Sensory Overload
By:
Nicholas Hall
(© 2015 by the author)
The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's
consent. Comments are appreciated at...
nhall@tickiestories.us
There are but five senses the human animal
possesses, as I understand from my Biology class, not including those such as
the "sixth sense" and common sense, which my father claims I often lack; sight,
sound, touch, smell, and taste. Crammed under the weight of half-clad bodies of
the boys in my high school physical education class, all sweating, hot, and
panting from the just finished game of soccer, twisting, wiggling, jostling,
laughing as the "pile on" ensued in celebration of the end of the match,
evidently forgetting the youngest and smallest member of the class was penned
underneath, I was subjected to a learning experience I'd never dreamed of
having, even in my own wildest, wet-dream fantasies! What started as a simple
game of soccer, now was something radically different, at least in my eyes,
testing first hand those "senses" I'd recently learned about in Biology class.
All of us in the class were given strict instructions at the beginning of the
semester what the appropriate attire for class had to be (not wished to be or
choice, but HAD according to our pot-bellied not-very-energetic instructor);
tee-shirt, boxer physical education shorts (those sports store downtown types
with the school logo on them), tennis shoes, white socks, and jockstrap.
Evidently there were some, or at least one, who failed to read the list of
required clothing and omitted wearing one very important item when wearing those
very baggy, gym shorts- a jockstrap! Not me thank you very much size small and
still fitting loosely, but another person in very, very, close proximity to me!
In a pile-up or a tumble in the turf, those short legs of the baggy, boxer-style
gym shorts can ride up the thigh to crotch height and expose the other shorter
leg (well, not all are short) unless it is well encased, snugged up tight to the
balls of the young man it's attached to, by the nylon pouch of the jockstrap. If
not, that marvelous appendage God gave man for procreation and pleasure can
bounce around in the breeze, wobble deliciously against the fabric of the
shorts, or, in the "instant case" as my lawyer father often states, rest
comfortably on my chin and lips, my nose pressed up tight into the bushy pubes
adorning the space from which it sprang.
I couldn't really move (lie), as if I wanted to, but I really couldn't see
(true) what this fleshy, warm, and slightly, slowly chubbing delightful
man-piece looked like since my face and nose was pressed tightly up against the
lower abdomen of the person to whom it belonged, but I could feel it laying
there, touching my lips, foreskin slowly retracting, a small drop of Cowper's
fluid forming at the slit, and rather large size gonads resting on my chin
(how's that for remembering my Biology lesson?). I could smell the scent of a
young-man, well into puberty, brought forth by the energetic soccer match and
sweat, a faint odor of an erotically intoxicating cologne, and the savory smell
of his sex, accentuated by the scent of the seminal fluid beginning to appear at
the tip of his cock, all of which brought me to an instant cock-stand! I could
feel the warmth of his slowly growing sex organ on my lips, beginning to press
up against my nose, and with each jostle of the pile, an easy, inviting thrust
forward, bringing it closer and closer to a full cock-stand and that third
innate sense. If I were to describe it, just from the contact with my lips and
face, I would certainly ascertain it was much thicker and longer than a
Wisconsin Bratwurst (bun included) and probably much more delicious, although
having tasted brats (which I found delectable), I could only surmise of course.
Was this an invitation, an accidental encounter not intended to be sexual in
nature, or was the individual just "baiting" me into something which could lead
into more dire consequences? Oh my, oh my, what am I to do? If I do what I want
to do, will he shout out "homo", stuff me in a garbage can, ostracize me
forever, or just plain beat the shit out of me? Should I be content with just
the whiff of sex, the touch or feel of his sex organ against my lips, and the
nestling of my nose in his pubic bush or should I risk all, open my lips, widen
my mouth, and with a flick of my tongue, swipe the seminal fluid from the slit
at the tip of his magnificence and then allow him to push forward into my warm,
moist, and eager oral cavity? Say what you wish about homosexuality being
accepted in the United States; that may be, but there are still those
narrow-minded, right-wing, conservative sons-a-bitch's who delight in beating
the living shit out of gay kids. It's still tough to be openly gay in many
schools and communities here in the good old U. S. of A. so boys like me have to
be more than just a "little careful;" we have to be damned careful and ready to
take off like a striped-ass ape if need be!
Am I out at school? Hah! Fat chance in hell of that happening! I'm just a little
smarter than that and a hell of a lot smaller than most guys, at least those in
my physical education class. Okay, maybe not "small", but I'm just not a giant,
any part of me (although on a little guy like myself, "it" tends to look bigger
than it really is). Picture me, if you can, sophomore in high school; five foot
three inches tall, weighing one hundred eighteen pounds on a good day, thin,
waist of twenty-four inches, small shirt size, and wearing small boxer briefs,
and tell me if I'm big, medium, or small. Add to that the important stuff, dick
(1), size five and a half inches stiff with my finger up my ass and pushing hard
and balls (2), about the size ping pong balls in a medium tight sack and then
try to say, "my, my, he's a big boy!" Again, hah! There are guys in my physical
education class I swear if they get a hard-on all the blood rushes from their
head and they pass out!
Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of people in my school who accept gays, but
there are still those who don't and really seem to get their rocks off
tormenting, taunting, poking, pushing, pummeling, and shoving those who are gay
(if the boy is smaller than they are) or those they think are gay and want to
torment the shit out of! Let your eyes linger too long on a nice cut of tube
steak in the shower or restroom and someone will shout, "HOMO," "QUEER," or
"FAG," at least in my Physical Education class.
So far "junior" had not stood up and saluted in the shower; if I feel myself
start to stiffen, I think of something terrible to distract me; you know, like
fucking a girl!
But now, buried underneath this pile of high school boys, mostly Junior and
Seniors, I'm confronted with the dilemma of a nice, tasty, slightly growing
boy-cock, not in a state of relaxation, resting within tasting, licking
distance! Now I ask you, do I take the opportunity to indulge myself, relatively
assured no one would know who lapped at the lollypop while buried under this
mass of testosterone exuding male bodies or do I miss the only opportunity I
might ever have to actually give a boy-cock the taste test?
Curiosity and the presentation of steak on a platter in front of me got the best
of me so I opened my mouth, much like a fish at the bait, and with my tongue,
lapped the fluid dripping from the slit. Finding it much to my liking, I sucked
in a better part of the rapidly stiffening appendage and began nursing on it
such as babe at his mother's teat. While doing so, I slipped the tip of my
tongue under the rapidly retracting foreskin, around the large head of the
penis, under it to that very sensitive notch, and began a gentle bobbing,
bringing what I thought I heard as a moan of satisfaction. Just as the knob
began to swell in preparation for discharge from the stimulated head and hose, I
heard the instructor blow his whistle and shout, "Games' over; everybody hit the
shower!"
The very tasty dick and erotic smelling crotch suddenly was removed, the owner
quickly slid away, and I was left at the bottom of a rapidly disappearing pile.
Quickly covering my own turgid throbbing flesh with my hands, I slowly stood to
join the parade to the locker room and the shower. I watched carefully, from the
back of course, the line of boys running toward the locker room trying to gather
some clue as to my tasty delight, but no one, and I mean no one, looked my way
or even seemed to be interested in finding out who sucked his cock. I certainly
would've if it would have been me, wouldn't you?
Perhaps, I thought, in the shower room I might get a clue, although I'd have to
be damned careful; one little twitch of my wiener and all would be revealed and
lost. The single room all-in-a-bunch-everybody naked-
dicks-wobbling-and-bouncing shower room had been augmented by three large
handicapped shower cubicles with shower curtains across the entrance for
privacy. Each wheelchair accessible cubicle was installed with a detachable
shower head attached to the water outlet so each and every part and crevice of
your body could be thoroughly and adequately rinsed after soaping and scrubbing.
I preferred using those cubicles even though I wasn't handicapped; doing so
certainly cut down the on the view and temptation, much to my regret but much to
my own personal safety I thought.
After my experience on the playing field, I really needed to use one of the
cubicles, but not before I did a quick survey of the available displayed male
appendages wobbling and jiggling as my classmates walked to the showers. None of
the cocks seemed familiar, but how was I to know; I'd only tasted and felt the
one previously resting in my mouth and smelled the crotch from which it sprang?
The room was populated with brown, white, pink, black, and olive colored cocks
but none of the young men exhibiting such delicious delights gave any hint of
where it had been previously. There was no way I was going to wander about the
shower room tasting or smelling; a sure way to end up with a broken nose!
I took my time heading for a cubicle; the locker room was slowly clearing as
more and more of my classmates headed out, the day ending for them, as well as
me, with this, our last class. Stepping in the handicapped stall, I soaped up,
spreading shampoo/body wash over my head and lathering it up to a frothy, soapy
mixture in my hair. I thought I heard the privacy curtain on the stall open and
quickly close, but I was unable to look since my face and head were covered with
soap.
A voice, very near and behind me, whispered softly, "Shhh; keep your eyes
closed, okay?"
Was I about to look a gift horse in the mouth, or in the instant case (thanks
Dad), a one-eyed wonder I'd tasted, inhaled the aroma of, and now hoped to have
an encounter (not of the third kind) but an entirely different kind? I think
not! Decidedly, I went with the flow and let it happen!
The voice, a soft, seducing, comforting, loving, erotically seducing voice,
again spoke as hands, strong, masculine, gentle began an almost magical massage
of my head, lathering my hair, "Let me do this, please!" Slowly, carefully,
tenderly, and pleasantly cleansed my hair. Shampoo completed, he guided me under
the shower head to rinse the soap away again admonishing me, tenderly, to keep
my eyes closed. God, did I ever, not wanting this to end by some stupid action
on my part!
Those gentle, tender, caring hands slowly and lovingly began applying body wash
to neck, shoulders, chest, and back almost electrically charging my body with
tingling, sparkling, jolts of eroticism. Around my neck, stroking it and
slipping down over both shoulders, following the length of my arms to fingers,
where other fingers slipped in and out, cleansing them of any lingering dirt
before migrating up to my underarms, offering those sensitive spots equal
treatment.
Oh, he wasn't done; no, not by a long shot! Those hands, from behind me, moved
across my chest and nipples, bring those little nubs to stiff peaks as his
breath wafted into my right ear; hands down my torso, across my stomach and "innie"
bellybutton, heading south to my sparse pubic bush and resting on my very
turgid, throbbing, twitching maleness, for only a moment before he began
stroking it, up and down, flicking the head, fingering the valley of the glans
with each pass, bending me over, and resting his chest and stomach on my back.
The voice said breathily into my ear, "You're so beautiful, so delicate and
precious, perfect in every way a boy can be, so everything I've ever dreamed of
and have wanted you since the day you entered high school. Today, when you took
me in your mouth I knew you were what I wanted most in the world. It took a
great deal of wiggling to put myself in the right place at the right time and
today it happened."
Apologetically he continued, "I'm so sorry if I hurt you with what I'm about to
do, but I need you so and we have so little time." Hell, I needed and wanted him
just as desperately, so I wasn't about to object to whatever he wanted to do!
I felt his very stiff penis nudge my anal opening, so I reached back with both
hands to spread my bun cheeks so he would have better access, and pushed back
toward his crotch as the very large knob penetrated and popped through my
sphincter, the guardian gate, followed by the thick, long shaft breaching my
rear portal until I felt the hair on his pubic mound snugged up tight to my ass
(no pain, thank you very much)! It felt so good, so right; he rested momentarily
as I adjusted, both of us realizing having it stuffed up my bowel, tight and
deep, full and sheathed well was what we both wanted. I felt it throb or twitch
as we connected, causing a momentary "flip" in my stomach as though the very tip
reached there penetrating and reaching up into my very depths as he impaled me
on his knightly, long, lance.
He began pumping his cock into and not quite out of me, not slowly but not with
great rapidity, whispering his delight in my ear, kissing my neck as he panted
his increasing excitement, and slicked his hand up and down my stiffness,
flicking his fingers around my glans and in the little valley at my cock-head,
but deliberately on a mission to bring us both as quickly as possible to the
outcome we both desired. Less than thirty seconds after we joined, his stomach
and chest resting on my back, his hands secured under my arms locking us
together as well as connecting us in our sexual intercourse, I felt not only my
own orgasm approaching, but his stiff penis begin to swell inside me, signaling
his own impending release. I spurt and so did he, several times inside me, his
cock swelling, subsiding, and swelling again as each ejaculation gushed into me;
mine was unloaded on the shower floor. It was so breath-taking, satisfying,
leaving me light-headed but wanting more, much more!
"Keep your eyes closed and wait a minute, please," he said almost out of breath
from his own spectacular release, slipping his now deflating cock from my rear
orifice and exiting from the shower cubicle. I opened my eyes, finally, and
waited for a couple of minutes, almost tempted to quickly peer out into the
locker room in hopes of catching sight of my marvelous lover, but I waited!
My tumescence returned to flaccidity and I stepped from the cubicle. Retrieving
my towel from the hook on the wall, quickly toweling my head before wrapping the
towel about my waist to hide my private, now his, parts, I walked back to my
locker to get dressed. As I neared it, I heard the locker room door open and
close, signaling the departure of my mystery man. My paramour was gone and I was
left only with the sound of his voice, the exotic scent of his cologne and of
him, and the feel of emptiness after his wonderful, active, and stimulating cock
filled me, breeding me, making me his - whoever he was! All of my senses, save
one, that of sight, were charged, enhanced, and overloaded as a result of my
encounter with him.
For the next two weeks I looked, listened, and yes, smelled the air seeking my
secret lover. Several times, while classes were passing, I'd catch a faint whiff
of his scent wafting about in the halls, but the herd of students moving from
one class to the next was overwhelming and I couldn't locate the source.
Disappointed, yes- discouraged in my quest - no!
Speculation concerning his identity ran rampant in my young mind; it was someone
who watched me, knew me, and wanted me! Who could it be? Was it him, standing
next to the water fountain; or him, standing talking to a cheerleader; or the
guy with glasses in my art class?
It wasn't until the Homecoming Dance (my first and attending stag) after the
football team was introduced (we won), the King and Queen and the court were
introduced, and the obligatory first dances were taken by the homecoming
royalty, when the lights were dimmed, and I stood in the darker shadows watching
all the others dance, I caught his scent and heard his voice behind me
whispering softly in my ear; "Miss me?" he asked.
I leaned back, letting his head rest on my shoulder and my back up against his
very familiar chest as I breathed in deeply his intoxicating, alluring,
beckoning scent, a scent so familiar I came to a full cock-stand, tight,
confined in my briefs, my small butt pushing up against his crotch, feeling his
stiffness confined in his britches. Moving his head, placing his hands on my
shoulders, turned me to face him.
I turned, not quite certain what to expect, wondering who my mysterious but
desirable lover was, but there he stood; more handsome than I'd ever imagined,
someone I'd seen on numerous occasions at football games, spotted in the
hallways, but never, never dreamed in a thousand years he was my secret lover;
still dressed in his head cheerleader uniform, white sweater, red pants, white
tennis shoes, and wearing a smile that simultaneously melted and captured my
heart! With a grin and a wave of his hand, he invited me to join him in leaving
the gym to his car where he could "dance me outside," and we could be as one. He
and I said nothing as we drove away from the school. We both remained mute when
we came to his home, walked upstairs to his bedroom, and as we carefully,
lovingly disrobed each other. It wasn't until, flat on my back, my legs wrapped
around his hips pulling him tight against me, forcing his man-piece deep inside
me, thrusting in my moist warm sheath, lips locked on mine, I muffled out my own
cheer of delight; knowing and feeling the love of someone as popular as he was
would want me as his boyfriend; small, quiet, but definitely lovable, if what we
were now doing was any indication, but he did; I loved it, wanted it, and wanted
him in return!
The End.
Posted: 11/22/19