Busty Solos

I can't really say this course was more difficult than 'Big Brothers', but I sure did hate all the pop-quizzes. You know the ones I'm talking about, where you walk around a corner and suddenly four or five guys are standing there, looking at you as if you just said something bad about ALL of their mothers. If the female readers of this story think men have no idea what it's like to be gang-banged, you're mistaken! Some of us have a pretty fair idea of what it must feel like. The best result of the class 'Jealous Boyfriends' was that our family doctor and I became close friends. I also learned a lot about hospital emergency room procedures and X-ray machines. After a particularly hard homework assignment from two jealous guys and three of their friends one afternoon, I was waiting in the antiseptic hallway of my new campus; "The Hospital of Forms, Forms, and More Forms'. As people walked by, I was trying to keep my crotch covered. Being 14 at the time, I thought everyone wanted to see how big or small I was down there. Nobody was really sneaking any peaks, but they kept giving me these funny looks.

With all this new knowledge, I focused my attention on sports and stopped hitting little girls. I felt thought if someone I was competing against in a sport hit me, I could justifiably and probably hit them back without the threat of retaliation from a Big Brother. From the age of 7 until I turned 16, I ran up against a whole different set of problems, though. Not to appear boastful, but I was pretty good at almost every sport I tried out for. I didn't have any silly dreams of becoming an All American. I just wanted to be good enough to make everyone forget about Johnny Unitas, Wilt Chamberlain and Sandy Koufax. But again, those dreaded girls came out of the woodwork. Thankfully, they had retired their Mohammed Ali like jabs and, more importantly, their brothers were chained up in basements, or in jail where they belonged. The girls now began giving me these strange looks instead of hitting me, and started to ask me to walk them home from school, like I was some kind of bodyguard. A few even suggested we do our homework together. Boy, these frilly little things sure were dumb. I could take the garbage out at home by myself! I had to be told 8 or 9 dozen times, but I certainly didn't need their help doing it. Little did I know all of their kindness made these girls even more dangerous. To be fair, they weren't this way intentionally. Anyway, this was when I enrolled in my second extracurricular studies; 'The Disposition of a Jealous Boyfriend'.

Where’s all this leading to? Regretfully and humiliatingly, I’m trying
to work up the courage to tell you about the first time I ever had a
climax with a female was present.
Notice, I said ‘female present’! She, or in my case the three of them,
didn’t share in this experience. They only watched. As a reasonably
normal and always horny teenager I had many orgasms before this, but I
really don’t count beating off while looking at a centerfold in some
smelly bathroom as having sex. True, you eventually do come and it’s
better than nothing, but it’s just not the same when you’re alone and
you DO feel like a jerk after you’ve finished. Is this why some people
call it jerking off?
Unlike some of the stories you may have downloaded from this board
(yours truly included), my sex life didn’t begin with shapely,
beautiful, walking wet-dreams throwing me down the on playground and
fucking my brains out. Way back then, if a girl liked you, she hit you a
lot and pestered you in the most annoying way. To a boy who couldn’t
even spell hormones yet, let alone know what they were, this was not a
person you wanted to be near. To me, girls were to be avoided. Somewhere
along the line, as all 5 and 6 year old boys find out, I realized I was
stronger than the girls who were hitting me, so it was only logical that
I should start to hit them back.
This was when I first enrolled in the course; Big Brothers - 101.
Looking back at this period of time in my life, it’s really a shame my
school didn’t include the subject on their report cards. My parents
would have definitely been more proud of me. There were so many Big
Brothers, and those of us who attended their classes had a difficult
time graduating. Besides learning the relationship between a cold
compress and a black eye, I was taught how to properly re-align mangled
fingers, the different techniques of stopping a bleeding nose, shown
that, yes, I could be lifted up by the ears just like a puppy, and for
the last lesson I was amazed to learn the tiny things hanging between my
legs had nothing at all to do with how much pee I could retain before I
finally had to find a toilet. The small and hard to control rubbery
organ, which I seldom pulled out in time anyway, was primarily there for
pain! Big Brothers always hit or kicked these first so they must be
protected at all times.