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Message-ID: <37006asstr$1024776606@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Ashley Creek <ashley42creek@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Field Day {Will "Crash" Reuther} (m+f exhib reluc, mf m-1st, hs)
Date: Sat, 22 Jun 2002 16:10:06 -0400
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Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


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

 



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<1st attachment, "Fielday.txt" begin>

Field Day 
(m+f exhib reluc, mf m-1st, hs) 
by Will "Crash" Reuther 
<Ashley42Creek@Yahoo.com> 



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>


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