Nancy's Rules free porn video

I had never been good at math, but a certain number kept running through my head. Eighteen. I was finally a legal adult! Had been for three days and four hours! A whole new world would open up, I could vote (for what good it did), drink (legally), and adults would stop ordering me around (I hoped).

It was 1974, a time when males were required to swim nude in schools, YMCAs, even YWCAs, Boys Clubs and just about everywhere else, and it was also a time when more and more women were taking positions in the work force, especially positions of authority.

On the first day of the new semester, a brutally cold January day in Illinois, I entered the boys locker room. Last class of the day was PE. Once a week we had swimming, and that first day was the day; fortunately, it was the last period. I pushed open heavy oak doors, the warm, leathery smell mixing with the chlorine in the pool; the air was a welcome warm and humid. All the boys were seated in front of their lockers, so I took my place in front of mine. I asked someone what was going on. Seems the principal had told us sit down and wait; our new teacher was going to address us.

New teacher, so what, I wondered. In those days, they were all the same. I'd had them since junior high. These guys were ex-drill instructors, or had the mentality of one. They loved to belittle and humiliate us, which felt worse because we were nude. All they cared about was discipline. If they should screw up and actually teach you something about swimming, it was only because the forgot for a moment to check to see if you were standing at attention! We all hated them all.

In a couple of minutes, two females entered from the pool. One was a slightly plump brunette, pretty, large breasts, wearing glasses. She was in a skirt, one of the shorter ones that had become fashionable, and all of us noted her nice legs. She was followed by a slightly taller blonde girl, about the same age, early twenties, wearing a red swimsuit that was skin tight. It showed off her curves, and shapely legs, and even a bit of what I would later learn was called camel toe! This blonde was quite pretty, athletic, short hair, lean, muscled legs and nice full, round boobs.

She addressed us.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. My name is Nancy Anderson. My assistant here, is Betty Roberts. You should address us as Miss Anderson and Miss Roberts. By way of background, I'm twenty-two and have just graduated college with a bachelor's degree in physical education. The school board has hired me to be your new swim teacher.”

We were all taken aback by this. What happened to Mr. Johnson? Took a job at the local junior college, we were informed.

“Okay, first things first. I know what you're asking yourselves. And the answer to your question is yes. The same policies as before will be in effect. You will continue to take swimming in the nude.”There was absolute silence in that room.

“I can tell some of you are a bit nervous about this. Let me assure you there is no need to be. I've spent all my college years teaching part time swimming classes at some schools and the YMCA. Almost all of those classes have been male, and every class was nude. The school board policy is quite clear on this, and quite specific—male students have to swim naked."

"I realize some of you have never been nude in front of an adult woman before. Well, you have my sympathy, for what it's worth. But the fact of the matter is that you will be naked in that pool, with me as your teacher, for one hour a week. As will every other boy in this school. I realize you won't like this at first, but you'll get used to it. So, let's start getting accustomed to the idea right now. I want you all to stand up and turn around.”

Reluctantly, we all did so.

“Now, open your lockers.”

We opened them.

“Now, strip down, put your clothes in the locker, then turn around and face me.”

We all looked at each other, confused.

“Hurry up. We haven't got all day. Everything off and in the locker. When you turn around, all I want to see is sixty six nuts staring me in the face!”

The rest of it seemed to happen in slow motion. I did my best to avoid removing my pants until the last. The shirt, the shoes, the socks. Finally, the pants. There was no sound but that of belts unbuckling, clothes sliding over flesh, shoes being thrown in lockers. I looked to the guy next to me and his eyes were as wide as mine. There was no sensation but the air wafting around every inch of my now naked body, and my heart hammering away. No thoughts but that this couldn't be really happening. I finally worked up the will to turn around, barely managing to breath again.

She looked at us, and barked a command, “Okay, now I want you all at attention. Put your legs apart, and lock your hands behind your head.”

I remember just barely being able to do it, and how it made me feel even more vulnerable. I was actually starting to shake with fear or embarrassment; I was too confused to know which.

Then, she went to the front of the line, with Miss Roberts in tow, and started walking slowly down it. She stood close to use, no more than a foot or so, hand on her hip, lips pursed, contemplative, sometimes backing up for a better view, sometimes bending down a bit. She looked each boy in the face, then slowly down the length of his body, pausing to stare, sometimes almost belligerently, other times thoughtfully, at each boy's manhood, occasionally allowing a faint smile to cross her face. Some of them were fully hard, but most of us were just too shocked for an erection. She looked at each boy, sometimes mumbling to herself, or whispering to Miss Roberts, who was taking notes on a legal pad.

When she got to me, she looked directly into my eyes. She had gorgeous blue eyes, and slight freckles that I hadn't noticed before. Her eyes moved slowly down my body. From the face, to chest, to abdomen, pausing at my half hard member to smile quite prettily, then down my legs. She noticed me trembling, and touched my arm, telling to calm down, it'll all be okay. She then walked back to the head of the line, told us all to remain at attention, but to turn around. She went down the line again, and I could feel her eyes on my ass.

Finally, she backed up and told us we could stand at ease. We all covered our genitals with our hands.

“Well,” she said, “most of you seem perfectly healthy. Some of you, maybe too healthy.” She shared a smile with Miss Roberts, and they both looked at one of the boys who had been fully hard as he blushed.

Then she gave us the speech. You know, the rules—no horseplay, no running, we obey her orders, etc, and hauled out the paddle she would use on our bare asses if we didn't. Then she outlined the semester. How the class broke down into sections, what we would be learning, Miss Roberts' role (locker room attendant and assistant teacher.) Then, she said she had one more thing to talk about. That we should listen very carefully to this. These were her rules, ones that she had adapted after teaching swimming to nude teenage boys.

She took a deep breath.

“Okay, you're all adolescent males, which means your bodies are still growing and your hormones are raging. You may be legally adults, but you're still teenagers. When an adolescent male finds himself nude in a group, and especially when there is a female present, certain “physiological reactions” often occur.” She paused, considering. Then leaned against the door, arms crossed, apparently loosening up a bit.

“Never mind that. You're probably unfamiliar with the term “involuntary erection” anyway. It's what's commonly called a hard on, or a boner, or getting wood, or what ever slang you want to use. It's very, very common among teenaged boys. In every class, and I mean every class I've ever taught, boys have got them. Even adult men sometimes lose control and get them. I have three brothers, one boyfriend, and thousands of naked boys I've instructed over the years who all say the same thing; that at your age, it's close to impossible to control. I have no problem believing this.”

She walked forward, to a few feet in front of us, hand on her hips, the thin swimsuit covering stretched across semi-hard nipples.

“So, here are Miss Anderson's rules for boy's swim classes. First, all of you put your hands at your side.” No one moved. I thought I hadn't heard her properly. Did she tell us to uncover? My brain was racing. I was getting stiffer by the second. Ogling her beautiful butt hadn't helped. I was almost fully hard. I couldn't take my hands away! She'd see.

I looked down the line, where no one was moving, but you could hear the heavy breathing and the room almost shook with our racing pulses.

We all hesitated, so she repeated the command, more forcefully.

And we did it, most of us slowly, turning beet red as we did! I looked down the line, saw boys with deer in the headlights looks. About half were fully erect, including me! The others were half hard, and some were still coming up.

“Now, that's better. If you're embarrassed, don't be. I'm just looking at what I saw a few minutes ago. You must always keep your hands at your side. Or behind you, or anywhere else. You are not—repeat, not!--allowed to cover up. Now, I have a reason for this. If you get involuntary hard, well, no cause for alarm. As I said, it happens. I intend to take no note of it, neither will Miss Roberts. But some of you boys are showoffs. You'll manipulate yourself into a boner just to strut your stuff, and I will not allow that!”

We all were quiet and still, our hands at our sides, all of us to one degree or another, engorged!

She turned around, leaning on her left hip. Now we could see again what a fine ass she had. Taught, firm and round. And the suit had begun to ride up the crack of her ass, exposing even more butt cheek.

The half hards became fully stiff, and those of us who were hard began to throb.

She turned to face us.

“Okay, lets go over it one more time. No running, no horsing around, obey me and Miss Roberts, no covering up or touching your own genitals or any other boy's. And one more thing. I don't want to see any boy making fun of another boy's hard on. You'll all be naked, you can see as well as I who does and doesn't get hard, and I won't allow you to shame another boy for something as normal as displaying his manhood. You could be next, you know. Miss Roberts will now give you your squad assignments and locks for your lockers.”

She was done, and left for the pool, all of us staring at her perky backside as she walked away.

Miss Roberts took over, had us line up for lock assignments. A line of nude boys formed in front of the table where she sat. She would look up at us, smile, making eye contact, handing us a note with a lock combination on it, then her eyes would drop down, always (always!) stopping at our cocks, sometimes smiling to herself.

By the time we got in the pool, and assigned to squads, the period was nearly over. Miss Anderson blew the whistle and announced free swim. I was so glad to get in that pool, where she couldn't see me, and where the cool water would keep me soft. Hanging on to the side, I saw her standing directly above me. I had never realized how erotic it was to look at a girl from that angle—the shapely legs that became smooth thighs; the triangle between her legs, where camel toe was even more obvious; the ride up her flat stomach to the mounds of her breasts.

Even the cold water couldn't stop it. I got a full blown hard on.

She finally blew the whistle, signaling the end of the class, and I swam to the end closest to the locker room, to make a mad dash for the door. I don't care what she said, erections are embarrassing. Once in the door, I nearly bumped into  Miss Roberts, who saw me, looked at my erection, and wryly smiled while rolling her eyes.

“Ken, didn't you hear what Miss Anderson said. It's okay to get hard. Perfectly natural for boys.”

I stood there with a blank look on my face. I managed to stammer out that it was easy enough for her to say, she wasn't naked.

Miss Roberts shook her head, slapped me on the butt, and said, “Get dressed and go home.”

It's almost unbelievable, but you can get used to anything. For the rest of that year, on Friday afternoon, I and a bunch of other teenage boys would strip and take a nude swim class in front of a female teacher.! I experienced the most complex mix of emotions I've ever felt, a combination of contradictory feelings—embarrassment, humiliation, and excitement. On Fridays, I would think all day long about it, that the last hour I would be nude, and in front of her, and as I approached the locker room, my stomach started doing flip flops.

Naked in the showers with the other boys, warm water washing over us, I realized that I, and most of them were at half mast. (I never remembered that happening with male teachers; we were all soft, and stayed that way for the whole class.) At that point, we were thinking of what came next, the long nude march out the shower to the opposite end of the pool; or her; or them. The line up in squads, roll call, calisthenics, all of us naked and watched by two women! On the deck was the worst part; open, exposed, and warm. In the water, the cool water that shriveled everything and cooled it off, was much easier.

The locker room was typical high school boy locker room of that period, just a big, open area with lockers along the walls and an open shower room with shower heads on the walls. There was an office at one end, with a glass wall through which the teacher could monitor the locker room. Oddly, we never saw Miss Anderson there. But Miss Roberts, locker room monitor, was always there.

She watched us strip, and stood next to the shower room as we entered, frequently greeting us with a bubbly “Hi,” looking us in the eyes, but never failing, and making no attempt to hide, her eyes dropped down to our genitals, as though she were keeping mental note of who was soft and who was hard, and a few of us already were by that point.

When I passed either of them in the hall, they would smile and say hello, and I would perfunctorily reply, but with my head down, or rigidly ahead. I would also blush, knowing they had, and would, see me naked, me and every other boy in the school. The fact that I was a later bloomer, and rather sexually naive (I'd never even had a girlfriend!) meant I didn't have a lot of erections. Most of the other boys, especially early on, did. Both the women would look at them, sometimes openly, sometimes surreptitiously, and roll their eyes, smile, sometimes smirk, sometimes shake their heads, but they did keep their word; no boy was every humiliated for it, they just carried on as though nothing had happened.

Not that there weren't situations that were almost designed to induce them and it was not just that they saw us naked, they saw every inch of us naked. In those days, we were taught to dive by putting our legs apart, half way crouching, and putting our arms out behind us at an angle. I never knew how exposed this made you, until one day I was waiting my turn, and noticed what five bare boys in that position looked like—bent over like that, your butt cheeks separated and you looked right up into the crack of his ass; worse, your balls hung down like an inviting target for a pool cue. You just couldn't get more exposed than that.

I noticed that both women always stood behind us when we were practicing diving.

We sometimes practiced various strokes on the deck, where there was no water to cover anything. Then there were the warm up calisthenics. Starting with jumping jacks. Picture thirty or so naked boys doing jumping jacks, with our cocks and balls flapping up and down. These were the most humiliating, of course; when we finished, we were all hard. Then, push ups, with your cock, sometimes still hard, sliding across the tile floor. Followed by squat thrusts, and something called a back bridge, in which you lay on your back, with your legs apart, lifting up your back, exposing your entire genital area.

These we did facing her, but she would blow the whistle, have us turn around, and do the remaining exercises. These were the more humiliating ones, that required you bend over. In retrospect, I realize she was trying to reinforce her position—she was in charge and we couldn't hide anything from her! She kept the whistle in her mouth, so she couldn't laugh, but when we did the jumping jacks, Miss Roberts would openly laugh and turn her head away.

It didn't start out that way; it started out with embarrassment, humiliation, and yes, anxiety; but, eventually, I think we all developed a crush on Miss Anderson. She was a Midwestern farm girl of Scandinavian descent, with fresh face and blue eyes that went with it. Her blonde hair was cut short, in a style that would come to be called a shag. Her legs were curvy, strong, rippled with muscles; her stomach was flat; her breasts, nicely round and on the large size, jutted out above them; her butt was taut and firm, her hips wide enough to make the statement emphatic: this is a girl!

We all loved just to see her walk, her boobs delectably bouncing, hips swaying, ass jiggling; or bent over, her boobs on view from the front, her fine butt, exposed even more by the lifting up of her swimsuit, from the rear; or even just standing there, clipboard in hand, leaning slightly sideways, the weight on one hip as she spoke to a nude boy and sometimes favored him with a smile. She had a knockout smile, slightly mischievous; her lips would curl into something outright impish when she smiled broadly. And doing so would show the dimples in her cheeks and make her eyes almost sparkle.

Sometimes we would nearly pass out when she came out of the pool after demonstrating a stroke. The suit was of slight material, and we could see her nipples, often stiff; the outline of her pussy in the front, and the crack of her ass in the rear.

We all stared at her, and I'm certain she knew it. She knew we looked at her boobs and legs, her face and butt. What she didn't know is that we were lost in the fog of awe that an pretty girl can induce in teenage boys. She must have known she was pretty; she would have had a mirror, after all, and no doubt boys and men both took detailed notice of her. (Although she had said she had a boyfriend.) But she was something all adolescent boys thought of as as rare as a unicorn; an attractive female who wouldn't use her beauty as a weapon.

If anything, even though we were nude, even though she was the teacher, an authority figure, we almost felt a certain camaraderie with her. Though she couldn't give us any privacy, she did the best she could to encourage boys to accept and embrace their nudity. She understood we felt, and were, vulnerable, and she did everything she could to encourage us; applauded our efforts, commiserated with our failures, accepted us. The caution she took with us, making sure we were as comfortable as possible with nudity endeared her to us.

She never made fun of us when we got hard (and God knows there were hard ons, many, in every one of her classes!) or allowed any boy to be made fun of by others. I remember watching her from a distance once, as she talked to one boy. He was getting stiff as they talked, and obviously nervous. She had looked down at his hard on, pointed to it, smiled and laughed. He also smiled and laughed. I had no idea what she did, but it put him at ease.

That simple concern for us made us embrace her as much as we hated the male teachers. They they were just her opposite. In those days, they were ex drill instructors, or had the mentality of same. They were only concerned with discipline and constantly humiliating or embarrassing us.

Only twice did she ever do anything that could have been considered the least bit sexual, and both seemed to be more playful than erotic.

On one occasion, she and Miss Roberts were in the pool, giving groups of boys individual instruction. She was standing in front of me, showing me how to perform a particular stroke. She had me put my arms up, and got too close. My flaccid cock and balls somehow brushed up against her leg. I must have registered some shock. She stopped, looked down at my now stiff cock and did something that shocked me so badly I nearly jumped three feet out of the water!

She grabbed my cock, and pulled me toward her, and whispered in my ear, “Stop worrying about this. I've seen them before. Concentrate on swimming!” Then she let go, threw some water in my face, laughed, and swam away. I can still remember vividly her hair in my face, her soft, smooth cheek touching my face and the warmth of her breath in my ear. We were in stomach deep water, so no one saw what happened.

On another occasion, we were in the water in groups of five or so. Again the water was stomach to chest deep. We were practicing floating. You had to float for thirty seconds on your back and then stomach to pass the test. When it came my turn, she ordered me forward in a group of boys surrounding us. She told me stomach first. So, I started to lay flat, but like everyone else, the mid section of the body tended to sink. She would help each boy get flat in the water by lifting up his mid section, always careful to avoid touching his butt or genitals. In my case, she seems to have screwed up and put her hands right on my balls! She didn't seem to realize this, but I was in such shock, my butt started to go down again, so she reached up once more, and this time grabbed my cock! She immediately said, “Sorry,” and moved her hand down to my thighs. I was now fully stiff, and had thirty seconds to make it go down.

Finally, she told me to roll over on my back. I did so, with the help of her hand on my legs, and almost stuck my erection in her face. My stiff cock was at almost eye level with her, and sticking straight up out of the water!! The other boys started to laugh, and she told them to shut up, or didn't they remember what she'd said about making fun of another boy's hard on? Then she took the first two fingers left hand, hooked them around my cock and deftly pushed it down until it lay flat on my stomach. The other boys looked as surprised as I was.

I had been working so hard, senior year after all, studying, taking courses for pre college entrance exams, working part time, that the whole routine had become exhausting. I would fall into bed at night, and wake up a zombie the next morning. Hadn't even masturbated for a month and a half. Miss Anderson had changed my routine; it was a centerfold I would imagine, but she, in whom I would come.

Of course, I had no idea what that was like. I was behind (way behind!) in sexual development, still a virgin, without a girlfriend. I was shy (no, let's be blunt: terrified) with girls. The result was that I was dead tired, full of unused come, and one morning I looked down at my balls, and was surprised to see them apparently swollen, and with a slightly bluish tint, and a little painful. I had no time to think about it, I was already late.

That was in March; I remember it was an unusually cold early spring day. I was in class, listening to Miss Roberts talk, when Miss Anderson, who was wearing sandals, bent over to straighten one. She made the mistake of bending over full from the waist, exposing those legs, making the swimsuit ride up into her butt, accentuating the triangle of cloth that covered her ass. She must have realized the mistake, and immediately stood up.

But it was too late for me. I felt the sensation with which every male is familiar. My cock started to tingle, swell, stiffen, elongate, coming up in throbs, a bit of swelling, stiffening, throb, and up further. I looked down at it, to confirm it was really happening. My heart was pounding, and I kept telling myself, No, not now. Please God, not now! But it kept coming up, and in a few seconds, I had the stiffest hard on I had ever felt. It was rock hard, and almost pointing up. And it wouldn't stop throbbing, up and down! My balls were trying to crawl back inside my body.

No one had yet noticed this. Coming back to reality, I realized the boys were lining up in front of the diving board. Miss Roberts had been telling them we were going to practice diving off the board. Oh Christ, please no! The board was a foot or two off the deck, and anyone on it was in full view of everyone else.

I was in line with five boys to go, and it wouldn't go down. I moved forward and accidentally poked the guy in front of me, who turned around and regarded me with a smirk. Then, there was no one in front of me. Miss Roberts was standing at the board, a clipboard in hand; Miss Anderson was a few feet away with her whistle. Miss Roberts regarded my erection, and noted dryly, “I see you're glad to be here. Up on the board, please.” My legs were weak, but I somehow managed them to propel me onto the board.

I was now on view for all, and while most of the boys seemed to commiserate with me, a couple laughed. Through the roaring in my ears I heard Miss Anderson blow her whistle. “Quiet, all of you, or I'll burn your butts! Ken, it's okay; just take your time. When you're ready, make the dive.” I stood there a few seconds, aware that all eyes were on my cock, and when I got my legs to work, I ran down the board, ignoring my erection that jangled back and forth, hit the water, bottomed out so that my dick struck the tiles at the bottom, then surfaced. Swimming to the other end of the pool, I could hear Miss Anderson and Miss Roberts congratulating me on a perfectly executed dive.

“Nice one,” they both yelled, I presume referring to the dive.

I thought the cold water would kill my erection, but at the other end of the pool, I got out and it was still sticking straight out! I couldn't avoid it, so I walked as slowly and carefully as possible to the other end of the pool, with my dick sticking straight out, wobbling from side to side, up and down, inscribing invisible circles in the air; I felt hot, knowing I was blushing, from head to foot, and almost incapable of breathing. That was the most humiliation I had ever experienced!

Miss Anderson blew the whistle for free swim. Another ten minutes in the pool, and I thought it was going down, but when I got out at the end of class, it was still there! It seemed like I was beginning to lose sensation, it had been hard for so long. I felt some minor pain in my balls, too.

Miss Anderson stopped me at the door.

I walked over to her, slowly, intensely aware of my nudity and erection.

“I'm sorry Miss Anderson. I can't control it...”

“I know you can't. That's not the problem. The problem is that I've been watching you naked for three months now, and except for after calisthenics, when every one has one, you've only been hard on two occasions, and they disappeared pretty quickly.” She looked at her watch. “This is fifty minutes. It's still not going down. That's too long.” I would have been shocked by her blunt tone, but she had a way of putting you at ease.

She squatted down and stared at my genitals.

“Come to my office, now.”

I asked if I should get dressed. She said no, just come the way I am.

I went through the door and started to follow her upstairs, staring at her adorable butt, just a few feet away.

I heard her say, “And stop staring at my butt.” I came to a dead stop on the stairs, my erection bouncing. She looked over her shoulder and laughed. “It's okay. Just kidding. Guys are always staring at my butt. I've got to the point where I can feel their eyes. Come on.”

I continued up the stairs, and at the landing, she stopped suddenly and my hard on jabbed her in the left part of her butt. I immediately backed off, mortified, eyes bulging. “It's okay,” she said, "accidents happen.” And muttered to herself, “Like that's never happened before.”

She threw her keys on her desk, told me to stand at attention, drew up a chair and looked at my cock and balls for minute, without touching. Then she went to her desk and picked up the phone, dialing a number. I heard her ask the person on the other end to come to her office, this was something of an emergency. No, not life or death, but needing more than take two aspirins and call me in the morning.

She told me I could relax, but remain standing. The pain in my nuts was increasing.

There I stood, nude, with a raging erection, when the school nurse walked in. She took a quick look at me, then talked to Miss Anderson. I couldn't hear what she said, but Miss Anderson pointed at my erection.

The nurse came over in front of me and looked me up and down, stopping at my cock.

“Your name's Ken, isn't it? I'm Miss Hutchinson, the school nurse.”

She was a pleasant woman, with a nice smile. She was dressed in a short black skirt and high heels. She looked incredible. My heart kicked in overtime again.

Miss Anderson ordered me to attention again.

“How old are you, Ken?” I told her eighteen. She asked if I had a girlfriend. I said no. Then she asked, as though it were a casual question, how often I masturbated. No female, no one, in fact, had ever asked me such an intimate question. I was silent while my brain processed the information, then responded in a shaky voice at least once daily, but that I hadn't now for a month and a half. She turned and looked at Miss Anderson, who raised an eyebrow in response.

“I need to examine your penis and test...penis and testicles! I keep forgetting I'm not in anatomy class. Your cock and balls. That's how you boys refer to them. So, I'll need to touch you. Okay? Try not get too excited, all right?”

I was amazed at how thoughtful and considerate this woman was. Miss Anderson and Miss Roberts had never asked permission. It was as though I had been their property and do with me whatever they wanted. This woman seemed to regard me as a person.

She took my cock in her hand, asking over her shoulder to Miss Anderson how long I'd been this hard. Miss Anderson responded with an hour and a half.

Miss Hutchinson raised her eyebrows and spoke under her breath, “Teach this to my husband.”

She lifted my cock and started to manipulate it. If it had been possible to get any harder, I would have!

“Okay, Ken, what I'm doing now is examining your cock for any abnormalities. I'm looking down the length, and it seems okay.” She moved it around in a circle, and up and down, finally giving it a slight slap sideways. “Full range of motion.” She put one hand on the top, and one on the bottom, and squeezed them together. “This is to test for a degree of hardness. It's subjective, of course, but from my experience, I would classify this as absolutely rock hard. It does, however, feel rather hot. Have you noticed it's any less sensitive than before?”

I said yes.

She checked my heartbeat. “Rather rapid. Why is that? Are you excited, or afraid?”

I admitted to being rather more afraid than excited.

She smiled. “Don't worry. We're here to help. I need to examine your balls now. I have to squeeze them, but I'll be careful. I know how sensitive a boy's balls are. Do you have any pain there?” I admitted to mild pain, especially when I moved.

She took my balls in her hand, gently running her fingers around them. It hurt, but I didn't admit it. She gestured to Miss Anderson, who came over to me and felt my balls also.

Then she pulled a rubber glove out of her pocket.

“There's one more thing I should try. It's highly unlikely that a boy your age should have an inflamed prostate, but epididymal hypertension is statistically unlikely, too. So, I'm going to be thorough and do this. Turn around now, bend over and grab your ankles.”

I did as she said, a bit reluctantly, not knowing what would be next, I did so. I felt something pull my butt cheeks apart, felt the cool air on the crack of my ass, then something else, something cold and liquid flowing there. Suddenly, something large and hard was shoved up in side me. I gasped and started to stand up, but she pushed me down. What ever was in me, was moving around in my butt.

“Just stay there for a second more and it will all be over. That's my finger you feel inside you, and in a minute, it will be out.”

Soon, I felt it withdraw, and sighed with relief. I could feel her take a tissue and wipe the lubricant away. Finally, she said it was okay to stand up and turn around.

I turned around, stood at attention again, legs spread, hands behind my head, with a raging erection and pain in my balls while two women discussed what to do with me! I couldn't hear what they said; I could only catch the nurse saying I was a Tanner 5, whatever that meant. It seemed to end with Miss Hutchinson shrugging her shoulders, gesturing at my hard on, and walking out the door.

Miss Anderson told me I could stand normally now.

She stood up, walked around the desk and stood in front of me, arms crossed, leaning back.

“Ken, have you ever heard of blue balls?” I admitted I hadn't

“It's a fairly rare condition that afflicts males only. It's caused by an accumulation of sperm in the testicles. Your balls are always producing sperm, and the stuff has to be released or it can build up and cause pain. My brother had it once; said it was horribly painful. Fortunately, the solution is simple. I was going to suggest that your girlfriend might assist you, but you don't have one, do you? I've come to realize you're pretty far behind the other boys in that respect, and you wouldn't so much as approach a girl if there were a gun to your head.”

I must have shown it on my face. The despair, the sense of worthlessness I felt at that pronouncement.

She put her hand on my shoulder, laughing slightly, and said, “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. You're just not developing as fast as the other boys, you're so shy. So, the only other thing you can do is jerk off. As long as you do it regularly, the problem will be solved.”

I started to say something, then a huge, sharp pain, stuck my balls, emanated out into my abdomen, as though someone had put them in a vise and squeezed while simultaneously using a blowtorch. My eyes bulged, and my breath was gone, otherwise I would have screamed. I doubled over, grabbing my balls.

I felt her hand on my back. “Ken,” there was urgency in her voice, “are you okay?”

I looked up at her, tears of pain in my eyes. I heard my self hoarsely say, “I'm sorry, Miss Anderson, I broke your rule about covering up.”

“That's ok, it's only for the pool, anyway. Are you okay?”

I quaked when another wave of pain hit me.

“Ken. Ken, what's wrong?”

I managed to gasp out the words, “Pain... balls.”

“I'm going to call for ambulance,” and started for the phone.

I was groaning in agony. Another wave hit, and I fell down on the floor.

“Ken,” she said.

Her hand was on my back again. She asked if I could stand up. Every muscle in my body was contracted.

“You have to stand up. I have to get between your legs.”

She went behind me, grabbed me around the chest and helped me stand up then went in front again.

She pushed me back toward a table behind me.

“Put your butt up on the edge of the table. Move forward a little so everything dangles down. Move your hands away.”

I was perched on the edge of the table, forcing myself to lean back, all my muscles trying cramp, my cock sticking straight up, tears flowing from my eyes.

I saw her take a step back, talking to herself, “Dammit, Ken.“ A pause, then she was talking to herself. ”Okay, Nancy, this has to happen. You can't just leave him like this. Just get on with it.” She went quickly to the cabinet, opened it and took out a bottle of some kind of lotion and roll of paper towels. She put them on the table behind me.

She poured a line of baby oil on my throbbing cock. It felt cool and silky, then her hand, warm and soft, started stroking. I must have flinched; she looked in my eyes, hers reflecting concern, then went back to the task at hand.

Oh God, that felt good. No female had ever touched like this. Even through the pain, I was feeling a strange mixture of embarrassment, excitement, fear, hope. I opened my eyes and saw her looking down at my stiff organ, concentrating on working it, a slight sheen of perspiration on her forehead and upper lip. She licked her lips.

“Does this feel good?”

"God, yes," I gasped. She smiled that adorable smile of hers; even her fear for me hadn't negated the obvious enjoyment she took in having control over me.

She looked me in the eyes for a second, the impish smile playing on her face. “I kinda suspected it might.”

She knew exactly how to masturbate a male; her hands grasped tightly, jerked rapidly, working up and down.

The were a few more minutes of pain, slowly abating as my organ warmed in her hands and the muscles started to relax. And then it happened. With almost no warning, every muscle in my body flexed again , I threw my head back, gasped, moaned, and grimaced; my hips shot upward, I grabbed the table, holding on for dear life; my cock was jerking back and forth, and the whole universe suddenly was sucked into my body and ejected out my organ, which was exploding, jumping, jerking, writhing. My balls felt as though they were sucked out my dick, pulling up inside of me, being drained.

Through tight fists, squinting eyes and clenched teeth, I could barely see Miss Anderson. She had jumped to the side, and put her hand in front of my cock to catch the ejaculation, but she had the presence of mind not to stop pumping me, in fact, she increased the pressure and the pace.

“Come on Ken, you can do it. Keep squirting that stuff out, get it all out...”

Finally, the last of came out of me, and I fell back on the table, broken, empty. I was overcome by a feeling of peace, and release. I had no idea it would feel like this, so good, so incredible. And more, there was a feeling of something opening up, of a great secret having been revealed, something into which I was now initiated and now a part of it.

She held up her sperm covered hand, and regarded it, “Good the last drop,” she said, smiling, obviously pleased with herself. She got a wet cloth and started cleaning off my cock. I was incapable of speech, just sitting there, staring off into space, trying to take this in. I must have seemed catatonic.

She pulled my chin up to meet her eyes, and grabbed my near flaccid cock. “Are you okay?” she said, jerking on it for emphasis. I managed to nod. I could feel her holding my manhood, and my balls were still slightly painful, but the pain was receding by the minute.

“Wow, talk about geysers. Old Faithful has nothing on you,” she smilingly said.

“You see,” she said, “the problem isn't this.” She squeezed by it for emphasis. “It's these.” And she gently cradled my balls with her other hand.

“The first time I saw you naked, I realized that you had an average cock, and don't be offended, there's no dishonor in having an average one, but very large balls. I've seen thousands of naked men and boys and I've rarely seen any this size. I should have realized by the way they hung down, like halfway to your knees, that they were also heavy. But until I just now felt them, I hadn't realized that they were heavy and firm. Most balls are fairly squishy. What all that means is that you're producing a lot more sperm than most guys, and you have to release it even more often.”

I started to ask how she knew this, but she understood the question before I could ask it.

“Because I've squeezed a lot of balls in my time. We used to give guys physicals in groups. We'd have them strip and line up at attention, then I'd go down the line and squeeze their nuts and have them cough. Most guys got hard. Anyway, large balls shouldn't produce more sperm, but you seem to be an exception. I've only seen this happen to one other boy, and he had to go the emergency room, so I realized I had to do something quickly. There, all clean, and I do believe your nuts are starting to return to their normal color.”

She was cleaning her hands, and talked as she did so, “We have to talk about what just happened her. You must never—I mean never, never, ever, ever—admit to anyone, and I mean anyone - friends, family, anyone - that this took place. I know boys; you like to brag to your friends. Don't, please. You understand? I'm dead serious about this. There could be awful consequences. I could lose my teaching license, and you could find yourself in trouble, too.”

She paused, thinking, “Maybe you're not a minor, but as a teacher my role is considered legally as that of a custodian. Some people might think what I'm doing here isn't helping you, but molesting you. Even as an adult, the school board has a provision in the contract that prohibits any sexual contact between a student and teacher. I suppose it's because they knew that I'd be teaching naked young men, but I remember at the interview they went over that three times for emphasis that there should be no physical contact beyond that necessitated by my role as teacher.”

She finished washing her hands. “So, this was for uhm, medicinal purposes only, Okay? Do you feel better?”

I stood up, shakily, and she grabbed me to keep me from falling down.

I looked into those blue eyes, at that softly pretty, freckled face, and I saw everything good and desirable in a woman, the beauty, the grace, kindness and gentleness, and emotions I'd never felt before came rushing out of me. I no longer cared that I was nude; I had no embarrassment in front of her, all I felt was an overwhelming desire that this incredible creature would so much as look upon me with a benevolent smile. That she had opened this door for me, and with a gentility I could never have hoped for, was just more than I could have believed. It seemed like a dream.

I took her right hand, and covered it with both of mine, and kissed it. Her skin was warm and soft; her hand scented with my cum. A seismic change had emboldened me; I somehow now fancied myself no longer a naked eighteen year old boy, but an adult man who might make so bold as to kiss the hand of a twenty-two-year-old woman. She was staring intently into my eyes, surprised, but not shocked. She didn't resist when I took her right hand and put it back on my flaccid cock. She squeezed it tightly and it started to stiffen.

“I have no way of saying what I'm feeling right now, Miss Anderson. All I can say is a million thank yous.”

She smiled a wide eyed smile, the blue eyes almost twinkling. “You're welcome Mr. Harris.”

My cock was once again hard and throbbing in her hand.

“We just emptied that thing and it's hard again. Teenage boys. I swear you're all walking sperm banks.”

I was surprised that she didn't let go, but instead took me tightly by my erection, and led me down the stairs to the locker room. The school was empty, and I stood up against my locker, staring at our image in the mirror behind her. Her finely shaped butt, the curvy, muscled legs, the short blonde hair; and my nude body.

She ran her hand through my hair. “You're so young. If you were just a few years older.” She jerked my cock a couple of times, and said, “Remember to start emptying this thing, okay?”

I turned around to my locker. I was afraid to look her in the face.

“Miss Anderson, I want to tell you something. I used to think of centerfolds and actresses when I jerked off. But from now on, and I hope I wont' insult or offend you with this, but I just have to tell you, from now on it will be you I imagine.”

I braced myself for the possibility that she might slap me. In a few seconds, I felt her hand slip between my legs and grab my nuts; then her other hand came around from behind and grabbed my cock as it stiffened again. I felt her breath on my back. “I told you had big balls, which you do. What I didn't tell you was how cute I think big balls are.” She withdrew her hands, smacked both my butt cheeks and was gone