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 Carl Naked in School 5/15 (mf exhib oral)

   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.

   Then we were into practice and I didn't have time to think of anything
else.  You try marching and blowing through about twenty feet of brass
tubing, trying to make meaningful sounds, and see how much day dreaming you
can do!

   There was a light wind blowing, it was about 75 degrees, I guess, and
the sun was bright.  In spite of having to concentrate on what I was doing,
I was intensely aware of being naked as the breeze stroked my skin.  The
sun was hot on me, too.  The only word for it was sensuous, believe me.

   Then, at the end of practice, Mr.  Peters threw me a real curve.

   There we were in ranks, and Mr.  Peters called me out.  "Mr.  Walker,
front and center, please."

   Wondering what I'd done wrong, I slipped through the files from my usual
place in the middle of the second row from the back.  "Yessir?" I asked,
suddenly a bit more self-conscious at being singled out and standing with
the whole band looking at me, all pink and white and tan.

   "You have the honor of dotting the 'I' this Saturday!" he announced.

   Well, it was supposed to be an honor.  We usually open our halftime show
by filing on to the field and forming the school name, Central High, in
script.  There's one musician selected to dot the "i" in "High." Mr. 
Peters selects the player he thinks has deserved the honor most, by
whatever criteria he uses - I've never quite figured out what it is.

   Anyway, that player is supposed to march in his or her usual place in
the file, and then at the top of the loop of the "l" in "Central" he
marches straight off alone while the rest of the band circles around to
start the "High" below the "Central." He then wanders around sort of at
random as if lost.  As we near the end of the maneuver he looks around
frantically, then runs a circle around the whole formation before finding
his place at the top of the "i" just as the last beat comes down on the
school fight song.

   "Me, sir?" Damn, my voice cracked!

   "You're 'it,' Mr.  Walker.  Any problem with that?"

   I thought furiously.  Surely they wouldn't want me to do that in the
nude!  "Uh, no sir, I guess not." I'd never done it before, but we all knew
the routine well enough.  It was all a matter of timing, was all.

   "Very good!" He slapped me on the butt!  "Back in place, Mr.  Walker."

   I slipped back through the ranks, Stephanie, who played a crackerjack
flute, giving me a wink and a smile, reaching out to brush my cock with her
fingers as I passed her, much to my surprise.

   I was still mulling over the honor, and my butt was still stinging from
Mr.  Peters's slap when he dismissed us for the day.

   I hurried to get my trombone in its case and get to my clothes.  After
strapping my trombone to the bike, wishing, as I always did, that I played
trumpet instead, I pedaled homeward.  A carload of senior girls cruised
past me with a bunch of cheery greetings, waves and one wolf whistle.

   If nothing else, I was acquiring some popularity!

   I walked in to find Sis already in the kitchen, scarfing down cookies
and milk.  Apparently she either didn't have some extra curricular
something, or they gave her time off for good behavior.

   "How was school?" she asked uncustomarily.

   "Okay," I answered, my head in the fridge as I sought the milk.

   "It's on the counter," she pointed out.  "Cookie?"

   "Yeah."

   "You're welcome," she responded sarcastically.

   "Uh, I'm sorry, thanks," I mumbled around a cookie.

   "What's it like, going around school naked?"

   I wasn't sure I wanted to talk about it with her, but decided it had to
be done, sooner or later.  I dropped into the chair across from her,
dunking a cookie in my milk.  "Embarrassing," I admitted.

   "I heard you got hard," she observed.

   "Guys do that, when they get sexually excited," I explained.

   "So's they can get their penis inside the girl," she said.  "I learned
about that in sex ed last year."

   "Last year?!  You're only eleven!"

   She made a face.  "I know some girls my age who've already lost their
cherries."

   "Oh.  I guess you start younger than I did."

   "Not ME!" she protested.  "Jeepers!"

   "I didn't mean you YOU," I assured her.  "I mean your generation."

   She giggled.  "I'm only four years younger than you."

   "Four years is a long time," I mumbled.

   "Yeah, I guess so," she agreed, "more than a third of my life, more than
a quarter of yours." She drank some milk and licked off the mustache it
gave her.  "Uh - Mom said you might go naked around the house sometime."

   "I don't know." I was blushing again, both embarrassed and aroused at
the thought.

   "I wouldn't mind if you did," Sis went on.  "It might even be a good
thing."

   "Oh?  And just how is that, Squirt?" I asked wryly.

   "Well, I mean, I'd like, maybe, get used to what a naked boy looks
like," she pointed out.  "Mom said she was really shocked the first time
she saw a guy naked with a ....

   "Hardon?" I asked.

   "Yeah.  It'd kinda get me used the idea of having something like that
put in me," she explained.  "When I do decide to have sex, I mean."

   I thought this over.  "I suppose it might."

   "So.  Will you?"

   "Will I what?" I asked.

   "Get naked," she explained like I was being stupid or something, which I
guess I was.

   "Right now?!"

   She picked up her glass and took it to the sink.  "It's as good a time
as any," she pointed out.  "Done with the milk?"

   I shoved it in her direction, my hand shaking.  She picked it up, almost
dropped it and put her other hand under it as she carried it to the
refrigerator.

   "I'm going to my room," I mumbled, fleeing as she wet a sponge and
mopped the cookie crumbs off the table.

   My own sister was giving me a hardon!

   Up in my room, I paced.  I was suddenly very aware of my clothes, how
they constricted me, smothered me.  My dick was trying to stiffen, knotted
over by my shorts and jeans.  My shirt felt tight under my armpits.

   Hell, it wouldn't hurt to be naked in my room, at least, would it?

   My hands were shaking as I unfastened my belt.  Then I had to sit down
to take off my shoes before I could get my pants down.  I shucked off my
socks at the same time, and stood up again.

   Draping my jeans over a chair, I unbuttoned my shirt, practically tore
it off.

   My dick tented out my jockeys.

   I stretched, like a cat, one of those long, crackling,
work-every-muscle-to-the-limit stretches that leaves you feeling like your
whole skeleton has about separated at the joints and you're about to fall
in a heap of disconnected bones.

   Then I skinned my shorts down and off.  My cock stood out stiffly, and I
shivered at the touch of the air all over my body.  I wasn't cold.  I just
felt so alive!

   I turned to get to my homework, and only then realized that I'd left my
books and my trombone downstairs.