The Wednesday Club, Part 4

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The teenaged author experiences his first mutual masturbation session

 

The long summer holidays finally came to an end, and in early September I returned to Barchester Grammar School as a third-year. Meetings of the Wednesday Club resumed on the first Thursday of the new term, and as Clarke had gone up to university, Thompson became the new Secretary.



His first act in his new role was to announce that next Tuesday's meeting would be a Mutual Assistance meeting. Some of the older boys grinned knowingly, but Taylor and I exchanged puzzled glances.



"Don't worry," said Thompson, noticing our puzzlement, "We'll take you in hand and make sure you don't get left out."



The weekend passed, and Tuesday came round. Our curiosity was driving us crazy when we arrived at the old woodwork shed that lunchtime. It was a full house -- every member of the Club was there, which didn't often happen.



Without being told, the other boys formed a wide circle, and Taylor and I found ourselves places as best we could. There was a shuffling as everyone dropped their trousers. Most boys were already as hard as a rod.



"Okay, take the dick of the boy on your left," instructed Thompson, "And if he's circumcised, be sure to use a little of the baby oil. Williams, pass the bottle over to Miller."



The boy to my left was Skinner, a lower-sixth former who had bright red hair, and a bush of ginger pubic hair to match. His penis was six inches long and he was circumcised, so I lubricated my hand with the baby oil and gently grasped his hot shaft. He shot me a grin and a wink. "Not too tight, Miller, you don't want to pull it off!" he said.



At Thompson's signal, every boy began wanking the boy to his left with slow and deliberate strokes. Every so often, Thompson would say "Slow down, and stop for a moment," and we would all pause.



Two of the younger boys were first to come: Taylor and another third-year who had joined the club soon after me. They shot streams of thick milky semen across the floor into the middle of the wide circle.



"Keep going, Taylor," said the boy to his left, "You've shot your load, but I'm not finished yet!"



One by one, we each orgasmed. I felt Skinner's penis stiffen and pulse inside my hand as he launched five large gobs of sperm into the circle. His dick continued pulsing, and I felt a familiar warm stickiness in my hand as he pumped a couple more large blobs out.



In the expert hand of Jameson to my right, I exploded in a gush of hot sperm, climaxing so hard that it hit the trouser leg of the boy opposite and dribbled onto his shiny black shoe. "Good shot, Miller," said Jameson. Everyone burst out laughing, and eventually someone handed the hapless boy a paper tissue to wipe up the mess.



As we filed out of the shed, Thompson tapped me on the shoulder. "I've got a job for you, Miller. It's time for you to invite one of the second years to join the club. Do you think you're up to it?"



"Who is it?" I asked.



"Wood, from Mr Bateman's second-year class. I happen to know that he turned thirteen on the first day of term, and although it's early in the year to be inviting second-years, Willis tells me that he meets the other criteria."



"Okay, but what do I do? How do I avoid scaring him off?"



"Jameson will give you advice. After all, he initiated you and Taylor and Evans into the Club last year."

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