Sheldon's Nutshuckers and "Twachtman's Revenge"
Copyright© 2012 -- Nicholas Hall
Looking up into the clear, blue, October afternoon sky, beyond our earth, past our now hidden moon, visible in its full, white luminescence at night, toward the sun, white with fiery eruptions sending its rays to warm the cockles of my heart, I reached down, felt the increasing warmth in the crotch of my jeans, and quickly removed my hand. It wasn't the cockles of my heart the damned sun was warming; it was my cockles and balls! The sun's rays concentrated its glowing heat on my jeans zipper, aided by the heat absorbing blue jean material encasing my lower body giving me more than just a slight discomfort. As hot as my dick got, the only difference between me and a ball park hot dog was I didn't have a bun to stuff it in, right now anyway, maybe later, if Tony wants a quick game of hide the sausage after school. I just might leave little mayo in his bun.
The Nutshuckers, Tony Perez, Jakeil Davis, a sophomore, Tyler Wells, a junior, and I (Sheldon Miller, a freshman along with Tony) were enjoying a brief interlude from the vagaries of high school life along with the multitudes of other students milling around on the high school campus waiting for the police cars and fire trucks to leave once the "all clear" was sounded. Supposedly, all students would return in an orderly manner to classes and resume study in the most banal of subjects this last hour of the school day -- except, of course, those who said "fuck it" and left; you know, skipped, vamoosed, dodged, shot their wad, or whatever. If it was as orderly as those students bailing from the first floor windows of Jackson's math class, it'd be pure chaos. Poor Mr. Jackson, he should've retired years ago, but he stayed on; why I don't know, but he did. He became more befuddled every year, but his students still respected him-ha, ha and my dick's the size of Jakeil's. Wrong, on both counts boys and girls.
This was the third fire drill in as many weeks, ever since our precious Assistant Principal, Dr. Peter Twachtman (Pussyman) took a header from the stage at the Homecoming dance after fearing a harmless, very large, and perhaps hungry, bull snake would slither up his pants leg and either attach itself to his pecker or chew on his pea-sized balls. Not that he ever took steroids understand, that's reserved for professional athletes, but as a former wrestling coach, he probably ingested over the counter or by express mail, strengthening vitamins to enhance his performance -- his wrestling performance, not sexual. With a dick the size of his, it's probably similar to waving it around in a warm room if he has sex with anything other than his hand and then it's questionable.
Twachtman convinced the Principal, the Superintendent of Schools, and the Board of Education (now that's an oxymoron) the disturbance and debacle at Homecoming was instigated and promulgated by a gang of nere-do-well ignoramus, perverted thugs in a drug-induced stupor. "A group of hop-heads," he stated at the Board meeting; such a retro! The Board just had to allow him to rid our schools of this infestation, this pestilence corrupting our youth and bring back old-fashioned discipline. It was time, he said, "to stop coddling these ruffians, tighten up our security and bring order to chaos." Hell, you'd have thought he was running for political office on the evangelical ticket. To do all of this, he requested and received approval, to bring, unannounced, police drug-sniffing dogs into the school to ferret out the druggies and their dealers. If one were to believe his rhetoric, there were more drugs in the school than crossing the southern borders of the United States on a daily basis or in the teacher's lounge.
All of that makes good press, if it were true! For that matter, it still makes good press -- just listen to most presidential or congressional campaigns. A person doesn't necessarily need to tell the truth in order to be believed, just sound truthful or not, depending what the audience wants to hear. The extreme right on the Board of Education loved it! The evangelical preacher who stood up in support of the proposal was enthusiastic. "We will bring our wayward youth back to Jesus -- Praise the Lord -- Amen, I say, Amen," he shouted with religious ecstasy and rapture. I heard four old ladies came in their panties, they were so excited. Any skeptics on the Board or in the audience were shouted into silence with charges of neglect of our young people, being corruptors of our community, and relinquishing our lives to the lawless, the heathens among us. Nothing like a deluge of guilt tactics designed to produce shame, feelings of inadequacy, or defeatism to thwart any intelligent action.
It doesn't take a rocket scientist to realize if there were any baggies of pot or roaches in the building, they were long gone by the next day's lunch period. High school students aren't stupid or naïve, you know. Come on; give us a little credit at least, we're not "ducking fummies" for God's sake.
Twachtman was proud; strutting up and down the high school halls, gleeful he'd exact his pound of flesh, his emperor's tribute from those "little wretches," and celebrate his revenge. Two days after the Board Meeting, the cops showed up at school with the drug-sniffing dogs; really mean looking fuckers, gold badge around their bulging necks, teeth as sharp as pitchforks, big hairy balls swinging between their hind legs -- the dogs, not the cops. Sniffing and snuffling the lockers up and down the halls produced nothing (I told you high school kids aren't stupid), so the entourage, led by Pussyman, headed to the student parking lot, not the faculty lot, but the student lot. Bingo! Two hits on two cars and the accused were haul-assed off to the office. The autos were opened, voluntarily, of course after one of the officers produced a crowbar, saying "Your way or my way; makes no difference." There were so many noses plastered up against classroom windows watching the debacle in the parking lot, I'll bet it took three days for the custodial staff to clean off all the snot and slime which accumulated.
The first car was searched and under the front seat was what appeared to be a small bud of pot, enough to evidence proclaimed Twachtman gleefully, to prove what he'd known all along. The school was rampant with drugs. The poor boy, a Junior, was suspended and recommended for expulsion. The second car was a bit more interesting. An empty plastic bag was found tucked behind a rear seat along with a very used condom. They both had residue in them; one had a hint of pot and the other -- you know! This time the student proclaimed innocence; it wasn't his car, it belonged to his brother, home from college. Yeah, right, Twachtman believed that alright. Bullshit; no excuses, utter lies, off with his head shouted the Queen and the student was suspended and recommended for expulsion.
Twachtman should've paid more attention to the audience the night he made his presentation at the Board Meeting recommending the use of the drug-sniffing dogs. The second car, the one the student claimed was his brothers, did indeed belong to his brother, purchased for him to go to college, by the fundamentalist preacher who shouted the "Amens" at the Board Meeting. Oh, well! The Nutshuckers figured there was more than just table grace said that night at the dinner table in the parsonage. Tyler thought it was disgusting, finding a used condom in the backseat with "pussy juice" on it. It would've been different, according to him, if it had been used for "real sex," and winked at Jakeil.
You know, the funny thing is, Josiah, the preacher's kid who got expelled, is a really nice guy, even though his father is somewhat of a dork. Josiah's a good student, not a smart ass, and completely innocent. The closest acquaintance he had with pot was when he pissed in one or sat on it. His brother, however, was another story. It's often said when he traveled about the countryside sowing his wild oats on a Saturday night, he went to church on Sunday and prayed for a crop failure.
Twachtman's treatment of Josiah really pissed off the student body and many parents. It was going to prove to be a Pandora's Box Twachtman wished had never been opened. The next time the dogs appeared, unlike an apparition from Biblical days or incantations at a séance, someone pulled the fire alarm, we all bailed the premises, cars tore out of the parking lot, and the Nutshuckers relaxed on the lawn.
Once rolled over to shield my crotch from the sun and present my ass for the same heat treatment, peering to my left, I saw Tony smiling at me, eyeing my firm butt, with evil thoughts galloping rampant in his mind. Yeah, I thought to myself, but not here! Our silent sexual reverie was interrupted by Clayton Johnson and his boyfriend, Lou Pianetta, scampering across the lawn. Clay was pulling the much taller Lou by the hand as they joined us. Only Clay and Lou could get by with such a public display of affection for each other. After all, who's going to confront Lou and tell him `no'? Not I said the tortoise to the hare. Remember, Lou was the guy in fourth grade who grabbed another boy by the balls, threatening to serve his morsels to him for lunch. Lou wasn't' that muscular, slim, wiry, a few tattoos, ears pierced, a senior with a serious reputation, and just plain, drop-dead, fucking handsome! I'd roll that in the lawn in an instance if I wasn't fearful he could pinch his ass-cheeks so tight he'd make a capon out of my rooster.
"Hey, Guys," shouted Clay, "guess what?"
"You just came in your shorts at the sight of me," answered Tyler.
"No, you silly goose," giggled Clay, "I don't wear boxers anymore."
"Well," pondered Tyler, "let me inspect the insides of your jeans and see what encloses that cute, perky, little butt of yours."
"I don't think Lou would approve of that, Tyler," I cautioned, looking a Lou and then Tyler.
Lou just smiled as he always seemed to do when around Clay, raised his eyebrow, and slipped his arm protectively around his younger boyfriend. As a freshman, Clay was younger than all of us in his class and for him to be steady with a good looking senior such as Lou, well, that was something to really be pleased about and Lou was definitely pleased about it. His actions while standing there clearly sent a message near and far, "fuck with a truck and you'll get run over."
Clay smiled up at Lou, slipped his own hand under Lou's shirt in the back, caressed his bare skin while working the small hand toward the front, until it sunk out of sight into Lou's crotch, and continued, "Friday is my birthday and I'll be fourteen. Lou's taking me out for dinner at his Uncle's restaurant, but I'd like to have an overnight party at my house this weekend and invite you guys."
"Keep doing that to Lou," interrupted Tyler, "and I'll come in my shorts!"
The Nutshuckers all sounded off how fun it would be, but Tyler had to work Saturday, Tony had household duties on Friday and Saturday, and Jakeil had to baby-sit his younger brother on Saturday while his Mom worked. Clay's face fell, a look of utter dejection plastered all over it. He wanted to have a party to celebrate his birthday and the individuals he considered his best friends and protectors, other than Lou, were unable to share it with him.
Lou pulled him closer, allowing Clay's hand to settle around that part of him he most desired it to be, looked at me, raised an eyebrow and asked knowingly, "Any other suggestions, Sheldon?"
I'm beginning to think Lou knows more about the four of us than we realize. "Well," I started, "the four of us often get together at my house on Sunday evenings to watch the tube, scarf up some snacks, play some games, and spend the night together. We leave from my place to school the next morning. By doing this, it doesn't interfere with work, chores, or other activities and gives us the time together we want." I wasn't about to share with Clay and Lou how "together" we were since I wasn't certain they'd quite understand the relationship the four of us shared.
Lou smiled, winked at me, leaned over a bit, pressing his face closer to Clay as Clay's fingers began to wiggle in Lou's crotch, and asked, "How about that, my Sweet Boy, an overnight party Sunday at your house?"
Clay was so happy you'd have thought Lou fucked him right there, standing on the high school lawn, instead of him currently diddling with Lou's fiddle.
"Sunday afternoon, my house," he exclaimed, "we'll have cake and ice cream, all sorts of things to eat and munch on, spend the night, and play some games," wagging his eyebrows quite seductively at the last. "Seriously," he said, "no presents please, guys, just having you as friends' means more than anything else."
God, how nice! Perhaps we weren't all bad and nerdy, someone liked us after all.
"Shit," scowled Tyler, "I just came in my shorts and Jakeil wasn't even prodding my love button with his prodigiously proper, plump, prick."
The rest of us chortled over Tyler's messy predicament as "all clear," "get your asses back in the building," sounded and students started slowly re-entering the building. After extracting his hand from Lou's pants front, Clay and Lou walked back in with us. On the way in, Clay asked if we'd heard about the large group of parents attending the school board meeting the next week to demand the administration stop harassing the students.
"My dad says the Fire Chief is going to attend," he chattered, "I guess he's getting mighty tired of sending fire trucks to the high school all the time. His daughter is a senior and she and her boyfriend and his two brothers always evacuate together and sometimes don't make it back in along with the others."
Clay stopped momentarily, looked at us quizzically, and quite seriously pondered aloud, "Do you think their doing some serious fucking while waiting for the fire trucks leave?"
"I don't think so," responded Tyler, "I'll bet she is just helping them pack their hoses away."
Lou laughed, Clay punched Tyler on the arm, and Jakeil tried to slip his hand down the back of Tyler's pants and sink a digit into his ass crack. Jakeil was just as horny as his three cousins fucking the fire chief's daughter. I'll be she knows what it's like to be "plowed wide and deep" after a session with those three. Our frolic came to a halt when the Spanish teacher, Ms. Wenzel, trotted up toward us, shooing students to class.
I think every school must have at least one Ms. Wenzel. You know, so wrapped up in their subject, they don't even know the rest of the world exists; ditzy and naïve, those who think "balls" are something you bounce and "pecker" is attached to a chicken's beak.
"Boys," she admonished, "let's go to class."
Tyler turned to me and said, "O.K., guys, eat the banana."
"Oh, no, Tyler," she corrected, "its `hasta manana,' not `eat the banana.'"
"I'm sorry, Ms. Wenzel," Tyler apologized, "I'll try to remember that in the future," and winked at me. He is such a con, I can't believe it. He only took one semester of Spanish, but works it for all he is worth. Ms. Wenzel just smiled prideful at him.
Before we parted company, each to his own separate class, Lou commented, in a serious tone, "I hear, from a reliable source, Twachtman's going to have the sniffer dogs at the Board meeting for a demonstration and to defend his use of them," and gave Clay a quick kiss and headed off to class. Lou and I talked more today than any time since Clay first introduced him to me.
Sunday evening, Tyler drove us to Clay's house. Shit, man, it was nice! I guess having a doctor for a dad and an emergency room nurse for a mother gives them a little higher standard of living than the rest of us. The way Clay acts, you'd never know they had some bucks. His Mom and Dad greeted us, we introduced ourselves, and were shown into the recreation room where Clay and Lou waited. Clay's excitement was contagious, causing us to smile and his parents to beam. We did chip in and get him a gift certificate at Paul's Pizza Parlor where Tyler worked and Clay was very appreciative, although insisting we shouldn't have. Yes, we should; Clay is a neat guy and our friend.
We were on our best behavior for cake and ice cream. After our treats, Clay surprised us by inviting us to the living room and asked Lou to play a birthday recital for him. O.K., this is the guy with pierced ears, several tattoos, threatens to stuff someone's balls up their ass, and rides a motorcycle; give me a break, what's he gonna play, Chopsticks? Lou sat down at the Johnson's baby grand piano in the corner of the room, confidently exposed the keyboard, perched himself on the edges of the piano bench just like you see the guys in the funny black suits do on television, lifted his hands, and began a medley of romantic compositions by Chopin, Strauss, and Brahms.
Shocked the shit out of us, I'll have you know! Don't look so damned smug, if you'd been there, you would've reacted the same way we did; mouths open, flummoxed to say the least. At least we weren't standing with our dicks out. When he finished, we clapped (of course) and Clayton's folks bid us "Good night" after telling us the refrigerator in the recreation room was well stocked with soda and there were trays of snacks and pizza to heat up if we wanted.
"No booze," admonished Dr. Johnson.
"Yes sir," we replied in unison. I wanted to add, we're not into booze, only serious tag-team "fawking", but I didn't.
Clay locked the rec. room door and he and Lou spread sleeping bags out on the floor. You know as well as I what that portends for the Nutshuckers, however, in a strange house with two people we weren't certain would understand the energies we directed toward each other or want to participate, we were hesitant. The problem was solved for us when Lou stepped up behind Clay, nuzzled his neck, then moved his face forward to begin planting soft, gentle kisses on the face and lips of his lover, slowing slipping Clay's shirt up his torso and over his head. Once that obstacle was removed, Lou slid his hands down Clay's stomach to his waist, causing his young boyfriend to shudder and giggle in delight, anticipating what was to come. The Nutshuckers were instantly hard watching the erotic scene playing before us.
Lou unbuckled and unzipped Clay's britches, allowing them to slip to his ankles where Clay quickly divested himself of them. Standing before us, clad only in very skimpy, baby-blue, string bikinis was the cutest little shit you'd ever want to lay your eyes on or stick a cock in for that matter. The tent in the front of those baby-blues betrayed Clay's desire for Lou. Lou stuck a thumb in each side of the tiny bit of cloth covering and undressed Clay to his natural state, five inch cock flipping up and down as Lou ran his forefinger up the length of it.
It certainly didn't take the rest of us to go native, hard prongs leading the way. Once that prodigious prick of Jakeil's was exposed, Tyler laid claim to "firsts" by dropping to his knees, giving it a quick suck, before he stood, maintaining contact with one hand firmly around it while we all watched Clay turn and begin disrobing Lou. Lovingly, he removed each article of clothing from his lover, carefully placing them on a nearby chair, until, like Clay, Lou standing before him clad in a pair of baby-blue string bikinis, identical to Clays, but with a much larger tent in the front. Lou was just as I imagined; lean, svelte, fit with just the right muscle definition to present himself as one fucking, gorgeous hunk, sexy beyond sexy. Clay sensuously, slowly maneuvered those baby-blues down past Lou's crotch to his knees, we were reward with the view of a very fine, six and a half to seven inch, very stiff cock. It was a bit bigger than mine, thicker, fatter, smaller than Tony or Jakeil (I mean, who wouldn't be), but should fit where it was destined, with a little effort of course.
O.K.; I'm just as curious as you are, right? I meandered over to Lou, the best part of me pointing the way like a compass in a storm, until I stood close enough to feel the heat radiating from both Lou and Clay at they stood smiling and making google-eyes at each other. Lou turned from his boyfriend, looked me over from head to toe and back before settling his gaze on my crotch and just as I was about to ask the question, seeking the answer all of you and I want to know the answer to, Lou whistled softly, "Wow, Sheldon, you have big balls and they're low hangers too. May I?" and reached forward to cup my sack and roll my nuggets gently about in his hand. I almost blew the cannons out of the Alamo in one blast!
"Geez, they are," added Clay, adding his small hand to the massage parlor going on below my stiff dick. Of course, I couldn't resist and returned the favor, slicking my hand up and down that soft, but or so hard, phallus of Clays, before asking Lou, "Do you really have a tattoo on your dick proclaiming your championship in Chattanooga, Tennessee?"
"Examine it if you wish, but no tattoo there," replied Lou.
Examine it if I wish? Do elephants fart and little boys get stiffies?
You damned right I wanted to get my hand wrapped around the length of it. Running my hands around his erection, up and down, and up and down, I could only conclude, after seeing the head began to bulge a bit, he was correct -- no tattoos on his dick, but there was a beautiful, red rose on his right groin area just a bit to the right of his neatly trimmed pubes. Trimmed so Clay wouldn't cough up a hair ball or something, I should think, don't you? Lou had some other tattoos on his body and none of them read "Mother" or "Born to ride." They were really quite decorative, adding elegance to his nakedness.
"Isn't he just gorgeous?" remarked Clay softly while rubbing his hands easily across Lou's chest and down to his crotch causing Lou's penis to twitch up and down, eager to find a home for the night.
"Yes, he is," I answered in all honesty. Clearly, Clay was besotted with his boyfriend and Lou with him.
Clay and Lou settled down for the night with Clay lying on Lou, face to face, while he wiggled around, slowly sliding down Lou's torso until that generous appendage of Lou's touched its mark. Clay sighed, slipped back more, and with one small push, lodged that missile deep up his chute. It was obvious it had been there before, because when Lou began his gently thrusts up, not a sound of pain erupted from Clay, but little sighs and gasps of pleasure.
Tony and I paired up, with me checking Tony's prostate with my special prostate checker, and Tyler rose up on his hands and knees, prepared to take that massive schlong of Jakeil's doggy style. As Jakiel began the long push that Tyler loved so well, cinching Jakeil's magic wand securely and deeply in his depths, Clay rose up off of Lou's slick probe, interrupting his rhythm, and scooted over to Tyler.
"Is that long dong really all the way up inside you?" he asked in amazement. "How do you take such a monster up your ass?"
"I don't know if I have it all or not," replied Tyler, "wiggle around up front and look in my mouth and take a look."
Clay, as naïve as he can be sometimes, did as requested, peered into Tyler's open mouth and announced, "All I see is a tongue and teeth -- no cock!"
"Well, then," instructed Tyler, "lean across my back and see if you can feel whether or not Jakeil is buried as deep as he can go. You won't be able to slip your hand around if he is."
Lou started to smile, I stopped in mid-stroke, and Tony and I turned to our sides to watch.
Clay leaned forward, ran his hand down Tyler's backbone until he was able to slip his hand down to Tyler's really stretched pucker and, finding no cock exposed and left to insert, suddenly let out a "Oh, my goodness!" as Tyler sprung his trap and slurped Clay's boner clear to the pubes, and began to suck.
"Oh, oh, oh, you are a naughty boy," giggled Clay, giving it a couple of pushes for good measure. "No one but Lou has ever done that to me before," and scampered back to his lover for reassurance. Settling back on his favorite perch, Clay leaned forward as Lou wiggled a couple of times to seat himself properly, and gave his lover a kiss on the lips. It was a good laugh for all of us.
During the night, I rose from my comfortable position, nestled up tight against those delightful mounds of Tony's and weaved my way through the inert, sleeping bodies on the floor, to the bathroom to relieve the pressure in my bladder. Returning, I was stepping softly so as not to awaken anyone, when Lou whispered, "Shell, come here and join us for a second."
Walking over to where he and Clay were stretched out, Clay prone on top of him, head resting under Lou's chin, sleeping peacefully, soundly, Lou continued, "Crawl under the blanket with us."
Not one to disobey such a delightful offer, I slipped under the covers, snuggling my naked body up against his equally naked form, my little soldier stood up and saluted as I asked, "Do you want me to -- you know -- bury the sausage for a little `piggy in the middle'?"
"No, not this time," he answered as he stroked Clay's back. Clay was lying tummy to tummy, with Lou's stiff pole up his chute.
"Isn't he beautiful?" Lou remarked admiringly, "I'm so lucky."
I had to agree with him; Clay was a real sweetheart and we all loved him dearly. Of course, Jakeil would really like to love him, but the rest of us were fearful Jakeil would cripple the poor boy. We lay side by side a moment before Lou put an arm around me and pulled me close enough so my cock rested up against his thigh. Not wanting to miss the moment, I pumped a couple of times just to check to see if he was as smooth as he looked -- he was!
"Actually," he whispered, "I just wanted to talk to you about Twachtman." Pausing, he inquired, "Are you and the Nutshuckers planning on doing anything to stop the bullshit at school?"
My dingus took a header, drooping almost immediately, and began shrinking back until I thought there'd be no discernible difference between penis and scrotum. He knew; how were we found out? Before I could speak, as if I were able to do so, he reached over my shoulder and fondled what was left exposed of my cock and balls.
"Quit your worrying; you're so frightened, you've gone so soft you're almost a capon and those balls and fine shaft of yours are too admirable to be secreted away by fear. There's little going on in high school that I'm not aware of."
Finally finding my voice and appreciative of the comforting massage Lou was affording me, in hopes of alleviating my deteriorating condition, I felt life returning to the magic staff as I answered, "No, we haven't been able to think of anything yet. Perhaps by the Board of Education meeting this week, we will have though."
"Don't fuss about it," he said, continuing to fuel my rocket, "I'm certain something will come up between now and then." Something certainly did, and it wasn't an idea concerning Twachtman. In the morning, before everyone awakened, I crawled back in with Tony and gave his sheath covered horn an "ah toot" to waken him. He sounded quite a tune and I was able to enjoy every note.
The night of the Board of Education meeting, Tony had to babysit his two younger brothers; Jakeil's mother had to work, so he drew similar duty and; Tyler was working at Paul's Pizza Parlor so none of them could attend. I copped a ride along with Mom and Dad and Clay and Lou arrived and sat with Clay's parents. The auditorium was full; jam packed tighter than a double-fucked straight boy in a gay frat house.
The Board of Education was seated on the stage when the President of the Board called the meeting to order. We all stood for the Pledge of Allegiance, and when finished and seated once again, each member of the Board introduced him or herself. The Superintendent of Schools, Dr. Winslow, explained the purpose of the meeting and introduced Dr. Twachtman.
Twachtman's such a dork, but he sounded quite convincing as he explained how our school was a haven for druggies and how he was obligated to keep order, provide a safe environment for learning, and promote clean living and all of the rest of the bullshit he was spreading on the field in hopes of greening up the pastures -- so to speak.
"Through the use of these highly trained, specialized canines," he explained, "we lessen the presence of drugs in our school, protect our young boys and girls, prevent mistakes in identification and location of concealed illegal narcotics, and provide the visible presence of our concerns through these canine police officers. Nothing, I repeat, nothing can distract them from their duty; they succeed where humans fail. To prove my point, I've asked two officers and their partners to join us on stage for a demonstration. The police have planted a small quantity of cannabis, marijuana to most of you, somewhere here on the stage. These dogs will locate it and prove my point."
From the right side of the stage, the officers emerged, each holding the leash of a police dog. Remember them, sharp, pointy teeth, big hairy balls dangling between their legs, and really mean looking fuckers; the dogs, not the cops, O.K.? Twachtman stepped toward the front of the stage, well away from Board of Education, and allowed the dogs to begin their sniffing and snuffling.
It was at this point, as the old saying goes, "The best lain plans of mice and men..," the planned demonstration began to go awry a bit- not really a bit- more like "balls up" if you know what I mean. Both dogs, male German Shepherds, instead of doing as their handlers commanded, focused their eyes and noses on Twachtman. If you looked closely, you could see the pink tips of their doggy dicks begin to poke out from their sheaths as they pulled their handlers ever closer to a very nervous Twachtman. The closer they got to him, the more panicky he became, eyes widening, swallowing nervously, fear transforming a confident man into a quivering mass of flesh. He tried backing up, to stay away from the creatures, but one of them (the dogs not the cops) somehow maneuvered behind him and nosed him in the ass.
Twachtman whooped with surprise as the canine's slobbery muzzle pushed his pants up into his ass crack with one mighty thrust. Our esteemed vice-principal turned to face his furry assailant and the second dog leg-locked Twachtman's leg, about thigh-high I should think as best as I could observe from where I was sitting, and began heartily humping him. The dogs action, combined with its weight, tumbled Twachtman to the floor. Now, boys and girls, you know and I know when faced with a big, horny dog, never, never, never try to crawl away on your hands and knees. When Tyler gets in that position, Jakeil knows what to do and so did the dogs!
Mounting Twachtman with the ease of an experienced cowboy settling in the saddle of his favorite pony or as slick as the greased finger of your doctor poking past your pucker to palpitate your prostate, the first hairy, horny hound began pounding that suit covered ass as if drilling for oil in the Arabian Desert was the ultimate goal. The audience was aghast at the bucolic bestiality buggering displayed before them.
Twachtman really began to panic when doggy number two decided, when denied the rear action, a frontal attack might achieve the same results and soon became nose to nose with poochie number one. Oh, my -- such a sight unfolding before our virgin eyes. Did you close your eyes? Neither did I, this was a parade of puppies I wasn't going to miss.
Just when I feared, actually anticipated with great delight, the first humping, horny, hound would knot Twachtman up the ass, suit pants and all, Mrs. Fairweather, one of the Board of Education members, picked up two pitchers of ice water placed on the table to wet the whistles of members of the Board of Education should they become parched while listening to dry subjects, walked over the dancing dogs and sloshed water over them and Twachtman, dampening the ardour of the contradicting, canine, copulators. Peckers pointing south (the dogs, not the cops), the critters were hustled off of the stage by their handlers while a school board member assisted Twachtman as he left from the opposite side.
Once order was restored, the President of the Board of Education was going to bring the meeting to a close, when Dr. Johnson, Clay's dad, stood and, speaking to the Superintendent, asked, "Dr. Winslow, does Dr. Twachtman generally attract dogs in such a manner or just when he's in heat?" The President of the Board of Education slammed down his gavel and the meeting was over.
Saturday afternoon, when the Nutshuckers gathered at Paul's Pizza Parlor during Tyler's break to discuss the Board of Education meeting, Clay bounded in the door, giggling delightfully while clasping Lou's hand, urging him to move faster. From what I overheard at Clay's birthday party, walking faster wasn't the only thing Clay urged Lou to do at a faster pace.
Smiling, as he stood next to our table, leaning back against Lou, Clay said excitedly, "Guess what?"
"You just made Lou cum in his shorts," answered Tyler.
Clay turned quickly, with an incredulous look on his face, and asked, "Did I, really?"
Lou shook his head, took a deep breath, and replied, "You know I don't wear boxer shorts, you silly goose," and ushered Clay into the booth next to Tony and me. Now, four on a side in a restaurant booth is a bit crowded, so Clay sat on Lou's lap. Once he'd wiggled his perky, little butt a bazillion times on Lou's crotch, evidently trying to get comfortable or stiffen Lou's resolve, he began again.
"My dad says, Twachtman was granted a month's medical leave to seek counseling and to deal with his nervous relapse and there won't be any dogs allowed in the building in the future."
"Son-of-a-bitch anyway," bemoaned Jakeil, "and I missed it all."
"I wonder what set the dogs off?" I asked.
The booth was quiet for a couple of minutes before Lou said, "Did I ever tell you guys my cousin runs a kennel that breeds German Shepherds?" He casually reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small spritzer bottle. "If he can't get a stud to mount a bitch, he sprays her ass with some of this shit -- a very powerful pheromone. If you should accidently get any of this on your pants from the car seat or your office chair, every dog in the county will want to fuck you."
Thank you for reading "Sheldon's Nutshuckers and Twachtman's Revenge." I hope you enjoyed the further adventures of our high school friends.
Other stories of mine can be found at Nifty Prolific Authors or you may browse from the list below:
Nifty- Beginnings - "Table Number Five" -- January 18, 2012
Nifty- Beginnings -"The Carpenter and the Piano Man" -- January 24, 2012
Nifty-Beginnings -- "Gillie" -- January 31, 2012
Nifty-High School - Sheldon's Nutshuckers
"The Stinky Pinky" -- February 14, 2012.
"The Head of Medusa" -- March 8, 2012
Nifty- Beginnings --"Last House on the Left" -- February 21, 2012
Nifty-College -- "First of May" -- February 29, 2012
Nifty- Beginnings -- "The Heart of a Dancer" -- April 4, 2012
Nifty-Beginnings -- "Parker's Love" -- April 26, 2012
The Literary works of Nicholas Hall are protected by the copyright laws of the United States of America and are the property of the author.
Positive comments are welcome and appreciated at: firstname.lastname@example.org