Date: Mon, 15 Mar 99 21:55:15 CET
From: RaCo <rarora@gmx.de>
Subject: The P.E. Lesson

The following story is pure fiction. It contains descriptions
of sexual acts performed by and between teenage boys.

If you are offended by this kind of material or, even worse, if
you are easily bored by stories going beyond the bare necessities
of sexual lovemaking, it's time for you to hit the <ESC> key.
You have been warned.

I do claim the copyright to the entire story. It may not be used
for any commercial purposes without my prior written consent.
Permission is hereby granted for storage on the Nifty and ASSGM
archives.

Any comments, suggestions or friendly words of encouragement
will be most welcome.

..........................................................................

The P.E. lesson
by RaCo

'End of warm-up!' Mr. Briggs, the P.E. teacher, blew his
whistle, 'All in a line along the wall, and get your sorry
arses moving, you milksops!'

Briggs was fuming and it showed. His brows were raised and he
looked like a steam-boiler ready to explode.  

'You are the most miserable... incapable... bunch of chicken
dicks I've ever come across...'

The school team's performance at yesterday's school district
championship had been quite respectable, but Briggs was
extremely hard to please. The former Army Sergeant was pacing
up and down the line of 16 year old boys in the gym.

'In all my 30 years as a Penile Exercise teacher I've never seen
such shameful failure.'

The boys stood there, heads down, their erections dwindling
rapidly. Some were visibly trying to will up their boners again,
but to no avail.

'Look at this...' Briggs was waving his little notebook in
the air, 'cum shooting: Thatcher.. eight foot six, Monks..
seven foot three, Smith.. six foot five...'. Smith was sniffing
audibly. 'My grandfather would do better than that!'

Wilkins lost his butt-plug and farted so loud that the whole
hall was humming. 'Out!!!!', yelled Briggs.

'Radcliffe...' a dark-haired boy at the end of the line turned
bright crimson, 'care to explain why you failed so miserably?
54 seconds to orgasm in sprint wanking. Or you, Finnegan? 113
seconds in the same discipline...'

Someone was giggling. Briggs shot around and immediately spotted
the offender. 'You, Henderson, of all people? 14 minutes 12 for
a triple orgasm we've been practising for a whole year... had
the referees yawning .... thought you'd never make it. O'Leary...
tragically faltering after the second, which was nothing more
than a mere dribble, anyway...'

Mike O'Leary was looking at the floor, scratching his balls.

'Thetford-Maidenstead... a ridiculous 3 pounds 3 ounces in
weight-lifting... My grandmother lifts more with her tongue
than you with that dead snake of yours!' The subject of this
attack was shrinking visibly and the foreskin slid back over
its head as if to protect it from further verbal abuse.

'And I'm still saving the best... Higgins, what devil got
into you, yesterday? 7 minutes 27 in endurance.... spilled
his juices after 7 lousy minutes 27... Made us the laughing
stock of the whole bloody competition!'

Terry Higgins was holding his dick and looking at it with a
blank expression.

'If it hadn't been for a few dedicated individuals we'd be the
talk of the whole district, today.' Briggs snorted.

By then, all erections had gone with the sole exception of
Steven Bishop's, the County Junior League's top-rated triple
orgasmer and teacher's pet.

'Well then, free training for the rest of this period...' Briggs
gave them all a last, despising sneer and withdrew into his
elevated seat in a corner to survey the pupils' work.

'Oh and... almost forgot... the parents' association has at
last provided the funds for buying new penis enlargement pumps.
Humphreys, Thomas and Ingram, go and get them from the equipment
store.'

The boys spread over the hall and a group of four went to the
storeroom to fetch the long, shallow trays of sand needed
for the cum shooters' training. Most boys, with the obvious
exception of the endurance athletes, had begun to masturbate
themselves or do whatever was necessary to stimulate their
bodies in the most appropriate way for their discipline.

'Careful with those pumps...' Briggs shouted across the hall to
those avidly trying them out, 'they're new and you don't want to
hurt yourselves.'

Soon, the hall was filled with boys busy with their training
for the various disciplines. The weight-lifters had put on their
sturdy cock-rings and the wide leather ribbons thrown across
the heads of their hard-ons with round metal weights attached to
the other end. They were a sight to behold, tensioning all their
muscles to give their erections more strength. 

Terence Marley, a handsome 17 year old Caribbean and the captain of
the weight-lifters, was preparing himself for a try with the five
pound weight and Rob Jenkins was helping him, standing bent over
with his butt up in the air and letting Marley use his rear to
build an even stronger erection for lifting this extranordinarily
big weight.

Again, Marley had his enormous black dick in Jenkins' arse, slowly
fucking but carefully watching not to over-stimulate himself and
cum inside the other boy. With a slurping sound, he withdrew his
mighty organ, a beauty of over ten inches and the result of hard
and disciplined work with the pump. Another boy had kept the leather
ribbon with the weight ready and put it over Marley's dick head,
still suspending the weight in his other hand.

The boy slowly lowered his hand with the weight until it hung
free and was completely carried by Marley's dick. Clicking on
the stopwatch, the assistant began to check the 10 seconds
which the weight has to remain up for a valid try. Just when his
fist shot up in the air to announce successful completion of the
exercise, Marley let out a loud yelp and came without touching
himself in wild spurts while the ribbon and the weight dropped
to the floor. Fantastic timing! Lifted the weight right at the
exact moment before cumming, when an erection is strongest.

Only Jenkins looked disappointed. Unnoticed because of all the
excitement about the heavy weight, he had cum while Marley had
been up his butt. Well, this has happened to the best of us, at
some time, and nobody needs to be ashamed of it. Understandably,
Jenkins wouldn't be doing much weight-lifting, for the rest of
the training.

Heavy panting from the opposite side of the hall bore witness
to the efforts of the endurance athletes to hold back their
orgasm while the two boys who acted as their sparring partners
were giving their best as wankers and teasers, as you'll all
know their respective functions are called in this highly
competitive sport.

Young Kenneth Rawlings was lying on his back, his feet and hands
strapped to the bench, fighting with gritted teeth while the
Jones twins were giving him one heck of an exercise. David, his
wanker, was urgently stroking Ken's dick with one hand and had
two fingers of the other hand up his arse. A copious flow of
precum showed how expertly the wanker was treating Kenneth's
prostate. Sweat ran down his forehead and his whole body was
glistening. At the same time, Peter, Ken's teaser, was working
his nipples, gently tickling them, only to squeeze them even
harder, just seconds later.

Briggs came along and stopped to check Ken's performance.
'Don't hold your breath, Rawlings, or you'll never make it.
Breathe slowly and steadily, in... and out... in... and out...
and relax... never tense your muscles... just... relax...'

The wanker turned his head towards Briggs, 'He's doing fine but
we should work some more on his relaxing. I feel him clamping
down on my fingers in his arse.'
 
'See what I mean...' Briggs replied, 'Have them fist you as an
exercise, Rawlings... does wonders on relaxing.'

Just then, there were angry voices to be heard from the
opposite side of the hall. The triple-orgasmers were complaining
about the weight lifters' noise and claimed they were being
disturbed in their training.

The fascinating discipline of triple orgasming or 'Xhia Yin Bao'
(three white snowflakes), as it is known in Chinese had come to
us only a decade ago and, to this day, is much less common than
all the others. Many people claim that, like martial arts, it is
a lot more than a mere sport. Developed thousands of years ago by
pagean monks to perfect the spirit by gaining control over the
body, it takes a very high degree of concentration and mental
preparation to master this extremely difficult art.

Weight-lifters, on the other hand, aren't exactly known for
whispering and tip-toeing and, so, the same conflict regularly
erupted during each training period.

Stephen Bishop, highly talented but often sneered at by the
others for being Briggs' favourite, sat cross-legged on the mat.
He was wearing the snow-white jacket with the wide arms, losely
draped around his shoulders and spread open at the front. Around
his head, the purple head-band of a 7th grade fighter, quite an
achievement for a boy of his young age.

Two more boys were sitting to his left and right, a bit further
behind. Everybody with just a little sense for male adolescent
beauty would have held his breath at the mere sight. 16 year old
Stephen, blond, blue-eyed had a body which aptly expressed the
harmony of his beautiful sport. He had just the right amount of
muscles to give him pectorals which would have been the pride of
an Italian sculptor, arms and legs which were strong and well
trained but still in harmonic proportion to his youth, and a
slender waist with nicely defined abdominal muscles.

The V-shaped open front of the jacket led the observer's eyes
quite naturally to the very highlight of this scene, Stephen's
dick, a perfectly formed 8-incher with a soft, heavy foreskin
which covered most of the head even when the wonderful organ was
fully erect. Below, his scrotum carried two heavy, low-hanging
balls of just the right size.

After bowing, as is customary, three times toward the spectators,
Stephen began to stroke his dick very gently in the so-called
'lotus grip', holding it from above with the thumb on the upper
side of the glans and the tips of his long fingers gliding along
the front of the shaft. His touch was so light that there was no
visible movement of the foreskin. His bearing was perfect, his
face with the closed eyes and even features showed the great mental
equilibrium and calm needed for this exercise. Only the heaving
of his chest hinted at the enormous effort involved.

In a wide, gracious movement, his right hand let go of his dick
and his left took over, this time using just two fingers, thumb
and index finger, for further stimulation. His other hand was
now resting between his legs, its middle finger gently pressing
against 'Zhao Dong Min' (great source of delight), that highly
sensitive spot, just beneath the scrotum. His lips were slightly
parted and one had rarely seen a sight of greater harmony and
dedication, so humble and impressive at the same time.

No-one but a real connoisseur of this great art would have been
able to spot the moment when the slightest irregularity in
Stephen's breathing announced the oncoming orgasm. Only his
breath gave away the powers unleashed in his loins while creamy
white sperm covered his chest and stomach. The boys to his sides
rang little bells which they had been hiding in the wide arms of
their grey apprentices jackets.

All through this, Stephen's hand had continued to lightly stroke
his dick and, just a minute later, his chest was heaving again,
more cum hit his stomach and the boys rang their bells for the
second time.

Stephen's left hand let go of his dick and he put both hands on
his knees. His breathing grew heavier and there was a sheen of
sweat forming on his body. The veins in his temples were pulsating
visibly. He was sitting absolutely still, but the tension could be
felt all around him. Then, with a shout, he went into his third
orgasm, the 'Dai Huo Yun' (great flying dragon). Spurt after spurt
of cum hit his face and shot up into the air while the two boys
were ringing their bells for the third time. Then, they swiftly
moved behind Stephen who fainted into their arms.

In another corner of the hall, a group of sprint wankers had
attracted a circle of spectators around them. They were preparing
for a few one-on-one fights. Already, those not involved in the
next fight were helping to prepare the cold washcloths soaked in
ice-water which were needed for keeping the contestants' dicks
down until the beginning of a fight. Another boy had to take care
of the stopwatch and give the starting commands.

Next were Timmy Barnes and Jim Duncan, two experienced sprint
wankers. Quickly, a few bets were placed by the spectators and
the round began. The timekeeper raised his stopwatch, 'Ready...
hands on... wank!!!'

The two boys were wanking furiously and the spectators were
shouting their names. Both were right-handed and had their left
hands between their legs, squeezing their balls. With a sharp
intake of air, Duncan shot his first wad, followed by Barnes,
only a second later.

Sixpence coins were passed to the winners of the betting and the
next two contestants prepared themselves.

Right across the hall, the cum-shooters were doing strength-
building exercises like standing with wide-spread legs, raising
and slowly lowering, by the force of their rectal muscles,
weights hanging from the butt-plugs they were wearing, an
exercise well-known for its beneficial effect on the parts
needed to achieve powerful ejaculations.

Just then, Tommy Hillman-Banks, a promising young cum-shooter,
was preparing for a shot. He had dropped his butt-plug and was
slowly stroking his dick. As one of the few circumsized boys on
the team, he had applied lots of vaseline to his beautiful tool,
a massive looking 7 1/2 incher, the ideal size for shooting. If
nature cooperated and his dick wouldn't be growing much more,
one would be hearing quite a lot of this young athlete within
the next years. Still stroking himself, he advanced to the sand
box. As the rules prescribe, he held the other hand behind his
back. Everybody who is familiar with this sport will know that
cum-shooters are only allowed to stimulate themselves with just
one hand.

Hillman-Banks stood on the line in front of the sand box
taking one last look at the box and then closing his eyes to
concentrate fully on the shot. Still stroking in an effort to
build up more pressure he opened his eyes again to correct
his aiming and delicately teased his glans a few times, right
below the frenulum.

At last, he took his dick in a firm grip, closed his eyes and
after only a moment's hesitation gave himself a few well-measured
strokes, arched back and shot most of his cum in one big gob across
half of the sand box. Then, with a wild cry, he bucked his hips
forward and the second gob flew out and went much further than the
first. What perfect technique! Shot the big heavy load first and
then used the second, much stronger spurt to carry the lighter
load almost all the way over the box.

Even Briggs who had joined the spectacle was visibly impressed
though he would never say so.

All the boys who had seen this great shot broke out in applause,
while Tommy stood there, panting but with a big smile and waving
his dick in triumph. Everybody patted his back and one boy even
took Tommy's dick in his hand, turning it forth and back, and
inspected it admiringly.

Next to the cum-shooters' training area, a number of boys were
trying the new penis-enlargement pumps and were clearly pleased
with them. No expense had been spared to give these great young
athletes the best tools money could buy. Many boys had their own
pumps at home but those whose parents couldn't afford such
expensive equipment were grateful to be given the chance to perfect
their organs, at school. They had even been told they could come in,
in the afternoons, for additional sessions.

Even the boys who had their own pumps admitted that theirs weren't
as sophisticated as these. Calibrated scales allowed for the exact
setting of the vacuum and there was a great choice of inserts to
accomodate all shapes and sizes because the dicks of boys at this
age vary a lot more than when they're older, and pumps of the wrong
size or force pose a constant risk of injury or they have no effect,
at all.

Every boy was given a five minute turn with a pump and then had
to rest and work his dick with his hands for ten minutes, taking
the greatest care not to cum, before being allowed to use the pump
for another five minutes. Immediately before and afterwards, his
dick was measured and the result recorded to monitor the progress
made.

Only Marley, the weight-lifters' captain, wasn't happy with the
new pumps. Apparently, nobody at the parents' association had
expected that there were boys of his dick size and there was no
insert for an eleven-incher. The ten-inch insert was definitely
a tad small for him.

In the meantime, more boys had gathered around the endurance
athletes. Whispered bets were passed around as to how much longer
Ken Rawlings would be able to withhold his orgasm while the
time was 12 minutes and counting. The Jones twins were an
experienced team and Ken was dripping sweat and precum. Deep
moans escaped his throat which sounded as if he was calling
'No... No... Noooh...' to encourage himself to hold out for just
another few seconds and then still a few more. But it was obvious
that he wouldn't be lasting much longer. In ever shorter intervals,
his arms and legs were flailing, restrained by the heavy straps.
His chest was heaving and the sweat from his forehead was mixing
with tears from his eyes. Young Kenneth was fighting like a lion.

Gradually, the whole hall became aware of what promised to
become a spectacular final and everyone fell silent, watching in
awe, admiration and growing anticipation. His fellow endurance
athletes stood there, fingers crossed, making those gentle hissing
noises known to help soothe each other in their fights.

Not a word was spoken, and even the boy with the stopwatch made
his announcements by raising fingers. 14 minutes... Ken's
whole body was trembling like a chased deer. 15 minutes...
his precum was flowing in such amounts that it dripped down
from his sides. 15 minutes 30... Ken was shaking his head wildly,
uttering strange gurgling noises... 16 minutes... His body
was shaking as violently as the straps on his arms and legs
would let it... 16 minutes 30... 16 minutes 38...

There was a long plaintive howl, more animal than human, which
echoed from all corners of the hall and Ken's first spurt
of cum shot up at least four feet straight into the air and
landed on his wanker's face. More spurts followed. Each time,
his buttocks lifted themselves high up and his whole body
arched upwards. Peter, the teaser, held Ken's head firmly to
make sure he wouldn't hurt himself.

Slowly, the orgasm subsided until Ken was lying on the bench
in a spent heap, unable to move, breathing heavily while, as
usual, wanker and teaser stood at his head and feet with their
dicks in their hands and sprayed the athlete with generous amounts
of their own sperm to the thundering applause and cheers of
jubilation from the onlookers.

Just then, Briggs' whistle was heard as a sign that training was
almost over and those who hadn't done so in the course of their
exercises should relieve themselves, now.

Everybody gathered around the bench, where a victorious Ken
Rawlings was slowly regaining his senses, to celebrate his great
achievement in the only fitting way - a cum shower.

All had their tools in their hands and even boys who had
cum before, like most of the sprint wankers, Marley with his
impressive black tool, and young Tommy Hillman-Banks, the
talented cum shooter, joined all the others, big and small, with
dicks of all colours, shapes and sizes, until they were united
in one great circle, wanking their dicks for all they were
worth.

One after the other shot his load on to the hero of the day,
Kenneth Rawlings, who was covering his eyes to protect them from
the onslaught but was smiling proudly until he was bathed in cum
from head to toe. There was cum dripping from his hair and
some was even running out of his ears.

Eventually, when the last boys had shot their loads, they all went
to the showers and Briggs had to admit, if only to himself, that
they really were a great team.


The End