Last Day o High School
Six months ago I finished high school in a small country town in Australia where
I was a popular, semi good-looking guy with lots of friends - male and female.
I've just turned 18 and have moved to the city to go to university and then to
start a career.
I play sport, mainly cricket and Aussie Rules football, but also read books,
wrote poetry, go to parties and drink far too much. I guess you could say I'm a
well rounded, normal guy.
I have a story to tell about my last day and night at high school, a story that
I've wanted to tell ever since it happened but was too afraid of the
consequences.
It's tradition that the night of the last formal day of high school (before the
break leading into the final exams) is spent on campus. The sleep over follows
an also traditional 'muck up' day where as many pranks as possible are pulled on
fellow students, teachers and the school itself.
'Sleep over' is a misnomer because there's usually little sleep – 'drink over'
would be a more appropriate name! True to tradition, my Year 12 classmates and I
were well and truly pissed by midnight. An open fire burned brightly against the
summer sky and a more mellow setting would be hard to find anywhere on earth.
The usual stories were repeated around the campfire – dramas, issues, conquests,
were all rehashed by the drunken crowd of about 30 teenagers. There was also an
overwhelming feeling of the calm before the storm, for in less than two weeks,
our futures would be decided by a series of exams more tortuous than any we had
experienced throughout our youth.
At about 2am, many of the group had decided to hit the sack – to try to get a
bit of sleep before some idiot played a trumpet or some other instrument of
torture around dawn. Out of the four stalwarts left drinking with me, two were
almost comatose anyway as they'd been drinking since before noon, one was in a
trance caused by some form of illicit drug that none of us had been privy to
(unfortunately) and the other was my best friend – Chris.
Chris and I had shared many experiences together, usually involving me playing
wingman at parties to shepherd young ladies into Chris' arms (and bed). He was
the best looking guy in school, school captain, footy star, school boxing legend
and a great fella. Every Friday night he stayed at my place and we drank
ourselves silly in the back room of my parents' house (after they'd gone to
bed). We were best mates, but that was all. There had never been any suggestion
of any sexual attraction between the two of us, although thinking back we did
have a threesome with a girl named Debbie in Year 11. My fascination with that
event wasn't just about losing my cherry (which was great) but also about seeing
the far more experienced Chris, go about the seduction, arousal and ultimately
fucking of one of our school's most gorgeous girls. I'll be forever grateful to
him for insisting that I was part of the 'deal'.
There was also an unspoken fascination which was seeing Chris fucking Deb's
mouth, then her pussy. I didn't realise until much later that my interest was
more about his dick the anything she had to offer. It was this interest that was
rekindled on the last night of high school.
Chris and I decided to go for a very drunken walk, ostensibly to have a piss on
the school oval – sort of a goodbye to the place where we had spent many
lunchtimes kicking a footy or trying to knock the head off an opposition
batsman. We were in the middle of what was a fairly dark sports ground lit only
by starlight, when Chris decided to pretend to take a 'spekky' over my head. His
attempt to mark a non-existent ball sent both of us tumbling to the ground in
fits of laughter. In retaliation I grabbed Chris in a wrestling hold and pinned
him to the ground.
Chris was not only extremely good looking - blond hair, blue eyes, square jaw
and totally ripped – he was also a hell of a lot stronger than me. Within a
minute he had reversed my tenuous hold and had me pinned underneath him. Being
the middle of summer, we both had on shorts and tee shirts, even though it was
the middle of the night. As Chris sat on my thighs and held my arms down I felt
a familiar stirring in my groin. Whilst Chris had it all over me in the looks
department, my penis is something to be proud of (not that it ever had as much
use as Chris'). I don't know where I got the gene from, but my 9 inches was
always something that created a good-natured fascination in the locker room.
Most kids my age were lucky to have 6 inches, if that. Chris was at least 6 and
probably 7 inches – made to look larger by his penchant for shaving his pubic
hair.
I had no need to shave my pubes, although as Chris held me down I wished for
some sort of blade to cut off my rapidly rising member! It seemed like an
eternity but it took probably less than a minute for my dick to harden enough to
pop out of my cut-off shorts. It took another 30 seconds or so for Chris to
realise what had happened. I was horrified to think how he would react. I
needn't have worried!
When Chris saw the two or three inches that had crept out from my shorts, he
laughed and got up off me. I immediately apologised, stammering that I needed a
piss and that's why it had become hard. Chris responded by dropping his shorts,
pulling out his semi-hard dick and challenging me to a wanking race! I was
dumfounded – I knew it was the drink talking but hey, I was pissed too so it
didn't matter. Sure, I said, you're on!
So there we were standing next to each other in the middle of the school oval at
2.30am wanking. Bizarro World suddenly became even more bizarre when I felt
Chris' hand grab my dick. I jumped in the air in fright. I hadn't seen him move
and the shock of a strange hand on my willy nearly gave me a heart attack.
Chris said "I've just changed the rules. I'll wank you and you wank me and the
first to come is the winner".
I didn't know what to say so I just nodded and slipped my hand down onto his
dick. By this stage we were facing each other, tee shirts still on, shorts off
and dicks fully primed in our best friend's hands. After a minute or so, the
unnatural motion started to have a more sublime rhythm, particularly when we
both started dripping pre-cum, which in turn provided a welcomed lubricant to
assist our dry hands.
The night became even more unreal when Chris took a step closer to me and kissed
me. I had never imagined kissing a man (or wanking one) but it seemed so right
that we really got into it. The emotion of it being the last night of school
combined with the first night we had displayed a physical attraction to each
other to create a surreal set of circumstances that led to this situation, and
we both fell head-long into it.
After kissing for a minute or three, Chris started kissing my chest and then my
stomach, his hand continuing to stroke my throbbing member. I was watching him
in awe and was immediately reminded of him using the same technique on Deb. I
knew what had come next with her and I was pretty sure what was about to happen
to me. I wasn't disappointed! Chris' lips met the end of my shaft as a kiss and
then a lick and then he engulfed the head with his mouth. I was far too big for
him to take it all in, but his mouth enveloped a good six inches and surrounded
me with warmth that was out of this world. His head started bobbing up and down
and I could only look on in wonderment. I ran my hands through his gorgeous
hair, all the time thinking to myself "I can't believe this is happening".
Only a minute or so after Chris started his wonderful oral assault on my pride
and joy, the inexperience of youth let me down and started to come,
uncontrollably, in such volume that even an experienced cocksucker could not
possibly have coped with. As for Chris, he didn't cope at all. In fact he spat
the first come-rope out of his mouth and proceeded to vomit on the lush grass of
the oval!
After emptying his stomach, he then rose to his feet and started walking back
towards me. Thinking it was my turn now to pleasure him; I smiled and walked
towards him, preparing to lose whatever inhibitions I had left. I started to put
my arms out as if to hug him, but Chris had other ideas. He threw a vicious
right hook that, had it hit me, would have just about killed me. Thankfully in
his drunken state, it missed by a whisker. Interpreting the miss as deliberate
(remember I was drunk too), I laughed and kept going towards him.
I vaguely remember the uppercut but not which hand delivered it. I can remember
waking up around dawn when the sprinklers came on. I can also remember the huge
amount of pain I had in my jaw and inside my mouth (where I had bitten through
my cheek). I can definitely remember the blood, all over my shirt and my face.
As I came to my senses, I found my shorts and put hem back on. As I did, I
looked down at my dick, shrunken after spending a night lying on cold grass.
What went wrong? To this day I haven't found out. Chris sat his exams, I sat
mine. Chris changed his university preferences so that we are now attending
different campuses.
I guess that Chris was scared, we both were. None of us find it easy admitting
we are someone different to who we thought we were. Still, what a waste of a
friendship.
