Date: Tue, 2 Apr 2019 21:11:09 -0400
From: wildwing4160@gmail.com
Subject: What Goes Around - Chapter one

Preamble

     This is a story that's very very different from 99.9% of the stories
that you will read on Nifty.  You see this story is true, every word of it.
I know because it happened to me!  Believe me truth can be stranger than
fiction.

     If you are looking for a little stimulation then I suggest you look
elsewhere or go to one of my works of fiction in the prolific author
section.  The sex in this tale is minimal.  If on the other hand you enjoy
true stories or just want to learn a little about my private life then this
story is for you.

     If you wish to contact me about any of my stories please do so at
wildwing4160@gmail.com I always respond.  Criticisms are welcome too!

     This story is meant only for those over the age of consent and all of
the normal warnings apply.

      Enjoy!


			     WHAT GOES AROUND

Chapter 1

     If it's possible to be born ugly then I was born ugly.  A huge nose
with a notable bump on it dominated my face.  I was also born with a
deviated septum.  In layman's terms that meant that one of my nostrils was
completely blocked with unwanted cartilage.  The second nostril was
partially blocked.  It made it impossible for me to breathe without keeping
my mouth open all of the time.  I looked like an imbecile.  I was also
completely uncoordinated.  I mean if you soft tossed a ball to me I
couldn't catch the damn thing if my life depended on it.

     I remember as a five year old playing in the class 'orchestra'.  My
instrument was the triangle.  All I had to do was hit it in time with the
music.  I couldn't get it right so I just banged away whenever.  I'm
probably the only five year old to ever lose his instrument for
incompetence.

     I got my revenge at Christmas though.  It was pageant time and our
class did the nativity scene.  I was proud to be one of the three kings.
My one line was 'I bring Frankincense' The teacher threatened to take my
part away during rehearsals because I wouldn't speak up enough.  I was
determined not to lose out again.  The big night came in an auditorium
packed with parents. My moment arrived and I yelled out as loud as I could,
"I BRING FRANKENSTEIN!"  Of course bedlam ensued.  I was the hit of the
concert.

     Anyway I digress.  I was in the middle of describing myself.  It
wasn't all negative.  I had two strong attributes.  First I was quite
intelligent, so much so that the school had me skip a grade.  Always being
the youngest in the class worked out fine scholastically, but socially it
was a disaster.  I had a tough enough time making friends anyway and now
everyone in my class was thinking a year ahead of me.  Add it all up and I
was your typical lonely nerd.

     My second attribute was between my legs.  I was big, I mean really
big.  I also went through puberty early.. How many twelve year olds have a
cock pushing eight inches all ready?  I did!  In primary school however my
size wasn't worth a pinch of salt.  My parents also constantly preached
that I should keep that part of me private, so I kept it under wraps.  I
was also very sexually naive.  I was eleven going on twelve before I
realized mine was 'different'.

     My cock was also 'perfect'.  Let me tell you a story of an incident
that occurred much later in my life that illustrates that fact.  In my mid
thirties I took a vacation in Florida.  There I met a rich doctor in a gay
bar and we ended up in his hotel room.  He proceeded to fall in love with
my cock.  He said that between his practice and his gay activities he had
seen thousands of cocks in his time. Mine, he told me was the most perfect
he had ever seen.  To back it up he offered me a free apartment, a free
car, and a weekly salary.  All I had to do was return with him to Long
Island and make my cock available to him whenever he felt the urge.
Unfortunately or perhaps fortunately, I already had too many roots down in
Canada to even consider it.

     The real story I want to tell you about began when I was eight years
old.  I was in the fourth grade. Looking back I was a good kid never
getting into trouble or so I thought.  It was recess time and I was alone
as usual.  A much bigger and older boy, for no apparent reason, decided to
bully me again.  I saw him coming, realized his intention, and took off
running.  Going to a teacher was not an option.  To do so meant more
bullying later when the teacher was not around.  So I ran .............and
ran.  He was slowly catching up and I was getting tired.  I took the only
option I could think of.  I ducked into the boys entrance of the school.

     Just inside the entrance was a short set of stairs leading up to the
first floor of the school. There at the top of the stairs stood the immense
figure of a teacher, one Mr. Headley Stokes.

     "What are you doing in the school?" he bellowed. "You know it's
against the rules! "

     I was like a deer in the headlights.  I was petrified.  Nothing came
out of my mouth.

     "Be off with you," he continued, "And don't let me catch you in here
again!"

     I meekly departed.  I was only in the yard a few moments when the same
bully spotted me.  The chase was on again.  Desperate to escape and
thinking like an eight year old I ran back to the building only this time I
chose the girls entrance.  Mr. Stokes however was one step ahead of me.  By
the time I realized he was standing at the top of the stairs it was already
too late.

     "How dare you disobey me!" he shouted.

     He never did ask me if I had any valid reason for being there and I
was too scared to open my mouth.  Think of it.  A two hundred pound man in
a rage shouting at me from on high was a petrifying sight to an eight year
old.

     He immediately took me to a small office down the hall and strapped
me.  It hurt like hell.  But in the end the physical pain did not hurt as
much as my perceived social injustice of it all.  I never felt guilty and
in no way did I deserve the punishment.  I hated him for it.

     Fast forward a couple of months in the same school year.  I was
working away at my desk at an assignment that was especially difficult.  I
was determined to do a good job.  Now most boys would purse their lips,
grit their teeth or perhaps stick their tongue out to the side to show
determination.  I could do none of these because I had to keep my mouth
open.  Instead I involuntarily would lift my tongue and press against the
roof of my mouth.  Now it so happens that under your tongue at the very
back sits a small gland that produces a good part of the saliva that occurs
naturally in your mouth.  As I found out the hard way that day if you lift
the tongue hard and quickly enough a spurt of saliva comes out.  (You can
try it yourself) With your mouth closed it's no problem but of course mine
was open.  A spray of saliva flew out all over my books.

     The eagle eyed teacher had spotted what had occurred.  She immediately
marched down the aisle and declared, "Young man you are spitting in my
classroom!"

     Looking back now I wonder how it is possible to spit with your mouth
open?  No matter to her.  She didn't need an explanation.  She had seen it
with her own eyes and that was good enough for her.

     She told me to wait in the hall and she disappeared around the corner.
She reappeared moments later with Mr. Stokes in tow.  Mr. Stokes didn't
require further explanation either.  If the teacher told him she saw me
spitting there was no defence for it.  I was strapped .......again!

      I mean how many eight year olds, even badly behaved ones, get
strapped in a school year, let alone twice?  Not only that, I felt that
neither of them were deserved.  God, I hated that man!

     I couldn't even discuss the matter with my parents.  In those days the
teachers were Gods and if they said you deserved punishment then you
deserved it, no questions asked.  If I had said anything at all there was a
good chance my parents would have added to the punishment.  Even as an
adult I never bothered to tell them.

     At the end of the school year our family had decided to move.  The new
house was in a different school district and I was happy if for no other
reason than I was getting rid of Mr. Stokes.

     The events of the following two years adds little to this story other
than the gradual realization that I seemed to be much bigger than other
boys and that my member could attract some attention.

     Oh, I must tell you that there was an incident that occurred in grade
six that could have ended in a deserved strapping.  The girl that sat in
front of me was a pain in the ass.  She had very long pigtails and she
loved to irritate me by swishing them back and forth across my desk while I
worked.  If I complained to her she would increase the swishing.  Now in
those days the ball point pen had yet to appear in the market place.  We
were learning to write in pen and ink and each desk was supplied with an
inkwell.  I got so mad at her one day I grabbed one of the pigtails and
stuffed it in the inkwell.  Of course she screamed and pulled.  The ink
soaked pigtail made pretty blue splotches all over the back of her yellow
dress.

     I was hauled down to the principal's office for punishment from the
boss man himself, Principal Shewfelt.  He was a kindly old gentleman
probably close to retirement.  Before deciding on the appropriate course of
action he asked me to tell him my side of the story.  As I was telling my
story he tried hard to keep a straight face but he failed.  He laughed out
loud.  Drawing himself together he gave me the mildest verbal reprimand you
can imagine before sending me back to my room.

     I was punished though.  When the girl's mother presented my parents
with a dry cleaning bill my allowance was cut off for a month.

     The following year was my first at junior high school.  It was an
exciting time.  You got to stay with your home room teacher for half a day
before changing classrooms continually in the afternoon.  Afternoon classes
included subjects such as Phys. Ed., Music, Art and Shop.  It made me feel
like a young adult.  I was happily striding down the hall that very first
afternoon when I suddenly stopped dead in my tracks.  My joy turned to
dread.  There ahead of me, towering above the students with his arms
crossed was Mr. Stokes.  I was shell shocked.  Looking back he was probably
smiling at the passing students but all I saw was a scowl.  I had to get
past him to reach the next class.  I hugged one wall and looked the other
way as I passed.  Thankfully he didn't call me out.

     I was thankful too that I didn't have him as a teacher in any of my
classes.  In fact I never had him in subsequent years either.  I must
truthfully say we never ever spoke to each other in school in my entire
Junior High School career.  Whether he remembered me from primary days I
did not know and I didn't care to know.  I certainly knew how to carry a
grudge big time.

     Phys. Ed was fun that first year.  We showered for the first time.  I
confirmed that although I was the youngest in the class I had the biggest
cock by quite a bit.  I eventually learned that size is not everything.  In
fact today I prefer a cock that is much smaller than my own.  However as an
almost teenager size was everything.  I was often called horse.

     I made some decent friends that year too.  I know that in part at
least it was because of my lucky gift.  I had one friend I was particularly
close to.  In case he ever reads this story let's call him Josh.  Josh
always carried a short rope in his pocket.  Whenever the two of us found
ourselves in an isolated spot, usually once or twice a week, he would
attack me.  He was bigger, stronger and more athletic than I was and
invariably would overpower me.  He'd then pull out the rope and tie my
hands behind my back.  Pulling my pants down he would abuse my cock for
long periods of time, sometimes up to an hour or so.  He introduced me to
jacking off and that's the way each session would end.  The cums were dry
initially but by the end of the year I was making copious amounts of sperm.
I quickly learned to love the attention for after a while I never struggled
too much when I was attacked.  We often hiked in a valley nearby and I used
to look for isolated spots to visit.  A couple of times he took me to
friends of his and the scenario was the same.  Josh's friends liked to
abuse me too.  Even in high school a few years later Josh and some six or
seven buddies from his school football team attacked me, got me down on the
ground and abused me.  They didn't jerk me off but they sure took their
time mauling me.  It was fun.  Josh's endowment was about half my size and
he very rarely sought reciprocation.  He eventually wandered out of my
life, married and became a high school teacher.

     I digress yet again. Now back to my tale.  I was heavily into the boy
scout movement in those days. I just loved, and still do, the out of doors.
For every hike, camp out or canoe trip I was front and center. At the
conclusion of that first Junior High School year all of the troops in our
district, some six or seven in all, organized a two week camporee, as they
called it, in the highlands of Haliburton.  Some four or five scout leaders
were our chaperones.  In the end about fifty scouts signed up.  Of course I
was one of them.

     I could hardly wait for the day, I was so excited.  After a long drive
I remember arriving at the camp dock ready to be transported to our camp
site.  I rushed from the car only to run into a rather large man who was
blocking my path.  It was Mr. Headley Stokes dressed in a boy scout
leader's uniform!  I couldn't believe my misfortune.  I inwardly groaned
and said to myself, 'Not again!'

to be contnued..............


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