1 comments/ 36598 views/ 11 favorites Aaron and Amir Ch. 01 By: S21K73 Goddamn, was he handsome. Such were my sudden--though hardly unprecedented--thoughts as my face was shoved into the wall beside that of my arch-rival, Amir Khalili. I might have attributed them to the stress of our situation, but I would have been fooling myself. I'd had a hard-on from hell since long before Edgewick pulled us apart. Fighting could do that to me. Even arguments. Anything that got my blood up. Especially with this kid. I glanced at the Khalili kid out of the corner of my eye. I didn't exactly surprise myself with my buzz of sexual arousal; I'd had bi fantasies before (or maybe you could call them gay fantasies, since there weren't any women in them). Had I ever fantasized about Khalili? Probably not, though I realized he was good-looking, and he was kind of my type, I suppose: Tall, slim, dark-featured, snarky little mouth, a clever boy. I guess I'd always disliked him too much to appreciate it. Or maybe the dislike was part of the latent attraction. Edgewick's heavy hands lingered on our necks for a moment while he let us sweat. All I could see now was a hawkish Arab nose, a big dark heavy-lidded eye. Not the one I'd blackened, though the eyelid was so thick and lush it took me a second to tell. The eye darted over at me. I looked back at the wall. "Eisen," Edgewick intoned, "Khalili." We didn't respond. We weren't meant to. "I don't know what all of that was about, though if it mattered I'm sure I could wager a good guess." Edgewick sighed. He sounded very tired. "But it doesn't matter, and I don't care who started it either, all that matters is that it was a shameless display on both your parts. You're young men. Seniors, for Christ's sakes...." Neither of us was much concerned about the sakes of Christ, not usually and especially not now-- and I assure you he knew that. But I didn't think it would be prudent to critique the wording of Edgewick's pre-ass-slicing lecture. "... and I never want to witness such conduct from either of you again." I dared to glance over at him again. It looked like he was biting his inner lip. Or maybe he was just sucking the blood from where I'd split it. His smooth olive skin seemed to glow with sweat. "Stay there." Behind us we could hear Edgewick opening his desk drawer. We were in his inner sanctum, and lunch period had just ended, so everything was dead quiet except for this and our nervous breathing. For the record, it was Khalili who started it, with one of his cute political one-liners. Maybe he did have a point, and maybe it was clever, but it was also pretty clear where he was going with it. At Catholic T___ High, we basically were the Arab-Israeli conflict, though only my mother was actually Israeli, and Khalili was, I think, Saudi Arabian, not Palestinian. So it really wasn't our problem, but it was an obsessive topic of our free-style practice debates and a huge reason for the antagonism between us. I'd felt justified slugging him. Which made him feel like taking a good swing at me. And so on, until we were rolling around on the floor tearing at each other. Which was, I have to admit now, pretty hot even at the time. I'd glimpsed my face in the mirror that Edgy keeps in the tiny anteroom between his outer and inner offices. Even with the red mark on my cheek and all the sweat I thought I looked pretty good. My straight dark hair was all mussed up. I have sexy tawny-gold eyes, nothing like Khalili's black beauties except for the long black lashes, but they're bedroom eyes anyway, and they peered back at me from behind my glasses as the slight fog on my lenses cleared up. My full pink lips were beginning to fatten on the left side where Khalili's fist had caught them. My light skin was flushed in a way I found strangely exciting. I'm kind of a narcissist, I know it. I wondered what Khalili saw when he looked at me. We were the stars of the debate team, and long-time rivals, as I've mentioned, so he'd also seen me all tricked out--tie and blazer and neat hair and all that. I'd seen him in the suits he probably borrowed from his older brother, which dragged slightly at the cuffs. If you didn't go for the jock type, Amir Khalili and I were arguably two of the best-looking guys in school, or so I was thinking right now. We had a few things in common besides that. We were academic types, but we both participated in semi-solitary, endurance-based sports like track and swimming. So we had real nice, lean bodies. We were a good match for each other in a fight. We'd each had to take a certain amount of shit off the musclehead contingent at this school. Because of our good grades, our backgrounds. Even so, fighting with fists really wasn't like either of us. There was another moment of just our noses pressed to the wall, then Edgewick shut his desk drawer. "Since you boys clearly have forgotten how to feel shame, perhaps a refresher course in that emotion is in order. " Oh shit--An awful thought had come to me unbidden---He's not going to have us cane each other, is he? I was suddenly sure I'd never be able to keep from---Either during his turn or mine---I wouldn't be able to help it. "To re-teach you about shame, I will introduce an additional humiliation to accompany the pain. You will watch each other's chastisement. Or, to put it another way, you will be watched." He let that sink in. "Eisen?" A chill ran down my spine and settled in my butt-crack. Or maybe it was a drop of cold sweat. My ass clenched tight. He spoke to the back of my head: "All other things being equal--and my statement about not caring who started it still stands--a little bird tells me that you threw the first punch. Do you deny it?" Fuck. One of those shitty-assed freshmen must have said something. "No, but " "Aaron, I really don't care." He only addressed you by your first name when he was truly exasperated with you. "Mr. Edgewick, but--" I should've kept quiet. Pain exploded across my backside, making my butt cheeks clench and relax. It was only a hand-smack, like you'd give a much younger boy--or a mouthy older one, I guess--but it was a firm smack, a combination of sting and surprise. "Only your butt, Eisen, and I want it over my desk. Pants down. Underwear too. Khalili, turn around and watch him." He did. I could feel those dark eyes on me as I struggled to get my pants down and my butt bare with some semblance of dignity. Edgewick indicated he wanted my pants around my ankles, not off. So Khalili was going to get to watch me hobble my pretty, white, Jewish-boy ass across the room. Lucky him. I was glad my shirt front concealed my erection. I'd had trouble while dragging my boxers down. For a second the fabric caught on my cock-head, but I'd managed to free it before anyone noticed (I hoped). I was afraid of it bouncing as I half-hobbled half-walked to the desk. Edgewick tapped the desk. "Bend over, Eisen." The cool mahogany and the leather desk-blotter crushed against my erection. I squirmed a bit as Edgewick lifted my shirt-tail off my backside for me and stood examining my ass for a moment. I felt his eyes--and Amir Khalili's--burning into my exposed flesh like lasers. The back of my neck flushed hot. He tapped the cane gently against my buns. "Raise it up. And relax it." I raised it, arched my back, and spread my thighs. This caused the head of my penis to press against the desk-blotter. Through the significant discomfort which this produced, I cherished the hope that they couldn't see through my spread legs that I was boned up. He continued to tap my newly perked-up behind lightly with the cane. It was driving me crazy, giving me goosebumps. I wondered if he could see that, if he was enjoying it. If Khalili was. "Mr. Eisen, you know what you did was wrong and you know why. So I'm not going to waste any more time lecturing you. I'm just going to punish." God knows what was keeping my erection up. Being practically naked and exposed. Khalili's unwavering gaze. Knowing that he knew he would be next. The rhythmic tap of the cool cane against my ass. Knowing I was getting what I deserved. (Yes, the first shades of self-doubt had begun, at this late stage, to creep over the bright red horizon of my indignation, mingling with the arousal in a new and strange way.) He whacked me. The first blow was firm, biting. Like my butt had been sliced in half. I jumped against the desk, then immediately blushed with the fear that they--that Khalili--had seen my blood-filled shaft. "You'll be still," Edgewick said as he sliced me again. A hot strip of molten lead burned into my bottom. I wished that he would paddle us instead. I'd had my ass paddled by the track coach once or twice, and I'd wager Khalili's cute little mouth had gotten him in similar trouble on a couple of occasions, though we were on different teams so I didn't know for sure. I don't see why they cane us anyway, it's such a British thing. Hell, until I came here I didn't even know some schools were still allowed to-- CRACK! The third cut flared across my round buns. He never hit the same spot twice, and now he striped me in the direct center of my ass. "Ah!" I couldn't help but grunt, trying to keep my thighs--and thus also my buns--apart, and my bottom perched up, as he'd requested. Being paddled over the locker room bench now seemed like heaven compared to the concentrated fury of the cane: bouncing around, having my butt popped with the flat light piece of wood, the fire spreading in a nice, roughly round patch of intense warmth. "Ohhh." Number four zapped diagonally across my butt. High on one cheek, midway across my crack, low on the other cheek. I'm being caned, I thought wildly, So this is what it is. I was burning back there something fierce. Khalili's eyes, and the implement. The awful, the impossible thing--my erection was still there. Even as that fourth blow struck and I began without thinking about it to sway my butt side to side, moaning from the pain. There was a long pause and I realized I was crying silently. The fifth came swiftly, as I was wiggling, and my poor red ass jumped almost clear off the desk. There was a long pause, during which my tail must've withered a little from its original perked-up height, because Edgewick commanded: "Raise it up, Eisen!" I dutifully stuck it up. My eyes were misty. One last searing stroke, and that'd be it. I'd be fully punished. A chastened and--I'm sure Edgewick hoped (or maybe he didn't)--a changed boy. He gave it to me right on my sweet-spot, where my thighs met my buns. My butt veritably leapt. I could feel my balls swing, and I knew they had to have glimpsed, or guessed at, my condition. Edgewick let me lay across the desk--now slick with sweat--for only a short moment before giving my hot butt another brisk tap with the evil cane-tip. "Get up, Eisen, and go stand by the wall. I want your hands at your sides. If I catch them anywhere near that backside of yours, it's going to go right back over the desk next to Khalili's." I stood and twisted around, perhaps too-quickly covering my genitals with my shirt front. My pants remained in a bunch around my ankles. My rear end blazed. My face was wet with sweat and tears. "Uh, sir?" "Yes, yes, you may pull up your pants, Aaron." He gestured with dismissive disgust at my front, as if to say "Cover that up". I was sure he'd seen. Though I doubted I was the first boned-up boy he'd taken to task in this room. I pulled my boxers up cautiously over my quivering butt, then my pants, wincing a little as I tightened the seat over my rosy-striped rear. "Khalili." Edgewick motioned my fellow miscreant forth. I was trying not to look at him, trying to forget he was in the room, had been in the room the whole time. "Come here and bend over the desk. Pants down. Exactly as you saw Mr. Eisen do it." Khalili and I passed one another as he went to comply with Edgewick's orders. I reached the wall and turned just in time to watch him start to undo his fly under the man's imperious gaze, but as I passed him I also saw something else: Khalili's khakis, though somewhat loose in front, showed a distinct and unusual bulge. I wondered if it'd gotten him hard seeing me caned bare, or if he just enjoyed the whole thing, the whole process of being punished. If it was the latter, I would happily make him sweat whenever he needed it. I checked out his butt in his tighty-whities as he was bending to lower his pants. It was a very nice one, I noticed, even through the distracting pain in my own rear end. The thought that it would soon be feeling the same burn under my own eyes made my cock grow even more rigid. In my pain it seemed I took in a greater, clearer volume of detail than usual, my senses sharply awake. I reveled in the sleek musculature of his neatly-bisected rump in the tight briefs. It was unfair, though, that he hadn't had to hobble across the office the way I had. I would have relished his humiliation. He hooked his thumbs into the briefs and lowered them. I noticed the contrast of the clean white with his lean dusky-skinned thighs. Then his butt was revealed in all its glory. Two smooth golden-brown globes, exquisitely rounded, masterfully sculpted. His hair began just below the satisfying jut of his rear, and it was sparse but dark. Long, graceful runner's legs. As he stood up his shirt-tail fell down and momentarily obscured that brown peach of a hiney. Edgewick raised the cane and my breath caught in my throat, but instead of Khalili's butt he tapped the leather desk blotter. "Bend over," he told him, and his sharp voice made Khalili jump just as surely as the cane- stroke would have. Khalili bent. I would have given him an extra cut for not doing it right away. But this was Edgewick's show, not mine. Edgewick lifted his shirt-tail, just as he'd done with me, and then he gave him the customary tap in the middle of his perfect butt with the cane. Khalili immediately raised his tail up and spread his legs. The boy had been listening. He did it almost as if he'd only been waiting for the cane-tap. He looked like a bitch ready to be mounted. My mouth watered as my eyes moved along his crack. I strained to see between his legs. Did our newly-acquiescent Arab beauty really have a bone? Couldn't tell. It was all dark between his dark thighs. "Everything I said to Aaron there goes for you too. You know why you're being punished, so no lectures, I'm just going to punish you." He gave Khalili's beautiful butt a stroke no less firm and biting than the first one he'd laid on mine. A livid ribbon cut across the center of that firm fine rump, as the cane made his buns push together where they met so I could no longer study the depths of his dark crack to try and get a glimpse of his asshole. My cock was drooling. I wondered if I'd shown him my hole. Then his resilient butt-flesh bounced back to normal, the cane-stripe filled in with crimson, and he uttered a soft, guttural "uhhhh"of pain. Edgewick re-positioned himself a little further from the miscreant's bottom, and I saw a minute shiver go up Khalili's spine as his raw, burning hindquarters were coldly studied. At the second whack Khalili's honeyed rump trembled minutely. He let out a rough groan, and a sound like a muted sob. Was he crying already? My burning striped tail and blurry eyes sympathized, but my hard cock did not. The third cut flattened his dark delicious buttocks. This time, as with me, Edgewick struck the base of his butt where, later, he would sit. When he dared sit again. Khalili cried out, and I heard a ragged snort. Yes, our boy was tearing up! One thing I will say for him, he kept that sweet caramel butt up high the whole time. He wouldn't need to be told twice. It even seemed that he raised it higher after that third cut, as if eager, despite his whimpering and sniffling. Again, I ate up his bare cheeks with my eyes, as Edgewick paused to choose his next target-spot, and I thought for an instant I caught a glimpse of his hole in his deep crack as he gently flexed those stinging cheeks and wiggled a bit and whimpered on the desk. I couldn't see his cock dangling, but there--for an even briefer instant--were his low-hanging brown nuts. My own cock leaked a little, thinking of his fine cut dark stiffy pressed against the desk slick with my and his sweat. I was even more interested in his small dark bud, but his cheeks had closed again. Edgewick gave them a diagonal stroke that made Khalili flinch. He wasn't really jumping around like me, but he was much more vocal with his sharp gasps, groans, now- steady soft sobs. I'd never have guessed before today that a boy could be both hard and crying. If indeed he was hard. The flinching was his butt's strongest response to the caning, other than getting redder. Most of his more-energetic reactions were concentrated at the other end. The boy made a lot of snorting wet sounds, which I might have found unattractive if I had not been able to witness the delightful process by which they were obtained. I don't look down on him for crying Edgewick's cuts were horrible, I knew. My behind danced, Khalili cried. It wasn't like he started begging or anything. Edgewick swung back and then made a wide, hot, red X across Khalili's red-patterned bottom, crossing his previous diagonal cut with another. Our backsides would match after he was through correcting my worthy (and hellaciously sexy)opponent. Khalili's lean, broad shoulders heaved as he cried onto the wood of the desk. I watched, brain buzzing with wicked ecstasy, the long stripe suffuse with crimson. I loved seeing the red come up in that smooth olive flesh. If only I could miraculously convince old Edgy to let me finish Khalili's punishment with my cock, which by now felt as long, hard, and lethal as the cane. He paused to let Khalili cry. I think he liked hearing the sound as much as I did. Then he whipped him across the top of his peachy-round rump, just below the place where the split of the cheeks began. There was the now-patented Khalili butt-flinch, then the snorting-sobbing and the undulation of his graceful back as he cried out his agony. "One more, Amir," Edgewick said with exaggerated patience. "Stop your noise. You know full-well you deserve this." Khalili tried manfully to stifle his sobs. He perked his pretty ass up for his last stroke. WHACK, on his sit-spot again, a little above the other stripe there, a very hard stroke. It smushed Khalili's cheeks together and shoved his swollen, hot-and-bothered crotch against the desk. A sixth lovely scarlet stripe graced his incomparable bottom. He lay there sniffling, muffling himself with his sleeve, til finally Edgewick pulled him up roughly, by the collar, no less, like a wayward kitten (something exotic, an Abyssinian maybe), and ordered him to get hold of himself. The shirt-tail fell and covered his butt again, to my great vexation. Both their backs were to me, and I took the opportunity to surreptitiously rub my bulging front. Edgewick brusquely handed Khalili a single Kleenex from the box on his desk, which he used, thankfully, on his runny nose, leaving the dark wet eyes as they were. He didn't dare ask for another tissue. "Get over by the wall," Edgewick said, and when Khalili just stood there he gave him a swift sharp spank with his hand, like the one he'd given me. Khalili winced and got moving, walking as best he could with the cloth tangled around his shoes. It was fun to see him try to keep his balance and not pitch forward to the floor with his red ass in the air. I could now see clearly the bounce of his erect cock beneath his shirt. He didn't seem to care that we could see. He had no more dignity. He stumbled, his face hot, his eyes half-blinded with tears. He had one of those faces that takes on an additional twisted beauty when in pain. The big, wet, suffering eyes, the luscious mobile mouth. As he reached the wall he wavered, nearly toppled. I caught him instinctively and helped him to pull himself up. I pushed him up against the wall next to me and saw, out of the corner of my eye, Edgewick nodding as if we were co-conspirators plotting to put this sobbing naughty boy back in his place. Aaron and Amir Ch. 01 That feeling didn't last long! "Eisen, pants down again. Boxers too. Half-hour corner-time, both of you." I de-pantsed with the utmost alacrity, afraid of having my ass slapped again. He came up behind us and briskly rolled up our shirts so they wouldn't cover our asses. My back tingled where his hands brushed it. I could hear his hard breathing. Was he enjoying all this? I couldn't much blame him, and he did a venerable job of trying to conceal it. Speaking of excitement. I glanced down, and, yes, two cut young cocks, one brown, one light-ish, jutted up at me in the shadows between the wall and our bodies. No, I was certainly not the first boned-up boy to be corrected in this office. Our dicks were almost close enough to touch each other. Edgy's hand fell on my neck as he escorted me to the corner. I stumbled a bit, but got there OK, and he fastidiously ignored my cock. After he'd placed me and warned me to keep my hands at my sides and under no circumstances to touch my backside, he administered a few more smacks to help me remember the slowly-fading sting, then turned away to deal with Khalili. Aaron and Amir Ch. 02 Edgewick guided my lovely rival, still-sniffling, to the opposite corner. I listened for extra swats but didn't hear any, which I suppose was fair since he was freshly caned, whereas the burn in my bottom had had a chance to dissipate somewhat--while I got to watch a highly enjoyable show. The time in the corner passed slowly, but my cock stubbornly refused to go down. Sad to say, I was unable to put the time to its intended use, to reflect on my bad behavior, as I was too busy reflecting on Khalili's caning. I kept picturing his firm cheeks rebounding from the impact of the cane, the stripe coloring bright red, the heaving of his smooth olive-skinned shoulders. Even the sniffling and snorting. My mind was reeling. My ass was stinging. I longed to rub it, but I longed to get my hands on my cock more. Getting my hands on Khalili seemed like too much to ask. Edgewick went about his business while I suffered and fidgeted and fantasized and Khalili tried to stop sniffling. I heard him shuffling paper, but I'll wager he glanced up from time to time for a satisfying eyeful of the two pert teenage bottoms he'd just subjected to his sternest ministrations. Around the ten-minute mark the door opened and we heard the secretary talking softly to Edgewick. A boy spoke, a sophomore or junior whose voice I recognized but whose face I couldn't call up in my mind. Then the secretary again. Edgewick muttered gruff assent. The secretary and the boy must have raised their eyebrows at our red-lined rear-ends parked in the two furthest corners cooling off. Kids were only caned for fighting or other serious or violent offenses, and they were rarely placed in the corner afterwards unless Edgewick intended to suspend them from classes for a few days as well. Your suspension began right after your punishment, so it didn't matter if you missed class to do some time up against the plaster. The door closed again and Edgewick shuffled more papers. The back of my neck felt warm from knowing the secretary and the younger boy had seen my rear in its reddened and compromised state. Finally, after about fifteen or twenty minutes (a long time to stand with your nose against the plaster and your cock begging for a stroke, but not half an hour–that was just Edgy being dramatic), I felt his hand on my neck again. "Come on, Eisen," he said, somewhat more gently, "One last order of business." Back over to the desk. Nothing cuts a boy down to size like being made to walk around hobbled by his bunched pants and embarrassed by his hard cock. One hand on the back of my neck, he bent me once again over the shiny mahogany surface. My butt went up in the air this time with only minimal nudging, and he lifted my shirt tail. My tender erection, again crushed against the desk, caused me to moan. I heard him go back and rouse Khalili from his corner-time stupor. The kid had stopped the sniffling by now, but he had to be wondering what was up. Whatever it was, it wouldn't be good for either of our asses. I heard him start to shuffle haltingly across the floor. Then Edgewick's voice, sharp: "Khalili, get it together and get moving. Or I could drag you by the ear if you need it." Oh, please do, I thought, even though I knew I wouldn't be able to watch it. I could listen–-maybe he'd cry again.. No such luck. And seconds later Amir Khalili's body was pressed down heavily next to mine. We were very close. I could hear his humid anxious breath, his apprehensive heartbeat. Our bare hips almost touched. "Boys, what I'm going to do now is strictly a warning, something to remember should either of you ever consider an encore performance. I want you to get it side by side because I know and you know that your purposeful annoyance of one another is exactly what led to this, and will probably be what leads to the same in the future if you don't learn to keep your arguments civilized." With my face against the desk I could only see Edgwick's shadow as he opened a drawer and extracted something. Not the drawer with the canes--but we were still bent over a desk with our asses bare, so I wasn't feeling hopeful. I could smell Khalili's sweat, his aftershave, soap, and hair-gel, mixing together in a pleasant and deliriously erotic cocktail. I wanted to rape him right there over the desk. Something hard, smooth, and flat connected firmly with my already well-corrected upturned rump. As if Edgewick had read my dirty thoughts and decided to put a stop to them. Whatever it was he'd smacked me with, it certainly woke up the burn of the cane marks–which hadn't been sleeping particularly well in the first place. I doubted I'd be able to forget them anytime soon, Edgy really knew how to make sure of that. "This," Edgewick said, treating Khalili's butt to the same and provoking an anguished howl, "is a copy of the student code of conduct and rule book. I believe you were each issued an updated edition at the start of the year." He began to smack our bare butts rhythmically with it. First mine, then Khalili's. There was my battered ass jumping, then another loud WHACK and there was Khalili howling and squirming. Edgewick shushed him sternly and gave him–to my delight–two smacks in a row. "Since the contents of this useful little book seem to have slipped your minds,"-- SMACK--" I thought it might do you more good simply to apply it"–SMACK–"directly to your backsides and see how that works out. I imagine"–SMACK–"that after the caning you got you are finding these rules very"–SMACK–"hard to ignore." I'd heard of kids being spanked with textbooks on occasion back in the day (pants up, in front of the whole class), but, really, this was adding insult to injury. Or rather, injury to injury. SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK, back and forth. The swats with the book did their two jobs very well. As Edgewick had pointed out, and as I cannot iterate enough, they really put some fresh sting into those cane-weals, causing me to wriggle and making Khalili wheeze, as though he were trying to keep from crying again. They also warmed up the spots on our buns which had been left unaffected by the thin cane-strokes, and made both of us solidly red and hot back there. Khalili's smell, his closeness, his little hurt gasps, the rhythmic slaps sending blood to my butt and pelvic area, even the painful friction against the desk–he had to stop soon, or he was going to have a big mess and one (at least one?) very embarrassed boy on his hands. As my ass squirmed I brushed the side of my rival's prone, fit torso in his thin school dress shirt, felt his naked hip against mine, dry and hot and smooth–I tried to keep still, but it was no use, Khalili was wiggling around too, and, oh god his leg was against mine, I could feel his leg hair and the soft skin over the hard slender muscle–don't let me cum, don't let me cum-- Finally, it was over, and none too soon. We lay across the desk breathing like we'd just finished a track meet. Edgy, taking no heed of our distracted condition, had some more admonishing things to say about the rules of our unimpeachable institution, and a few choice, chiding remarks about what wicked little heathens we'd been. Then he ordered us up off the desk, and our pants up over our raw beaten backsides. We avoided each other's eyes as we stood and pulled our pants up–me for the second time–over our chastised back-cheeks, wincing almost in unison. My stiffy was still in ready mode from the heat in my bottom and the proximity of Khalili's body–even if I couldn't look at him. The air seemed full of the aroma of our healthy sweat. After we'd gotten ourselves situated, Edgewick handed us our suspension sentence. Three days, and we were to go home for the rest of today. We could rest assured our parents would be informed of our deplorable behavior, and its consequences. "Before you leave, you will clean yourselves up. The auxiliary showers should be empty at this time of day. You should find the back door unlocked." It was hard to walk. I was shaky, and each step brought agony to my butt as the cloth brushed against the caned and spanked flesh. I didn't want to start rubbing it til we were at least out of Edgewick's sight. He watched us from his office door as we left the anteroom, a strangely satisfied expression on his face. * As we headed to the auxiliary gym showers, my hands still shook and my legs were like jelly. I appreciated the cool autumn air on my face. It had gotten entirely too hot in that office. The stripes on my rear-end burned fiercely. Khalili was stumbling ahead of me and paused to rub his butt. I collided with him accidentally- on-purpose. He caught me and gave me a funny look as he helped me steady myself, as I'd done with him by the wall. "That was awful," he said, clapping both hands back over his behind and rubbing rather vigorously through his pants. Almost as if to rub the sting in rather than rub it out. "Fuckin-A. I can hardly walk. As you can see." We started to move toward the aux building again, him with his hands still plastered all over his cute sore butt. I marveled that he hadn't said a single harsh thing to me, hadn't blamed me for our predicament--as I guess he had a right to. Neither of us acknowledged our stiffies either, though it was abundantly clear they were still there, mine poking at my belt-buckle under my boxers, his trapped in his tighty-whities. As we walked they were visible even through our pants. I licked my lips as we reached the gate and let him go through first, following his ass and rubbing hands to the back door of the aux building. It sounded deserted, just as Edgewick had promised. The main gym building was newer. The locker room there had individual shower stalls. The aux shower, however, was an outdated communal affair, a row of five heads in a shallow tiled area about eight feet by twelve. It was mostly used for when several sports teams had practice in the same evening, stuff like that. Khalili and I came through the door together, both of us losing our balance this time. Couple of clumsy, naughty boys. We wound up clutching each other to stay upright. He had my arm and shoulder, I had his neck and a fistful of his shirt. Things were beginning to get ridiculous. The Two Stooges. We stood, still holding one another. Again his face was only a few inches from mine. This time I didn't have to sneak looks at his nose out of the corner of my eye. Again I made the by-now redundant observation: He was handsome, really handsome. A young Arabian prince. Soft pouty well-formed lips (I knew they were soft, some things you just know), that proud beak of a nose, those big dark thick-lidded eyes. Even the eye I'd blackened was beautiful. The sweaty curls of black hair falling in his face didn't help matters much. He was absolutely ravishing. He was looking at me too, in the strangest way. I would have given a lot more than a penny for his thoughts. We pushed the lock in and made our way to the shower bank, still more or less clutching each other for support. Without a word, we began to strip, unbuttoning our shirts, standing very close. And then it happened. Khalili, my enemy, reached for the button on my fly just as I went for the button on his. Our hands bumped and we both laughed nervously--but not too nervously, since we'd been going for the same thing. For a second we were still, then I decided "What the hell?" and took charge. I pulled Amir Khalili toward me by the waistband of his pants and eased his fly open. I tugged his pants and underwear down off his slim hips. His excited cock jumped out at me. Neatly cut, as I'd seen in the office, just like mine. Medium-sized with a good patch of black hair over the base, around his balls, it was a pretty cock, smooth and dark and threaded with small delicate veins. He took his cue from me, tugging at my waistband, opening my pants and shimmying my boxers down around my thighs. Our eyes met. He was smiling, a little uncertain, teeth clenched as if concentrating. Exactly the way I felt. Then, just like in Edgy's lair, we were both standing with our pants at our ankles and our stinging-red asses glaring under the fluorescent lights, only now we were gingerly feeling up one another's dribbling hard-ons. I stroked his shaft to the prominent head, rubbing it against my palm, feeling pre-cum from his slit. The head of his penis felt like velvet, or rose petals. The whole thing was a darkish tan, with a purple tinge now that it was full of blood. Mine was a kind of blush-red. We moved apart to kick our pants off, though we were reluctant to let go of each other, perhaps afraid we wouldn't have the nerve to touch again. We eased our shoes off. As if by silent agreement, we helped each other with the socks. First he did me, then I did him. I admired Amir's long, bony, beautiful feet, lifting the right one and giving one toe a gentle experimental lick after pulling off a bit of dark sock-lint. He gasped in delighted surprise, and smiled as I came up. Our shirts came off. I took Amir by the shoulders and crushed him to me, kissed him hard. I could taste blood. He kissed me right back, pressed his beautiful lean golden-brown body into my pale one. We made a gorgeous contrast. Our hands slid around on each other's chests. So smooth and firm. Lean, ridged flesh. I watched his hands on me, knowing he had to like what he felt. We were the hottest debate-team nerds this school had ever seen. I kissed him more gently, moving from soft busted mouth to hot neck to silken earlobe. "Can I see your stripes?" I whispered. Wordlessly, he turned and arched his back so that his ass stuck out. I ran my hands over the two pert mounds of bronzy flesh, pinked-up from the spanking and criss-crossed with mouth-watering maroon-purple cane-weals. The flesh was so warm. My touch made him squirm with a mixture of pleasure and discomfort. "Nice," I murmured. I ran a finger down his crack, hoping to graze his tight sweat-damp hole. He clenched his ass and drew in a fast anxious breath. I was ready to plunge right on ahead, so to speak, but the look he gave me over his perfect bronzy shoulder told me I'd better postpone The Search for Amir Khalili's Asshole until later, if I didn't want to get hit in the mouth again–or maybe spanked. So I turned him back around and kissed him furiously, our hard cocks rubbing together. Neither of us, to tell the truth, was very experienced at it. Our teeth clacked, then our tongues got in each other's way, our noses bumped--but we relished the new feeling, probing with our awkward eager tongues, pausing to playfully nibble each other's injured lips, intoxicated by the dull pain and delicate pleasure. He reached down and started jerking my boner, his touch cool and delicious but excruciatingly slow, real torture. Clearly this was a boy who loved to jerk off and knew how to prolong the experience. I moaned and began fisting his lovely cock, working that hard-soft velvet flesh between my thumb and fingers, pausing only briefly to massage the head the way I knew I liked. I wasn't as slow as he was, and my grip was firmer. I wanted to see him shoot. He took the hint and started to move a little faster on me. I wanted us to spurt all over each other. We went for a few minutes, trying to find a perfect rhythm, testing each other, establishing our positions. We soon attained a machinelike rhythm of stroking, where our movements were natural and almost presciently right. Each seemed to anticipate the next, action and reaction, point and counterpoint. I noticed his large coffee-colored nipples, perked up with arousal, dark and luscious and just begging to be pinched. With my other hand, I reached up and kneaded them between my fingers. He *loved* that, his nips grew harder under my hands, his wet mouth with the split lip opened sensually, his hot moist breath coming in excited gasps. Encouraged, I pinched the sensitive nipple, twisted it a little. This provoked a sharp delighted intake of breath, and for a split second his hand stopped moving on me. "Keep going," I demanded, wrenching his nipple between my thumb and forefinger. He groaned weakly. I felt trickles of pre-cum gliding over my other hand. Kissing my mouth ravenously, he resumed masturbating me with a vengeance, his hand a blur. Our free hands glided over each other's bodies. It wouldn't take long after all the stimulation, visual and physical, which we had experienced in the last hour. Our breathing was fast and sultry, panting, our minds clouded with rapture so that we were barely aware of where we were. There was nothing but the taste of his mouth--coffee, mint, blood, something more remote, like cinnamon or cardomom–and his dark eyes with the thick lids closed in ecstasy, and the feel of him hard wet leaking, and his slipping sliding pleasuring hand. He seemed to be pulling cum out of me as I exploded, what felt like ropes and ropes of hot jism. I opened my eyes to see it hit his belly, chest, and thighs, dribbling pearly and translucent into his pubic hair. He motioned me to keep going on him, and twenty seconds later I was rewarded with the twitching under my hand and long energetic spurts of his cum. He caught me mostly on my legs and crotch, grazing my hip. I looked down and started to rub it into my pubic hair, over my balls and my newly sensitive cock. He watched me with a half smile and then did the same with my cum on his sleek dark body, only he made more of a show of it, like he was rubbing in a fine brand of soap. "Dirty boy," I laughed. "You deserved that caning." This produced a lopsided smile from Amir. "So did you, my friend. You're no bastion of purity either." He rested a hand on my shoulder. I touched my slimy cum-covered belly. "No, I'm not, am I?" He looked so good when he smiled, with those white teeth and those thick bronzy lips, and the dimples. I guess I'd seen him angry too often; I'd never noticed. Sure, he looked hot when he was riled, but his smile was almost angelic. The warm shading of his olive skin fascinated me, I could've just stared forever. I grabbed him around the waist and we kissed again. Then we hugged for a long time. As post-orgasmic fatigue swept over us, we found ourselves leaning together against the cool tile wall so we wouldn't crumple to the shower floor, exhausted from the afternoon's exertions. I felt his lips on my neck, gentle and soft. "Let's skip the shower," he said. "But we're covered in–" "Exactly." "You want to just–?" "Yeah." We shut up and started kissing again. I was obsessed with sucking on his cut lip–it made him moan adorably. Mine felt more swollen than before, extra sensitive. More from all the kissing than from his fist glancing my mouth. He hadn't scored a direct hit like I had. After all, I'd caught him by surprise. Mid-sentence, as a matter of fact. The look on his handsome face as the blood started dripping had been priceless. We collected our rumpled clothes from the floor and dressed in companionable silence. Now the clothes chafed both our asses and our sensitive drained cocks, so there was a lot of wincing involved--but eventually we got our bodies decently covered. Or maybe it wasn't so decent at all, since we'd put on our sweaty clothes over each other's splattered drying cum. When we were dressed, he grabbed me and hugged me again. Our mouths met in another long kiss, this one lazy and languid. It was weird to be kissing with our clothes on. Tender, chaste, but incredibly sensual. We looked at each other for a long moment after pulling apart. He touched my fat lip very gently. "I'm sorry," he said, his lashes lowered over his beautiful dark eyes. The blackened one was getting puffier, very purple on the outside. I wanted to lick it. "Why, Khalili?" I asked, tracing his clean jawline with my finger, "I'm not."