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Subject: What Goes Around – Chapter one Preamble This is a story that’s very very different from 99.9% of the stories that you will read on Nifty. You see this story is true, every word of it. I know because it happened to me! Believe me truth can be stranger than fiction. If you are looking for a little stimulation then I suggest you look elsewhere or go to one of my works of fiction in the prolific author section. The sex in this tale is minimal. If on the other hand you enjoy true stories or just want to learn a little about my private life then this story is for you. If you wish to contact me about any of my stories please do so ail I always respond. Criticisms are welcome too! This story is meant only for those over the age of consent and all of the normal warnings apply. Enjoy! WHAT GOES AROUND Chapter 1 If it’s possible to be born ugly then I was born ugly. A huge nose with a notable bump on it dominated my face. I was also born with a deviated septum. In layman’s terms that meant that one of my nostrils was completely blocked with unwanted cartilage. The second nostril was partially blocked. It made it impossible for me to breathe without keeping my mouth open all of the time. I looked like an imbecile. I was also completely uncoordinated. I mean if you soft tossed a ball to me I couldn’t catch the damn thing if my life depended on it. I remember as a five year old playing in the class ‘orchestra’. My instrument was the triangle. All I had to do was hit it in time with the music. I couldn’t get it right so I just banged away whenever. I’m probably the only five year old to ever lose his instrument for incompetence. I got my revenge at Christmas though. It was pageant time and our class did the nativity scene. I was proud to be one of the three kings. My one line was ‘I bring Frankincense’ The teacher threatened to take my part away during rehearsals because I wouldn’t speak up enough. I was determined not to lose out again. The big night came in an auditorium packed with parents. My moment arrived and I yelled out as loud as I could, “I BRING FRANKENSTEIN!” Of course bedlam ensued. I was the hit of the concert. Anyway I digress. I was in the middle of describing myself. It wasn’t all negative. I had two strong attributes. First I was quite intelligent, so much so that the school had me skip a grade. Always being the youngest in the class worked out fine scholastically, but socially it was a disaster. I had a tough enough time making friends anyway and now everyone in my class was thinking a year ahead of me. Add it all up and I was your typical lonely nerd. My second attribute was between my legs. I was big, I mean really big. I also went through puberty early.. How many twelve year olds have a cock pushing eight inches all ready? I did! In primary school however my size wasn’t worth a pinch of salt. My parents also constantly preached that I should keep that part of me private, so I kept it under wraps. I was also very sexually naive. I was eleven going on twelve before I realized mine was ‘different’. My cock was also ‘perfect’. Let me tell you a story of an incident that occurred much later in my life that illustrates that fact. In my mid thirties I took a vacation in Florida. There I met a rich doctor in a gay bar and we ended up in his hotel room. He proceeded to fall in love with my kocaeli escort bayan cock. He said that between his practice and his gay activities he had seen thousands of cocks in his time. Mine, he told me was the most perfect he had ever seen. To back it up he offered me a free apartment, a free car, and a weekly salary. All I had to do was return with him to Long Island and make my cock available to him whenever he felt the urge. Unfortunately or perhaps fortunately, I already had too many roots down in Canada to even consider it. The real story I want to tell you about began when I was eight years old. I was in the fourth grade. Looking back I was a good kid never getting into trouble or so I thought. It was recess time and I was alone as usual. A much bigger and older boy, for no apparent reason, decided to bully me again. I saw him coming, realized his intention, and took off running. Going to a teacher was not an option. To do so meant more bullying later when the teacher was not around. So I ran ………….and ran. He was slowly catching up and I was getting tired. I took the only option I could think of. I ducked into the boys entrance of the school. Just inside the entrance was a short set of stairs leading up to the first floor of the school. There at the top of the stairs stood the immense figure of a teacher, one Mr. Headley Stokes. “What are you doing in the school?” he bellowed. “You know it’s against the rules! ” I was like a deer in the headlights. I was petrified. Nothing came out of my mouth. “Be off with you,” he continued, “And don’t let me catch you in here again!” I meekly departed. I was only in the yard a few moments when the same bully spotted me. The chase was on again. Desperate to escape and thinking like an eight year old I ran back to the building only this time I chose the girls entrance. Mr. Stokes however was one step ahead of me. By the time I realized he was standing at the top of the stairs it was already too late. “How dare you disobey me!” he shouted. He never did ask me if I had any valid reason for being there and I was too scared to open my mouth. Think of it. A two hundred pound man in a rage shouting at me from on high was a petrifying sight to an eight year old. He immediately took me to a small office down the hall and strapped me. It hurt like hell. But in the end the physical pain did not hurt as much as my perceived social injustice of it all. I never felt guilty and in no way did I deserve the punishment. I hated him for it. Fast forward a couple of months in the same school year. I was working away at my desk at an assignment that was especially difficult. I was determined to do a good job. Now most boys would purse their lips, grit their teeth or perhaps stick their tongue out to the side to show determination. I could do none of these because I had to keep my mouth open. Instead I involuntarily would lift my tongue and press against the roof of my mouth. Now it so happens that under your tongue at the very back sits a small gland that produces a good part of the saliva that occurs naturally in your mouth. As I found out the hard way that day if you lift the tongue hard and quickly enough a spurt of saliva comes out. (You can try it yourself) With your mouth closed it’s no problem but of course mine was open. A spray of saliva flew out all over my books. kocaeli sınırsız escort The eagle eyed teacher had spotted what had occurred. She immediately marched down the aisle and declared, “Young man you are spitting in my classroom!” Looking back now I wonder how it is possible to spit with your mouth open? No matter to her. She didn’t need an explanation. She had seen it with her own eyes and that was good enough for her. She told me to wait in the hall and she disappeared around the corner. She reappeared moments later with Mr. Stokes in tow. Mr. Stokes didn’t require further explanation either. If the teacher told him she saw me spitting there was no defence for it. I was strapped …….again! I mean how many eight year olds, even badly behaved ones, get strapped in a school year, let alone twice? Not only that, I felt that neither of them were deserved. God, I hated that man! I couldn’t even discuss the matter with my parents. In those days the teachers were Gods and if they said you deserved punishment then you deserved it, no questions asked. If I had said anything at all there was a good chance my parents would have added to the punishment. Even as an adult I never bothered to tell them. At the end of the school year our family had decided to move. The new house was in a different school district and I was happy if for no other reason than I was getting rid of Mr. Stokes. The events of the following two years adds little to this story other than the gradual realization that I seemed to be much bigger than other boys and that my member could attract some attention. Oh, I must tell you that there was an incident that occurred in grade six that could have ended in a deserved strapping. The girl that sat in front of me was a pain in the ass. She had very long pigtails and she loved to irritate me by swishing them back and forth across my desk while I worked. If I complained to her she would increase the swishing. Now in those days the ball point pen had yet to appear in the market place. We were learning to write in pen and ink and each desk was supplied with an inkwell. I got so mad at her one day I grabbed one of the pigtails and stuffed it in the inkwell. Of course she screamed and pulled. The ink soaked pigtail made pretty blue splotches all over the back of her yellow dress. I was hauled down to the principal’s office for punishment from the boss man himself, Principal Shewfelt. He was a kindly old gentleman probably close to retirement. Before deciding on the appropriate course of action he asked me to tell him my side of the story. As I was telling my story he tried hard to keep a straight face but he failed. He laughed out loud. Drawing himself together he gave me the mildest verbal reprimand you can imagine before sending me back to my room. I was punished though. When the girl’s mother presented my parents with a dry cleaning bill my allowance was cut off for a month. The following year was my first at junior high school. It was an exciting time. You got to stay with your home room teacher for half a day before changing classrooms continually in the afternoon. Afternoon classes included subjects such as Phys. Ed., Music, Art and Shop. It made me feel like a young adult. I was happily striding down the hall that very first afternoon when I suddenly stopped dead izmit anal yapan escort in my tracks. My joy turned to dread. There ahead of me, towering above the students with his arms crossed was Mr. Stokes. I was shell shocked. Looking back he was probably smiling at the passing students but all I saw was a scowl. I had to get past him to reach the next class. I hugged one wall and looked the other way as I passed. Thankfully he didn’t call me out. I was thankful too that I didn’t have him as a teacher in any of my classes. In fact I never had him in subsequent years either. I must truthfully say we never ever spoke to each other in school in my entire Junior High School career. Whether he remembered me from primary days I did not know and I didn’t care to know. I certainly knew how to carry a grudge big time. Phys. Ed was fun that first year. We showered for the first time. I confirmed that although I was the youngest in the class I had the biggest cock by quite a bit. I eventually learned that size is not everything. In fact today I prefer a cock that is much smaller than my own. However as an almost teenager size was everything. I was often called horse. I made some decent friends that year too. I know that in part at least it was because of my lucky gift. I had one friend I was particularly close to. In case he ever reads this story let’s call him Josh. Josh always carried a short rope in his pocket. Whenever the two of us found ourselves in an isolated spot, usually once or twice a week, he would attack me. He was bigger, stronger and more athletic than I was and invariably would overpower me. He’d then pull out the rope and tie my hands behind my back. Pulling my pants down he would abuse my cock for long periods of time, sometimes up to an hour or so. He introduced me to jacking off and that’s the way each session would end. The cums were dry initially but by the end of the year I was making copious amounts of sperm. I quickly learned to love the attention for after a while I never struggled too much when I was attacked. We often hiked in a valley nearby and I used to look for isolated spots to visit. A couple of times he took me to friends of his and the scenario was the same. Josh’s friends liked to abuse me too. Even in high school a few years later Josh and some six or seven buddies from his school football team attacked me, got me down on the ground and abused me. They didn’t jerk me off but they sure took their time mauling me. It was fun. Josh’s endowment was about half my size and he very rarely sought reciprocation. He eventually wandered out of my life, married and became a high school teacher. I digress yet again. Now back to my tale. I was heavily into the boy scout movement in those days. I just loved, and still do, the out of doors. For every hike, camp out or canoe trip I was front and center. At the conclusion of that first Junior High School year all of the troops in our district, some six or seven in all, organized a two week camporee, as they called it, in the highlands of Haliburton. Some four or five scout leaders were our chaperones. In the end about fifty scouts signed up. Of course I was one of them. I could hardly wait for the day, I was so excited. After a long drive I remember arriving at the camp dock ready to be transported to our camp site. I rushed from the car only to run into a rather large man who was blocking my path. It was Mr. Headley Stokes dressed in a boy scout leader’s uniform! I couldn’t believe my misfortune. I inwardly groaned and said to myself, ‘Not again!’ to be contnued………….. Keep in mind you wouldn’t be able to read this story if no one donated to Nifty!

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