Date: Thu, 15 Aug 2019 07:24:48 +1000 From: Aussie Jock Subject: Boarding school gay club 1 Hey folks! I've been lurking on Nifty for quite a while now, but I finally have a story that I'm happy enough with to publish here. If you have any thoughts or feedback, please email me at bigaussiejock@gmail.com I love to chat about writing and sexual stories of any kind! As you've likely guessed, this story contains material of a sexual nature between young men. If this is offensive to you or illegal for you to read, then stop now. Similarities to any people or places are entirely coincidental, and this is a work of pure fiction. Please consider donating to nifty so we can all read great stories: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html ------------------------------------------------------------------ My stomach was a furious mix of fear and excitement at Melbourne Grammar. The boarding house was fancy as fuck and cute guys lined the halls, but it was also one of the most conservative all boy schools in the country, and I had gym on my first day of classes. Hardly optimum circumstances for a closeted gay teen. I woke up at 8 with a raging erection. Only half an hour till class and barely enough time to get dressed and to breakfast, let alone rub one out. I tried to pick the most concealing and plain underwear, jamming my disobedient cock beneath layers of cotton and polyester. My books were stacked on the desk underneath my laptop, so I scooped the pile up into my bag, threw on my blazer and made for the door, only to step into the hallway with no shirt on. "Forgot something Callum?" called George, my neighbor. He seemed pretty dopey at first, but he'd been nice enough to help me moving my shit into my room, so he couldn't be all that bad. I stepped back into my room, hoping to god that no one else had seen me and that the rest of the day wasn't going to be such a shit show. I ran down the corridor to the canteen where breakfast would be wrapping up soon. George gave me a knowing grin as he passed me at the door, but not one sly enough as to indicate that he'd told anyone about my slip up this morning. I ignored everyone else who were already packing up they trays, grabbing some toast from the breakfast bar, and heading straight for my first class, a double period introduction to Latin. Learning the dead language seemed to be a hallmark of pretentious private schools, but I was vaguely interested, and it was much better than another maths or science subject. I reached the room right on half past, ready to make up some excuse if required, but the room was just filled with students milling around desks. I sat a desk close to the window and as far away from the clusters of my peers and caught my breath. My Latin teacher turned out to be alright, against all conceivable odds. Half expecting some ancient weirdo to step in for class, I was just about floored to see a 20 something guy take his place behind the front desk, phone in one hand and the massive textbook in the other. No one else seemed to have noticed him, and continued their busy chattering, but I was totally captivated from the start. He looked up from his phone and stole a quick glance of the room, his piercing, steely blue eyes focused by plain black frame glasses. His nostrils flared ever so slightly as though he could smell the fresh students, anxious to mask their scent with far too much of the trendiest deodorant. For a moment it looked as though his tightly pursed lips might turn to a frown and then a yell for the class' attention, but he just gave a slight grin and raised his arm and the textbook up a meter. I could spy the creases of his shirt folding and moulding around a surprisingly built frame for a humanities teacher. I was just starting to imagine the line of his bicep when he let the book fall from his hand and land with a loud thud on the hardwood desk. "About time to start, don't you think?" he enquired confidently as an awkward hush fell over the students. He gave a shake of his head as the class was filled with the sound of squeaking chairs as the class rushed to sit down. The class sped by without interruption after that. He was a little nerdy, as one might expect of a young Latin teacher called Mr Bartholomew, but he let us call him Mr B for ease, and he kept a language class more interesting than any I'd had before. Not that I cared much for the content. As curious as I was about Latin, it didn't take much for Mr B's looks to dominate my attention. Any time he turned to write on the board, I couldn't help but stare at his ass, sculpted by tight fitting chinos. When the bell rang for the next class, he was out the door before any of the students had left their desks, claiming he had a meeting or something to attend. My eyes darted to every part of him as he rushed out, and the beast trapped under my zipper stirred ever so slightly. It quickly returned to its slumber though when I realised he'd made notes of our first assignment on the board without me even realising. I copied the key points to a scrap of paper and deposited it in my blazer pocket before following the rest of the stragglers to lunch. The light breakfast and all that staring at Mr B had left me starving, but I wanted to keep things light since I had gym this afternoon. I wasn't going to let too much food ruin my performance with a stitch on the first day, or the six pack I'd be working on. I didn't care much for fame or popularity, but I definitely had something to prove. Some of the other guys were watching me as I sat alone at lunch. Weighing me up with their eyes, seeing what this new, quite kid was all about. I was just deep in thought, split between Mr B's bouncy behind and the upcoming gym class. It took the bell to break me from my spell and I quickly made my way to maths. It was a mediocre lesson that seemed to drag on forever. I was in the middle of the road class, not dumb enough for fundamentals, but not dedicated enough for specialised, so general mathematics for me. The teacher was an older lady who had a colour coordinated wardrobe and smelled like daisies and stale dreams; nice, but boring. The end of the lesson gave a sweet feeling of relief, eventually engulfed by the creeping dread of afternoon PE. I took my time walking to the gym, not wanting to arrive too early, and found a spot in the middle of the group of boys filing in through the doors. The PE teacher was already in the gym, directing the horde of boys to the locker room to get changed into our sports uniform. As soon as I passed the threshold I felt like I'd hit a brick wall. The smell of body spray and sweaty teens was intense and there were half naked guys everywhere. I tried not to be stunned for too long and pushed through to a quiet corner where I set down my gym bag. Instead of lockers there were just wooden shelves to keep our shit on. Good, because the clear lack of belongings in this area meant I was less likely to be around anyone come the end of class. Bad, because anyone could just come up and steal or move my shit if they wanted. I quickly stripped off my blazer, shirt, shoes, socks and pants, throwing them unceremoniously to the back of my shelf. I took a deep breath, standing only in my skins which I'd worn as underwear for just this occasion. They were professional looking for sports, so others knew I meant business, but they also kept my ever misbehaving junk under control. Anyone who saw me in this moment would see thin guy, slightly sculpted, with those abs I'd worked so hard for and thick legs from plenty of long distance running. Nothing special, but enough above average to show that I was committed to something if not my homework. I pulled out some sports shorts from my bag and slipped them over skins, also putting on my sports socks, runners and a plain black sports shirt. In fact, everything I was wearing was black, and I hoped that I wouldn't stand out against the crowd. I exited the locker room without running into anyone, but I could hear the classic banter of jocks as they too walked back out into the gym and sat on the stands, waiting for further instructions. The PE teacher, some overly upbeat guy in his thirties, announced that we'd be starting off with cross country running to see what everyone's endurance was like. With that, all my prayers were answered. This was my forte and I could push through it without thought and get this first day over. The run itself was easy, taking us around the entirety of the campus and the neighboring forest, and while the short obstacle course at the end was unexpected, it didn't prove too difficult either. I kept up with the front of the pack without any extra effort, only a few other guys ahead of me. By the time we'd reached the gym, it was already time to wrap up for class, and the coach sent us straight to the locker room to shower and change. I wondered back and forth as to whether it was better to wait for me to wait for the hot guys to clear the showers or to go in with the rest to seem less weird about it. Waiting was sure to make me stand out, but if I went in with all the hot teen guys, I'd be bound to pop a boner. I decided to take my chances with the shower and stripped off, stowing my sweaty gear in my gym bag and wrapping my towel around my waist. The shower room was pretty much as I'd feared. No cubicles, no curtains, just crisp white tiles and one short dividing wall down the center. The majority of the guys were gathered under the shower heads on the right side, so I made my way to the back left corner, careful not to look towards the naked bodies of my peers. I dropped my towel on a hook along the middle wall and turned on the water. Even facing away from the other people in the shower room, I could almost feel the heat of their naked bodies across the room. I felt a single strong beat of my heart in my head and I knew where the blood was going. I calmly reached out for the taps and turned up the cold, hoping to chill my rising hormones. Then I felt a tap on my shoulder. If the freezing water hadn't numbed my skin, I would have gone through the ceiling. I turned to see who the fuck would be touching other guys in the shower on the first day of school. The perpetrator was fucking cute for one thing. His face was soft and slightly rounded and his hair still dry and scruffy. His eyes seemed to be assessing me, but never moving, as though he was seeing all of me at once. And then my eyes wandered downward, just for a millisecond. Fuck fuck fuck. My gaze snapped back upward, but he'd already seen. He couldn't help but crack a smirk, knowing that he'd caught me. I turned back to the wall and hoped he'd go quietly, and thankfully he did. I waited a long extra minute to let the air clear and to scold myself. And for what? I didn't even get a proper look at what he was packing. I very cautiously looked around the room as I turned off the shower and in a continuing stroke of post-catastrophe luck, everyone else had already left. Even luckier again, because I'd over done the cold water and my poor cock and balls were struggling to stop themselves from shriveling up into my body. I grabbed my towel from the hook and made my way back to my things in the locker room. I was still a little rattled by the shower room, but no so much that I didn't notice some of my things had moved around. Fuck. Someone had stolen my shit. I picked through everything, especially looking out for my phone and wallet, and all my stuff was accounted for. At the very bottom of everything though, I found a plain white business card. On the front it read MG Gay Club in thick black cursive text. Flipping it over the rest specified one of the buildings on campus, The Ballroom, and a time of 10:10pm that evening. Just beyond curfew. My stomach was quickly tying itself into a knot of fear and excitement. I could all be a trap, a sick prank, but it could also be other gay guys, amongst all the smoking hot men at this school. Over the next six hours and all throughout dinner, I agonised over the card. I was tired of watching my back and I was so gosh darn horny. I laid on my bed, tossing and turning till 9:58, when I finally mustered the courage to get up, put on the darkest clothes I had, and slipped out of my room into the hallway. You'd expect at an all boys high school that there would be security or teachers out at night to make sure no one was getting into mischief, but the dorm was completely quiet. The Ballroom was exactly what it sounded like. A massive classical ballroom in a building that bridged the dorms and the rest of the school buildings. It's off limits to students unless there's an event on. In fact, the door and hallway leading to it have a number of signs informing students that this area is off limits day to day, an yet as I got closer, I noticed the door was ajar. Stepping inside the room, there was person standing in the centre of the room. A mountainous figure, dimly light, but enough to make out his bulging muscular arms protruding from a American football jersey and a helmet covering his face. The only part of him not kitted out to look like a gridiron player was his lower half, which was completely lacking any clothes at all. His bare legs were thick, hairy and led up to a short, girthy, angry looking hard on. My body took a step toward him before my mind could catch up with the situation, but I didn't seem to trigger any traps. Instead, I heard a voice from the mezzanine balcony which was completely dark. "Welcome to the jock test. Suck this lovely gentleman off and if you can make him cum before we get bored, you're in the club." The footballer stood completely still, but I could see his cock pulsate in anticipation. I umm'd and arrr'd back and forth in my mind for a moment, but I hadn't come all this way to back down now, especially when the body across from me looked so inviting. I walked up to the jock and could hear his laboured breath beneath his helmet. He was really turned on by this. I still couldn't see his face, primarily because he was a full head taller than me. I knelt down in front of him, my eyes level with his manhood. It was much thicker than I'd previously been able to see. It was one of those fabled beer can dicks, thicker in the middle with folds of foreskin bunching around the base of a fat purple head. I reached up and traced the veins of his cock with my fingertips, which caused it to pulse. I knew that I had to try and find a weak point to make this guy cum as quickly and intensely as possible. I'd been worried only a minute ago, but suddenly I was keen to prove myself. His balls were just as bull-like as his dick, enormous nuts hanging low in their sack. I tried to cup them with one hand but the second ball and extra skin always threatened to overflow. They were heavy too, and has I held them in my hand, the jock let out a throaty grunt. I knew I was onto something there, but I wasn't satisfied, so I used my index finger to gently press on his taint while still cupping his ball sack. The jock moaned, much higher pitched than I had expected, and bucked his hips forward, pushing his throbbing cock head right into my waiting mouth. I could already tell that I was wasn't going to be able to fit much more than the bulbous glans between my lips, but by the amount of precum I could taste on my tongue, I wouldn't need to. The head of his cock felt like a pool ball in my mouth, and I swirled my tongue around it, poking in under his ample foreskin. The Jock's breathing was getting increasingly heavy, so I decided to finished him off, abandoning his balls and moving my hand further up between his legs. As I'd suspected, my index finger found an aching, puckered hole between his muscular ass cheeks, and all it took was a gentle push to send him over the edge. I felt his fat cock pulse in my mouth as he tried to pull it out from between my lips, before he slammed his battering ram to the back of my throat and unleashed a thick spurt of jizz. I held back my gag reflex as best I could as his hip movements tried to push his fat dick further down my throat. I thanked God that he didn't cum more than a dribble beyond the initial shot, because my eyes were already watering at the salty sweetness coating my throat. Those balls must have barely been half full judging by the load. The Jock pulled his softening cock from my mouth with a wet pop to the applause from the mezzanine above. I'd only heard one person speak earlier, but the sound of clapping was loud enough to be a small crowd. "Holy fuck you're good," the Jock said, looking down at me through the football helmet. He offered me a hand and I unsteadily stood, wiping some dribble from the side of my mouth. I was out of breath, so I just nodded confidently. The voice of the guy who'd spoken before echoed down as the lights came up. "Well done Callum. That might be the school record for the jock test, and certainly an exciting performance overall. Welcome to Melbourne Grammar's Gay Club. The most exclusive and secret society this school has and will ever see. Founded by two lovers in the first cohort of 1854, desperate for a threesome, the MG Gay Club has continued to provide a space for those highly skilled, same sex attracted students throughout the ages." There was more applause from the group of about twenty men standing above me, each one seemingly hotter than the next. Some of them I could vaguely recognise from classes and from seeing them around the campus. "Now that you've passed the test, it's customary for the person who invited you to the club to give you your full induction. I've had a few requests to overrule that based on your performance, but traditions are traditions. These thirsty bitches will just have to wait." ------------------------------------------------------------------ Please look forward to more hot stuff in the next chapter, and please get in touch at bigaussiejock@gmail.com!