Cock Worshipper

"This is rather embarrassing," Mr Davies said, the tension in his voice and the awkward way he was sitting making his discomfort clear. He must have been in his late thirties and was one of the nicer teachers. He had a cute, friendly face, when I'd had him for cover lessons when our normal teacher was off sick, he'd made us all laugh and made the whatever work we were doing seem interesting.

"Mr Thompson, the caretaker," he went on, "reported that he saw you and Squirrel coming out of the same toilet cubicle after school yesterday."

I wondered how the caretaker had known our names. Maybe he'd picked us out from the photos we had taken at the start of the year, or maybe he'd just said that one lad had looked like a great big fuck-off squirrel and then they'd figured out, from all the gossip about what I'd done with Bulmer, that the other one could only have been me.

I saw no pointing in denying it so I nodded and said, "That's right, sir."

"Mr Thompson said that he heard... er... sounds of sexual activity going on in the toilet before you came out."

I nodded again. I wondered if I was going to get into trouble. When lads were caught shagging lasses, the two of them sometimes got suspended. I wondered if the same was going to happen to me.

"Well, first of all, Jason, I think it's important to ask you if you were there with Squirrel because he forced you to be."

"Of course not," I said with surprise. I hadn't even considered he might think something like that.

"You went in there with him of your own free will?" he persisted.

I nodded. "Yes, of course I did."

"And when you went in there with him, you knew it was for sex?"

I nodded again. I was in it deep.

There was no point trying to lie, though. The snitch caretaker had heard Squirrel's hips slapping away at my arse: Squirrel had made it obvious that he was butt-fucking me.

"Did Squirrel... and, like I said, this is quite embarrassing for me... did he put his penis up your bottom, Jason?"

"He did, sir. Yes."

"And I take it, from what Mr Thompson said was left on the toilet seat, that you enjoyed it?"

Oh fuck. I thought I'd wiped all that off. There must have been wet smears still left and the wily old sod had figured out what they were.

"Yes, sir. I did."

"Okay, Jason," Mr Davies said, standing up. "Thank you for being so honest with me."

He walked over to his office door, which I must have left slightly open and closed it on the two of us.

I looked at the front of his dark blue work trousers. I actually thought they might be tenting outwards. That's where my grubby little mind went: straight to the possibility that maybe, now that he knew he had a cock worshipper in his year-group, Davies might want to take advantage of the fact.

Now, if I was the sort of fella who writes mucky stories for other blokes to jazz off to (which, obviously, I'm not), that's where I would be taking this one. It'd be pretty horny, actually, having Davies pulling out his big fat knob for me to suck on and then bend me over his desk so he could screw me up my already well-stretched arse.

But this journal isn't about what I might have wanted to happen. Philip, my counsellor, made that clear from the start: "It's not a way for you to fantasize, Jason. You have to keep to the truth, otherwise there's no point in you writing it all out."

So I'll stick to what actually happened, even though the thought of unzipping Davies' trousers and pulling out some implausibly massive, throbbing man-cock has made mine get a stiffy.

He wasn't like that, though. Even if he'd been gay, which he might well have been, he wasn't the type to start copping off with the lads he was in charge off. Even if he'd secretly wanked off at the thought of Squirrel going at my bum in the bogs, there was no way he'd ever do more than that.

He sat back down and said, "I want to talk to you about keeping yourself safe, Jason. It's really important that you listen carefully."

"Am I in trouble?" I asked him.

He shook his head. "No. But I'll have to talk to Squirrel too."

"Don't do that!" I called out. "Please!"

I didn't want Squirrel thinking I'd grassed him up. And, more importantly, I didn't want word getting round that I couldn't be trusted not to go gobbing off after some dick fun. I wanted lads to know that their secrets were safe with me. That was the number one priority.

"Has Squirrel threatened you?" Mr Davies asked. He must really have thought I was sweet and innocent and had been pressured into bending over the loo.

"No, not at all. It's not like that. It's just that..." I struggled how to explain it without letting him know that it was about securing further liaisons with other lads.

"He'll be mortified, sir, if you let him know that you know. He only did it as a way of... you know... seeing if he liked it. It was me who led him on when he started asking me stuff about what I'd done with Bulmer."

Mr Davies nodded to let me know he knew about that. I knew he would. It would have been the talk of the staffroom.

"It was you who suggested the... er... hook-up in the toilet?" he asked.

"Yeah," I agreed, prepared to put the blame square on myself now that I knew I wasn't going to get suspended. "He wanted to find out if he liked that kind of thing but it turned out he didn't."

"Mr Thompson said he was quite... er... enthusiastic," Mr Davies noted.

"Yeah, but that was for me," I said. "He didn't... you know... finish off himself."

"Oh, right," Mr Davies said with a small blush at my tacit reference to orgasms up bums.

"I think he'll just want to forget the whole thing," I said. "I mean, he was really upset afterwards and was wishing he hadn't done it."

"I see," Mr Davies nodded, swallowing my story. "Well, in that case, maybe you're right, Jason. Maybe we just leave him to draw a line under it."

"I think that would be best, sir," I agreed.

"But you need to take better care of yourself, Jason," he said. "You can't go around doing stuff like that with other lads in toilets – you've got to show your body a lot more respect."

I nodded not really knowing what he was on about.

"For a start there's some nasty diseases about, but Mr Thompson said there was something floating in the toilet that would suggest you already know about those."

I nodded again, pleased that Squirrel had used a condom and I didn't have sit and listen to long lecture about AIDS.

"But, apart from that, what you did with Squirrel should be something deeply intimate and special. Even though you're two lads, it's still a form of lovemaking and you should treat it with a lot more dignity than to just go bending over for lads you hardly know in a filthy toilet."

I liked what he said: that gay sex was lovemaking. I'd never thought about it like that; I thought that lovemaking was something husbands and wives did.

"Sex should be beautiful," Mr Davies went on, "and anal sex between two males should be meaningful and passionate."

This is why I think he might have been gay, but if he was he must have preferred his bum fun all mushy and lovey-dovey with pink hearts and candles and a classy record playing in the background. Not rough and ready the way I was realising I liked it.

"Did you enjoy the feeling of having Squirrel... well... inside you?"

I nodded. "Very much, sir."

"And you've obviously done it before which was why you offered that he could do it to you?"

I nodded again, but I wasn't going to give him details. Not that he asked.

"Well, if you like that sensation, it would be much safer for you to do it to yourself instead of offering yourself to other boys."

I laughed at that. "How can I do that, sir?"

I thought he must think I could work my own dick up my bumhole. That maybe his was so long and curvy that he could somehow shag his own arse.

He blushed again at what he knew he had to say. He really wasn't comfortable at talking to me about this stuff, but like I told you, as teachers went he was one of the gooduns. He wanted to stop me being such a bum whore with lads who could easily kick the shit out of me after they'd fucked it into me and if I hadn't been such a total crackhead for cock, I might well have taken his advice.

"What I'm saying, Jason," he started unsteadily, "is that if you like the feel of boys doing that to you, you'll probably enjoy something called anal masturbation. It might satisfy you so you don't feel the need to put yourself in such dangerous situations."

Pity that it was the 'dangerous situations' that were part of what I liked.

I was intrigued at what he was saying though. I asked him what he meant by anal masturbation.

"When you masturbate," he said, flushing a darker shade of red, "you probably lie back on your bed."

I nodded. Didn't everyone?

"Well, that's perfectly normal when you masturbate your penis. But you can also masturbate yourself anally, and I suspect you'll find that's something you'll really like."

I nodded, curious.

"If you want to try masturbating anally, you should squat on all fours on your bed like a dog. Then get your middle finger of your left hand nice and slippery and work it in and out of your bum. After the sort of stuff you've been up to, you might find several fingers work better for you."

Yeah, better still a cucumber, I thought. Or a whacking great marrow.

"It's gotta be your left hand, has it?" I asked.

"Well, it doesn't have to be. But your right will probably quite active doing something else."

I smiled. "Oh yeah!"

I left his office but I didn't even bother to try what he'd suggested. It missed the whole point for me, which was the glorification of the cock pure and simple. What was the point of sticking stuff up your arse that wasn't a lovely slick boned-up knob? It was like telling me to suck my fingers instead of giving lads blowjobs; the whole driving force of sex for me was the wonderful pleasure of gratifying someone else's cock.

But I did manage to put his advice to some good use.

A few weeks later, there was a party in the pub where my cousin lived. He wasn't really my cousin, actually, as his dad was my step-dad's brother, but we called each other cousins because neither of us had any siblings of our own.

I can't remember what the party was about or why we'd been invited, but I certainly remember what happened with Damien round the back of the garage behind the pub.

Now Damien was the dirtiest little sod you could ever hope to meet. He was a year younger than me but he was up for anything. He didn't care a fuck if it was a lad or a lass he was being smutty with; he just loved to be filthy and to push the boundaries every which way he could.

At the party he kept on goosing the young barman's arse. The fella was getting really pissed off: every time he bent down for something out of the fridge, Damien would be there ramming three fingers between his butt-cheeks and then laughing like a nutter.

"Stop it, will ya?" the bloke called out to him.

Damien's response was to sniff his fingers and say, "Aw... yeah! I can smell your arsehole!"

"You're proper dirty, you are," the bloke snapped at him. "That's well nasty that is."

Damien grinned and kept sniffing, then he banged his fist back and forth against his crotch like he was furiously wanking off at how turned-on the fella's bum stink was making him get.

"I'll tell yer dad you did that," the barman said in horror. "It's disgustin' the stuff you do."

Damien just laughed. "I'll tell him you made me sniff yer arse and then whacked yersel' off pushin' my face into yer crack!"

That was the kind of lad he was. Totally lawless.

Next to him I must seem like Mary Poppins.

While the party was all going on, Damien came over and said to me with a smirk, "D'ya wanna wank off round the back of me dad's garage? See which of us spunks up first?"

It was an offer I couldn't refuse even though I knew that with Damien, he was likely to announce to the whole party, including my mam, what we'd just done when we came back in afterwards.

As I'm writing this, I'm wondering why I didn't stay in contact with Damien. He was always a lot of fun to be around. He went to a different school to me, so maybe that was part of it, or maybe it was that he didn't properly appreciate my attention to his cock. He just liked being a mucky sod no matter how he got his kicks and enjoying the fine art of cock worship was way too involved for him.

We went to the back of the garage which was strewn with old window frames with broken glass and nettles growing up through them. Another high class venue to follow up on the school toilets.

We stood in front of each other and yanked our trousers and pants down a bit. Then we started rubbing our semis, and moved onto wanking them off properly as they got harder as we watched each other.

Once our fists were going at it full speed, Damien said, "I'll suck yer cock if ya suck mine."

I agreed, of course, and took my hand off my prick so he could go down on me. He was the worst giver of blowjobs that I've ever encountered, I have to say. He had no idea what the fuck he was doing and clearly liked sucking cocks just to get a reaction instead of enjoying giving pleasure to the lad he was blowing off.

He pulled back and grinned down at my knob, amused that it was now wet from being in his mouth. I noticed then that he had a front tooth that was broken; no doubt he'd chipped it doing something stupid.

He said, "I offered to suck Adam's cock when I saw him pissin' in the fella's loos." I figured Adam to be the barman. "He had massive knob on him, loads bigger than either of ours."

"Did he let you?" I asked, and thinking that if he had he might let me.

"Naah, course he didn't. He's dead borin', that one. We used to have a girl who worked here Friday nights and she would let me do stuff wi' her."

I squatted down and he let go of his cock so I could work on it with my mouth.

It was quite a pleasant-looking thing: pretty average in size and with nice red shiny head. I'd have preferred it a bit more hairy but I guess he was a late developer on that score.

I stroked it first, rubbing his foreskin up and down a few times, before leaning forwards and gently licking the head.

"Bloody 'ell, Jase!" he laughed. "You do it like a woman does it!"

I smiled at the comparison. I was way better than that.

I nibbled at his slimy mushroom head, easing his foreskin right back with my fingers. It tasted strong and sour, although the shaft of it smelled really noticeably of the washing powder his mam must use to wash his undies.

I slowly consumed more and more of his dick, lapping at the little crease underneath his bell-end and enjoying the taste of his dribble on my tongue as it pushed deeper into my mouth.

"Aw, this is like a proper blow job!" he said. "It's nowt like what me and mates do to each other."

When I had him completely in my mouth, I sucked him gently, using my tonsils to massage the pounding head.

"That's well nice," he declared, holding my head steady and I reached up and grabbed his bum cheeks with both hands to help lever myself as I started moving my mouth back and forth on him.

After a joyous few minutes, for both of us I think, he pushed me off him and said, "I'll spunk up if you keep doin' that."

I stood up, smiling. "You should have gone and done it. I'd have loved it."

"What, ya'd like havin' my knob jizzin' off down yer throat?" he asked with disbelief.

"Yeah, it's nice. I might have spunked up as well."

"Ya like doin' stuff wi' other lads, then?" he asked.

I mean, duh.

I nodded and he suggested brightly, "D'ya wanna bum each other, then? Me dad'll go light if he catches us, mind!"

I assumed that meant his dad had caught him shagging boys before. And probably not just boys, but just about anything with a pulse.

I liked the idea of us taking turns on each other at the back of the garage, but I had a better suggestion which I thought he might not have tried. I wanted to surprise him, you see: make him see that he wasn't the only one who could think up dirty stuff to do.

I also wanted his cock in my mouth again because it had felt so amazing to pleasure him properly and, as dexterous and versatile as I was, there was no way I could get my knob up his arse and suck him off at the same time.

So I said, "I'll show you something else if you like. I'll do what you were doing to the barman in there, but properly with my fingers right up your bum and sliding in and out while I suck your cock."

"Fuck yeah!" he laughed. "No-one's ever done that to me!"

"It's called anal masturbation," I informed him. "One of the teachers at school told me about it."

"Cor! We never do owt like that in our sex ed lessons!"

I chose not to tell him about my conversation with Mr Davies.

He pulled his trousers and pants right down around his ankles and then squatted down so that I could get my hand underneath his bollocks and work a finger up his butt. Once again my trusty tub of Vaseline proved of valuable service.

I must say his arse was a bit messy but, as you might expect, Damien revelled in the fact that it was. When he saw the state of my finger after I'd pulled it out of his hole to apply more Vaseline to it, he laughed and said, "You've got a proper stink finger there, Jase! You can shove it under people's noses and see their faces when they sniff it!"

Of course I didn't do that. Stuff like that's not really my style.

I started working a finger in and out of him and he quickly got into the feel of it, pushing his bum back against my hand as we built up a nice, steady rhythm.

"Ah yeah! I'm havin' my butt fingered!" he triumphantly declared, bobbing up and down on my thrusting middle finger. "I don't know why I've never thought to do this before!"

I worked a second finger into him and then a third. His excited cock was bouncing around as he pumped himself hard and fast in time with my hand. He laughed at me, "Ah, Jesus! This feels so fuckin' good!"

I laughed back at him, loving the effect my hand was having on his cock. It was stiff but jumping around and smacking against his thighs and tummy, the end of it darkening to purple with how turned-on he was getting.

Nice one, Mr Davies, I thought. You know your stuff, I'll give you that.

"Sometimes me dad gets Adam to come up to me bedroom to pass on a message," Damien panted as I sped my hand up further, wanking off his arse with long deep jabs. "I pretend like I haven't heard him and make out like he's walked in on me jerkin' mesel' off. I go for it – full whack – right in front of him, so he goes red and tells me what a dirty bastard I am."

I laughed at his crudeness.

"Stands there watchin' me doin' it, though, he does. Only closes the door after he's seen me spunk off."

Interesting to know the barman secretly enjoyed it. I wondered if also liked being goosed: he had seemed to need to get a shitload of bottles out of that fridge.

He went on, "Next time he comes up to my room, I'm gonna be doin' this! Bendin' right over with me back to him so he can see me fingerin' me arse fast as I can. He'll go fuckin' scarlet!"

I laughed at the scenario, sliding my fingers in and out of him still quicker and rougher.

"He might get off on it," I said. "He might say he'll put his knob where your fingers have been."

Damien shook his head. "He's not up for nowt. Just stands and watches and if that big dick of his gets horny, he doesn't let it show."

His cock was starting to look like it might blast off. It wasn't bobbing around anymore but just poking stiffly upwards, the head of it so pumped up and full that I could easily imagine it bursting.

Now was the time for me to pay homage.

I ducked down and sucked it hard and fast, sliding my lips up and down his trembling shaft and licking at the engorged head to tease his hot precum out from the slit.

He called out, "Oh God! Yes!"

I'd thought he was dead close to cumming, but he actually lasted about a minute like that, my hand and his arse working relentlessly against each other and my mouth sucking at him furiously, pleasuring his throbbing organ for all it was worth.

When he did cum, he surprised me with how much spunk he could make. His balls were far smaller than Bulmer's but they gave out a much bigger load. I was almost choking on it, the sheer amount of the stuff that he squirted down my throat. It was quite wonderful to feel it pouring into me, his balls rewarding me for my efforts at satisfying their owner front and back.

When he'd finished feeding me his seed he stood up, gestured for me to turn around so he could stand behind me and reach round to finish wanking me off. His still swollen cock pressed against my bum, getting trails of his oozing spunk all over my butt-cheek.

As his hand pounded away at my dick, he whispered in my ear. "Next time you come over, we'll go up in my bedroom and set it up so Adam catches us bummin'. Both of us on me bed with me goin' at yer shitter."

I laughed at the idea. "That sounds pretty good!"

"Or you shaggin' me," he went on, rising to his theme. "Yeah, it'll be funnier like that. Me bendin' ower and you squattin' behind me, knobbin' me up the bum. The two of us pantin' and gaspin' and the whole room stinkin' of me arse gettin' shafted."

"Won't he tell your dad?" I panted, enjoying the idea.

"Naah, he always sez he will but he never does. He'll just stand and watch 'til we both shoot our wads. Tell us how nasty we are but stand there all the same."

He wanked me as fast as he could with me thinking about what he'd suggested. It'd be really fun to be caught like that: having the endlessly-shocked young barman walking in on me fucking his boss's son's butt.

"You know what'd be funnier?" I said, my mind pushing it a step further.

"What?"

"If you were bending on all fours and I was licking your arse. Right between the cheeks where your hole is! I bet his hard-on would poke right out if he saw that!"

I loved the thought of the barman watching us, the big cock that Damien had seen making his trousers bulge upwards. And then him pulling it out through his fly so he could stroke it while he watched us in all of its thick, glistening loveliness.

As my cock started shooting, Jason laughed with approval, both at what I'd suggested and at the flying strings of spunk I was firing off all over the broken window frames.

"You're well dirty, you are, Jason," he said, still milking my dick while I was gasping and shuddering. "You'll have to start comin' over more often! We can think up loads more stuff to do."

When we got back to the party, Damien's dad eyed us up suspiciously. "What have you two been up to?"

"Nowt," Damien said quickly and quite fearfully. Whatever his dad had caught him doing previously, the punishment must have been quite severe. "Just hangin' around out back."

"Is that all you've been doin', Jason?" his dad asked me.

"Yeah," I said trying to look like butter wouldn't melt. "Just getting a bit of fresh air."

I think his dad knew full well the sort of stuff we'd been up to and maybe that's why the further visits to the pub never happened. Maybe he had a word with my step-dad who was already getting suspicious of where my interests lay.

So that's this journal entry done and dusted and I'd better e-mail it off to Helena like she asked me to.

I can't remember what the point of it was now.

Oh yeah, that was it.

The point is about how one thing leads to another and how if I hadn't have said yes to Squirrel, I wouldn't have had the chat with Mr Davies and the stuff the happened with Damien wouldn't have been half as much fun. So you see, it's all part of the grand and intricate scheme of the great cock in the high heavens above and that's why I'm so keen to glorify it.

Anyway, that's my Jerry Springer final thought for this week.

When I meet Philip next week I'll see what he wants me to write about next. He'll probably be pissed off that I wrote this entry up because it goes well over his 'filth versus feelings' ratio. Always with the feelings, is our Philip, forever going on about the importance of moments of considered reflection, or 'mindfulness' as he calls it.

But it'll be nice to see him again. He would never admit it, but I think we have a lot in common, Philip and me.