Well after I had gotten the message that the principal was like kind of a softie, I tried to make him melt several times again, nomesain? But it didn't always work. Like there was that one time, when I was talking in class. And he gave me lines. I immediately began to stop blinking so my eyes filled with tears, nomesain? And I began quivering my lower lip, but he just chuckled, and said, "Now now, Michael" (which is the way he prefers to spell it, nomesain?). "None of your little tricks."
"Yes sir," I said. Not that I particularly respected him, nomesain? But I sensed that he was like turned on by my calling him, sir. Demetrius, the _s_h_i_t_, was giggling kinda appreciatively, nomesain?
Well, one day I found a notebook in one of the classes. The principal had been observing our science class, and a little later I found this green notebook. I opened it to see if there was any name in it, and was kinda surprised to see adult handwriting. When I read a little further on, I was horrified and a little turned on, even though some of the words were big for me, I got the main drift of what it was about.
Whatever sick _f_u_c_k_er had written in that notebook was writing about what it would be like to be lying beneath Demetrius when Demetrius was taking a _s_h_i_t_. Face upturned as his soft black, hairless dark ass cheeks strained, soft plop of thick brown gooey turd just before it fell on the observer's face. The little whirrp of a boy fart, and the delicious stink of a boy fart mixed with sweat from gym class. And then, even though the observer would be too low to see it, the fantasy of looking at Demetrius's face as he strained to expell his turd, the sharp little boy face with the slightly long nose and dark alert eyes. The slightly protruberant teeth now restrained by braces, that flashed at you from that sweet little black, chocolately face so often because Demetrius was such a cheerful face. Then suddenly the fantasy in midstream shifted to _s_h_i_t_ting on Demetrius.
I was so shocked that I was turned on that I destroyed the notebook. Now I wish I had kept it. It would have been a weapon to blackmail that pervie principal, nomesain? I'm sure it must have been his notebook. I suspect he has a thing for both me and Demetrius. Anyway, after this fantasy, I couldn't help imagining Demetrius taking a _s_h_i_t_ as well.
Well a few days later, I was in the boys' room. We were in Spanish, and the Spanish teacher is kinda inexperienced, so he allowed more than one of us out of the room at the same time. Well Demetrius and I were kidding around, making bathroom jokes like usual. Accusing each other of farting, and so on, when Demetrius actually let one rip, a stinky one, nomesain?
"Man you are a sick, smelly _f_u_c_k_er," i said giggling stupidly.
"_f_u_c_k_ you, Micheal," said Demetrius, and he tried to kick me, and I fell over, and he contrived to fall on top of me, and it was kind of nice, nomesain? Even though we were on the filthy bathroom floor, it was great having my soft, dark chocolatey buddy Demetrius on top of me, to feel his _c_o_c_k_ rubbing against mine, his dark black hairless hand experimentally rubbing mine (that was already dripping precum in my school shorts. His sweet little baby face, a little more acquline than mine, but still babyish resting against mine, so I could feel his boy breath, hot and yummy in my ear. His delicate flared nostrils showed a slight glint of snot in them, like high up his nostrils, nomesain? And, you'll think this really sick, nomesain? But at that moment I was so happy and so bound to him that it didn't gross me out; I was even tempted to lick it up. Then, Demetrius let it rip again.
"_f_u_c_k_, stop it Demetrius, mother_f_u_c_k_er," I yelled, and swatted his ass smartly. It was a nice feeling that rounded boy tush responding to my swat.
"Ouch, you bastard, " protested Demetrius, but I noticed the bulge in his pant grew.
Man, now I've got to go jerk off. But I don't want you to get the wrong idea, nomesain. Demetrius and I are not faggots or anything. That sort of stuff is sick, nomesain. Men dressing up like women and all that. Listening to Broadway musicals and all that, nomesain. We are just like healthy junior high pals. Who want to occasionally jerk each other off, or swat each other's asses, and now after reading that mysterious notebook, one of us might even imagine the other one _s_h_i_t_ting on him (not that I would ever have the courage to tell Demetrius that that was on my mind, nomesain?). But we wouldn't do anything faggoty like going to the ballet, like that sick faggot Ernest, nomesain?