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 Carl Naked in School 1/15 (m exhib mast)

   I'm sure you've read Karen's story of her week naked in school.  The
only trouble with it is that she tells it as if she were the only one
walking the halls and going to class with it all hanging out, so to speak.
Well, let me tell you MY story.

   As she explained at the beginning of her tale, there was to be one girl
and one boy from each class, frosh, junior and senior, chosen each week to
take part in the program.  Well, that first week, I was the junior class
boy.  My name is Carl Walker, and, like Karen, I'm a junior.  I know her,
but not well - we're on different academic tracks, have different
extracurriculars and move in different social circles, though I suppose our
pictures will be side by side in the yearbook - Wagner, Walker?.

   I know I'm seen as a bit of a nerd.  I'm a geek, I admit it.  I'm on the
fast track to college, probably physics.  I'm five foot eleven, and still
growing (I hope), on the skinny side, maybe 150 pounds, blond hair, blue
eyes.

   Anyway, at the same time Karen was called into the principal's office
and made to strip, I was called into Miss Mitchell's office.  She's the
Assistant Principal, not someone that I'd had much to do with.  Oh, I'd
seen her around, said "Hi" to her a few times.  She was very formal.  It
was always "Hello, Mr.  Walker," from her, never "Hi, Carl," or just "Hi."

   But it's a formal school.  Respect is emphasized all the way around. 
Something to do with minimizing violence or something, but to all the
teachers we are "Mr." this or "Miss" that, and they are "Mr." or "Mrs." or
"Miss" so-and-so.

   Believe it or not, there's even a dress code!  No tube tops, no hot
pants, no hats.  They stopped short of the jacket and neck tie, at least.
Now I was about to find out it was all or nothing!

   She's wasn't bad looking, Miss Mitchell, kind of skinny, on the tall
side.  You couldn't tell a lot about her figure, 'cause she usually wore a
suit.  You know, a skirt that came below her knees, a white blouse with a
sort of fluffy bow tie and a jacket like a blazer.  She wore her hair short
and it had a touch of silver in with the gold, so I guess she was a natural
blond.

   She was kind of old, maybe fifty, I guess.  Severe looking, if you know
what I mean - gray eyes, pursed mouth.  I remember once I saw her laughing,
some joke from a teacher I guess, and it surprised me.  She looked - nice.
Some guys said she was a dyke, but I never believed 'em, and from my
dealings I'm even more sure now I'm right.

   Anyway, like I say, I was called into her office at the same time Karen
was called into the principal's, and I guess I was told pretty much the
same thing Karen was, and given a brochure about it.  You know, that a new
program had begun, and I was chosen as the junior boy who would have to
attend all classes in the nude for the week.

   Oh, yeah, she said it had something to do with us learning to treat
girls as something other than simply sex objects, to learn to harness our
natural energies, to behave more maturely, to become comfortable with our
bodies, blah, blah, blah.  I was so shocked I was hardly listening.

   Well, I mean, you could have fried an egg on my face!  I mean, yeah, I'd
heard stuff about some new program, rumors, but I hadn't believed half of
what they were saying.  And I thought I'd be the last person in the world
they'd choose even if they were true.  I mean, I was brought up to be
modest.  I was kind of shy, to tell you the truth, and hadn't dated much -
well, at all, really.

   But I'm not gay or sexless.  Half the time I'm walking around with a
woody, trying to peek down the blouses of the girls, or up their skirts,
trying to imagine what their breasts looked like.  Stuff like that.  I've
got some hot Web sites book marked on my computer, only my Mom doesn't know
it, of course.

   I hate to admit it, but at fifteen, almost sixteen, I was a virgin.

   Anyway, there I am, holding that brochure with a photo of a naked girl
and boy on the cover, and she's saying, "Strip, Mr.  Walker, or I will have
someone help you do it."

   "Naked?" I asked stupidly.

   "Naked." It was the same, no-nonsense tone she'd use when she caught
someone horsing around in the hall, or when she took cigarettes away from
some dork stupid enough to get caught with them.  Mind you, I don't touch
'em, and I don't drink, either.  I guess I've got a reputation as a real
straight arrow, and here I'm being told I was going to walk around school
naked for a week!  Shit!.

   But, after taking a look at the two security officers smirking at me, I
put down my stuff and began unbuttoning my shirt, LL Bean, of course,
white, short sleeved oxford, button down collar and all.  I emptied the
pocket, wondering where I was going to keep my calculator, my pencils and
stuff.  (Don't even THINK it!)

   When I got the shirt off one of the guards took it and I sat down to
take off my shoes next, then my socks, trying to put off the inevitable as
long as I could.  All I had to do was think about being naked with a girl
and, well, I rose to the occasion, if you know what I mean.  Like, already
I had a hardon that would punch a hole in concrete, for chrissakes!

   "Pants," she ordered when I'd finished tucking my socks in my shoes. 
"You will be allowed shoes and socks, by the way."

   Big deal!  I thought.  Standing up again, I fumbled with my belt, got it
open, undid the button, ran my zipper down.  I was scarlet from head to toe
as I bent to slide my jeans down, trying not to look at her, trying to hide
the hardon trying to crawl through the fly of my jockeys.  The guard took
my jeans and put them in a box with my shirt.

   Then it was my underpants.  I turned my back on her, but it wasn't much
help, giving her a good look at my butt as I skinned them down, facing the
guy who'd already taken my shirt and jeans.  I straightened, my dick
sticking out like the bowsprit of some friggin' sailing ship or something,
bobbing up and down heavily.

   "You can put your shoes and socks on, if you'd like."

   I burned red.  "Oh, yeah, thanks." I had to sit down in full view of
her, my dick sticking up from my lap like a flagpole.  It was even drooling
a bit of pre-cum!

   Somehow I did manage to get my socks and shoes on.  I quick got up and
turned toward the door, wanting to get away from her so much I wasn't even
thinking of what was probably waiting outside the door.

   "Don't forget your books, and the pamphlet, and find the time to
familiarize yourself with it" Miss Mitchell reminded me as I reached for
the door.  "And your pencil and pen and calculator."

   "Oh, uhm, yes'm, Miss Mitchell." I sort of sidled toward her, trying to
hide my dick from her, but it didn't really work.  I saw her eyes flick
down to my cock, and for just a moment I thought I saw her lips twitch and
maybe there was a gleam of interest in her eyes?  I fumbled and dropped
stuff, finally getting it all corralled.  Holding it front of my crotch
didn't do much good, since my dick stuck out like an iron bar.

   "Remember the rules, Mr.  Walker," she reminded me.  "Three five minute
bathroom breaks, you use the girl's locker room for gym, and you are to
remain nude through all extra-curricular activities as well, save those
where you are required to wear protection, such as certain sports, in which
case only the necessary protection is to be worn.  Oh, and one other
thing."

   "Yes'm?" I had my hand on the doorknob, ashamed even to look in her
direction, at the same time dreading what I was going to face outside the
office.

   "In view of the adolescent male libido - you do know what 'libido'
means, don't you, Mr.  Walker?"

   "Uh, yeah," I admitted.  "I think so.  Sex drive, right?" I risked
looking at her.

   There was the hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth.  "Close
enough.  Anyway, I believe you'll find, if you haven't already, that a
prolonged period of sexual arousal without relief results in what I believe
is called a case of blue balls.  Do you know what I'm talking about?"

   I nodded numbly.

   "In view of your condition," her gesture took in my throbbing hardon,
"the rules allow for you to ask for relief at the beginning of each class
period.  You'll be permitted to masturbate, or even seek assistance in
relieving your sexual tension.  But it can only be done in full view of the
class, and only in the first five minutes of the class period."

   "In front of the whole class?" For the first time in two years my voice
cracked.

   "That's the rule, Mr.  Walker.  In front of the class.  The teachers
have, of course, received a full briefing on this program, so they will not
be surprised.  In fact, I suspect they will be expecting the request," she
concluded.  "It's all in the brochure, Mr.  Walker.  Please take the time
to familiarize yourself with the rules.  No clothes, no backpack, even,
nothing to conceal your body from your fellow students.  You can't even use
your hands - not that they would do much good as long as you have that
erection.  And you must cooperate with any reasonable requests your
teachers or fellow students may make of you during the week."

   I gulped.  "This is n...."

   "These are the rules, Mr.  Walker.  Try to conduct yourself with dignity
and a good nature and I think you may even learn to enjoy the situation. 
You'll find your clothes outside the south entrance at the end of the day,
and please use that entrance all this week both coming and going.  There is
a box in which to deposit your clothes before you enter the building.  Now
you'd best hurry to your first class."

   Just as I reached for the doorknob I heard some cheering and commotion
out in the hallway, and froze, my dick actually wilting.

   "Ah, I suspect the other chosen ones have probably emerged.  On your way
now, Mr.  Walker.  And try to enjoy yourself.  Your clothes will be waiting
you outside the school at the end of the day."

   So I opened the door and stepped out, into a wall of sound, girls
shrieking, boys applauding as I turned scarlet.  Perversely, my dick shot
back to attention, looking like a torpedo seeking a target.  I tried to
like, be casual, thinking of how Michelangelo's statue of David looked, but
it didn't really work.  I mean, shit, he wasn't circumcised (I am) and he
didn't have a hardon like a baseball bat!

   Then the bell rang and I had to hurry to make it to physics, my first
class.  As I pushed through the throng, I felt more than a few touches on
my bare butt, and someone, I don't even know if it was a boy or a girl,
even grabbed a quick feel of my throbbing dork.  It was a good thing they
didn't stroke me or they would probably have wound up with a handful of
cum!

   "Ah, Mr.  Walker, it's good to see you so - uhm - alert this morning,"
Mr.  Cranover greeted me cheerily as I walked in to a wave of titters and
chuckles.  Mercifully, there weren't too many girls in the class.  Some of
the guys looked embarrassed by my state and some gave me sympathetic
smiles.

   "G'morning," I mumbled, heading for my seat and the safe concealment of
my desk.

   "You look a little tense this morning, Mr.  Walker," Mr.  Cranover
observed.

   "I'm okay," I assured him, a bit testily, I admit.  I slid awkwardly
into my seat.  It was cold on my fanny, and my dick stuck up from my lap,
resting against the desk itself.

   "Just remember the rules, Mr.  Walker," he reminded me.  "Now, let's go
on with our discussion of Newton's laws of motion."

   Maybe he was being kind, but at least he didn't call on me the whole
period.  By the time we were halfway through class, though, I was feeling
twinges that had me worried.  Shit, I'd been hard for half an hour.  If I
didn't get some relief I was going to be bent over like a croquet hoop.

   For a moment I thought of jacking off behind the concealment of my desk,
rules be dammed.  Then I saw Lori, a cute blond cheerleader -- bright, too
-- next to me, looking sideways at me, licking her lips, and realized, as I
stiffened even more, that I'd never get away with it.  Like, there was no
room, and my cock was actually leaning up against the desk itself,
drooling, no less!  If I came it'd look like Old Faceful with my cum
shooting straight up into the air!  As it was, every time I took a breath
the underside of my dick rubbed up and down, up and down, against the desk,
only serving to keep me rigid as a flagpole.

   I was in trouble.  Surreptitiously, I checked the brochure I'd been
given, quickly reading the part about relieving my tension.  It was quite
explicit about having to do it during the first five minutes of a class,
and in front of the class.

   I thought I'd get a chance between classes to duck into the john and
take care of my problem, but sure enough, one of the security people just
happened to be outside the door to escort me to my next class.

   "I need to go to the john," I said.

   "I'll go with you," he assured me politely.

   I thought of trying to pee through the hardon I was carrying.  "Never
mind." I tried to ignore his smirk as I waddled down the hall, kind of bow
legged, trying to keep from jostling my aching balls.

   Oh Jeeze!  French with Mademoiselle Duclos was next!  I'd had a hardon
for her since the first day.  She was maybe thirty, wore tight sweaters and
short skirts, had short black hair and bright blue eyes, lips designed to
be kissed, or maybe wrapped around a cock.  Half the guys in class, and
maybe some of the girls, too, had a crush on her.

   But I also knew that if I didn't do something soon, I'd be crawling
through the rest of the day.

   Shit!

   "Ah, bon jour, Monsieur Walker," she greeted me cheerily as I entered
the room.  "I am so 'appy to see you this morning.  And you are 'appy to
see me, non?"

   I thought I saw the tip of her tongue touch her upper lip as she looked
right at my dick.  Damned if I didn't get even harder right there in the
doorway.  Oh God, I wanted to curl up and die, because I knew what I was
going to have to do if I was going to survive the next five minutes.

   "Bon jour, Mademoiselle Duclos," I greeted her, fidgeting nervously
rather than going to my desk.

   "You per'aps 'ave a leetle problem, Monsieur Walker?  Or, maybe it is
not so leetle a problem?" She pushed some papers around on her desk, and I
saw she had a copy of the same pamphlet I'd been given by Miss Mitchell,
and it was open to the page covering the - ah - relief clause.

   So, I find myself, stark naked, facing the class, my dick standing out
hard and strong.  Now, you remember that dream you have some times, where
you're naked in school?  Well, this was no dream.  And there were some foxy
girls in that class.  And in the third row, there was Beth, who I'd taken
to the movies only last Saturday as our first ever date, and then I'd
shuffled and stammered as we stood at her door, and then she went in and I
hadn't even asked her for a kiss.

   I started to cramp and winced.  Flaming red, I moved to the front of the
room and put my stuff on the teacher's desk.  I couldn't bear to look at
anyone, fidgeting nervously.

   "Time is passing, Monsieur Walker," Mademoiselle Duclos reminded me,
shoving a box of tissues in my direction.  "I anticipated this problem and
prepared the class should you need relief, so they know what to expect."

   They knew, all right.  They were practically panting to watch me do my
thing.  I wanted to crawl in a hole and die.

   Instead I gave in to the inevitable, wrapped my hand around my dick and
pumped it a couple of times, and it felt so good!  My balls tightened up
and I looked at Beth, and her glasses were practically fogging up as she
studied my dick.  Then she looked into my eyes, and licked her lips, and I
went off like a cannon.  I barely got the tissues up in time to catch the
thick, hot spurts of cum.  I mean, I saw stars, and my knees went weak and
my toes curled.  I kept cumming and cumming, until it felt like my balls
were wringing themselves dry.  Finally I sagged wearily and managed to suck
in some air, which smelled of my cum.

   "Very good, Monsieur Walker!" Mademoiselle Duclos said, applauding, and
the whole class burst into applause and whistles and cheering while I was
still trying to get my breath back.  "No, no, do not go to your seat.  Stay
here for a few moments, if you please."

   I was barely able to move anyway.

   "Now, class, with Monsieur Walker's assistance, we shall go over some of
the slang anatomical terms in French."

   I blushed more than ever as she drew me out from behind her desk, her
hand hot on my bare arm.  Reaching between my legs, she gently lifted and
fondled my still tender balls, my cock rising like the Phoenix from the
ashes, still drooling from its last eruption.

   "Ze formal term for one of these is 'testicule,' The slang is, however,
is 'couilles.'" She explained.  "The word for penis is 'bitte,' which is
literally 'bollard,' which means, how would you say it, 'a post,' like you
might tie a ship to?" she continued, spelling out each word on the white
board after touching, on me, what she was talking about!

   "Monsieur Walker entered the room with 'un bander,' meaning to have a
'ard-on.  'e could, in fact 'ave been said to have been 'bander comme un
cerf' which means 'hard as a deer' or 'comme un tigre,' like a tiger."
Grinning at me, she growled deep in her throat, stroking the underside of
my quickly stiffening dick.

   "And ze term for the manipulation he so kindly, and productively
demonstrated for us is 'branlage' or sometimes 'branlette.'

   She caught a gob of post cum drooling off my cock and theatrically
sucked it off her finger.  "And, I am happy to say, Monsieur Walker's
'foutre,' as it is called, is quite delicious."

   I was hard as stone again.

   It was going to be a very long day, and a longer week!