Frank Brown: School for discipline

The boy stopped carving on his hand. He pulled his feet under himself to stand up.

"OK!" Lisa whispered. "OK! OK!" She unzipped and unsnapped her jeans. Lifting her ass, she forced them halfway down her thighs.

"Farther," the boy said.

Lisa pushed them to her knees.

The boy hooked her jeans with his toes and dragged them down to her ankles.

"Spread them legs wide," he said.

As Lisa spread her legs, she felt the cool air of the classroom between her wet pussy lips. Though she still had her shirt and shoes on, she had never felt so naked in her life.

The boy plopped his big foot between her legs. He tickled between her cunt lips with his big toe.

"New kid," he said. "Juicy and new kid. That's how I like my pussy."

His cock, which was completely hard now, stood up out of his gym trunks like an ivory club. The big knob tip's end was purple and dripping juice. He held the big pecker between his thumb and two fingers and began to massage the nerve strand on the backside of the cock just under the arrow shaped head. Precum bubbled down over his fingers, and his big nuts rolled in their tight sac. As he pumped his cock, he rubbed his big toe up and down between Lisa's inflamed pussy lips.

Lisa sighed out loud. She couldn't help herself. After that boy in the bus, then that youth in the depot, Lisa's pussy felt like a seething volcano. She needed to come, had to come. And she would come even if everybody turned around to watch her. She wiggled her ass on the chair, driving her cunt at the boy's foot.

"Dirty little bitch," the boy said, ramming his big toe up Lisa's cunt. "I could tell right off you was a dirty little cock sucking, ass licking toe fucker. You'll be all right, baby. You and this town are gonna get along."

He jammed his wriggling toes between Lisa's cunt lips. His big toe fucked in and out of her. He clawed at her burning cunt lips with his toenails. He twisted and turned his foot as if trying to rub out an ashtray full of smoldering butts. All the while, he pumped his cock, wrapping his entire hand around it now and yanking the cock skin up and down along the hard shaft. Precum bubbled down over his knuckles. His balls bounced on the wooden desk seat.

Lisa humped at his toe-fucking foot. Pussy juice ran out of her cunt, lubricating her desk seat. Her ass gyrated easily on the oiled wood. She kept her eyes on the boy's throbbing cock, watched the purple head bloat up like a balloon, watched the swollen nuts jump in their sac.

Shoot it! she wanted to cry out. Let me see that thick cream fly.

She grabbed the boy's hot foot and tried to ram his big toe deeper up her cunt. She wished she could feel his whole squirming foot inside her. Her cunt and asshole and loins swam with sex sensations. She felt the tip of her spine tingling. All at once she was coming.

She felt her eyes rolling. Her vision got blurry. She felt like rolling up into a ball and crushing the almost painful sensations out of her pussy. But all she could do in this situation was to hold onto the boy's foot and squirm, holding back her cries of pleasure. As her spasms began lessening in intensity as her vision started to clear, the boy's cock started to spurt.

The boy's brown body stiffened, the muscles of his abdomen defining themselves as if carved in stone. As his white cum burst in thick ropes from his cock, his eyes rolled back until only the whites showed. His cum splashed against his chin, his chest, his armor like abdomen, laying on the sweaty brown flesh like gobs of pearly-white grease. Lisa counted his ejaculations: seven hard, heavy, thick ones, then five more little ones in which the cum oozed out more than it spurted. When the boy finished coming, he pulled his dripping toe out of Lisa's cunt, sat panting for several moments, then looked at her.

"Lick it off," he said.

Lisa stared at him, not really sure what he was talking about.

"Get over here and lick the jizz off me," he said. "I ain't gonna tell you again."

Lisa struggled out of her seat her ankles still bound by her jeans. As she pressed up close to the boy to lick the cum off his brown skin, she could feel his heat, could smell his sweat. She began to lick, catching the warm gobs of jism and swallowing them. When she'd finished licking off his chest and belly and chin, she sucked the cum off his cock, then chewed off his hand. He smelled like cock and jism.

Lisa felt like moaning out loud. She'd lick the boy's sexy body all day and all night if she could. She nuzzled down under his arm and licked at his armpit. The boy pushed her away.

"Get dressed, bitch," he said. "You've had enough."

It would be Rusty's first time on the rack. He'd participated before in giving other guys the punishment, but he never thought he'd one day be put on the rack himself. If only he'd have made the interception Saturday they wouldn't be strangling his wrists with the coarse brown ropes now, the ropes that reminded Rusty of hangmen's nooses. They might as well have been nooses for the guys were going to hang him – not by the neck, but by the wrists.

The locker room was dimly lit, like a dungeon. The heavy humid air smelled mostly of sweat and the medicinal scent of the powder pit the pit where the athletes at Sutton High painted their feet with tuffskin pounded their feet in the powder like incensed bulls in the ring then tugged on their black football shoes, the shoes they only wore for games. Coach Long allowed shoes only for games. At all other times the boys of Sutton High, the athletes, for every boy in the school was an athlete went barefooted. They rock climbed the treacherous bluffs above Sutton barefooted. They ran miles every day up and down roads of sharp pebbles and gravel barefooted. They wore shoes only as part of the required uniform for competition in such sports as football and basketball. Track and cross-country they ran shoeless. At all other times, any Sutton boy caught with shoes on would be skinned alive. Coach Long insisted that his athletes have tough feet. Rusty wondered whether one day the coach would have them all dancing on broken Coke battles.

"OK, haul him up," said one of Rusty's teammates, and Rusty felt the ropes jerk. His arms flew upward, nearly yanked out of their shoulder sockets. Suddenly he found himself hanging from the isometric rack. He wasn't completely suspended. He stood on tiptoe. But his shoulders were already aching, and he felt vulnerable. His balls hung there waiting to be popped. He prayed that the guys didn't get too carried away today and sock him in the nuts.

Coach Long came out of his office. The former pro football player and pro wrestler was as naked as all the rest of the guys in the locker room, as naked as Rusty himself not a stitch on. The coach looked seven feet tall and as muscular as King Kong, and the coach was hairy hairy chest, hairy belly, a bush of brown-gold hair around his cock. The coach's cock swung like a big salami as he walked, and his ball-sac was bigger than his fist. When Rusty saw the set of big sex organs, he winced. Coach Long was proud of his stud organs too proud. Rusty knew that Coach Long hated him, hated him because his own cock and balls were even bigger than the coach's.

The half-dozen boys leapt aside as the big coach lumbered through their midst. The coach had that wicked smile on his face, the mean grin that all the boys feared. He planted himself in front of Rusty, hands on hips, and looked down at him.

"Well, well, what have we here? Linx is it?" Rusty's last name was Lennox, but the coach had given him the name Linx.

"Yes sir," Rusty said. The ropes were cutting into his wrists. He was stretched out so long he could hardly breathe.

The coach glanced down at Rusty's cock. He maintained his mean grin, but Rusty could sense a scowl behind the facade. He looked Rusty right in the eyes.