Have you ever wondered how different your life could be if only you had made different choices? Or allowed circumstances to take a different course?
At seventeen I was a schoolboy attending an outdoor centre for Biology and Botany. I was one of fifteen students at this venue and as things turned out, I was the only one that came away wondering whether I had done the right thing and whether I had overreacted.
On Saturday night I and five other so-called friends didn’t get to sleep as we were told to do and we started down a bawdry route that saw Morris Evans, one of the male teachers who were with us, enter our dormitory room just after midnight to find us fooling around. He caught me jumping on the bed and when he questioned who had started it all, they all pointed the finger at me.
I was ordered to his room. It wasn’t a good start because as we all knew, or at least believed, Morris was gay.
I entered his room to find him closing the door behind me before giving me a stern talking about behavioural issues. Punishment was the order of the day, and teachers of my time were strict and relentless.
“Take your trousers down, Jones,” he told me. I hesitated. I looked at him and made a move to carry out his orders. It wouldn’t have been the first time the plimsole would have been used on my backside and it was his favourite tool for administering punishment and pain.
I eventually lowered my trousers.
“Now take your pants down.” This command stopped me in my tracks. This was unusual. I became a little nervous and uncertain. What was happening here? Why had he asked me to do that? The questions wouldn’t go away and from somewhere I had the presence of mind to question him. To question a teacher?
“I don’t think I should do that, sir,” I said.
“You don’t what, Jones?” His tone was condescending and he was practically shouting at me.
“I… I don’t think I should do that, sir.”
He looked at me sternly but it was a look of disbelief that someone had actually stood up to him.
“And why do you think that Jones?” he added.
“Because there’s no one else here, sir,” I stopped short of adding ‘and it’s late.’
That seemed to stop him in his tracks. He obviously considered what I had said because he just told me to bend over. I did this and it was followed by five slaps of the plimsole on my backside before he told me to bugger off back to the dormitory.
The following day I kept replaying those events through my head, over and over and I always came to the same conclusion that what he had asked me to do was wrong. I reported him, my parents backed me up but nothing was ever done. One person’s word against the other as they say.
But here I am forty-six years in the future of those events. Certain thoughts have been flowing through my mind recently that have been quite disturbing in some respects and quite thrilling in others. I keep wondering what if?
What if?… I had dropped my pants. What if I had had the presence of mind to know then what I know now.
How would that have changed me?
These thoughts have not come from anywhere. They’ve been built on several years of sexual experimentation, swinging foursomes and moresomes, a girlfriend that wanted to see me suck dick and of course, an attitude that made me want to please her every whim.
It goes way back to when I was sixteen and my best friend and I shared a bed in a caravan on a holiday with my parents. I awoke one morning with a hard-on. I wondered whether my mate, lying next to me, was experiencing the same. I wanted to ask him but was too scared to do so. Truth be told I wanted to touch him to find out but that was a wild dream.
All this started me wondering who I was? or what I had become? Did I always have it in me to be like this? Did Morris Evans see something in me that I didn’t know was there? Was I wrong?
What if… I wasn’t shy and knew my mind at that tender age of seventeen?
What if?
ooOoo
“Take your trousers down, Jones,” he told me. I didn’t hesitate. I unbuckled them and dropped them to the floor. I looked at him circling me like a vulture and picking up a plimsole from out of his bag. The ever-present spanking tool of choice that never left his side.
“Now take your pants down.”
“Yes, sir,” I grinned. Hooking my fingers into the waistband I slowly peeled them down until they rested on top of my trousers on the floor. The white cheeks of my bare bottom showed from under the shirt that was a little too big for me, ‘You’ll grow into it,’ my mother had said at the time.
“Now bend over, Jones, and take your punishment.”
“Please, sir, not the plimsole, I’d prefer a bare hand, sir.”
“Would you indeed?” The words that left his mouth were deliberate and slow. He nevertheless drew the plimsole across my bare bottom before tapping my backside with it. “You want me to spank you with this, do you?”
I felt his hand cup my bottom and then he tapped it against my white flesh, first one side and then the other. His long fingers extended into the moist crack of my arse when he cupped my left buttock and I could feel it linger there a little too long.
Suddenly the wind was torn from my lungs as his hand administered an almighty force on one cheek which was closely followed by the other. I ended up gasping for air. The force pushed me forward and my hands stretched out to stabilise myself, coming to rest on the edge of his bed. My legs opened slightly in an attempt to obtain a better purchase on the floor.
I waited for the next contact but it was a little late in coming. I wondered what he was contemplating and was about to look over my shoulder when I felt the next pair of hard hand slaps break over me.
I yelped once more and my bottom stung like nothing I had experienced. I felt it spread throughout my lower region. Another pair of handprints were added to the two that were there and I found myself on the edge of tears, what with the pain and position I was in.
“Are you enjoying this, Jones?” he asked. I yelped once more as two more strikes pushed me slightly forward and off-balance.
I recovered my balance and after I stopped panting I contemplated the question he had asked. I didn’t know what he meant by it, I didn’t understand his line of questioning.
“I don’t know what you mean, sir,” I said eventually.
The warmth of his hand on my left buttock was oddly soothing. I waited for the next slap but all he did was caress my ass; his fingers lightly touching my flesh and probing ever closer to the crease down the back.
“Think about it, Jones.”
I thought about it and after a short while realised that my cock was erect and pointing along my body and under my shirt. My legs had opened in my attempt at stability. His hand slid from one buttock to the next and brushed over my balls that were swinging low from my groin.
I gulped.
I didn’t know what had happened or why I had reacted in that way but I did. My cock was indeed hard, and when he brushed his hand over my balls I let out a louder moan than I should have done coupled with my ball-sack twisting and shrinking in size.
It had provided him with all the evidence he needed.
“Well, Jones. What do you have to say about this?”
His fingertips kissed my balls as his hand reached between my thighs and ran along the length of my cock. They retraced their steps and came to rest on the underside of my balls where he cupped them and jiggled them from side to side.
My stomach was in my mouth. I couldn’t speak and I didn’t have a clue what to say even if I could. For the first time in my life I was dumbstruck and yet – I knew that if I spoke anything it would come out wrong, so I said nothing. I stared straight ahead, closing my eyes as I felt him fondle my balls and cock.
Yes, it felt fucking wonderful. I wanted him to do it. To touch me there. To caress my balls in his hand and run his fingers along my cock. He pulled on the shaft and released my bell end into the open.
“I’m waiting for an answer, Jones.”
“It… It’s nice, sir.”
“Nice is it? Indeed.” His hand encircled my cock and was stroking along its length before he started to masturbate it with just two fingers and a thumb. I felt a finger of his other hand slip between my buttocks and linger over my anus. His fingertip pressed at the entrance but didn’t go any further than that. It was a cursory investigation to determine whether I would pull away.
Ordinarily, I would have done, but his touch only fired my impending climax to reach its conclusion. The feelings and pleasure he was giving me were beyond my wildest dreams. His thumb took over against my anus while his fingers once more jiggled with my balls. His hand on my cock sped up and I was panting and moaning out loud.
“Sir, I think I’m, I’m…”
Morris Evans never said a word but let me shoot my load from the end of my dick. I was in a state of euphoria, I nearly collapsed on the bed, it was only my convulsing body that kept me upright. Spunk shot from the end of my dick and onto the bedclothes.
“Look at the mess you’ve made, Jones.”
“Sir, I’m sorry, sir.”
I couldn’t apologise enough for the white sticky fluid that now covered his bed, though the first couple of jets did end up shooting onto the inside of my dangling shirt.
“You’ve got me all worked up now, Jones.”
I heard a belt buckle sliding and the rustling of clothes from behind me. I was still panting and coming to terms with what I had done. There would repercussions for sure.
“Turn around, Jones.”
I swivelled on the edge of the bed and sat down on it. My eyes immediately fixed on his circumcised cock rearing up from his groin. Glancing down I could see he was in the same state as me except his buttocks were not red-raw and he wasn’t in any pain.
I raised my eyes to look into his but he avoided my gaze and so I looked at his wiggling cock that he was shaking from side to side.
“You’re gonna have to do something to make me relaxed about this whole episode. Do you understand me?”
I nodded. He grabbed his cock and brought it to the horizontal position by pressing down on the base with his thumb. I looked up into his eyes and then back towards the bulbous head. I knew what he wanted me to do, the same thing that Rosie Campbell did to all the boys in my class in school, except me of course. I put that down to the fact that I was skinny and shy, not that I was ugly.
“Well, it’s waiting for you, Jones.”
“Yes, sir,” I nearly sobbed the words out of my pathetic mouth. A mouth that was already forming an O shape and opening wider and extending forwards. Morris Evans took a step closer to me and between our movements his bulbous head entered my mouth. I didn’t expect it to feel so hot but it did. I didn’t expect it to feel so silky smooth either despite the ridges that ran down its length.
Morris pushed forward a little and without realising it I had moved forward onto his cock. I sucked hard and without any effort, my hand came upon his balls. Before I realised it I was bobbing on his knob and moving my mouth around and over his cock like Rosie Campbell. But it was his hand that started jerking the length of his cock with lustful urgency.
“That’s it, Jones. Keep your mouth right where it is.”
I did just as I was told. I kept it still, I sucked on his bulbous knob-end while he stroked it.
My eyes opened wide when I felt hot liquid shoot into my mouth. I wasn’t prepared for it. I coughed and choked a little before swallowing hard to try and get rid of it before the next jet hit the insides of my mouth. I let out a muffled satisfying noise as I swallowed his white creamy load. The taste and the smell were all new to me and I relished all that my senses served up. Morris removed his hand which was replaced by mine as soon as he did and I ended up tossing him off into my mouth; eager for more of the same salty-creamy liquid.
His hand came to rest on the top of my head.
“Well done, Jones. That was very commendable of you.”
“Thank you, sir,” I replied after his spent dick slipped from between my lips.
“You’d better get back to the dormitory. You’ve been here long enough and if anyone asks, you’re to say that I gave you a good talking to. Do we understand each other?”
“Yes, sir,” I nodded.
“Now pull your trousers up and off you go.”
“Yes, sir.”
I did as I was told and watched Morris do the same thing. I left his room not forty minutes after I had entered. I crept into the dormitory and hoped that everyone would have fallen asleep. As luck would have it they seemed to be sleeping when I stripped off and crept into bed.
The following morning was much different. I was faced with a hundred and one questions all of which hinted that he had his wicked way with me. I was adamant that that never happened. I had to play along.
In the morning, I was facing Morris Evans while eating breakfast. He never looked in my direction but just chatted and laughed with the other teachers. It was as if nothing had happened. But it did. I was there, I know what happened…
Morris Evans spanked me which was all down to me suggesting that he do so. I got myself tossed off by Morris Evans. It was my first orgasm with another person. I sucked Morris Evans’ cock and swallowed his spunk; all of it.
To be honest, I can’t wait to suck on Morris Evans’ cock again, to savour the smell, the feel of it in my mouth and the taste, not to mention that juicy cream that shoots from the end of it. I have to say, I loved every minute of it. I want it to happen again and I can’t wait to be naughty in Morris Evans’ class as soon as I get back to school. I want to visit his house so that his thumb could perhaps go a little deeper. I want all of that and more.
Or do I?
That’s the trouble with what ifs…
