Class Subject

"Through this door, Mr. Hardt." Ken pulled his eyes off the swaying sashay of the clinging green skirt to see her guide's gesture towards the open door.

"Thank you," he said, and walked into the room. Smaller the classrooms he remembered from high school, the chemistry-type front table was covered with a purple pad. Eight two-person desks were staggered into two imperfect rows. Ken stood awkwardly at the end of the table as his guide took a sheet from a hidden drawer and fitted it on the pad.

"Take a few moments to get comfortable on your back, and use this sheet to cover you up," she patted a folded sheet. "You can put your clothes and shoes in the open drawer. I'll be back in a few minutes to finish setting you up."

His guide left the room, and Ken took an anxious breath. He kicked off his shoes, socks, shorts and t-shirt, placing them in the open drawer. The room felt warm on his bare skin. He glanced around the room, saw all the windows were covered by blinds, and quickly tossed his boxers into the drawer. As he climbed onto the table, it occurred to him the table was lower than the chemistry room tables were. He spread out the covers, and laid back.

This sheet seems awfully thin, Ken thought when his guide appeared. She wordlessly went about her preparations, which included folding back his sheet, creasing it just above his crotch, then adding a second sheet over his legs, the edge falling over the crease of the first. "I'm going to put this cardboard frame around your head and shoulders," the guide explained. The black cardboard box fit over his chest, with the other three sides snapping into a groove in the pad.

All Ken could see was the ceiling. "Are you comfortable, Mr. Hardt?" echoed from the open top of his enclosure.

"Yes."

"Okay. The class will be arriving in about 5 minutes. Did you meet Tasha, the instructor?"

"No. I just signed on to do this yesterday morning."

"Oh," the guide sounded surprised. "well, very briefly, all you have to do is lay back and relax. Tasha's class has already covered a lot of the background in the first session. Today is the lab, and she'll probably spend a few minutes giving a quick reminder of techniques, before giving some tips and tricks. Once the class starts their hands on portion, do you best to relax and not lose control too quickly."

"Why shouldn't I do that?"

"It makes it harder on the other students. Remember, they're here because they suck at sucking." Ken could hear his guide's voice fade away.

"Hello?" Ken called out. No reply. He sighed and tucked his arms behind his head. It was a lot more uncomfortable not being able to stretch his arms to his side. He noticed two straps, one on each side of the frame, and he realized he could hook his fingers on them to let his arms rest.

The first giggle got Ken's attention, then the quiet conversations floated over his barrier. He couldn't hear as much as he wanted, except occasional phrases: "it's a real guy"; "why can't we see his face"; "he doesn't look that big so far."

A commanding, stern voice took over: "Okay, let's get started." Ken could feel two confident hands placed on his leg on the opposite side of the chairs. "Does anyone have any questions from the first class? Carrie?"

"There's like only one guy here, how are we gonna do this?" Ken could hear the gum bounce around in her mouth as she drawled out the words.

"Don't worry about that. There's only four of you. Any other questions?" A long pause. "Okay, let's get moving." Ken could feel air across his hips as the top sheet was rolled down to his thighs.

"That's all he has?" a giggling voice evaluated the situation.

"Well, we are going to presume he's a grower. He's probably needing a little encouragement," the stern voice explained. Ken felt one hand disappear from his leg. "Remember I mentioned that a light touch can be more exciting that a grope?" A fingernail slid between his tight, shaved, balls and pushed up the shaft of his flaccid member.

The familiar feeling of warmth rushed through him, and Ken shuddered. His head seemed to want to race away from the movement of her fingernail. The race was lost, and he felt fingers along the sides, sliding up and down in two long, light strokes.

"See how easily he responded to this touch? Despite everything you may hear, men like foreplay as well, usually in the tease of action. They won't last long with teasing, unless you are good and spreading the attention around. Carrie, come up here."

Ken could hear a chair scrape the floor and footfalls approach. "You want me to do what you do?"

"No, I want you to start with running your fingernails lightly up the inside of the thighs." Ken felt the nail carry out the direction and could feel the involuntary quivers. "Yes, good. Did you see the reaction? Remember what we talked about last class - this is one of those ways you keep him going without direct pressure."

Ken sighed and focused on his directions to not get too excited. The voices started to get closer. The feeling of 5 pairs of hands on his lower torso was intense. He could feel the difference between them. The stern one had long, strong fingers, but the touch was distant, clinical. Carrie had short fingers with long nails, with clammy hands. The set by his knees was thick and callused, and he could feel knarled knuckles. One at his stomach was the biggest, but warmest to feel, but the last was so light of a touch, he wondered if it was a ghost.

Wetness along his shaft caused his entire body to tighten, a dripping wet, thick tongue tracing up. The set of biggest hands were roughly grabbing his balls, one finger wrapped around the shaft and pulling it away from him stomach. Cheers of "That's the way, Hanna!" and "Look at him squirm!" encouraged the licker to swirl around the tip of his engorged head. He could feel the surround of her lips.

It was everything he could do not to thrust out and shove himself into her mouth. I thought they weren't good as this he thought to himself as he willed his hips against the table.

A new sensation registered: he could feel the knees of a different girl against his, but hardly any body weight. She was crawling up his legs, kissing his inner thighs. His mind couldn't comprehend... there was no pressure, but he could feel something against each of his legs, something firm. Nipples? He thought to himself, is this one topless, or are her nipples that big that I can feel them? This one had to be the ghost girl.

"Creative, Nina," the stern voice called up. "It's not what we talked about, but girls, let's give her a chance to see what she does."

Ken started to pant in anticipation. The kissed reached the top of his legs, the lips kissed his balls while her knees started to slide back down his legs. With a smooth motion, he could feel his legs surrounding her body as her mouth reached to his head. No noise, no fanfare, just wet lips around his cock. Ken could feel her hands slide under his cheeks and lift his hips slightly. She was pushing his hips up and forcing him to thrust into her mouth.

How he didn't explode at that minute is a mystery. What made it worse was the clammy hands were starting to work on his nipples, pulling, twisting. He could feel her kiss them, get them wet and then blow on them. A different mouth took position on his other nipple and sucked harder than the girl between his legs.

Moans started to come from Ken's mouth. He couldn't remember if there was any restriction from him making noises - one of the forms he signed required that he never say a word, but nothing about moans.

As quickly as he had three girls on him, suddenly there was nobody touching him. He strained to listen, contemplated calling out, asking for this not to stop. The feel of bare legs surrounding his lower abdomen warmed his skin again. The knarled knuckled hands were now grabbing his cock, long, slow strokes up and down the shaft, pulling at the head just a bit before sliding back down. It clicked in Ken's mind: those are naked legs. Are these girls naked? The unknowing caused his balls to tighten, preparing for that explosion.

The naked legs stayed, but the hands were replaced by another mouth. This one was clumsy, but she made up with it with vigor and enthusiasm. Each motion seemed to tighten her lips on his cock, and she seemed determined to not let go.

It was finally too much. Ken exploded, his legs shaking, his moans reaching a guttural pitch. Days of built-up frustration, yearning, and lust helped drive the cum out. Clumsy Lips were holding on, although he could feel the smile on her face. With his last spurt, she pulled off him, and the bare legs dismounted as well.

In the bliss that followed, Ken heard footsteps leave the room. Before he could wonder what should happen, the cardboard cover was removed, and his guide stood by the table. "Thank you, Mr. Hardt. There's a bathroom to your left. Once you're done, please stop by the office so we can give you your stipend."

A stipend? Ken thought as he sat up. "Not a bad way to spend a Tuesday" he declared as he picked up his clothes.