TMI Thursday: Mid-Morning Wood

This is a story not for the faint-of-heart; those of you with weak constitutions should stay away. For the rest of us, feel free to enjoy the following story. And, if you want more awesome tales of debauchery, check out Lilu's home and read other awesomely bad TMI Thursdays!


Hopping in the Wayback Machine again, we find ourselves landing in my seventh grade science class, circa 1988. It was second semester and, I'm not sure how the seating chart worked out, but I found myself sitting in front of a young lady named Jayne Smith.

No, seriously, that was her name. I also knew a guy at Notre Dame named Jon Smith, so I've actually met and had the privilege of knowing two people who carry the default average plain-Jane names.

But this story is not about that.

Science class was a touch boring, despite the fact that we would occasionally do some interesting things. I blame this mostly on the fact that a) I had read a lot of science books and b) the teacher was terrible. One of the worst I've ever had. Certainly the worst science teacher I'd ever had.

Anyway, this was the first time I had dissected frogs, grasshoppers and worms, the first time I had balanced chemical equations, and the first time I learned what an "occluded sky" was (90% cloudy). So, there were some good things going on in the class, but I was just plain effing bored most of the time. However, we did watch a lot of films and film strips in class, which helped break up the monotony.

Being that I was 6'1" in the seventh grade, I often found myself having to slouch down so others could see the projection screen. Now, Jayne Smith was somewhat on the shorter side, and so, as we prepared to watch our movie for the day, I did the chivalrous thing and assumed the position: slid my ass as far back in the seat as I could, elbows on the desktop, back hunched, chin cupped in hand, glazed look in eye. I was ready for the lights to go out and for the film to begin. Which, thankfully, happened a couple of seconds later.

I don't know if they still do this now, but the desks in my junior high classes all had those wire book racks on the bottom of them, which were REAL convenient for putting your feet up on. As we were all settling in for the movie, Jayne decided to get comfortable, too. As such, she leaned back in her chair and slid her feet into the top of the wire book rack.

However, I had already assumed my position, and so when she went to put her feet into the book rack, the toe of her shoe hit my ass and then I could feel her foot sliding past the firm, taut curve of my ass cheek.

In the seventh grade, as the hormones are taking their toll on a person's body, guys don't have any semblance of "dick control". Feeling Jayne's foot rubbing against my ass caused me to fly into a state of "Insta-Chub". It did not help that, apparently, Jayne was fidgety as hell, and was constantly readjusting her feet. Each time she did it, it would send a blissful charge of hormone-fueled lust up and down my spine.

Mmmm...frotteurism. Or, I guess, reverse frotteurism.

And, of course, it all centered in my tail dick, which caused me to get harder and harder. And, things were getting uncomfortable...not so much because I was pressing against any fabric or anything. It was more because there is a point where my dick gets so hard that it actually hurts. And my balls ache. But, I think is pretty much standard practice for all guys when lust comes knocking on their door. I dunno. I've never really discussed this particular physiological phenomenon with my friends.

Discuss amongst yourselves, if you wish.

Now...at what point should I perhaps tell you that the zipper on the pair of jeans I was wearing that day was broken? Now? Okay. The jeans I was wearing that day, by luck and happenstance, had a broken zipper. And not just the kind that doesn't zip. It was the kind of broken zipper where you zip up, think everything is fine, and then you casually go about your day. However, as you're walking, the motion of your legs moving the fabric of the jeans back and forth and gravity conspire to pull the zipper down.

And this is what happened to me, prior to science class. So, there I was, hard as granite, with my zipper down.

But wait, there's more.

Apparently, when I had pissed prior to class, I hadn't tucked myself completely back through the front flap of the underwear. Or, perhaps, my dick was just that nimble. Because, as I'm sitting there, raging hard and, well frankly, enjoying Jayne's foot rubbing against my ass and making me hard, I decided to adjust myself to try and not hurt so much.

So, as subtly as I could, I put my hand down in my lap. And that's when the bare flesh of my hand met the bare flesh of the head of my penis. A tightness crushed my chest, my throat swelled shut, my eyes flew wide open, panic set in.

Oh my fucking God, I thought, my dick is sticking out in class!!! Help me, Baby Jesus, help me!!!

"You're on your own, kid," he replied.

I cast my eyes about, trying to see if anyone had noticed (remember, the lights were--blissfully, thankfully--turned off). I immediately sat up, which, with my the flap on my tighty-whiteys and the teeth of my zipper wrapped around the shaft of my penis, nearly severed it. I resisted the urge to cry out or even do the sharp intake of breath that comes with the sudden sensation of pain. I put my other hand in my lap and just sat there for a few seconds, as casually as possible, with small, subtle movements, I tucked myself back into my underwear and then zipped myself back up. For good measure, I remained like that, sliding my ass to the front of the seat and leaning down in my chair so that Jayne could see the final few moments of the film. Heaving a sigh of relief, I began to return to silent flaccidity.

The movie ended, the bell signaling the end of science period sounded, and I immediately got up and did the old "hold my books over my crotch--no one will notice!!!" move as I walked down the hallway. Throughout the rest of the day, I was obsessed with checking my zipper to make sure it was up. And then after the day was done, I never wore those pants to school again.

This severely limited my wardrobe, because my parents refused to buy new clothes for me at any time other than at the beginning of the school year in the fall. Plus, we weren't allowed to wear shorts to school at that time. So, I was down a pair of pants...but it was worth it having that safety and security of mind that my dick wouldn't be making another surprise appearance in the middle of science class.

And, of course, when I got home that afternoon after school, I masturbated furiously while thinking about Jayne. And then immediately felt guilty.