Sheldon's Nutshuckers
 and the
 Stinky Pinky

By: Nicholas Hall
(© 2012 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Sitting on the locker room bench in front of my locker, delaying my entry into the shower room waiting for others to leave, lifting my right leg to untie and remove my tennis shoe, I could feel my cock and balls slithering around in the slippery, slimy residue of cum in the pouch of my jock-strap.  Shaking my head in amazement, remembering what happened not fifteen minutes before on the soccer field, the humping and grinding by players piling on me as we all scrambled for the ball. Looking around, I could see one kid still left in the locker room, taking his time getting undressed.  I think his name's "Tony something or other," a cute Latino, hung like a moon rocket, but damned slow today in vacating the premises.

I anticipated problems my freshman year of high school, but nothing like this, leaving me confused, exhausted, and a scummy, sticky mess.  Our high school isn't what I'd call a "big" school, but it wasn't a small one either compared to some of the others in the area; kind of like Tony, sitting there looking at me, like he wants me to hurry up and get the fuck out of here.  I've watched him wander out of the shower before, his uncut, fleshy, flopper wagging back and forth between his legs and thinking, "shit, I'm so small in cold weather I piss through my asshole."  But, when I look around at the rest of the naked guys in the shower room, I can't help but notice there are many boy parts smaller than mine.  When Thomas Jefferson said "All men are created equal" it was obvious he showered alone.  Thinking this over, you know big cocks and small cocks, big school and small school, I realize it's all a matter of perspective; you compare others to what you're most familiar with.

There's about two thousand or so students in the four grades in our school, which means on any day, about eighteen hundred are in attendance.  Where the rest are who knows or who gives a shit?  Most of our classes are grade specific; everyone who takes the class is in the same grade.  There are some, however, where the class has more than one grade level or all grade levels in the same one.  This last hour physical education class I'm in is one of those.  I just fucking love it! HAH!

The student handbook (held aloft at orientation by a scraggly-haired female guidance counselor and emphasized as our "guidebook to a successful high school career") lists physical education (required) as a course designed to teach us life recreation and fitness skills, teamwork, and self-reliance.  Well, I'm convinced that after today they should include a section on how not to shoot your wad into your jock strap as a "self-control" skill.  In reality, the class is just a "ball and whistle" class.  After we do some warm-up stuff, run around the track and a few pushups, coach has us choose up sides and play soccer.  Once the teams are chosen, he tosses a ball out and tells us to "have at it."  If it gets too rough or loud, interrupting his nap or working on game statistics, he blows the whistle as a warning to us not to disturb him again.

Cripes, there's about fifty guys in this class, which puts twenty or twenty-five on each team. You'd think that some of us smaller guys could sit it out since we're the last to be chosen anyway, but no, "get your ass in there and enjoy it."  Really, as if I'm going to enjoy getting mauled every play; fat chance in a candy factory, Charlie.

The upper classmen take great joy in running our asses off up and down the field, knocking us down and then body-piling us -- sometimes three and four deep.  Let's face it, I'm not all that stout a creature, maybe one hundred thirty pounds soaking wet and five foot seven inches, wet or dry, slight of build, not very athletic, and generally pretty quiet.  I'm not real out-going, preferring to stay in the shadows out of peoples' line of fire, if you know what I mean.  Out of sight, then out of mind is my philosophy. I find by keeping a low profile, it lessens the physical and emotional damage I suffer, but I won't be taken advantage of or treated like shit either!

 Putting my right leg down, raising my left leg to untie that shoe, I feel my cock and balls slowly migrate through the congealing mess as I look over at Tony in order to check his progress.  Christ, he still doesn't have his shorts off!  Neither do I, for that matter.

  Over three weeks' time, activities on the soccer field progressed to the point, where in one of the classic "pile-ons", I suffered my explosive blast into my jock strap. Three weeks ago, during one of our frequent boy-on-boy contacts, I felt someone slip a hand up my gym shorts and fondle my junk through the fabric of my jock.  Naïve me, I just thought it was an accident, but during the next scrambled mess, it happened again.  This time the hand slid under the elastic and tickled "Old Rover", stroking up and down making his tail wag.  Once we were all untangled, I looked about in an attempt to identify my assailant, but no one looked even slightly suspicious.

This continued every time we had class until Wednesday of this week. During the first major massive bevy of boys that crushed together, the hand went up my leg, up under my shorts, across my ass cheeks to my cleavage and slipped a finger up and down my crack, ticking my little pink pucker with each pass.  Just before class was to end, that day, another prodigious pileup occurred and this time the philandering phalange found my crack, and up my stinky went the pinky, clear to the last knuckle and wiggled just a bit. Determined as I was to find out who it was, the weight of all the other guys on top of me prevented this from happening.

Confused and damned irritated that someone would take advantage of me because of my size and demeanor, I vowed next time to really pay attention to what was happening and who was wriggling on top of me.  The only person who ever stuck anything up my bum was me when I poked a well-greased finger into my special cavity while pumping my rod with the other hand shucking my nuts.  If I poked my finger in just right and twitched it around my sex-nut, I'd fire quick and heavy.

Good, Tony's turned his back to me, finally pulling down his gym shorts.  His sweet, firm, brown ass cheeks are in full view, almost inviting someone to snack.  He's about my size physically, light browned skin, dark hair, and really, really cute.  Looking over his shoulder at me, he smiled, kind of.  I just wish he'd hurry, my spunk is starting to dry and itch.

Today during the first agglomeration of boy flesh, the fickle finger appeared again and in went the pinky, deep in my stinky.  A quick untangle of arms, legs, and torsos didn't allow it to take residence very long, but the final and last tumbled, jumbled assemblage of boy flesh that occurred, pinned me close to the ground, leaving me relatively immobile.  The finger flicked its way into my inner passage and, once buried deep, began wiggling, tickling, sliding in and out.  Great Scott, Fitzgerald, I was being finger-fucked on the soccer field!  After about four passes and a really good massage of my sex button, I unloaded, moaning, tightening my ass around the dancing digit, hoping the noises I made would be mistaken for pain because of the weight on top of me.  There was no way I could put a stop to this throbbing, pulsing ejaculation.  Once we became untangled, I hesitated getting up on my feet, fearful everyone would spot my predicament andb egin their shouts of "fag" and that sort of shit.  When I did stand, I held my shorts out a bit, looked down and was thankful there was no visible leakage. The whole creamy mess was contained in my jock.

 I looked around, but no one seemed concerned and everything seemed as normal, except for Tony, racing ahead of the crowd to the locker room.  I suppose I could've walked around and asked guys if I could smell their middle finger to see if it'd been up my ass, but that would've really outed me to the whole class, subjecting me to more harassment than I felt I really needed in my life.  I'm out to my folks and older sister, but at school I feel better staying in the closet, knowing what some of these no-neck pencil-dicks would do to a gay freshman.

Tony's finally stripped off his jock and is heading toward the shower using his wash cloth to shield his package, as if it'd do any good, the uncut tip still wobbles below the cloth.  I quickly finish disrobing, grab my wash cloth, body wash, and follow him.  We won't have much time for clean-up since the football boys will invade the place shortly after school is out.

Tony's standing at the end shower farthest from the door, with his back to me.  What the hell, I may as well perv.  on his fat dick while I shower, so I walk down and stand under the shower next to him.  When the water hits me, I pat him on the shoulder and say "Hi."

Turning around, eyeing me suspiciously, he returns my greeting and when he does, I can't help but notice his pubes and prodigious prick are covered in sticky, white, cum.  Tony looked down at my cock, shrugged, and said, "You too, huh?"

I nod in the affirmative and using my cloth and body wash, proceed to begin a very fastidious cleaning of my hither parts while glancing furtively at Tony's equipment beginning to chub up.

"Here," I offered, "use my body wash.  It cuts through the glue and sends it down the drain."

Tony smiled, took the proffered container and looked down again, commenting, "You've got big, low-hanging balls."

"Well," I snickered back, "yours' probably are too, but that swinging sausage hanging between your legs probably hides them from view."  I could see the blind eagle begin to emerge from its fleshy, hooded nest to look around and stretch its neck.  "We'd better hurry up and get out of here before the football thugs come romping in and want to ravage our asses.

Scurrying back to our lockers, we hurriedly dressed, and when entering the hall, I quickly said to Tony, "We need to talk, meet me at Entrance A before you leave."

I wasn't certain he'd meet me there, but what the heck, the longest journey must start with a single step, I think I read somewhere.  Sure enough, going out the door, there stood Tony.  Sticking out my hand introducing myself, I reached for his, "I'm Sheldon Anson Miller," "Shell" to my very close friends, of which I have none."

Tony chuckled, "Antonio Perez," "Tony" to my friends and I think I have just one, now."

With that we began discussing our experiences in physical education class and on the soccer field.  Tony had the same thing happen to him that I did, only he gushed so much, it soaked the front of his gym shorts too.  That's why he hustled his ass in ahead of the rest of us.  As we stood there visiting, another guy about our age and built the same, but African-American, hesitated as he walked by, turned, looked at Tony and me and quietly commented, "I'll bet the same thing happened to you two that happened to me last year during gym class."

I had no idea who this guy was, so I looked at Tony to see if he could offer any assistance and all I got in return was a lifting of his shoulders.  He didn't have a clue either.  One thing we could both agree on, checking this guy out from package to face, he's one hell of good looking stud.

He stood a moment, smiled, nodded knowingly and said, "Yeah, it did and you just don't know who, do you?"  Extending his hand, he continued, "Jakeil Davis.  I'm a sophomore."

Jakeil spooged his shorts in physical education during his freshman year too and although he had some ideas about who it might be, he couldn't dig up anything.  The more he talked, the more we found the three of us had a lot in common.  Looking at my watch and realizing what time it was, I asked, "Can you guys come over to my house?  It's only seven or eight blocks from school."

Both shook their heads "no" and Tony said he had some chores to do around the house while Jakeil had to babysit his little brother until his mother got home.  Both rode the city buses so they'd have to hustle to catch the next one and make transfers.

"How about Saturday afternoon? Give me a call if you can and we can figure out how to handle our problem."  I tore a couple of pieces of paper from a notebook, wrote down my phone number, and in return, received promises from both to call.

When I arrived home and asked Mom if I could have some friends over Saturday afternoon, she was ecstatic since I just don't have many -- in fact, zero.  As all Moms seem to want to do, she offered to bake cookies so we could have milk and cookies as a treat.  Why do Moms always think that cookies and milk are the perfect snack for teenage boys?  Well, they really are when we're alone or with really good friends, but I hardly knew Tony and Jakeil.  Rather than hurt her feelings, I suggested she make some bars of some sort to go along with our Pepsi, chips, and other junk food.

Tony and Jakeil both called, while Mom was busy fixing a big pan of lemon bars, saying they'd be there a little after lunch on Saturday.  I'm happy Mom's baking lemon bars because she wants to make a good impression on my friends and her lemon bars are mouth-watering, flakey, tart, and fucking delicious!

Saturday morning, I futzed around getting things ready in the family room for our big meeting.  Our home is an older three bedroom ranch on a large lot tucked up against some lime stone bluffs snugged up to the back yard.  No one's going to build behind us, unless it's a family of mountain goats.  It's the only home my older sister, now attending the University, and I've ever known.  It's not the fanciest in town, but it's not the shabbiest either.

When the doorbell rang a little after one o'clock, I rushed to open it and there stood Tony, Jakeil, and a blond guy I didn't know.  Jakeil quickly provided the introduction, "Shell, this is Tyler Wells and he can help us a whole bunch."

Before leading my little band of co-conspirators downstairs to the rec/family room in the basement, I gave them the ten cent tour of the house, including my bedroom. It's not fancy, but kind of sort of a mess, like all boys rooms, I think.  At least I picked up yesterdays' boxer shorts which had been lying on the floor earlier. Jakeil and Tony thought it was neat I had my own room.  Jakeil shared his with a younger brother and Tony had two younger ones he shared a bedroom with.

"Is your dad rich or something?" Tony asked.

"Not really, but he does alright I think.  He owns a hardware store up in the north end of town."

"Miller's Hardware?" queried Tyler.

"Yeah, why?"

"Hey, man," answered Tyler, "that's only three or four blocks from where I work after school and weekends."

"He works with my sister," offered Jekeil, "at Paul's Pizza/Pasta Parlor."

Finally in the family room, the guys found places to sit, while I went upstairs to grab the Pepsi and the snacks. Mom followed me back down carrying a huge platter of lemon bars. The guys were all polite and nice, thanking her for the goodies.  Mom just smiled, welcomed them to the house, and went upstairs.  I'll say this about my Mom, she knows when to ask questions and when not to.  She wasn't gone thirty seconds and all hands went for the lemon bars.  By the looks on the faces of Tony, Jakeil, and Tyler, biting into them, they loved them.

Trying to break the ice and get a conversation going, I quipped, "Sounds like a litter of little pigs sucking the old sow's tits or some guy slurping someone's jizzy stick."

The room became embarrassing quiet as Jakeil looked at me, Tony looked at Tyler, and Tyler's eyes made a survey of all of us.  I quickly muttered an apology, fearful I'd suddenly lose these new friends I'd just made.  I also decided I may as well out myself then and there and see where it went.  I had a fair idea that Tony leaned in my direction from the way his dick reacted in the shower, but I certainly had no idea about Jakeil and Tyler.

Taking a deep breath, I looked up and said, "O.K., guys, here's the deal.  I'm gay and out to my family but I keep it hidden at school.  If you have a problem with that, you're welcome to stay or leave, that's your choice.  I can't stop you from outing me at school, but I hope you wouldn't."

The silence in the room was deafening, if silence can be deafening.  I do know I could hear my heart hammering in my ears and hoped it wasn't so loud the others could hear it too. Hesitantly, Tony said softly, "I kind'a figured you were when you kept staring at my cute butt in the locker room.  When you loaned me your body wash, I hoped you'd do the honors, but you didn't," and then laughed.  Tyler and Jakeil quickly joined in the hilarity of the moment.

"So," I asked, "do we all bat for the same team?"

Tyler spoke up, "I know I do, but no one in my family knows.  My old man would cut my dick off if he ever found out."

Jakeil shrugged, adding, "Me too, only I don't know if I'm a pitcher or a catcher yet.  My older sister, the one that works with Ty, knows but she's kept quiet about it around home and at school.  I don't know how Mom would react, but not bad I think.  As far as my Dad, I don't have a clue where he is.  The fucker took off after my little brother was born."

"Well," chimed in Tony, "I think Mom and Dad have an idea about me, but they've never mentioned it, so I'm not going to either."

We all relaxed now that the subject of gayness was out in the open for the four of us.  I guess we really felt comfortable with each other to share something that personal and sometimes frightening.  The trust was immediate, it seemed, and made me feel lucky to have a group of guys I could share things with, do things with, and not have to be afraid of being pounded to a pulp.

I looked at Ty and Jakeil, wondering aloud, "Are you two a couple?"

Jakeil rolled on his side in a giggling fit, "No, just friends because he works with my sister and I see him there sometimes.  Shit, I've never seen his dick or even know if he has one."

With that Ty stood up, dropped his jeans, slid his blue bikini briefs to his knees, and cupping his balls with one hand, wagged a nice, average-sized cut cock with the other. "Well I do, who wants to reach out and touch someone to see if it's real?"

All of us had to reach over for a gentle squeeze and perhaps a bit more.

"God, I've never touched anyone else's dong but my own," murmured Jakeil softly as he carefully rolled Tyler's eggs between his fingers.

"Me neither," added Tony cautiously rubbing a finger over Tyler's glans.

"Well, I don't think any of us has other than his own when we're shucking our nuts," I said wistfully, "we're just a bunch of frustrated nutshuckers."

Puzzled, Jakeil looked at me, "Nutshuckers?"

"Yeah, you know, ‘wanking your willie,' ‘pullin' your pud,' shucking your nuts."

"You mean like this?" volunteered Tyler stroking his growing stiffy up and down several times.

"You better stow that weapon in case Mom comes down stairs and wonders what we're doing down here," I cautioned.

Tony scratched his head quizzically commenting, "I don't think it will take her long to figure it out, do you?"

Once we'd quit laughing, rearranging our own crotches to point our own dicks north, Ty pulled up his pants, sat down, and ate another lemon bar.  Fun over, it was time to get down to business; Ty had to be to work by five o'clock and he was Jakeil's and Tony's ride home.

"Ty, fill us in on what you know," I began.

"Last night after work while putting the leftover pizza and pasta Paul sends home with Zoreen, Jakeil's sister, in my car, she mentioned Jakeil was having a meeting with some guys today that had the same thing happen to them that happened to me."

I raised my eyebrows in question toward Ty.

"She knows I'm gay and is really a good friend and a great listener.  I would've gone crazy if I didn't have her to talk to.  I didn't know that Jakeil had this problem at school, so I told her I'd like to be included in the meeting.  She said she'd ask him after I took her home.  He called this morning, and here I am."

"Anyway, when I was a freshman, some guy would always play with my junk when we piled up during soccer, the same way he did with you guys.  After a couple of weeks, the bastard finger-fucked me to orgasm, really pissing me off since it soaked through my gym shorts.  I didn't have a clue who did it, but once I'd spritzed my shorts, he stopped.  I watched trying to figure out who the lecherous bastard was, but saw no one suspicious, although every now and again another freshman, usually one about our size, would act funny at shower time.  I assumed it happened to him too, and he was trying to flush the evidence down the shower drain.  Nothing happened to me my sophomore year, but it didn't stop me from wondering who had the stinky pinky."

Jakeil interrupted, "During my freshman year, the same thing happened to me.  Once I buzzed my balls, the guy stopped.  I was not only curious who did it, but pissed off because someone would violate my asshole.  I was saving that for someone I really liked, not some damned pervert.  I didn't say anything because I was afraid of some homophobe taking me down.  On top of that, I'm black and there's still a few racists wandering around waiting for their chance to have at a kid like me, so no thanks, I kept quiet."

"Once I started working at Paul's," continued Tyler, "I'd pick up all sorts of gossip so I started keeping my ears open for a clue.  In the spring, I run track and Paul lets me off when we have a track meet.  Last spring, late one night when riding the team bus home from a track meet, I heard George Andrews, a shot putter, and his cousin Le Roy, a javelin tosser, whispering about keeping a score sheet in his locker of how many guys he made shoot during P.E.  They thought everyone was asleep, but I wasn't.  They're both seniors and out for football along with being a couple of big fucking rednecks.  Shit, they each weigh around two hundred pounds so who's going to argue with them?"

"He was in my Phys. Ed. class last year too," explained Jakeil. "I tried to stay away from him, but couldn't all the time.  I think he liked pounding on black kids."

Tony and I perked up at that.  "He's in our P.E. class now," I commented with satisfaction, "big guy with a small dick."

"Back to Paul's," said Tyler, "I started listening real close, especially when Georgie boy and his cousin came in.  They eat like a couple of pigs and really make a mess.  Last evening, while they were stuffing their guts with pizza, I heard George tell Le Roy and I quote, so no offense intended Tony, ‘I got the Spic and that candy-ass Miller today' and both of them laughed and laughed, like it was some great honor to finger-fuck someone.  Why would they even think its rape?  They're just too fuckin' dumb."

Tony was fighting mad, not only from being abused but also disrespected because of his race.  I don't blame him because I was mad too, not only for the bigotry, but because Tony was my friend.

"Let's get that son-of-a-bitch," he growled.  "Why does he target little guys like us?  We don't bother him for shit."

"I think he goes after little guys he can overpower and those he thinks are closeted gays, like us," answered Tyler.  "He knows we won't say anything for fear of being outed and subjected to the horse shit those other rednecks would rain down on us.  Besides, we certainly can't fight him ‘cause we'd lose," explained Tyler.

It explained how he got by with it, as far as Tony, Jakeil and I were concerned, if he was the guy.

"I think we need to move carefully on this, guys," I began once we all settled down. "One, we don't know for certain if it's really Andrews, and two, he's bigger than any of us.  So unless you intend flogging him to death with your dick, Tony let's set out to prove he's really the rapist, and work our revenge on him some other way.  Of course, we could just tell our folks, let them call the police, and we could testify against him in open court; I'm certain we'd all enjoy that, especially when the television news programs begin showing our pictures all over the country."

"If we decide to flog him to death, I'll be willing to help," offered Jakeil, cupping and massaging his crotch.

"Stop it or we'll all be shucking our nuts and won't get anything else done this afternoon.  We have to figure out how to prove it's him.  Now, Tony and I can watch him in class next week and see if he targets anyone else.  If it's him, we've already satisfied his little perversion so he'll let us alone.  We need to get into his locker to check his ‘score card.'  The problem is, those are school issued combination locks on those lockers."

"But," offered Tyler, "there's a place on the back to open it with a master key in case you forget your combination," and smiled a shy, devious smile.

"What're you up to, Tyler?" I asked.

"About six and a half inches just thinking about Jakeil," he answered, twitching eyebrows up and down a couple of times. "Jakeil's appendage aside, I know the coaches are notorious for losing their keys.  I bet I could swipe some keys from the coaches office and if someone whose dad owned a hardware store where copies of keys are made could make an extra set,  we'd get in that locker pretty easy."

"If we had keys," said Jakeil, "I'd go down to the locker room during third hour study hall and check out his locker, then we'd know for certain."

We had a plan, sort of, depending on how observant Tony and I were, whether Tyler could steal the keys, and on Jakeil checking on the score card.  "My dear young fellows," I announced in a mock English accent, "it would appear that Sheldon's Nutshuckers now have a mission. Can we get together next weekend, maybe for a sleepover, to plan our attack on this pestilence plaguing us?"  It was agreed.

Monday was our first Phys. Ed. class of the week.  Because of crazy scheduling, we have two classes one week and three the next all semester.  The day we don't have class, we have either study hall or band.  I guess I was more of geek than my companions; I had band.  This was the week we had three physical education classes.

Once Tony and I were dressed in our shorts, tee shirts and tennis shoes, we ran out to the field where the usual choosing of sides took place and for once, we ended up on the same team; how ironic, if people only knew. When the match began we held back trying to stay out of the mashing and bashing, while keeping keen eyes on George Andrews.  Sure enough, the first major pile up and Andrews slid his hand up the shorts leg of another scrawny freshman.  When the pile untangled, the freshman looked around trying to discover who his assailant was, but Andrews never gave a clue, just walked nonchalantly away.

When class ended and shower time came, Tony and I poked around in the locker room, waiting for the others to finish in the shower before we took our turns.  Once we were alone in the shower room, Tony asked, "What do we do about Andrews now?  It's pretty obvious he's the one with the stinky pinky."

Poking my head out of the shower room to make certain no one was eves dropping, I commented, "We only saw him do it once so maybe it was an accident.  Pay close attention to him on Wednesday and see what he does."

Tony agreed and raising his eyebrows searching for approval, slowly reached over with a soapy hand, gently encased my hardening prick with it, and began to stroke me.  I moaned a bit over the sensation; never had anyone else handled me like this, and it was great, but, reluctantly I gasped, "Better not do it here, wait until the weekend."

Tony gave it another slick or two, let go, and agreed if someone came in, we'd be toast.  After school, I wasn't in my bedroom more than three minutes and a dozen rapid strokes, and I busted a nut!

Wednesday Andrews did it twice to the same freshman.  Georgie definitely was the culprit and was getting the kid ready to dump his load. Tony and I saw Jakel after school near Entrance A and stopped to talk to him.  Tyler was already at work.  According to Jakeil, Tyler traded work days with someone else so he could have Saturday off.

"I think we agree Andrews needs to be sent a warning," I announced, as Tony and Jakeil nodded in approval. "Jakeil, if I typed one up could you get it taped to his hall locker?"

"No problem, I'll do it during third hour study hall."

Thursday after school, I gave the note to Jakeil.  "All it says is ‘Keep your hands to yourself or you'll be sorry. Signed, The Nutshuckers.'  That's pretty simple and direct to the point, as if he'd understand."

When I gave the note to Jakeil, he reached into his pocket and handed me a ring of keys on one of those lanyard things that hang around the neck.  All the coaches seemed to have them. I guess they get them instead of a diploma when they finish college.  I looked them over, spotting a small key which had to be the padlock key, some room keys, and the most prized of all -- a master key to the whole damned high school.  What a prize this was!

Once home, I asked Mom if I could go up to the Hardware store to work on a project. I knew she'd say yes, since she always wants me to do well in school, so I rode a CTA bus to the north end of town.  Dad gave me permission to work in the back room and I began making duplicate keys.  There were a couple I couldn't identify, but I made copies of them anyway.  After I was done, I walked up to Paul's Pizza, after telling Dad I'd be back by six o'clock when the store closed to ride home with him, for a Pepsi and a chit-chat with Zoreen.  When she brought me my Pepsi, I gave her the original set of keys to return to Tyler.

The next morning, Friday, Tyler dropped the keys behind a desk so the lost could be found, Jakeil taped the note to Andrews hall locker, used the padlock key, checked on the score card, and Georgie Andrews fondled the kids balls and cock.  After class, Tony casually walked back to the locker room with him, hoping to find out his name.

Saturday evening, when the guys gathered at my house, courtesy of Tyler who was the only driver in the bunch, a little after seven, I had them put their overnight bags in my bedroom and we went downstairs to the family room to thrash out what we discovered, hatch a plan of action, and just plain shoot the shit. I brought down a bunch of Pepsi and food to snack on, including a fresh batch of lemon bars Tyler requested Mom bake.

Once we had our bellies full, belched, and farted some, just for good measure, we spread out on the floor and the couch to take our leisure, so to speak.  I informed them of what happened the previous week, beginning with Tony and me watching George Andrews fondle the freshman, the note I prepared and had Jakeil put on Georges hall locker, Tyler stealing the coaches keys, the copies I made of them, and asking Jakeil to check out a possible score card.  Tyler and Tony nodded their approval while Jakeil handed me the padlock key I'd given him.

"The key opened George's gym locker and a few more I checked out as well, just in case.  Found some porn in a couple, but I left it there.  Didn't want anyone to know I was snooping around.  Anyway, it looks like George's been a busy little fucker the past four years.  I counted sixteen lines scratched into the back side of his locker. I couldn't see any names, just the lines."

Jakeil finished and I turned to Tony.  "Did you find out the name of the freshman George is working on now?"

"Yeah, his name is Clayton Johnson.  He's real quiet, like us, and not very big either.  He probably don't weigh more than ninety pounds and I'm bettin' he's just a queer as the rest of us."

We now knew who our attacker was, but we just didn't know what to do about it.  Anything we thought of as being appropriate, probably the proper or "right" thing to do, involved calling the cops, telling our parents, or narcing him out to school officials; all of which would mean we'd have to call the cops and testify, confront our parents with being gay, or telling the assistant principal Georgie was feeling our balls.  It wouldn't have bothered me, since I was out to my folks, but the rest of the guys just didn't want to go there yet.  No, it had to be something that'd make George stop, then remember to keep his fingers out of other guy's assholes when not invited, and keep our identities secret.  By eleven o'clock, when we still didn't have a solution, I suggested we knock it off and go to bed.  I thought we might have some ideas in the morning after a good night's sleep.

I pointed out the bathroom so everybody could drain their lizard and started to open the closet where we kept extra sleeping bags, when Tyler said, "We don't need  those;  we can all fit in that big bed of yours.  None of us are very big you know; well, Jakeil and Tony are bigger in some places, but combined they won't use over eighteen extra inches or so."

It'd be a tight fit, but so what? Tony, Jakeil, and I undressed down to our boxers, but Tyler pulled everything off until he was stark, buck, bare-assed naked, announcing, "I sleep nude, so I hope you guys do to."

Without a word being said, the three of us became like new born babes, but with longer cocks.  I looked at Tony and Jakeil and decided they were very, very healthy specimens of maleness.  The fact neither of them was very tall and extremely lean, made their cocks look bigger on them compared to someone else, but all the same, those two new friends of mine looked pretty damned good to me.

Jakeil looked at me, remarking, "By God, Shell, your balls are big and hang really low."

"That's what I said in the locker room the other day," laughed Tony as he crawled into bed after me, snuggling up tight, face-to-face, stomach-to-stomach, and balls-to-balls.  Tyler slipped in the other side, scooted up to my back, spooning in with a stiff dick resting in my ass crack.  Jakeil crawled across Tony and me, heading for Tyler, allowing his fat dick to drag across our naked sides, letting it linger between us, before he rolled over on top of Tyler, and finally settled behind him, spooning tight up against his buns.

Four naked, horny, teenage high school boys together in one bed can lead to only one thing; actually four things, all stiff, seeking some relief from the building pressure in their sacks. We began writhing like a ball of snakes, thrusting, fondling, mutually jacking, and humping up, down, against, and then between legs, until, after we caught our breaths, we smelled of sex.  We should've since our nuts were properly shucked and the residue of sticky, creamy, white cum rested on our stomachs, between our legs, on our hands, our hastily grabbed socks, and around our cocks, with lingering bits in our pubes.  Now, I thought, we'd sleep.

Sometime during the night, I awakened.  Tony was snuggled up tight to me, head resting on my chest, his right leg draped over my right leg, and his hard-on resting up against my hip. Tyler was pressed tight up against me on the other side, his left arm pulling me closer as he pressed his erection up against me in little short jabs.  What a pleasant feeling, the warmth, the nakedness of my three best friends sleeping with me.

Hold, it; Tyler wasn't asleep!  He slowly lifted his left leg a bit, while whispering, "Easy Jakeil, you're pretty good sized," and whimpered with pleasure.

Turning my head slightly, I looked at Tyler as he smiled, leaned forward, and kissed me as he was being pushed forward.  I asked softly, "Are you in the process of being fucked by Jakeil?"

Before he could respond, Jakeil's smiling face popped up over Tyler's left shoulder as he answered, "Yep, and it's just fantastic!" as he began pumping. "This is my first time," he continued, "but I think I'm really going to like it," and giggled.

"Mine too," added Tyler, "I've just used a dildo in the past, but this certainly changes that for the future."

I knew Tony was awake when I felt his warm hand encircle my own hard shaft and begin stroking.  He stopped, let go of me, reached forward to Tyler, and slipped his hand in between Tyler's legs until he encountered Jakeil's pickle being packed in Tyler's jar.  Running his finger around Tyler's puckered, stretched opening, feeling Jakeil's dick, he muttered in amazement, "God, Jakeil, you're all the way up his bum."

Of course, I had to check also, for no other reason than feel Jakeil's dick piston in and out slowly as he began a slow, rhythmic rocking, destined to bring both of them the pleasure they sought.  As I did so, Tony, his hand sliding up and down Jakeil's rod to check the progress, said, "That's really neat, Jakeil."

Jakeil, without slowing a bit, leaned over Tyler's shoulder again, announcing, "Yeah, it is and I'm going to do the two of you sometime too."

Tony snickered, "You're such a horn-dog, Jakeil."

"I'm not complaining," quipped Tyler.

I lifted my head up and gave Jakeil an affectionate kiss, saying, "Not until Tony and I have a chance to do each other first."  I really wanted to get in between those nice, firm, round, brown cheeks of Tony's, but not tonight, I had too much to think about.

"I'm available in the meantime," volunteered Tyler.

Tony turned his attention back to me, snuggling up tight to my neck, whispering, "You can do me tonight if you want."

"No, let's wait, Tony.  Maybe Jakeil and Tyler can give us some helpful hints."

Tony and I were rocked to sleep by the gentle motions of the bed.

The next morning, I awakened to a warm, moist mouth around my cock and a tongue that was tickling it, making me twitch clear to my asshole.  Raising my head to look, Tony popped up smiling, "Good morning. I wanted to taste you," and resumed his ministrations.

I wanted to taste him too, so I maneuvered him around so I could access and feast on his wonderful manhood. Sucking it into my mouth, I discovered it was warm, velvety smooth, stiff but soft, with a spongy head unveiled by his retracted foreskin.  He began to hum on my dick as I used my mouth to stimulate him by going up and down on his oxter.  His cock-head began to thicken, pulsed three or four times, depositing his sperm into my mouth, causing my own musket to fire.

Tony tasted slightly salty, with a nut-like flavor tinged with a hint of spice, and creamy, smooth on the tongue, not a bit unpleasant.  Unlike the stories I'd read where guys flood someone's oral cavity, Tony spewed a great deal like me, sufficient in quantity to get the job done, but not drown the other guy.  I loved it!  He crawled up my frame, reaching my lips, and kissed me as we shared the taste of each other.

Once our morning calisthenics ceased, Tony sat up in bed, announcing, "I have a solution to our situation, but Sheldon, you have to type a note that reads, ‘You've been warned now we're going to burn your ass.  Signed, The Nutshuckers,' and Jakeil, you have to stick it on George's hall locker on Tuesday."  With that, he crawled out of bed, unlocked the bedroom door, and went down the hall to the bathroom.

After breakfast and Tony, Tyler, and Jakeil went home, I went back to my bedroom to clean up after our wild night.  As I changed the sheets and remade the bed, I couldn't help but think how much I learned this weekend.  I learned once Jakeil found out what to do with his dick, he was eager to try it out;  Tyler was the bolder of the four of us, our driver, resident pilferer, and really liked taking it up the ass; Tony not only tasted great, but wanted more, along with being our silent, thoughtful type; but most of all I learned I had three great best friends who trusted each other completely, could love one another without jealousy, and were comfortable with being sexual with each other. I loved them for what they were, no more, no less, but I still didn't know what Tony was planning.  Life was definitely looking better.

Monday, Tony and I were both certain poor Clayton got George's pinky up his stinky, the way he reacted when he crawled out of the first pileup.  There was no doubt in our minds he was going to get the full treatment on Wednesday during the last physical education class of the week.  It was too good an opportunity for Georgie boy to pass up.

Tuesday, Jakeil stuck the warning on George's hall locker.  Tony still kept silent as a tomb or, in three of our cases, a closeted high school gay.

Wednesday afternoon, our last physical education class of the week, there was a massive, major, body-slamming, pileup on the field and, instead of staying out of it, Tony jumped into the middle and wormed his way deep into the jumble of boy legs and crotches.  I can't believe him; why would he seek out such punishment?

When the pile untangled, George stood up, face mirrored in panic, and walked ever so gingerly over to the bench to speak to the coach, who at the time, was reading a newspaper, completely oblivious to what was going on in front of him.  Watching George closely, I could see George pinching his ass cheeks together, securing his gym shorts in the cleft.  I'll bet his ass was so tight he couldn't wipe with dental floss.  Coach said something to him, patted the bench next to him, indicating George should sit down, and resumed reading his newspaper.  I know he wanted poor George to rest since we certainly couldn't have one of the star football players discomforted in anyway before Friday's big away game.

Watching from the corner of my eye, as play continued, I saw George start to squirm and his face began to redden, sweat dripping off of the end of his nose, then suddenly jump up (really raised up tenderly) and take short, agonizing steps across the field to the locker room.  After class ended and the rest of us headed into the showers, passing the toilets, there was an overwhelming, rotten, stench of pure unadulterated shit wafting about.  The odor was strong enough to make your eyes burn and skin itch.  George was nowhere to be seen.

In fact, George wasn't in school on Thursday or Friday and didn't play in the big game.  We lost, just in case you're interested -- I'm not.  I see enough football when there's a home game and the band has to perform during the half time.  Blowing on a trumpet during a cold October night is not my idea of fun.  Perhaps a nice warm uncut human clarinet might be just the ticket, but not a trumpet.  When I first joined band, one of the seniors in band said he was surprised I played the trumpet instead of the "swinenet." 

"What the heck is swinenet?" I stupidly asked.

"That's when you blow in a pig's ass and finger its tits, you dumb shit."

Really fucking funny, I thought at time, but not near as funny as George's absence from school.  It must be something really serious to make him miss a game.  I'll bet coach is really pissed, I hope.

Tony called Saturday morning and suggested Jakeil and I join him for pizza at Paul's around noon.  Jakeil and I both rode the CTA to the north end and met Tony out front of the Pizza Parlor. 

"Tyler had to work, so we'll get an employee discount," remarked Tony.  "I already ordered sausage and cheese.  I figure you guys are both fond of sausage, I am."  We liked sausages alright, warm, soft, expanding types.

Tyler brought us our pizza and joined us since the kitchen was pretty slow.  Before Tony could tell us what happened the day he jumped into the pileup in physical education class, Clayton Johnson and a couple of his buddies bounded in the front door and grabbed the booth next to us.  They were all giggly, seeming to be delighted over some little secret they shared.  I don't think it was the prospect of eating Paul's pizza, although really, really good, nothing to act so orgasmic about.

Clayton turned to us, looked at Tony, and asked, "You're in my Phys. Ed. class aren't you?" and before Tony could respond continued, "I almost didn't recognize you with your clothes on."

"He's pretty unforgettable naked," I mused.

"Yeah, I am," answered Tony and waggled his eyebrows at me, then looked at Clayton and waggled them again.  Clayton was a cute guy, with a pert little butt.

"Guess what?" spouted Clayton.

"You just came in your shorts at the sight of me," quipped Tyler.

"No, you silly goose," Clayton laughed, "not that.  You know that bully kid, George, in our class last hour?  Well, he ended up in the hospital after class on Wednesday until this morning.  My mom is an emergency room nurse and my dad is a doctor at the clinic and I overheard them talking this morning.  They thought I was still in bed, but I wasn't; I was snooping.  Evidently, George had been doing something naughty with his -- you know -- poop chute and put something really nasty in there."

"I can only imagine what it would feel like having something shoved up my ass," murmured Tyler.

"Especially way in deep," added Jakeil.

"That'd be gross," commented one of Clayton's buddies while Clayton looked at me, dead straight on at me, almost like, "I wouldn't mind, would you," type look.

Clayton continued, "I guess he has to take it very easy for a few days.  Mom told Dad he has to squirt some stuff up his ass a couple of times a day to help ease the pain and itching.  She said it looked like someone shoved a red, hot poker up his butt."

"That's too bad," I said sympathetically. "I'll bet he won't do that again."

News release over, Clayton turned back to his friends to visit with them.  Tyler, Jakeil, and I looked at Tony, raising our eyebrows in an unspoken question.

Tony smiled, remarking, "This's really good pizza.  The only problem with it, it wouldn't be spicy or hot enough for my grandparents.  Grandma and Grandpa are originally from Mexico and they'd probably have to doctor it up with one of those really, really, hot, lip-burning, fire-farting, habanero chili peppers they keep in the back room of their house."


The End.


Posted: 01/24/20