Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Carl and Beth Do Sex Ed in Middle School

   by peregrinf

   Copyright(c) 2010 by peregrinf

   ------ Description: WARNING: CHAPTER 8 CONTAINS SOME MALE HOMOSEXUALITY.
Beth Naked in School was one of those occasions when everything fell into
place perfectly.  To maintain that quality has been slow going.  Good
writing is like that.  Sometimes it just takes time.  New readers, I
suggest you at least read Beth Naked in School.  Even better, read the
whole trilogy; in order, "Carl Naked in School", "Carl Naked in School -
Beth's Story", and "Beth Naked in School".
Codes: mf ff boy gi mm cons reluc gay les het fant bro sis safe oral
anal mastrb pett toys food exhib voy slow caution sch

   ------ Chapter 5

   The Stick was not happy.

   Now understand, "not happy" is not the same as "pissed." Pissed is
reserved for felony offenses, such as my brother holding me up for public
ridicule, naked before my peers, at his first sex ed class.  That was a
felony offense.

   For which I had forgiven him, though exactly when I'm not sure.  I
suspect it was the afternoon after our first sex ed class, probably
sometime between his lips leaving my nipples and reaching my honey pot.  Or
maybe after that.

   Whatever.  I had to give him credit.  Had he not taken extreme measures
I might never have become The Stick.

   No, The Stick -- I -- was not happy because someone had decided to mess
with the Natural Order of things in our middle school by "desegregating"
our sex ed class.

   We had segregated ourselves.  On the very first day WE STUDENTS had
established things according to the natural laws of middle school.  Which,
of course, is girls to the front of the classroom, guys to the rear, each
by their own choice, I emphasize.

   Within those two gender based categories further subdivision by grade
took place, a natural reaction to finding comfort and security with one's
peers.

   It being a small class, the process was simple.  The first row was
occupied by the two Eighth Grade girls, namely Missy and yours truly, side
by side.  The other half of the row was taken by the two seventh grade
girls, namely Mickey "Boobs" Kelly and Judy Greene, though it might have
been appropriate to relegate Mickey to some special venue (like the soccer
field), given her excessive physical attributes combined with her blatant
exhibitionism.

   But to continue; like musk ox, we protect our young in the middle of the
herd.  In the middle row were the youngsters, the two sixth grade girls
(Maria Sanchez, Judy Liu) and the two sixth grade boys ("A.  J." (the geek)
Mansfield, and Bill Harris), where they could share their cooties under the
dominating gaze of testosterone afflicted upper grade males in the back
row, Seventh Grade boys Terrell Ford and Al Butler, and Eighth Grade boys,
(he whose first name shall not pass my lips) Patterson and (sigh) Mike
Collins.

   It was all as natural as cream rising to the top, as natural as oil and
water seeking their own levels -- or should that be "each seeking its own
level?"

   But, to return to my ire, we had been shuffled like a deck of cards. 
Shockingly, Missy and I had arrived at this, the third class in the sex ed
series, to find Ms Andrews handing out seating assignments which
obliterated this natural order.  Seating assignments!  As if we were
children incapable of determining our own place in our society!

   Worse, I found myself relegated to the back row!  The Stick does not
take a back seat to anybody!  Except, in this case, in response to the
edicts of The Powers That Be (TPTB), presumably the same demented lot that
had assembled this Dirty Dozen in the first place.

   Not only had I been relegated to the back row, I found myself sitting
between (he whose first name shall never pass my lips) Patterson and the
newly crowned, even though he's only in Sixth Grade, supreme geek of Middle
School, Anthony Joseph "A.  J." Mansfield, who is so small and so myopic
that if he takes his glasses off he can't find himself in a mirror.

   He's so extraordinarily shy when not expounding on some arcane subject
like quantum physics he blends in with the wallpaper.  How so small a
package and miniscule an ego can contain that large an IQ is a mystery to
me, and I swear his Harry Potter glasses are so thick he needs that
powerful proboscis to support them, although they have a tendency to slide
down this nose in spite of being belayed to his projecting ears.  If he
ever grows to fit those ears he'll be taller than me.

   And beyond A.  J., also in the back row with me was -- guess who?

   You've got it.  The Jiggle Queen, Mickey Kelly.  Mickey Kelly beside A.
J.  Mansfield.  Talk about a mismatch; the most physically immature and
naïve geek cheek to cheek with the most precocious female in the school.  I
question the motives and the sanity of the ones who devised that pairing.

   But -- I would not let being in the back row upset me.  If nothing else,
I would be a close eyewitness to this psychological train wreck.

   I would rise above it, for I am The Stick and I am Tall!  I wrapped
myself in my cloak of serenity, which would protect me from the waves of
evil vibes from Patterson, and concentrated on the front of the classroom,
where Carl and Beth were ready to hold forth.

   Never mind that through some horrible mischance my BFF Missy had somehow
been assigned to the front row, right next to Mike Collins.  I was
confident that Missy would not violate the unspoken, unacknowledged by both
parties relationship between me and Mike Collins.

   But if she so much as whispered in his ear I would ...  no, I would not
think that!  She is my BFF, no matter what!

   The projection screen was furled, the table bare.  Apparently show and
tell was over.

   "All right," Beth said, "we've studied the basic anatomy of the male,"
she gestured to Carl.

   "And the female," Carl continued, with a polite bow to Beth.  "Now what
we want to do is begin to get you comfortable with your own body."

   Ah.  Audience participation.  This should be interesting.

   "And, just to assure you that we will not ask you to do anything that we
ourselves would not do, behold," Beth said, shedding her robe again.  It's
a good thing they keep the heat turned up in this room or she'd have
chilblains all over.

   "We will lead the way," Carl added, once again doffing his own robe.

   On this, the third day, their nudity barely deserves mention.

   "In fact," Beth continued, "while you may remove your clothes if you
want, we will not insist that you do so."

   What?

   "However, we would like to suggest that you will find the exercises much
more rewarding if you can bring yourself to get naked."

   Hello?  What's this?  They are asking us to get naked, if we so choose?

   Oh my!

   I was suddenly all goose bumps.  Me?  Naked?  In class?  Hadn't I
already done that?  It was de ja vu all over again.

   On the other hand, they were asking politely.  Would I?  Should I?

   To my right, Patterson was rigid with shock.  No, I mean ALL of him was
rigid, though I have no idea for certain what was going on inside his
pants. His normal snide smile had been replaced by a gape, and the blood
had drained from his face, to what other destination further down in his
body I decline to speculate.

   On my left, A.  J.  was quivering and sweating.  I had visions of him
totally melting down.  It was not a pretty thought -- his geeky glasses and
his pocket protector floating in a little puddle of goo.

   Oh shit.  Mickey was licking her lips and already reaching for the first
button of her amply filled blouse.

   Never let it be said that The Stick couldn't rise to the occasion!

   I am Tall.  I am Slender.  I am Sexy.

   Before Mickey could expose the first hint of lace supporting her ample
assets, I leaped to my feet, just sort of accidentally sending my chair
flying over backwards with a thunderous clatter.

   All eyes swung in my direction.

   Swiftly, my shirt was off.  There being no undergarments there to
dispense with I was immediately in the lead in the race to disrobe.  My
skirt (I discovered I do have more than one) dropped around my ankles, and
my panties, plain cotton though they were, instantly followed.

   I was The WINNAH!

   As Mickey gawked at me, I stretched sinuously and sensuously, feeling
the insolent touch of the air all over my glorious body.

   Then it was "Oh, excuse me," and, untangling my feet from my skirt and
panties, I turned and bent over sharply to pick up my chair, thereby
mooning the audience to my right.  Then, to give the on-lookers to the left
equal time, I turned about 180 degrees the other way to bend to gather up
my clothes.  Then I had to lean forward over the seat to drape them
carefully over the back of the chair, bestowing upon audience center a very
revealing view of my -- ahem -- alluring orifices, before turning
gracefully to sit down and demurely cross my legs, casually draping my
long, slender arms across the backs of A.  J.'s and Patterson's chairs to
put my charms on full display.

   "Sorry for the racket," I apologized to all as they gaped at me, struck
speechless by my Tallness, my Slenderness, my Sexiness, and my Nakedness.

   Down front Beth swung between amazement and amusement, while Carl
grinned approvingly.  From where she sat Ms Andrews nodded and gave me a
very discrete two thumbs up.

   I doubt anyone else really noticed.  I was the center of attention as I
sat there, very tall, very slender, very naked, and very, very sexy, having
learned that it was a matter of attitude on my part that governed the
others' perception of me.  I am tall, I am slender, I am sexy.

   I gave Missy, my BFF and erstwhile lover, an encouraging smile, lifted
an eyebrow (a very useful talent I'd developed recently) and licked my lips
suggestively.

   Her lovely face dimpled, and, blushing delicately, she, too, rose, faced
the class, and began to remove her clothes.  Beside her, Mike Collins
looked at me, looked at Missy, looked BACK at me and grinned.  He
practically tore his tee shirt getting it off, and attacked his belt.

   Oh my!  What had I done?  Was I ready for this, even two rows away?

   Was I ever, and I was glad I was tall, as my view was only slightly
impeded by the people in front of me as they struggled out of their
clothes. Or maybe Mike was even maneuvering to keep me in sight as he
stripped?

   He was trim, slender, lightly tanned, and had a more than adequate
package for one of his age, with a shy wreath of hair around the base of a
truly lovely cock, and it was stiff as a rail as he looked at me.

   He liked me!  He really liked me!

   Then I was distracted when A.  J.'s glasses got tangled in his Star Trek
shirt, so I turned and helped him get untangled.  Then, when he hesitated,
I smiled encouragingly and unbuckled his belt.  Blushing furiously, he
shoved his khaki pants and tighty whities down, exposing an adorable little
pecker that was rising to the occasion with pre-pubescent vigor.  He shot a
look at Mickey, now wriggling out of her lacy-frillies, then looked back up
at me with a smile!

   And I swear, his glasses fogged up.

   Meanwhile, on my right, Patterson was huddling in his chair, sweating
and pale.  He who rarely hesitated to expose his chest was unable to join
the crowd?  I reached to help, but he batted my hands away.

   "Well," Carl said, catching my attention, "I'm glad to see such a
willing response.  But, as Beth said, those of you who choose to remain
clothed are free to do so."

   I could see that at least Patterson wasn't alone, which should have been
some consolation to him, even though those who made no move to strip were
all sixth graders, the two girls and Bill Harris of the boys.

   "As veterans of the Naked in School program, we know the feelings you
are dealing with," Beth assured us all.  "Modesty is deeply ingrained in
our culture.  There is no reason to be ashamed of your feelings, but
neither is there any reason to be ashamed of your naked body.

   "One of the things we hope you'll take away from this class is tolerance
of others' natures and situations, as well as an appreciation of the human
body in all its wonderful variety.

   "Now, all of you, I'd like you to stand up, spread out a little bit so
you have some room, and stretch, just the way Dee did so beautifully a
minute ago."

   Stepping away a bit from Carl, Beth spread her feet apart, and reached
for the ceiling, every inch of her petite frame joining in, wriggling with
sensuous abandon.  And beside her, Carl did likewise, and I can tell you he
has one very impressive and exciting stretch.

   There was a rustle as we all stood up and shuffled about a little.  Even
the ones still dressed dutifully stretched as well, looking around both a
little abashed and obviously very curious.  Everyone was scoping out the
naked people around them, of course, the long and the short and the tall,
as it were, especially the tall.  I thoroughly enjoyed my second stretch,
and so did the onlookers.

   Except Patterson, that is.  He didn't stand up.  He didn't even look. 
He huddled in his chair, staring at his hands in his lap, his fingers
twisted in knots.  Instead of looking cocksure and arrogant, he was looking
very much afraid.

   "Okay, you can all sit down again, and we'll begin very easily and
simply," Carl announced.  "Our body is always with us, but we're rarely
aware of it.  We want you to become aware of your body, comfortable in it,
what it feels, how it feels, from the inside and from the outside."

   "Begin by combing your fingers through the hair -- on your head!" I
think Beth threw that last in for a laugh, and she got it.  "As we go
through this exercise try to become aware not only of what your hair feels
like to your fingers, but also what your hair and scalp are feeling from
the touch of your fingers."

   "Touching is a two way street.  When someone feels you, you feel them
feeling you." Carl was demonstrating, too.  "And try to keep that in mind
as we progress.  Be aware of not only what your hands are feeling, but what
you are feeling on the receiving side of the touching.  For example, your
fingers feel the strands of hair as they slip through your fingers, and
while the hair itself has no feeling, you can feel the strands of your hair
tugging at your scalp."

   I'd never thought of trying something like this, and it was surprisingly
hard.  First I'd be with my fingers, then with my scalp.  I decided it
would take a lot of practice to mingle the two sensations.

   What had Carl felt when he'd suckled on my tits?  Come to think of it,
even now it was hard for me to remember the feeling of him sucking on them.
But I sure remember it felt good, and I felt my tits responding to the
memory.

   Get your mind back to your hands and your hair, I scolded myself as I
frothed up my already tousled locks.

   "Try closing your eyes," Carl suggested.  "Concentrate on what you are
feeling."

   I did, and it helped a lot.

   "Now feel your ears," Beth instructed gently, softly, as if she were
trying not to wake me up.  With my eyes closed I was in my own world.

   "Believe it or not, your ears are very much an erogenous zone, a kiss
there, a tongue, a nibble at your earlobe and your whole body will react
sexually.  Years ago there was a television show where one of the tag lines
was 'blow in my ear and I'll follow you anywhere.' I've heard it works with
horses, too."

   "Arousal may not happen from your own touch.  Some things are like
tickles.  It's almost impossible to tickle yourself.  But you will find
that some erogenous zones respond to your own touch, especially when you
are entertaining erotic thoughts or images, fantasies," Carl pointed out.

   "Now your face.  If you've ever met a blind person and let them feel
your face you know what an illuminating experience it is to have someone
touch you that way, so delicately.  Feel your forehead, your eyebrows, even
your eyelashes.  Brush your cheeks, nose, lips and chin, and try to
assemble a face from those touches," Beth suggested.

   I knew she'd been touched all over by the blind student who had sculpted
her.  What must that have been like?  The thought gave me goose bumps
again.

   And so it went.  From the face we worked down our necks, out our
shoulders, down our arms.

   I was all ready to proceed to the more interesting parts, chest and
tits, but Beth fooled me, by instead having us sit down so we could do our
feet and our lower legs.

   I was shocked to realize I might need to shave my legs!  I was blond,
and the hair fine, but it was growing.  If I didn't do something I'd look
like a Yeti!

   I took a look at my pussy while I was down there, with mixed feelings,
but didn't see anything there yet.

   And what about further up?  But no, we weren't there yet.  We were
stopped at our knees.  Standing back up, we were back to our upper torso,
our collarbones.  Was Beth teasing us, or just readying us for the
adventure of exploring our chests, our nipples, and further?

   "All right, now turn to your right.  Your other right, Missy.  Since
it's hard to feel your own back, feel the back of the person you're now
facing.  Do it gently, this is touchy-feely, not a massage, and only as far
down as their waist.  Work from the shoulders down, feel their spine, trace
their shoulder blades, the ripples of their ribs as far around as the
sides."

   There were giggles, laughter.  I had turned toward Patterson, of course,
and found him still huddling in his chair.  I had the feeling it I touched
him he'd explode.

   Meanwhile, A.  J.  was fondling my back, and his touch almost made me
feel like purring.  Patterson was like a rock in a stream, disrupting the
flow, creating turbulence with his inaction.

   I shot Carl a plaintive look, and saw that he noticed my dilemma.  He
made a face, and shrugged.  What could he do?

   "Now turn back around to touch the person on your left," Carl directed,
rescuing me, after a fashion.  It was a relief to find A.  J.  there, a
person to relate to, away from the curled knot of tension that was
Patterson.

   A.  J.  was at least a foot shorter than I, pale, his skin smooth, his
frame delicate, and his ribs were very ticklish.  His ass was so cute it
was hard to stop at his waist.

   Meanwhile, of course, he was timidly exploring Mickey's soft, freckled,
curvaceous back, and I could only guess what that must be like for him, a
geeky sixth grader touching every middle school boys' wet dream.

   As for me, no one was touching my back.  I wanted to turn around and
slap Patterson back to reality.

   Instead, responding to Beth's direction, I dutifully turned back to face
front.

   "Now your chest.  Let your hands follow the contours of your chest. 
Feel your nipples, pinch them gently, pull on them, boys, too.  You'll find
they respond by stiffening.  For girls they are more obviously an erogenous
zone, but men find them so also.

   "Cup your breasts, girls, feel their warmth and softness, their weight."

   I did, and found there was something there.  Oh it was a shy little
mound, but it was really there.  I didn't look down, afraid of destroying
the illusion.  I was tall, I was slender, I was sexy, and I loved the feel
of my tits, and of my tits being felt.  Yum!

   "Take your time." Beth was stroking her own shy breasts, squeezing her
nipples between her fingers.  "Savor the moment, feel how stiff your
nipples become, how little trickles of pleasure burn through you."

   I could feel my pussy swelling already.

   "Pull on your nipples, even twist them," Carl suggested.  "It's like
jolts of electricity shoot through me."

   "Now slide your hands down your body, slowly.  Feel how naked you are,
how smooth and sensitive your skin is.  Don't be shy, enjoy the sensation
of your own body being touched and touching.  Run a finger around your
navel, probe it, poke it," Beth urged.

   "But before you go closer to your groin, let your hands wander to your
sides, feel your sides, down the outside of your hips," Carl directed. 
"Let your fingers conform to the curve of your ass, let your fingers find
the crack between your butt cheeks.  Don't probe there yet, but squeeze
your buns."

   Oh my!  I could feel my pussy juicing, feel chill air touching the
sweaty crevice where my asshole lurked.  I felt so NAKED!  As much as I had
been naked, I felt even more so than ever more conscious of it.

   I turned to Patterson, and swiftly turned away from that cramped figure
of misery staring at his entangled hands.  Instead I turned back to A.  J.,
and almost laughed at the open joy I found there.  He was clutching that
delightfully tight butt, squirming a little even as he blushed, his hard
little dick waggling enthusiastically.  I gave him a wink, and he giggled,
taking a moment to push his glasses back up his nose before once again
grabbing his ass.

   "Now sit down again," Beth ordered, "and slide your hands down between
your knees before you stroke slowly up toward your crotch.  Feel how your
legs seem to want to spread apart, and let them!  Let them open, wider."

   "Let your fingers wander up that line where your thighs join your
pelvis, then brush across above your sex." Carl demonstrated on himself,
his fingers brushing through his pubic hair.  "If you're a boy, let your
fingers slip down below, between your legs, to touch your scrotum, toy with
your balls.  Feel how your balls slip around in their sack."

   "When you're warm, and relaxed," Beth noted, "your balls will hang low."

   "But if it's cold, or you're scared, they draw up close to your body. 
The balls need to be slightly below body temperature for healthy sperm,
which is why your balls are outside your body," Carl explained.  "If you
wear tight underwear, it can reduce sperm production."

   "But not enough to reduce the chance of your girlfriend getting
pregnant," Beth warned.  "Girls, you should be toying with your slit now.
Let your finger just tease its way up and down, take your time probing
deeper."

   From my left I heard Mickey softly grunting.  As usual, she was two
steps ahead of the rest of us, sexually at least.  I bet her middle finger
was already probing deep into her cunt.  I was happy to be gently teasing
my clit.  Very happy!

   A.  J.  was in paradise, literally.  He was between two horny girls who
were playing with themselves, and discovering how much his dick enjoyed the
attention he was giving it.

   I was willing to bet he'd never touched himself down there before,
except to pee and bathe.

   "Explore your cocks, guys," Carl urged.  "Wrap your fingers around it,
feel how hard it is, how the skin slides over that hard core.  With your
other hand, touch yourself behind your balls.  Tickle your asshole."

   "I'm slipping my finger into my vagina now," Beth confessed, as if we
couldn't see.  Her legs were spread wide, and her middle finger was sunk
between her labia.  "Oh, that feels good!  I'm teasing my asshole, too.  I
may even slip my finger into it."

   "Oh yeah," Carl sighed, his hand stroking his cock.

   And then the room was awash with the sighs and moans as we all -- well,
almost all -- openly masturbated.  A.  J.  was making little squeaking,
breathy sounds and I was afraid he was going to have an asthma attack.

   But he was slouched back, his hand stroking his uncircumcised cock, the
foreskin muffling then exposing the purple glans, a glans shiny wet with
his pre-cum.  "Oh!  Oh!  Oh!" he chirped as his little prick spurted and
spurted and spurted.  Another boy sounded like a dog barking, and the girls
wailed and whooped as they orgasmed.  It was an orgasmic chorus, and Bill
Harris, who'd never undressed, actually came in his pants.

   It was, if you'll pardon the expression, a suitable climax to the class,
only to be unavoidably followed by the anticlimax of the necessary clean
up, using towels tossed to us by Ms Andrews.  Poor Bill was dabbing
ineffectively at the wet spot on his jeans.

   Then, somewhat sheepishly, with nervous laughs and a lot of chatter, we
dressed in time to wobble off to lunch on shaky legs, the others in the
hallway giving us Dirty Dozen wide berth, and curious looks.

   I looked around for Patterson, but he'd already vanished in the crowd.