Date: Sat, 28 Apr 2018 17:39:38 -0500 From: Brandon M Subject: Locker Room Surprise, Part 1, Gay Adult/Youth Section Nifty relies on donations of stories to keep you entertained and on donations of cash to keep the site operating. I've done my part, won't you do you yours? Consider a donation to Nifty and the stories, and you, will keep coming. LOCKER ROOM SURPRISE, Part 1 Working in a small middle school has its advantages, of course. Being the only male gym teacher, I supervise the boys' room every period, so I get to see every boy who comes through the school and, as we require showers, I see every inch of every sixth, seventh, and eighth grade boy. Just how it is. I came to Cloverdale Middle School straight out of college and now, four years later, I'd seen plenty of boys but never did more than think about them. Until Dylan. Dylan was a seventh grade mid-year transfer student, so when he showed up, I got to play one of my favorite games. Would the boy have hair? Sixth graders very rarely did and eighth graders usually did, but seventh graders were the most unpredictable. At the start of the school year, most didn't. At the end of the school year, more than half did. Middle of the year? Anything could happen, and that's just where we were. Mid-year. February, to be exact. Dylan was in my eighth hour class, the last one of the day, and, to be honest, I didn't give him any thought on the first day he'd be dressing out. I had six classes before him to deal with (I did get one planning period, which is when I tended to hole up in my office in the locker room and masturbate). When eighth hour came, however, I remembered him. I assigned him a locker near the office so I could watch him change and to make him feel comfortable that he wasn't just thrown into a hormonal wolf's den. The wire fencing that made up the "walls" of my office ensured I could see the entire locker room, and I made a point of supervising the boys as they undressed and dressed. On Dylan's first day, I watched him closely. As expected, there was no armpit hair. Armpit hair was a seventh grade rarity. When he took off his jeans, he was wearing baby blue briefs, and the bulge led me to bet on him lacking pubic hair, which would put him in the majority of the seventh graders. A little cutie though, no matter what. Light brown hair, smattering of freckles, average height and weight, he fit right into the group and would be the star of tonight's jackoff session. Yes, okay, I still jacked off twice a day pretty much every day. I spent my days watching my boys dress and undress. Of course I jacked off a lot. After thirty minute of basketball, the girls' teacher took the girls to their locker room and I led the boys to mine. "Showers, gentlemen," I reminded them. "You worked up quite a sweat out there and you're middle schoolers. That middle school smell has to be washed away. Don't forget soap!" For the next ten minutes, naked boys in all stages of development paraded past me, including Dylan. The boy had a very, very small about of hair above his average-sized circumcised penis, which I pegged at around three-and-a-half to four inches hard. He and the others took their showers and dressed and, since it was the last class of the day, were free to go when finished. Within two minutes of the final bell of the day, only Dylan, fully dressed again, was left in the locker room. "It's okay to leave now," I told him. I didn't add that I needed to jack off thinking about him. "Got no place to go," he said, more to the floor than to me. "Umm...how about home?" I tried to keep my tone light, but I had a feeling something was going on here that I didn't know about. "My mom hasn't gotten me a key yet, so I'd be stuck outside." "Oh. Well, if you want, you can help me clean up in here. It's not exciting, but it'll give you something to do." I still kept my tone upbeat, in case there was more to the story than it appeared. Teachers, quite often, turn into counselors whether we want to or not, and gym teachers get hit with it a lot because we do the fun classes. For the next fifteen minutes or so, we put away equipment, picked up debris, turned off showers not completely turned off, flushed toilets the boys never remembered to flush, and tried to make the locker room look at least a little presentable. From the corner, I heard giggling and went over to see what was so funny. Dylan held a pair of white briefs in front of him, using a pencil to keep from touching them. "It looks like somebody left these behind." "How do you forget your underwear?" I asked, then added, "Never mind. Middle schoolers aren't always on the same planet as the human folks." Dylan giggled again. "Haven't you ever gone out without underwear on?" "Well, I think every guy has, but still, this is school, not the weekend or anything." "What do I do with them?" "Put them in the towel bin and we'll have them clean for the owner, if he ever realizes he lost them." Dylan did as I instructed, then returned to where I'd found him. "Anything else I can do?" I had plenty of answers for that, but I mostly wanted him to go home. The stirrings in my crotch needed to be satisfied and wouldn't wait much longer. "Not that I can think of," I said. "How long do you have to wait for your mom to get home?" "Six o'clock." Great. Poor kid had over two hours to kill yet. I knew from his records that he only lived a couple of blocks away, so travel time wasn't going to help much. "Tell you what," I said. "I have to be here for at least another half-hour, updating grades and doing other things to keep the school happy, so you're welcome to wait in here for a little while if you want." "Thanks, Mr. Bennett." His smile was ultra-kilowatt beautiful. Though it would kill me to postpone my hand-on-dick time for a while longer, that smile was definitely going to feature prominently when stroking time came. For the next fifteen minutes or so, I entered grades online so parents could see how their precious darlings were doing, if any of them bothered to look. I'd just finished up my fourth hour class when Dylan appeared in my doorway. "Mr. Bennett?" "Yes, Dylan." "Do you watch all the boys undress, or just the new ones?" He still had that damn innocent smile going on. "Excuse me?" "I noticed, Mr. Bennett. At my old school, our gym teacher used to watch us, so I got used to it. I was wondering if you watch everybody or just new guys." How the hell did I answer this question? "Well," I said slowly, stalling for time, "I am responsible for what goes on in the locker room, so I have to watch everyone whether I want to or not." That sounded like a good, safe answer. Dylan considered it. "Oh. I didn't think of it like that. It felt like you kept watching me." He shrugged. "I don't mind. It's not like I have something you don't have, only in a smaller version." I laughed. "Males are males, Dylan. That's just how it is." I tried to turn my attention back to my computer, but the boy wasn't finished yet. "Is yours a lot bigger than mine?" "That's not an appropriate question," I said without looking at him. My dick was straining to get out and show him the answer, so I kept my legs tucked firmly beneath my desk. "I'm sorry," Dylan said, a hint of tears and fear in his voice. "I don't got any brothers or a dad. Just me and my mom and I don't really know how to compare. I just have to kind of guess." He sounded so sincere and so sad that my dick twitched again, begging me to help him out. I looked at the clock. Three forty-five. I should be leaving in the next fifteen minutes, but there was no way I could even stand right now to escort the boy out the door. "It's okay, buddy," I said. His smile came back when I said `buddy'. "If you have questions, it's okay to come to me. Every guy needs to ask those questions at some point and it can be hard to talk to your mom about these things." "Thanks, Mr. Bennett. Since you seen mine, can you tell me if it looks okay?" Fuck, yes, it looks just fine, and I was looking forward to seeing it every day for the rest of the semester, but no way I could tell him that. Instead, I said, "I wasn't looking quite that closely, Dylan," and turned my attention to my computer. I'd entered a few grades for fifth hour when Dylan said, "Well?" I turned toward him and there he stood, stark naked. "Dylan..." "Do I look like I should?" Hell, yes, my mind screamed. "You look like a normal seventh grader." "Can I see you? It's only fair." As he spoke, his little dick started to harden without him touching it. He made no effort to prevent it from being seen. "You're looking right at mine now, so I should get to see yours." Middle schoolers getting erections was not uncommon. A shift in the wind could cause it at this age. But I never, ever had a student so blatantly let his be seen, especially by me. My logical mind was telling me to tell this boy to get dressed and get off campus, but my little mind was enjoying the show. "Go lock the door," I said to him. He ran over to the door and locked it, his little ass cheeks bobbling as he ran. When he returned, he was fully erect and, as I guessed, about three and three-quarters inches. "Stand up and take off your clothes, Mr. Bennett. Please?" I was on auto-pilot programmed by my dick. I stood, not caring that the bulge in my shorts was obvious, kicked off my tennis shoes and took off my shirt. The boy asked me to put my arms up so he could see my pit hair and I complied. He took in my smooth chest and ample treasure trail. "Can I see more, please?" he said. Still moving on instinct rather than logic, I undid my shorts and let them drop to the floor, leaving me with a very obvious erection in my red boxer briefs. Dylan squatted in front of me and pulled off my shorts and socks. "Underwear too," he said. I did as he asked and stepped out of them when they, too, hit the floor. The boy, still squatting in front of me, took in the sight of my erection just a few inches from his eyes. "Nice," he said and stood. Without asking, and without being asked, he took a hold of it. "It is really big." It isn't really. About six inches more or less, but to a boy, it would look huge. "Thank you," I said. "Let's play with them." "What?" "Mr. Bennett, I want to play with your dick and let you play with mine." "Dylan..." I reached for my underwear. "No, Mr. Bennett. We both know you shouldn't be naked in front of me, and I want to play. If you play with me, I won't tell anybody about the tattoo you have on your leg. If you don't, then I will. Please play with me." How did he manage to still sound so innocent even while he was blackmailing me? The tattoo, a beer can with the number 16 on it, was a lasting remnant of a college drinking game and was close enough to my pubic hair that the only way it could be seen is if I were naked. If he told anyone, a simple exam would show that he was right. My career and my life would be dead. "What do you want to do?" I asked. "I never touched a grown up dick before," he said. "Or seen grown up sperm. So I'll hang around after school every day and we'll play." "Sometimes there's practices and meetings and things after school," I told him. "We won't be able to every day." "When we can," he answered. "I like the way yours feels, Mr. Bennett." "Thank you," I said to my sweet little blackmailer. "Feel mine." I didn't need to be told twice. I reached down and ran my fingers over the four inches of boyhood, fondled his little balls, and ran a finger across his small patch of pubic hair. For a few glorious minutes, I didn't think about anything except how perfect this boy's little dick and balls felt. "Mr. Bennett, let's jack off," Dylan said. "Together. Like buddies do." He moved away from me and grasped his erection. I did the same and, in a near-matching rhythm, we stood there and stroked ourselves, man and boy. Not unexpectedly, the boy approached his climax much more quickly than I did, and I stopped to watch. Those little balls produced some clear ejaculate, which shot into a little puddle on the floor. When he was finished, Dylan squatted so he was, once again, within a few inches of my dick. "Finish it up, Mr. Bennett. I wanna see your sperm." I resumed jerking and it was too long until the build-up and the release. My ejaculation was a doozy, shooting pretty far and puddling in a streak from near my feet to a little ways away. Dylan was wide-eyed. "That was way cool, Mr. Bennett." "Thanks," I said. "But we should clean up and get going before the janitor comes in." That got the boy moving. He grabbed my boxer briefs, cleaned my sperm from the floor, and handed me the underwear, that beautiful smile firmly in place. Then we dressed and I scooted him out the door. "See you tomorrow," he said with a cheery wave." Tomorrow? Did that boy really think he was going to blackmail me the rest of the school year? As fun as it could have been, there was no way I could allow this to happen. On the other hand, it could be fun and rewarding for me. I wasn't sure what to do. I went back to my office to dress and realized I'd have go to commando, thanks to little Mr. Sperm Cleaner using my underwear. If we really were going to do this for months, Dylan would have to learn to clean it up another way. That thought reminded me of his little puddle. He didn't clean it up and, even though it was on the floor, I had to put a little on my finger and give it a taste. So sweetly boyish. I'd definitely clean my little blackmail boy up if he wanted me to. Tomorrow. Will Mr. Bennett get his chance to clean Dylan up tomorrow? What else does Dylan have in mind? How innocent is he? If there's interest, we'll find out.