My Life in Stages, Part 2

Disclaimer:

This story is a work of fiction, a protected form of expression. Any similarity to real people or events, either living or dead, is entirely coincidental and unintentional.

As well, this story deals with both romantic and sexual situations between males, both adult and minor. If you object to this type of content, are under the age of majority in your jurisdiction, or it is illegal in jurisdiction to view such content, please leave this page. By continuing to read, you acknowledge that you are of legal age to view this material and wish to do so. The author of this piece, and its hosting site, take no responsibility for any damages which occur from your decision to read this material.

Additionally, this story takes place in a fictional world where sexually transmitted diseases do not exist and sexual activity among minors and between minors and adults is both common and accepted. In real life, please protect yourself and your sexual partners. Always practice safe sex with the consenting adult of your choice. The author does not advocate nor condone unsafe sex or sexual activity with minors.

Finally, this story is just one part of a multi-part series which examines love, relationships, personal growth, and sexuality. While sexuality will feature prominently in the story, not every chapter will have graphic sexual elements.

 

"Would you like some more wine?" Isaac asked as he stood from the sofa.

"Sure, that'd be great," I said, handing him my glass.

Isaac strode off to the kitchen, leaving me alone with Jack, Nolan, and Levi, his three sons. They were good kids, and tonight was the first time I had gotten a chance to meet them. It was a bit surprising when I learned that Isaac had kids, and even more surprising that none of them were wearing anything more than simply a pair of pajama bottoms.

Well, it is their home after all, I thought silently. They can dress how they like.

Isaac returned with two freshly-filled glasses. He handed me mine as he took his place back on the other end of the sofa.

"So, tell me about this new job," he continued, once he was settled back in to the sofa. "Seattle's a long way from Norman, Oklahoma. Hell of a distance to move for a job."

"No shit," I said, smiling back at him. "Well, starting in the fall, I'll be the new head of the history department at Dominic Savio Preparatory School."

Referencing the elite and expensive all-boys boarding school had, apparently, impressed him. He smiled a bit and held his glass up; a kind of "cheers "gesture.

"Always knew that you'd go far, Eli. Hell, I knew that back in seventh grade. I only wish that it hadn't taken you so long to get as far as Seattle."

He gave me a wry grin, the glint in his eyes the same one I remembered from all of those years ago. He had such an easy-going demeanor that merely being around him was calming. I had fallen head over heels in love with him once before, and I could see myself easily doing that again.

"If wishes were horses..." I began in response.

"...we'd all have a Merry Christmas," he finished. It wasn't the right end to that expression, of course. But, that was Isaac for you. He had a dry sense of humor, and would frequently, even as kids, say things that were slightly off just to see if you were paying attention.

"Well, I'm here now," I say, smiling at him.

"Yes. Yes, you are."

Again, he made the "cheers" gesture with his glass while his other hand reached out to stroke my knee.

"And I couldn't be happier," I replied, feeling my face flush and a familiar stirring happening in my pants.

*****

It became our routine, really. I was the protector of Isaac's modesty. While we changed clothes for P.E., he would position himself so that I stood between him and the other boys in the room, shielding their potentially judgmental eyes from seeing the most intimate part of the shy boy. In the showers, which we were required to take even though it was the end of the school day (Coach Anderson lectured about "personal hygiene and taking care of your body" multiple times), Isaac would take a corner while I stood next to him. Again, my presence and my body could block the view from the other boys.

I don't know why I felt so protective of him. Maybe it was his shyness and modesty. Maybe it was his gentle touch. Or, though I wouldn't admit this to myself until much later in life, maybe it was the rapidly increasing blood flow to both my heart and crotch that made me feel as though I would do anything to keep him safe.

For the most part, this arrangement worked. Isaac and I kept to ourselves in P.E., and most of the other boys didn't really pay us any attention. They were too busy teasing each other, snapping towels at each other's asses, or pointing out the frequent awkward erections that happened in any junior high locker room. But, as the old saying goes, "the best laid plans of mice and men..."

It was October, a Friday just shy of Halloween. Isaac and I had grown pretty close over the last couple of months and were spending nearly every day after school with one another. We would shower and change as quickly as we could, and bolt out the school as soon as the 3:00 bell rang. After a ten-minute walk, we would be at my house where Isaac would stay until his mom or dad got off work and came to get him.

On that October day, however, our routine was thrown off and our plan to protect Isaac from the judgmental stares and comments of the other boys was ruined.

Due to an unfortunate sprained ankle during the mile-run, Cole Stillwell was sent in to the locker room a bit early. The coach had declared that he wasn't permanently injured and he should just take it easy for a few days. By the time the rest of the class had returned to the locker room, Cole was already in the showers.

Isaac and I assumed our standard positions and stripped out of our uniforms, dropping them in our gym bags and wrapping towels around our waists. When we got in to the shower, however, we saw that Cole was using Isaac's usual spot. For other boys, this may have been no big deal. But, it sent Isaac in to a mini-panic attack. We had scoped out the showers and determined that the shower head in the corner was the only one from which Isaac could not be seen by others.

"Come on," I said softly. "We have to shower or Coach Anderson will write us up. We'll make it quick. It'll be okay."

Isaac just nodded, hoping that we could be in and out of there quickly.

I took a shower on the other side of the room from Cole, positioning myself between an empty shower head for Isaac and the door. I hoped this would be enough.

"Holy shit!" was all I heard before I knew what was about to happen. "Isaac's got a freak dick!"

It was Troy Baker, resident macho man and asshole. He was proud of being the most developed boy in the room, and the site of Isaac's substantial boyhood was apparently more than his tiny ego could handle.

"What the fuck, Isaac? What did you do, steal your mom's dildo and strap it on?"

Yeah, Troy. Very clever.

Before I could say anything, Isaac had turned the shower off and was wrapping his towel around his waist. Unfortunately, Troy's shouting had attracted Cole's attention, as well as the attention of the other boys in the locker room who hadn't quite made it to the showers.

"Shit, dude," Cole said, his eyes wide as he saw Isaac's cock before the shy boy could get it hidden behind the towel. "That's fucking massive."

Isaac tried to get out of the shower as quickly as possible, but Troy stepped in his way.

"Come on, Matthews," Troy said, reaching for Isaac's towel, "let's see if that thing's real."

Isaac struggled to keep his hands on his towel while Troy reached and began to pull it off. I tried to help my friend, grabbing Troy's arm and trying to pull it away. This only set the behemoth off. He stopped struggling with Troy's towel, and instead pushed me square in the chest, knocking me to the shower floor.

"Ge the fuck off of me, faggot. I don't want a naked guy all over me," he snarled, apparently not seeing the irony in the fact that he, too, was naked and trying to get a good look at Isaac's dick.

The sounds emanating from the showers brought in a handful more boys just as Troy succeeded in ripping Isaac's towel away from him. The struggle caused Isaac to lose his footing on the slippery tile floor. He fell flat on his back, exposing his full package to the entire shower room, including Troy, Cole, six other boys who had come in to see what the ruckus was, and Coach Anderson who followed the gaggle of nude and semi-nude boys.

Gasps and laughter erupted from the boys as the very thing Isaac had tried so hard to avoid was happening, and he was powerless to stop it. Cries of "damn," "shit," and "freak" echoed around the tiled walls, bouncing here and there and only amplifying Isaac's humiliation.

"What the hell is going on in here?!" Coach Anderson bellowed, pushing boys out of the way to get in to the showers.

"Nothing, coach," Troy smirked, "freak boy here just tripped."

Coach Anderson bent down and checked on Isaac, whose hands were fully cupping and attempting to cover his exposed boyhood.

"Fuck you, Troy!" I bellowed, now back to my feet. "You pushed him!"

"I did not, faggot!" the bully bellowed back, turning to face me. His face was red and his hands had balled in to fists at his side. He wasn't used to being challenged, especially not by someone small, like me. "At least now we see why you are always around Isaac. You want his freak cock, don't you? Fucking fairy!"

"Enough!" the coach yelled, in a voice loud enough to scare the assembled throng of boys in to stone silence. "Matthews, Franklin, go get dressed and wait for me in front of your lockers. Baker...my office, NOW!"

"But, I'm naked," Troy protested, suddenly uncomfortable.

"Tough shit, Baker. It didn't bother you while you insulted Eli, so why the hell should it bother you now? Get your ass in my office!"

Troy blanched and started lumbering his large, wet, naked body toward Coach Anderson's office.

Isaac and I headed back to our lockers, my face red with rage and Isaac's red from tears. He was humiliated, I could tell. The other boys, to their credit, kept the whispering and sideways glances at Isaac to a minimum, perhaps for no other reason than to avoid being screamed at by Coach Anderson.

Isaac didn't bother with his modesty position. The secret was out. Everyone knew what he was packing, and he just wanted to get covered back up. He pulled his jeans and t-shirt on over his wet body, not even bothering to dry himself.

For the next twenty minutes, Isaac and I sat in absolute silence on the bench in front of our lockers while Coach Anderson laid in to Troy. We couldn't hear everything, or see anything. The coach had closed the blinds in his office, sealing off his "fish bowl" for the first time all year. This, I just knew, could only mean trouble.

For the first ten minutes, we heard incomprehensible shouting punctuated with words like "irresponsible" and "inexcusable." "Bully" and "suspended" were peppered in there liberally as well. Whatever was happening in that office, it couldn't be good.

Then, things got eerily silent. We couldn't hear anything from the office, and even began to suspect that Coach Anderson and Troy had snuck out of the locker room without us noticing...somehow. Just as we were about to go knock on the office door and find out what was going on, Troy reemerged. He was walking a little funny, and seemed to be sweating. He didn't even acknowledge our presence as he rounded the corner of the office and returned to the shower.

"Boys," Coach Anderson said as he poked his head out the door, "why don't you two come in here?"

Nervously and quietly, we made our way through the door, which the coach shut and locked behind us. He gestured to a small couch against the wall and told us to take a seat.

"So, I've heard from Troy his side of the story. But, I want to hear your side, too. Franklin, you start. What happened in there?"

That was all I needed to pry open my mouth. Once I started, I couldn't stop. I talked about everything from me trying to keep people from spying on Isaac to Troy's first comment to him pulling the towel off and expose my friend. I was angry, shaking, and unable to control myself. With each sentence, I got more and more red.

"Okay, okay," Anderson said, attempting to calm me down. "That's enough, Eli. Matthews, is that what happened?"

Isaac didn't say anything. While I had been talking, he started to cry again. He just nodded his head between sniffles, his eyes boring holes in to the floor.

"Look, boys," the older man said as he straddled a chair directly in front of us, his legs spreading as he did so. "I spoke to Troy about what happened, and after a bit of prodding, his story matches up with yours. He admitted what he did, but not exactly why he did it. He said he pulled Isaac's towel off. But, I want to know why he did that. Can either of you tell me?"

We both looked at the floor. It wasn't my place to "out" Isaac to the coach, and he surely wasn't about to. For two long minutes, the three of us sat in silence.

"Boys, you need to be honest with me. I'm not letting you leave until someone can get me to understand why Troy would want to pull your towel off, Isaac."

Perhaps it was the tears and the humiliation or just a desire to get out of the room quickly, but Isaac stood up. In one fluid motion, he unbuttoned and lowered his jeans until they were in a puddle on the floor. Coach Anderson just stared.

"Oh. I see," he said, calmly. "So, you think Troy wanted to see your penis, Isaac?"

Isaac nodded, but made no move to pull up his pants.

"Were you afraid of letting the other boys see?"

Again, Isaac nodded.

"Why? All the boys have seen each other naked, and I know that you boys all steal glances at each other's bodies and penises."

Great. He broke the boy code.

"So, why are you afraid to be seen?"

Suddenly, Isaac found his voice. "Because I'm a freak, okay?"

He bent down to pull up his jeans, but the coach put his foot on the denim puddle.

"You are a not a freak, Isaac. Boys all have different sized penises. Yours just happens to be larger than the other boys'. That doesn't make you a freak."

"Yes it does. Even my dad calls me a freak! Everyone just stares and laughs."

"Well, they are staring because they are jealous. Trust me, a lot of boys...hell, most boys...would give anything to have a penis as big and nice as yours."

Isaac just stared at his own dick, lying flaccid and exposed, only inches from coach's face. I, on the other hand, kept bouncing my eyes back and forth between my friend's beautiful boyhood and the coach's eyes which, as well, were focused on the exposed flesh.

"Let me ask you something, boys. Do either of you consider me a freak?"

We both looked at him, then at each other. No, we didn't. In fact, since the start of the year both Isaac and I had come to admire Coach Anderson a lot. He was a lot younger than the rest of the teachers, treated us very fairly, and was a lot of fun to be around. He actually made us look forward to P.E.

"No, sir," I said for both of us. "We don't think you're a freak. You're kinda cool, actually."

"Thank you, Eli. That was kind of you. But, if Isaac is a freak, then I have to be."

"Why?" Isaac asked quietly.

Coach Anderson didn't respond. Instead, he stood up, unbuttoned his shorts, and lowered both the shorts and his jock strap down to his thighs. There in front of us was Coach Anderson's enormous cock. It had to be about seven inches soft, circumcised, and so thick that there was no way I would have been able to fit my hand entirely around it. It was the biggest thing I had ever seen in my life.

"Go ahead, boys. You can look at it. I want you to see it for a reason. And that reason is to show you that you are not a freak, Isaac. You are blessed to have that kind of equipment. Most guys don't know what it's like to have something that heavy and big to carry around, but I do. And there are girls...and guys...out there who would love nothing more than to be able to have some fun with that beautiful piece of equipment you are carrying. Trust me, you have something a lot of people are going to get really turned on by."

We both stared at the site in front of us. It was obvious that Coach Anderson took pride in his package. The hair on his crotch was trimmed very short, his shaft and balls shaved baby smooth. This only made it look even larger.

I looked over from the coach's cock to Isaac's. My cock was beginning to stiffen in my jeans and, much to my surprise, Isaac's was fattening up right in front of me. He was enjoying this! In front of my eyes, and only inches from my face, Isaac's boyhood reached its full potential. What I thought was about four inches when he was soft not stood probably six inches while he was hard; an enormously impressive sight on a 12-year-old. And, fuck, was he hard!

Isaac must have spaced out for a moment and not realized that he was boning up so much, because suddenly he reached down and tried to pull his jeans back up.

"Wait, Isaac," Coach Anderson said, his hand reaching out and touching Isaac's arm. "You don't need to pull those up yet. It's okay to get an erection. All boys do. Isn't that right, Eli?"

I squeaked a bit when he said my name and felt all the blood rush to my face. Oh, God, I thought to myself, can he tell that I'm hard too?"

"Eli, Isaac has an erection right now and that's perfectly normal. Do you have one too?"

I blushed hard, my eyes now returning to the spot on the floor I had gazed at just a short bit ago. I nodded without looking at either of them.

"Can...can I see it?" Isaac asked quietly. He had seen me naked many times, but never with a boner.

If the coach had asked, I may have said no. But, this was Isaac. This was my best friend the boy I swore to protect and look out for. He was like a brother to me. Hell, I liked him better than I liked my brother. I couldn't say no to him.

I stood up and unbuttoned my jeans, sliding them and my boxers down to my knees. My own cut boyhood, all four inches of it, sprang out like a race horse released from the gate. I was nervous and a bit embarrassed, but then Isaac did something I never expected. Without a word, he reached over and wrapped his hand around it.

"What...what are you doing?" I asked, so softly that I wasn't entirely sure that I had been heard.

"Is it okay?" Isaac asked, fear and apprehension in his voice. I couldn't respond. I merely nodded.

For a couple of minutes, the three of us stood in silence. Isaac gently rubbed his hand up and down my shaft while I, and Coach Anderson, watched. We were frozen in time, two young boys experiencing sexuality for the first time. Best friends realizing their attraction to one another, all under the watchful eye of their teacher and mentor.

"Does that feel good, Eli?" Coach Anderson asked, breaking me out of my spell.

I looked up at him, noticing that he, too, had gotten very hard. His cock stood at full attention, now more than nine inches of hard glory. His balls were beautiful. They were heavy, full, and hanging low beneath him. The skin was loose in the heat of the office.

"Yes, sir," I said, as I reached over and wrapped my hand around Isaac's cock. The feeling of it being in my hand for the first time was more than I could have hoped for. Though it was harder than I imagined, the skin itself was soft and baby smooth.

Isaac moaned softly as my hand, the first hand to ever touch his penis but his own, started rubbing up and down the shaft. For a moment, the two of us just stood there, eyes locked on each other's boyhoods, stroking back and forth.

With his free hand, Isaac reached over and, without a word, wrapped it around Coach Anderson's shaft. The older man gasped and closed his eyes.

"That...that feels good, Isaac. But, you don't have to do that."

"Can I? I kinda want to."

"Yes...you can if you want to," he sighed, nearly breathless.

I took that as a sign that it was okay, and I reached my free hand over to cup Coach Anderson's smooth and heavy balls. With my right hand, I stroked my best friend. With my left, I fondled my favorite teacher. Today was not ending how I thought it would.

"Boys, why don't you both take your clothes off completely, and sit down on the couch?" the coach said, breaking us from our cock-induced hypnosis.

We followed his request, stepping out of our pants and pulling our shirts over our heads. We resumed our places on the couch, Isaac sitting to my right. Our cocks throbbed and twitched in rhythm to our heartbeats, our young hormones racing in to overdrive.

Coach Anderson walked over to his desk, his dick bouncing as he did. Opening the bottom drawer, he pulled out a bottle of clear liquid.

"Have you boys had orgasms yet?"

"I...I don't know..." Isaac said while I shrugged my shoulders. It was true. At 12, we had both taken to playing with our own cocks at night, alone. But, neither of us had enough knowledge of sex or our own bodies to know what an orgasm was, let alone if we had had one yet.

"Well, let's see if I can change that."

He knelt in front of us and squeezed some of the clear liquid first over my cock and then over Isaac's. It was thick, slippery, and a bit cold. Then, he wrapped his right hand around my shaft and his left hand around Isaac's and began to stroke.

I nearly jumped out of my skin. The feeling was intense and not something I even knew my body could feel. His slippery, lube-covered hand worked up and down my shaft slowly. Each time his hand reached the tip of my penis, he would gently rub the head across his slick and soft palm. I squirmed under his touch.

"Oh, fuck!" Isaac moaned as the coach worked over his big shaft. We weren't supposed to curse, but at this point, I don't think the coach noticed nor cared. He was focused on our bodies, our cocks, and bringing us pleasure.

The coach started to stroke faster, his hand gliding up and down our boyhoods with amazing skill and passion. This wasn't a mechanical act. This was an act of affection and pure sexual desire. He didn't look at us as kids in that moment, but as newly developed sexual beings in need of release; in need of training.

"Oh, God," I moaned as my cock started to throb harder and harder. I could feel my balls retracting up in to my body and a wave of something strong starting to build in my gut. It felt so good, so powerful. Before I could figure out what it was, however, Isaac moaned louder than I have ever heard.

"SHIT!" he cried, causing my eyes to pop open and my gaze to fall on him. As he cursed and convulsed, on thick squirt of cum erupted from the tip of his beautiful cock, landing on his flat stomach. A second, smaller, squirt came next, followed by a few drops dribbling down the underside of his shaft and on to the coach's hand.

Immediately, I knew what the wave of pleasure building in my balls was. Moments later, my own cum shot from the head of my throbbing boyhood. Two heavy ropes landed on my belly in quick succession and, like Isaac, a bit more dripped out of me.

Coach Anderson removed his hands from our spent dicks. Leaning forward, first to Isaac and then to me, he extended his tongue and licked the dribble of cum off our cocks and lapped up the juice on our bellies.

Sitting back on the floor, his own massive manhood bouncing in tune to his heart, he smiled up at us.

"Did you like that, boys?"

We both nodded, panting and sighing our contentment.

"Good. Now, why don't you two shower and head home. I'll see you on Monday."

We smiled and stood, grabbing our clothes and taking them with us. Coach Anderson laid down on his couch. Just as I closed the door behind me, I saw him slip a finger in to his ass and start to stroke himself.