This is a continuation of the story "Greg & Jeff - Story 1: An Educational Experience". If you haven't read Parts A & B yet, go back and do so now....
"This session is now at an end. I bid you good day." The Head turned and walked towards the door. Immediately, our hands dropped and went to our backsides.
The Head turned. "Oh, and by the way - please put that frame away before you leave, won't you?"
Actually, the session wasn't at an end. But before I get to that bit, perhaps I should tell you a bit more about Greg and I.
Being at a boy's school meant we didn't have a lot of interaction with girls. It wasn't a boarding school and everyone went home each day but really your social partners were our classmates. We had a few other friends at the school, and occasionally went out in a group, but we were fundamentally pretty shy guys and more than anything else preferred each other's company. Most weekends we would get up to something together. We just felt so comfortable and safe together.
A lot of guys our age spend a lot of time appeasing their rising hormones by looking at porn and talking ribaldly about _s_e_x_. That really wasn't our style. Hey, sure, we were guys, we had _s_e_x_ drives, we jerked off (alone, never together), but we didn't sit around talking about it all the time. Girls were there, some of them looked good, but they weren't a big part of our life, and could wait until later. Right now we had each other, and that seemed to be all that mattered.
It was shortly after I turned 16 that I realised I had a crush on Greg. One weekend we had been at the beach together, and that night I had a dream. I dreamt we were up at Greg's parents beach house and had come in from swimming. We were in the room we usually shared together, getting changed. We often got changed together, we weren't shy around each other like that. I had just slipped my speedos off when Greg said "Hey Jeff, I can't get this knot undone, can you give me a hand?" I wandered over naked and started fiddling with the knot in his drawstring, with my hands brushing his covered penis every now and then. I finally got it undone and for some reason I slid his speedos off for him, running my hands down his legs. When his penis popped out it was hard, and mine was too. He took my hand and said "Come on, let's shower", and we walked into the bathroom, climbed into the shower together and began to soap each other up. It was just as Greg was running his soapy hands under my thighs and beginning to massage my scrotum that I woke up to find the last of a large load of semen drizzling from my penis.
I was a bit bewildered by that dream but there was no denying that I found it immensely erotic. After that I began working in the occasional fantasy about Greg into my masturbation sessions and found that I came much harder and easier than thinking about some imaginary girl or poster pin up. I also started thinking about how good I felt when he was with me, how relaxed, how we could communicate so much in a glance. He was not just my best friend, I was falling in love with him. I didn't think of it as being gay - girls do turn me on too. But the one I really felt for was him.
Nothing ever happened between us. He was so special to me that I did not dare to damage our friendship by doing anything that could possibly make him feel uncomfortable and want to distance himself from me. I had no way of knowing if he reciprocated my feelings. So we kept doing things together. Most of the time, I could put my _s_e_x_ual thoughts about him to one side, for they were only one element of the attraction. Most of all, I loved the warm and joyful feelings he brought me, and I could have them whenever I wanted. I did sometimes roll over in bed and imagine him lying there next to me, that cute face, that bright smile, those soulful eyes, keeping me safe. I felt pangs of guilt when I masturbated to thoughts of Greg; that it was somehow wrong to use my friend in this way. But I locked that guilt away.
The closest my feelings would ever come to rising to the surface was usually when we were swimming together at the beach. If I say so myself, we both looked cute in our matching black school speedos, which we wore to the beach too. Neither of us liked the feel of board shorts, which in the water were heavy, awkward and chafing; and we didn't mind the revealing nature of speedos. We would sometimes lie sunbaking and talking to each other, eyes hidden behind our cool sunglasses, which allowed me to run my eyes along his body every now and then, admiring his biceps, the slope of his back, the curve of his tightly wrapped buttocks. Like any teenager, both of us were quite prone to erections, and there wouldn't have been a beach day that both of us did not get that swelling feeling at some time. This was not too much of a problem; we both wore speedos tight enough to keep our penises firmly in position nestled on our testicles, semi-hard, rather than sticking straight out fully erect in front of us, so our arousal was not that blatant. However, it would have been obvious to anyone who took more than a passing look, since our swollen shafts and circumcised heads became very prominent. It didn't really phase us though. Sometimes when sunbaking we would deliberately roll onto our backs and wriggle our hips up a bit so that we could feel the sun properly warming our stirring genitals. I don't know what triggered Greg's erections but many of mine were caused by his presence. Particularly if we had a fun wrestle in the shallows, which would happen when both of us felt a little frisky. He was often hard too after these encounters.
This play never left the beach, though. We had never been erect when changing with each other. From time to time, when looking into his eyes, I wished I could dive right in to them and swim around inside his head looking for his _s_e_x_y thoughts, and whether he might just want what I wanted. I also wondered if he could read my desires in my eyes. But I decided, probably not. So while on my part at least our relationship contained a degree of _s_e_x_ual tension, it remained unresolved.
At least, until now.
The Head turning back to remind us about the frame as we started rubbing our bums was embarrassing - though no more embarrassing than the many other things that had happened over the last 30 minutes. But then he was gone.
"Oh, mannn!" groaned Greg.
"Hey, at least it's over. We're still in school, we've had our punishment, that's it."
"But - Christ! That was incredible! It hurt so much I thought I was going to pass out there for a minute."
"Yeah, I agree. I think you got it worse than me. You didn't know how many you had coming, and that fourth stroke you took was much harder than mine. I don't know what got into him."
"Yours looked pretty bad too."
"I'm sure yours was far harder. Plus you had to stand around for ages at the end without doing this," I said, referring to our tender, tentative squeezes of our buttocks.
"Well this certainly makes it feel a bit better," he agreed, as we started slowly walking back to the changerooms. Since the gym was closed, we had the place to ourselves.
"Oh _s_h_i_t_, look at us!" I said as we walked in and caught the first glances of ourselves in the mirror. We had seen each other and had some idea of what wrecks we would look but seeing ourselves for the first time was still a shock. I looked like I'd just had a wild night on the town until 3am. We looked at our reflections for a moment.
"I guess there's something else we have to look at too" I said, and looked at him.
"Yeah, well, you've got a real neat speedo stripe there" he said, pointing. I tried to get a look in the mirror but it was basically a face mirror, fairly high up. Turning around I could catch glimpses of it but couldn't get the full effect. "Try standing on that bench there" Greg suggested. We pulled the bench over running parallel to the mirror and I stood on it. Looking over my shoulder, I had a good view of my midsection - from the small of my back down to just above the knees. In the middle, my curving buttocks economically covered in blue cotton. And just below, neatly running horizontally across my thighs, was a bright red speedo stripe. That would be there for a while.
Greg hopped up beside me. While standing straight, the legs of his boxers hung down a bit and partly obscured his speedo stripe, but he hitched them up a little so that it could be viewed properly. The bench was a little unsteady and he placed his hand on my shoulder for balance. We stood there for a moment until Greg said "Better check out the rest of the damage". He moved his hands to his hips, carefully moved his waistband back from his buttocks and slid his boxers to his knees.
"Wow", I said. Most of Greg's skin was a pale tan, but his buttocks were a milky white, as they had been protected from the sun by his speedos. The white untanned triangle was the perfect canvas for the Headmaster's work of art. Four parallel strokes, fairly evenly spaced, marched over his mounds, bisected by a confident diagonal and underscored by the speedo stripe for emphasis. The fourth stroke was very evident, looking broad and very ugly. I idly wondered if it would ever heal properly. Straightening up, Greg looked back and bit his lower lip as he wobbled slightly and moved his hand to my shoulder for balance again. It was an impressive sight.
He glanced across at me and I moved my hands down to my briefs. Pulling the waistband back, there was a very slight tug against my skin where the cotton had stuck slightly to my stripes. Soon my underpants were on their way down my thighs to join Greg's at knee level, exposing my penis and testicles which nodded gently between my legs. As I straighted again I caught my first glimpse that day of Greg's genitals. Our scrotums were both loose in the heat, with testicles dangling lazily. His penis sprouted from a fairly thick bush of pubic hair to hang, trunk-like, in front of him. I filed the image away and turned to survey my stripes. My fairer skin meant my tan lines were not as distinct as his, but my buttocks were similarly pale white with the angry lines neatly laid across them. We matched nicely. As if to underscore the symmetry, I placed my hand on Greg's shoulder in a matching gesture.
"Sort of like picket fences", he said.
"Or like he's been keeping tally on our bums," I said, adding "You definitely got it harder" when I noticed that my fourth stroke, although still the centrepiece, was markedly less angry than Greg's.
Greg giggled a bit. "I can't believe this is us." I knew what he meant. It was somewhat surreal seeing these pairs of punished buttocks displayed in the mirror knowing they were our own. The pain told us it was real though. Greg reached round with his free hand and started delicately touching his stripes, then a little more firmly. "Feels funny."
I reached around to start touching my own. The throbbing would change a little where I pressed. We both started gently massaging our cheeks again, enjoying the odd feeling of relief. There was a dull heat radiating from our bottoms. "What a pair, eh?" he said, winking at me.
Greg turned his head back and moved to step down from the bench. Unfortunately he forgot about his boxers round his knees. He tripped and our mutual balance turned into mutual chaos as the hand on my shoulder suddenly pulled me forward. Similarly hobbled, I could but push my arms forward to break the fall. It could have been nasty, falling onto the tiled floor, but we caught ourselves in time. "You klutz!" I laughed as we lay on the floor, naked, legs tangled together.
We pulled ourselves apart. Greg kicked off his boxers and stood up with them in his left hand. He looked back down at me. His penis seemed to have enlarged very slightly. "I sure could use a shower," he said. He turned and threw his boxers onto his schoolbag.
"Me too" I said, slipping off my underpants as his striped bottom headed for the showers, his hands idly reaching around to lightly squeeze it once more. I followed him in, with a strange feeling coming over me. Sort of like something that had happened before....
The showerheads were in a long row. We selected ones side by side in the middle, turned the water on and let it run over our warm sweaty bodies. There were a couple of old bits of soap on the rack in front of Greg; he picked them up and handed one to me. We began to lather up.
I don't know what made me do it. Just one of those impulses. Those spur of the moment things. But as I rubbed the soap across my chest I suddenly asked "Hey Greg, could you do my back please?"
He looked back at me; for a moment, he had a quizzical look in his eye. He looked like he was weighing things up. It was a "What the....?" sort of look. Uh oh. Had I screwed up? But the look soon changed to a friendly one. "Yeah sure. If you'll do mine too."
My heart jumped a bit. "You're on."
He stepped toward me and I turned around. He placed his left hand on my shoulder and started rubbing the soap across and down my back. The water ran down over my buttocks, across my stripes, to the floor. He went as far as my waist then took the soap in his left hand as he ran his right hand over my back, rinsing the soap across and off. I felt a warm glow through me as his hand moved across my skin, slowly covering every inch, and I felt my penis stir a little and begin to rise.
"My turn", he said, and we both turned around. I don't know if he noticed my arousal, but as we turned I fancied that his penis looked a little more substantial than before. I copied his movements. My hand on his shoulder felt good. As I washed his back I couldn't help but keep looking back to his bum. Somehow it looked _s_e_x_ier than ever. I stopped soaping and started rubbing his back. I moved my hands between his shoulder blades, down to the small of his back, and around his hip. "That's nice" he said suddenly, as my hand traced its path across his bare skin.
"Hey Greg...."
"....Yeah?"
"Can I touch your stripes?"
_s_h_i_t_! It was definitely a day for impulses. What the heck was I doing?
Pause... "Uh, yeah. But be gentle."
If that wasn't an invitation nothing was. I ran a finger very lightly tracing his highest stripe, the first applied. The skin was raised fairly uniformly, with a small nub of flesh at the intersection with the diagonal fifth stripe.
I lifted my finger and took it back to the next stripe down, the third applied. This one seemed slightly more confident and deftly applied. I fancied that his buttocks were like a braille book, each line telling a story silently through touch, of the events that had brought it into being.
The next chapter, however, was one I avoided. The mean fourth stroke still looked as angry as ever, and even the sight of it brought back that terrible moment when my friend was slammed forward and frozen in a moment of distilled pain.
The next stroke down, the second, was far less threatening. I took two fingers and ran them along this stroke, then back across the speedo stripe atop his thighs.
"Is that ok?", I asked.
"Yeah" came a slight reply, just audible above the patter of water from the showers onto the tiles below. With two fingers, I started retracing my steps in a flowing motion, zig-zagging back up the corrugated lines, again missing that evil stroke before sweeping down the diagonal.
I took my palm and laid it upon his right buttock, and very lightly cupped it, feeling the discontinuities from the caning against my fingers. There was a slight "Mmm" from Greg. I repeated the process on his left buttock, then pressed both, a little more firmly. I knew this would feel good, relieving some of the sting. Greg did not say anything but leaned forward slightly, away from me, to rest his hands on the shower wall above the taps. The water was pouring down, some onto his lower back and cascading down his buttocks and legs past my hands, some onto my chest as I stood behind him. I pressed in again, then a slight squeeze, then again. He twitched slightly but remained in position. I squeezed again. Then a barely audible whisper "That's very nice..."
I was almost shaking slightly with the intensity of feeling. Here was my best friend, naked in the shower with me, offering up for massage the buttocks I had admired for so long. They were delightfully firm, muscular and taut, with no surplus fat and slight hollows on the sides. While touching him, my penis had been slowly stiffening and now stood at full erection. I was beyond caring. Besides, the sounds of heavier breathing reflected from the wall in front of me suggested that Greg was enjoying this too. I began a very slow and gentle kneading of his cheeks as he spread his legs slightly more apart.
"Hey Jeff," he said suddenly.
Uh oh, was something wrong. Don't tell me I had screwed up. "Uh, what?"
"You should try this."
I felt a thrill of electricity fire through my synapses, and my penis gave a slight jump. "OK."
I lifted my hands and Greg stood up and turned round. Another thrill went through me when I saw that his penis was also rock hard. It was the first time I had seen him naked and aroused. I had to say, I liked the sight. Just as he was taller though thinner than me in real life, so too his erect penis appeared slightly longer than mine, although with less girth. He gave a quick glance at mine too but we didn't say anything. We both knew that we had already crossed a line. I took up the position he had been in, leaning against the wall with my buttocks pushed back slightly, as he began running fingers over them.
The feeling was slightly creepy at first, a little like an insect crawling across my skin. But as I anticipated the passage of his fingers along the scarifications, it felt strangely reassuring, almost like the ritual touch of a healer. When he cupped my fleshy mounds and started the slow squeeze, I had to gasp as a powerful throb went through my groin stirring my testicles. I had never felt anything quite like it. He gently and carefully kneaded my buttocks, moving his hands back and forth to slightly different positions each time. What was so good was that this experience was being administered by the kind, safe caring hands of the one person who I loved more than anyone else in the world. And then I realised...
"Hey man..."
"Yeah?"
I took my hands from the wall and turned around. "It might be even nicer this way." I placed my left hand on his right hip and stepped forward toward him. He looked directly into my eyes with an expression conveying desire, nervousness, serenity and comfort all in one. I must have looked the same, though I was trying to feed him reassurance. I moved my right hand around to his left buttock and said "We can do each other at the same time." My left hand moved to a matching position as his arms extended and, wrapping them around me, replaced his hands in the position they had been in before. We began our mutual massage. I felt contact against my penis and looked down to see his standing beside mine, nestling next to it. But now they were not penises, they were _c_o_c_k_s, the swollen and hungry _s_e_x_ organs of men, rampant weapons of lust, powerful bringers of love.
I longed for him, felt for him so much. I stepped forward slightly to bring our bodies together, and our genitals met. Our _c_o_c_k_s were pressed between our bellies, our balls dangling together, our firm-nippled pectorals rubbing each other. In doing so, our heads came so close that I had to move mine to one side and rest it on his shoulder. After a few more squeezes, I moved one arm up to start to stroke his back, the other maintained its soothing massage of his bum as I pressed my groin against his and felt him pressing back.
Greg ran his left hand up my back and began stroking me. His right hand started ranging over my bum, slipping his fingers occasionally into my crack. I ran a hand down to his thigh and started sliding my fingers in between his legs. He shuffled his feet slightly, spreading them to invite me in, and my creeping fingers started to brush and caress his balls which brought a gasp of pleasure.
I drew my head back slightly and we looked into each other's eyes properly for the first time since beginning our erotic exploration. His face was flushed, his look studied, intense, slightly dazed. "Oh Greg, this is so....so...." But I didn't finish. Our heads moved closer and I felt his warm breath mixing with mine, closer, closer, until our lips met in a delicate kiss - just for a moment, then again, then a third, longer time, before he brought his arm up to grip me tightly behind the shoulderblades and our mouths met for a more sustained encounter.
I felt the warmth and the love flowing between us. I ground myself harder against him, _c_o_c_k_ deliciously squeezed against his belly, feeling his hard rod digging into my stomach. His fingers were brushing back and forth against my hole and delightful spasms went shooting through me as I quickened my stroking of his balls. I was getting close. The pressure on my _c_o_c_k_ took my mind back to feeling it squeezed against the wooden beam as I was draped over the frame receiving my caning. I wondered how many other boys, left alone by the Headmaster after similar sessions, had ended up like Greg and I....
I felt a twitching in his balls as they slowly contracted, rising up, preparing their load. My left hand let them escape as I moved it to hold him tight to me. I wanted to be ready to meet him. With my right hand firmly against his bum I ground my _c_o_c_k_ against him hard and our tongues met. His hips started to tremble and he inhaled heavily through his nostrils. This was the moment. I was almost there but still not quite ready.
All of a sudden, as his body started to surge as if it had become a huge wave, I felt an extraordinary feeling. The finger that had been circling and pressing on my hole suddenly drove right into my asshole and pressed firmly on my prostate. As I felt his hips grinding as his _c_o_c_k_ fountained out its juices, I cried out in ecstasy. I felt the wave moving rapidy through my body , my balls quivered and fired salvo after salvo of cum to coat our bellies and matt our pubic hair.
The moment was incredible as we both moaned aloud. As the sticky streams subsided, our breathing slowed, our minds dulled and we wrapped her arms tightly around each other, as the hiss and gurgle of running water once more became the predominant sound, as the warm liquid coursed down our bodies slowly carrying away the semen I heard the headmaster's words from this morning echoing in my head....
"....I trust that you will find the experience - in its entirety - somewhat educational...."
Oh, and we forgot to put the frame in the gym away. But no-one ever mentioned it to us. So that's all right.
If you liked this story let me know - so that I know whether people would like to know more about Greg & I, and if we ever got punished again...