang. "Ah, good afternoon, Mr. Walker."

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Jacobs." I hesitated. She was gray haired, with sharp blue eyes behind bifocals. She'd been teaching here practically forever. A twinge from my steaming balls decided me. "I - ah - think I'd better take some relief."

She pursed her lips. "Indeed? Very well. Did you want assistance?"

I glanced around. A half a dozen girl's hands went up, and one guy'?! It was Phil Burton!! My eye skipped past him quickly and lighted on Marilyn Beaverton. She was smirking knowingly as she held her hand up, not eagerly but languidly. She licked her lips, giving me a heavy lidded look.

"Uh, Marilyn?" I asked. She had a rep around school. I'd overheard one guy say she'd go down for a wooden nickel and give four cents change back. I figured it would be easier for the girl, and maybe me, if it was someone experienced.

She bounced her way up from her seat. She wore skirts as short and sweaters as tight as she could get away with under the dress code, and her nipples were always poking out - boob ends showing, some guys called it, others called it "high beams." She was blond, with blue eyes, and a body that would give the Pope a hardon.

She smiled at me, and her tongue danced along her luscious lips teasingly. "Look Ma, no hands," she whispered softly, grinning, her eyes flashing. I gaped as she deliberately put her hands behind her back, and sank slowly to her knees in front of me. There was a gasp throughout the room.

"Oh, my goodness!" Mrs. Jacobs dropped into her chair, looking like she was about to faint.

"There's nothing in the rules about how I do it, is there?" Marilyn asked innocently.

Then, while Mrs. Jacobs leafed desperately through the brochure, Marilyn leaned forward. Her tongue flicked out and touched just the very tip of my dick, catching the thick, clear drop of pre-cum that was about to fall.

I didn't remember what the rules said, and at that point I didn't care. "Aahhhhh!" Without meaning to, I sighed, as her soft, warm lips closed around the head of my cock. I had to steady myself with one hand on the desk.

Her tongue stroked the underside of my hardon, stroked that oh-so sensitive spot just behind the head, like hot velvet, and I felt my prick ooze a stinging, ecstatic wave of hot seepings.

"Mmmmmmmm," Marilyn purred, smacking her lips. "Delicious," she added, before closing her mouth on my cock once again.

"Oh God," I whispered.

She leaned forward, and I watched my prick slowly vanish in her mouth, her lips, bright red with lipstick, sliding along its throbbing length. Half my cock was engulfed by her warm mouth.

The whole classroom seemed to be holding its breath.

She drew back, sucking gently, then slid forward again, deeper, and it was all I could do to keep from passing out with pleasure.

Out, in, she moved a little faster, took me a little deeper with each stroke. I felt my cock head strike the back of her throat, felt her throat work, and take me deeper.

Holy shit! She was deep throating me. I watched as she buried her nose in my pubic hair.

One more stroke and I was over the edge. She must have felt my cock pulsate, and shoved forward, the last bit of my prick vanishing, and I began to unload straight down her throat.

Pulse, pulse, pulse, my groin convulsed as I poured wave after wave of cum into her mouth. Marilyn took it all, backing off at last, her nostrils flaring as she drew in a breath, catching the last few spurts on her tongue. The gentle touch of her fingers on my balls made my groin wring itself dry with a final ecstatic spasm.

When I was finally done erupting, she eased off, spat out my already softening dick, rolled the last drizzle of cum in her mouth around on her tongue with obvious relish, and swallowed it.

"Ooops!" She giggled, using her finger to capture a little dribble that had escaped to trickle down her chin, and licked her finger clean.

Then she carefully used her mouth to clean off my cock one last time.

When she held her hand up, what could I do but help her to her feet?

The class burst into applause, and she curtsied daintily before jiggling her way back to her seat.

Mrs. Jacobs was sagging weakly in her chair, fanning herself with the brochure before tossing it aside and polishing the steam off her bifocals with a tissue.

I felt like I'd had the stuffings sucked out of me. I'd been Hoovered! My legs were rubbery as I made my way to my seat.

"Well, now!" Mrs. Jacobs began. "I think this would be a good time to discuss the factors which led to the development of this program which Mr. Walker is participating in. Perhaps we should begin by listing those factors."

She went to the whiteboard, and began to scrawl shakily as the class volunteered their ideas. I just sat there and tried to catch my breath.

After that little episode, I thought anything else that happened that day would be an anticlimax (pun intentional, and thank you, Mr. Turner for teaching me that word), but I was wrong.

Oh, band practice wasn't quite as memorable, but it did have its moments. You've got to admit, marching around an athletic field wearing nothing but shoes and socks while blowing a trombone ranks right up there on the "strange" scale.

Mr. Peters accepted the situation without comment. I still wasn't clear whether I'd be wearing my uniform on Saturday or not, but I was afraid to ask, frankly.

Or was I? I was getting a bit more comfortable with being naked in front of all these people. The thought of parading around in the nude at halftime was certainly intimidating. But it was exciting - well, arousing is more accurate - as well.