Rich Boys' Reform School

RICH  BOYS’  REFORM  SCHOOL

                                                               by Mighty Mouth

            My name is Edgar. I am 38 years old and am the grounds keeper and handyman at a rich boy’s reform school. There were only 30 teenagers housed there, but none with any serious infraction.  Their parents placed them here because  their sons were too rebellious and the family gave up on controlling them. “Tuition” cost a pretty penny. It was a substitute for a military academy, with almost the same level of discipline. While there was a very high fence around the school and a locked front gate, the boys were sensible enough to understand that if they tried to escape they would be in serious trouble.

            Besides the headmaster, who doubled as a teacher, there were two other full time teachers,  each having a classroom with 10 boys. Other instructors were called in for subjects  beyond the scope of the 3 teachers. The classrooms had computers, but none were allowed in the dorm. The boys took all three meals in a cafeteria, which served food buffet-style. It was lights out by 9 p.m, and up by at 5 a.m. for calisthenics.

            I was provided a small rent-free cottage on the grounds, and my salary was nothing to brag about, but I was compensated by all of the eye candy around me, and the fact that the job was not very demanding. My cottage was beside the basketball court, where some of the boys enjoyed late afternoon games. I enjoyed sitting in front of my shack to watch them. I didn’t have  a front porch, but just a strip of concrete under a roof overhang.

            I make a lemonade to die for. One hot afternoon I prepared a big batch and invited the boys nearby to come over and quench their thirst. Four accepted. I apologized that I had only one other chair besides my own, but they didn’t seem to mind and sat on the concrete in front while I fetched the lemonade. They all loved it, and I was in heaven. I asked their names, which I promptly forgot. I was never good with names, but I never forget a face, nor a cock.

            A couple of days later, one of the boys from the group knocked on my door and asked if he could have some more lemonade and use my computer. He said his name was Henry. He was as cute as a button. I was a bit surprised, but invited him in, then went to sit outside. After a bit I became curious as to what he was up to. Low and behold, he was watching a porno video on the internet.

            I said, “Whoa, you can’t do that, I could get into a lot of trouble.”

            “Oh please Edgar, I love to watch this stuff and can’t do in class,” he pleaded. “Please don’t report me. I decided that I could risk it here, and that you wouldn’t mind.”

            “Clever kid,” I thought. But I said, “That’s just going to get you hot and bothered, and you can’t jerk off here.” I could see the tell-tale signs of a hard prick in his shorts.

            “That’s OK, I’ll take care of that later,” he answered.

            I decided to throw caution to the winds and asked, “How so, somebody is going to give you a blow job?”

            A little startled, he replied, “I wish. There’s no chance of that happening at this reform school.”

            Getting even bolder, I suggested, “Well you can take it out and stroke it a little if you want.”

            With that, he took his dick out of his shorts. I exclaimed, “My God, that’s huge.”

            “Yeah, I know. I’m proud of it.”

            “Have you ever measured it,” I asked.

            “No, I haven’t.”

            I said, “I’ll tell you what. I’ve got a measuring tape and can check it out.”

            He unhesitatingly replied “OK.” So I got the tape, knelt down in front of him, and extended it from the base of his dick to the tip of the head, with my hand wrapped around his tool. He didn’t seem to mind at all.

            “Well, it 6 ½ inches! That’s much bigger than normal,” I informed him. Being so close, I simply opened my mouth and swallowed his entire ramrod cock. He gasped in surprise and pleasure.

            “That’s fantastic. I never would have suspected that you do that kind of thing,” he remarked.

            “Well, I do, and I love it. Aren’t you amazed that I got your entire dick down my throat?”

            “You bet I am. I’m gonna come fast, you are so good.”

            Sure enough, after about 4 minutes, that big monster exploded with several powerful spurts down my throat. It didn’t surprise me, because of the combination of my gum job, and expert technique.

            I licked his prick clean, and then advised him, “I won’t tell anyone about this, and I don’t want you to do it either.”

            “Trust me, I don’t want this to get out either,” he assured me. He shut off my computer and as he was leaving, winked,  “Thanks for the lemonade. I hope you will offer some more soon.”

            “Whenever you are ready, you can come again.”

            A couple of days after Henry’s visit, someone knocked on my door. I thought that it might be Henry again, and my spirits lifted. But it wasn’t Henry. I recognized another of the guys from my lemonade “party.”

            I greeted him, asking, “Hello, what can I do for you?”

            He asked politely, “May I come in? I have something I want to tell you about. My name is Phillip.” Phillip, like Henry, was tall, about 5' 11" and just as handsome.

            “Sure, come in. What’s on your mind?”

            Sheepishly he mumbled, “Well somebody wrote about you on a bathroom stall in the dorm.  It said, ‘Edgar is a terrific cocksucker.’”

            I was shocked. “Oh God, who would have done that? What should I do?”

            “Well, I don’t know, but I thought you might like to know about it. And do you mind if I have some of your great lemonade?”

            “Of course you can,” I replied, as I got up to get some for him. I thought to myself, “I know very well who wrote it. That sneaky Henry won’t tell anyone what happened, but he evidently wants to share my mouth with others at the school. How generous of him.”

            “So,” Phillip daringly asked, "is it true?”

            I was astonished. “Why on earth would you want to know that?” I decided that Phillip was as cocky as Henry.

            Phillip stammered, obviously somewhat embarrassed, “Well you are a single man, and I am an opened-minded guy. If you are gay, that’s no problem with me. And as man to man, I don’t mind telling you that a let a man suck my dick once.”

            My ears couldn’t believe what they were hearing.  But I decided to find out where this was leading, so I answered, “Yeah, what guy doesn’t like a good blow job. To me it doesn’t matter either. A mouth is a mouth. Besides, men suck dick better than women.”

            I realized that he believed what he saw written on the stall wall, or was at least courageous and horny enough to check it out. So, just as with Henry, I risked my reputation and future. As they say, men think with their balls not their brains, when it comes to sex. I took the last dangerous step, and told him, “Why don’t you go into my bedroom and lie down?” He knew exactly what I meant, and did just that.

            I gave him almost a minute, then I went to my bedroom. Sure enough, he was fondling his dick through his pants, and I could see that it was getting hard. “Take off your pants and shorts, and scoot down so that your legs are hanging off the bed. I’ll kneel on the floor in front of you.”

             Out came an average size but attractive dick. I began to slowly stroke him, and he got hard fast. Just as we were into the swing of things, someone knocked on my front door. “Who the fuck could that be?” I wondered. But I told Phillip, “Let me see who that is, I’ll close the door to my bedroom.”

            I was not very surprised to see that it was Henry. “May I come in,” he asked.

            I replied, “Sure, but I have company in my bedroom.”

            “Anyone I know?” he asked.

            “You know everybody here, don’t you?”

            He then startled me by saying, “I’m gonna see for myself who it is.” With that he strode to my bedroom and opened the door, shocking the shit out of Phillip. Phillip grabbed his pants to cover his hard cock.

            When Henry saw Phillip, he mockingly exclaimed, “Oh, it’s you!”

            With some anger in his voice, Phillip asked Henry, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

            I couldn’t resist, and said, “He’s here for the same reason you are. I’ve already sucked his dick too.” Phillip snarled, but said nothing. 

            Then I commented, “Why don’t you boys double your pleasure, and let me suck you both off at the same time?” They both looked a little shy and startled, but neither said no.

            “Take off your shorts, Henry, and lie down beside Phillip.”

            Henry did as told, obviously anxious to repeat his glorious experience of two days before. I explained that the two should let their legs hang over the foot of the bed, to give me better leverage to perform. I continued sucking Phillip, who had gone partly soft with Henry’s unexpected arrival. Meanwhile, I was busy caressing Henry’s huge tool.

            I looked up to see how they were enjoying it, and was shocked to see Phillip squeezing Henry’s tits, who didn’t seem to mind. “What’s this all about,” I wondered. Then an even greater surprise. I felt another hand join mine on Henry’s dick, and it was Phillip’s. I took away my hand to let Phillip have free reign. This was getting more astounding by the second! Then I pushed Phillip’s hand away so that I could go down on Henry’s now-throbbing dick, and began jerking Phillip.

            Henry came fast, then I polished off Phillip. After they came, they both looked a little embarrassed. They got dressed, we all had a lemonade, and shortly Henry said, “I gotta get back and study.”

            “I’ll join you,” Phillip told him.

            They both thanked me (such polite boys), and off they went. I wouldn’t have been surprised if they had left holding hands, but it didn’t happen. Just my wild imagination. I sat outside to relive and relish the memory of what had just happened. But I didn’t sip lemonade. I poured myself a stiff whiskey. I wondered if another kid would read Henry’s “ad” in the toilet stall and visit me. 

[Dear reader. Should I continue and make this a series? You decide.]