Josh and Mr. Gunn

My pleasure is to introduce you to a new, sympathetically roguish, thus appealing character Josh. He lives, picaresquely, by his wits and his comely butt – leaving chaos in his delighted wake. A natural phenomenon, Josh looks younger than his biological age. He plays that for all he can, then moves on. If you like him, he may reappear one day – here on GayDemon.

“Pre-cum cock juices mix with salivary gland secretions to pool in readiness for spurts of sperm to brew a slurry for thirsty throats,” managed our Biology teacher on a single breath. “Your task is to take at first only the cock’s helmet for tonguing – just the tip, mind you – and nibbling with your lips its frenulum,” he pointed specifically on the chart.

Unzipped his fly. Flopped out.

With me on the floor kneeling up, his eyes directed into mine a clear message to perform.

Classmates looked on expectantly. It was the beginning of the term. Ours, a special school.

I wanted to swallow but, cautioned to keep saliva “in readiness,” I stretched enough for my tongue to reach the velvety cushion which was firming. At my tongue’s touch, it quivered. Exploring the texture and the taste, I decided to kiss it.

My pucker scored a hit evidently. Mr. Gunn seemed to want more. Lips pursed, then nursed the whole of it, my tongue skidding around while he sighed. To keep myself steady, I reached for his thighs.

Some treble-voiced, smart-ass behind me said, “He’s into it.”

A smarter-ass corrected, “He’s onto it. Look at that!”

My lips were working their way toward Mr. Gunn’s fly when I remembered I was supposed to nibble – only I couldn’t, not with the head already past my teeth. So, I did the next best thing, I used my tongue’s tip on his frenulum. He had just shown us where that was.

The liquid in my mouth now received some more for my efforts. Right from that little slit (I could feel it coming out).

“Easy now,” Mr. Gunn cautioned, his man’s fingers gripping my ears. “Let’s pause, so the class and you can view a video x-ray of what’s going to happen shortly.”

I wiped my mouth on a sleeve and thought to swallow.

His cock still on display, our teacher became objective once more.

“You’ll note,” he resumed his lecture, pushing aside the chart and clicking on the room’s big screen, “this side-view x-ray shows a penis rather the size and shape of mine being welcomed into the mouth of an upturned boy’s head rather like Josh’s here. See how high the back of his tongue rides up? That’s a reflex to be trained otherwise. In the proper practice of fellatio, the recipient’s tongue must lie flat. See, there it goes – lowering itself.”

Aside, he said, “He was receiving verbal instruction of decided insistence that included a threat to cause my…I mean, theoff-camera aide to tighten his grasp where…oh well, it doesn’t matter.”

Indicating the screen, “There! The penis meets and pushes that annoying little dangler, the uvula. Those heaving motions are another negative reaction kicking in, the gag reflex. A real man’s penis will not be daunted, as you can tell. It plunges through to massage itself into the upper throat.”

My head swiveled for sight of an aide. Would one appear if I were to choke?

“Josh and I will demonstrate.”

Positioned, my ears in his grip, did I have a choice? Salivary glands went into expectant overdrive.

Against my face and with me making a terrible series of noises from beyond his depth in my throat, Mr. Gunn evidently enjoyed the applause his use of my upper anatomy received from the class.

Oxygen-deprivation, I learned, brings to one’s inner vision constellations of flickering stars.

Not an astronomy lesson, but memorable.

He released me with a word of thanks and returned to his charts. The newest showed “the paths taken from both testicles and associated glands, the Cowpers and vas deferens among them, to meet in the penis’ urethra and to proceed along its length to exit the glans.”

To me, he said, “Josh, as you’ve caught your breath and are yet on your knees, do your inquisitive classmates a favor. Open wide, suck in some air, and I’ll illustrate how this appears when viewed exteriorly.”

I was fucked. In..my..throat. Down and back – way down and back – way, way down (my nose pinched closed) – for his ejaculations to pour forth at full-depth.

* * *

At recess, other boys asked whether I had been afraid. “Not really, because Mr. Gunn’s such a good teacher. Experienced, you know. I was confident he wouldn’t go too far.”

“You almost threw up.”

“No, I didn’t. No way any boy can throw up when his gullet’s sealed by a plug of hard flesh as far as he was. Stomach contents can’t even get to the nose ’cause it’s blocked inside.”

“That’s impressive.”

“Practice, you know.”

“You practiced that – with Mr. Gunn?”

“Duh! Of course. If we didn’t, the demonstration wouldn’t have been perfect.”

“Damn, there’s the bell. Recess is over. Time for math class. You with us?”

“No, it’s back to the Biology lab for me. This hour, Mr. Gunn’s got another section of the Sex Ed course. He’ll be repeating the same lecture, so he needs me.”

* * *

A new day.

“Good morning, students. Settle in, please, and follow carefully my explanations. This chart shows clearly the location, just inside the anus, of the initial set of circular sphincter muscles – external and internal – the area known as the anal canal. A particularly erogenous zone, one amply provided with thousands of responsive nerve endings not shown here.”

He moved his pointer, “There are the anus’s longitudinal folds named the columns of Morgagni.” Mr. Gunn turned his head, “After the Italian anatomist who discovered them three hundred years ago.” Back to his revealing chart, “Anal sinuses and crypts – those grooves – separate the folds. Anal valves join the lower ends of the anal columns to form the pectinate line. See that here, it divides the upper two-thirds and lower third of the anal canal. Taken as one, all this constitutes the entry point to our principal destination, the mucosally lubricated rectum, which runs along here. And, right there, the crucial placement of the prostate gland. Exactly where Nature intended it for one of intercourse’s treasured outcomes – to induce the fuckee’s experience of spontaneous orgasm.”

Putting down his pointer, our admirable teacher looked at me – naked on the single bed in front of the class – and smiled. “Josh, if you’ll shift so that your head hangs back over the foot of the bed, the class can view my use of your throat to lubricate my erection,” he glanced to our eager witnesses, “to effect smooth initiation of copulation.”

A hand interrupted, “Teacher, aren’t we going to see an x-ray of how this works?”

“Apologies. Of course. Josh’s preparedness – he’s so willing – distracted my concentration.”

I sat up to see the x-ray video. Sure enough, grainy though it was, we could see clearly a backside bent at the waist over what looked like Mr. Gunn’s desk. Approaching and nudging in came a large cock which skewered slightly down, then slightly up through what could only be the subject’s anus and into his rectum. Its head tapered and spread the way our teacher’s did. The way it traveled reminded me of a sped-up, silent movie loop I once saw of a car heading in and backing not quite all the way from a garage door. Over and over. Looked like fun. I was going to play the garage’s part.

“All right, Josh, back you go,” he snapped his fingers.

I opened wide, inhaled and let out a few deep breaths, and felt the head on my taste buds. His cock’s soft underside passed my upper teeth and touched the roof of my mouth. He went to my gag point, squashed my uvula, and triggered all sorts of mucus and phlegm from my throat’s conniptions. I retched the way he liked, so he retreated, cock all covered with the stuff he’d use to penetrate my ass.

“On your knees facing that way,” I was directed. Standing with his feet on the floor, he reached for my hips and pulled my back end to the end of his big, fat cock. To add to its juiciness, he drooled spit on my target and began to wedge his way in. Made a show of it.

Some kid blurted, “Look how Josh’s eyes pop!”

Mr. Gunn indulged in tormenting my outer sphincter with mini-thrusts. The wider part of his cock necked into place, heightening my sensation and sending its bulb into the opening of my rectum. Enticing - oh, how its being there caused me to itch for more!

He didn’t disappoint. No, he sank further. Made a play of rocking sideways as if coaxing me to widen. Thumbs stroked in opposite directions from where he pinioned me. I sighed. He brushed my scrotum – a first!

I moaned and edged back. Wrong!

He tugged to tell me he’d make the moves. Content that I understood, he pushed a little and circled inside, inflaming me by caresses to my channel’s tissues. In his grasp, I became molten. Sensing perhaps my back socket’s capitulation, he fitted himself to me like a gun in its holster. Slowly sensuous insertions, quick withdrawals – maddening! From those commandeering pelvic jolts, my heart hammered. Blood pounded in veins and arteries to the soles of my feet, to the tips of my fingers, to the top of my head.

I collapsed face down on the bed, Mr. Gunn continuing to contend at cock’s length with the challenge of rendering for the class a topnotch fuck. I began to vibrate something fierce. Lost in reaming me, he went berserk. A chesty rumble turned into a growl, then a howl when his sex emptied great feral gushes into my depths.

He faltered.

Fell on me.

Not dead, he had etiolated himself. Fatigue soaked him as thoroughly as his cum did my rectum. We heard him wheeze for air, unaware perhaps that his length remained immersed. His weighty size had me trapped.

“Somebody, help roll him off. I can’t breathe.” It’s a miracle my whimpered plea reached the front row boys. Two sprang up. I think they wanted a close-up view of the huge slab of meat in my butt. In any case, they pushed and shoved until I could slide from the cock in specific and the man overall.

All eyes saw me putting on my clothes. Then, with a glance around, I realized lower tract action was starting. I darted for the restroom. What went in so copiously had to come out.

* * *

At lunch, boys surrounded me. Speculations abounded about the school nurse having called an ambulance to haul Mr. Gunn away, we guessed to a hospital.

“Did he have a heart attack?”

“Maybe a stroke?”

“What did it feel like to be pronged like that?”

“How do you feel?”

In my best, most grown-up voice, I waxed psycho-philosophical, “Mr. Gunn’s relentless pursuit of obsessive possession and conquest got the better of him. Last hour was supposed to be only a demonstration, not a volcanic blow-up. Surges of sexual energy brought to the surface formerly cloaked emotional emptiness – you know, the way ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny.”

The way their boyish heads canted this way and that, brows knotted with unspoken questions, steps were taken to open space between us, I could tell I’d gone too far, let too much out of the bag. Time to go.

I gobbled the rest of my food while whispering heads speculated. With my book bag in hand, I chose the nearest door that lead outside.

* * *

“Josh? Josh who?” Principal Randolph asked. “We’ve no student registered here named Josh or Joshua.”

Upon assurance from the students that “Josh” and Mr. Gunn were acquainted, that Mr. Gunn and Josh had rehearsed their demonstrations for Biology class, Principal Randolph scratched his balding noggin and called the hospital.

Queries stopped. The man listened. “What do you mean, he’s never awakened? He’s dead?”

Listened a little longer. Said a thank-you. Opened a file cabinet to check the syllabus for Mr. Gunn’s Biology course. Looked at the boys.

“Young gentlemen, as scheduled, your Biology’s Sex Ed oral practicum will be in the Biology lab first thing tomorrow morning. I will be your substitute teacher. We will carry on. Get a good night’s rest. Eat a light breakfast and drink plenty of water. Don’t want you becoming dehydrated. Oh, and bring a small towel.”

* * *

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