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20 Nisan 2023, 03:18
As we exited the staircase and entered the cafeteria, there was a collective gasp from a number of the senior class whose table had them facing our direction. Miles was a few steps in front of me.
"What are you doing?" asked Ryan.
"I was arrested," replied Miles.
Recognizing the confused look on a number of the seniors' faces, I explained, "We were in Mr. Vanston's class performing my play. I arrested Miles and had to bring him to the jail."
"But...why are you naked?" asked Christina.
I started to try to come up with an explanation, but Miles interjected. "My toga got ripped in the scuffle."
Miles then stepped onto an empty seat at the middle table and then stepped right up on the table. I couldn't believe it. Miles, rather than making any attempt to hide, was using the table as a stage.
It being high school, some of the guys started doing high school things. There were a few tater tots thrown at Miles, one bouncing off his chest, another bouncing off his stomach. Then Sean reached up to him and flicked Miles's penis with his banana. Brian came over and tried to place a few raisins on Miles's dick, but they slid off.
Suddenly, there was a piercing high pitched sound. The fire alarm was going off. I looked over at the wall where the fire alarm box in the cafeteria is located. Steve was standing right there with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. Oh my god, had Steve pulled the fire alarm?
As I was looking over at Steve, he reached down under his own toga, and I saw him pull down, then step out of, his black boxer briefs. "What is he doing?" I thought to myself. "In event of fire, remove underwear?" I could not make sense of Steve's actions.
Miles had jumped down off the table, barely managing to maintain his balance, with his hands still tied behind his back, upon landing. But the innate athleticism that he used to evade rushing linebackers gave him the inner core strength to twist and right himself just before landing on his feet. Students were now starting to press towards the staircase. I found myself immediately behind Miles. For the first time, I sensed a bit of fear, rather than sparkle, in his eyes. "James, I can't go outside like this!"
At that moment, Steve blended into the funnel of students converging at the door to the staircase. In a swift motion, he reached his arms up and pulled something over Miles's head. It was black. And then I realized it...Steve had pulled his own boxer briefs down over Miles's face.
"Stay with me," Steve said to Miles. The crowd behind began to push us towards the stairs. It was one short flight of stairs and then out the side door onto the lawn of the school. Each of the grades was assigned their own quadrant of the lawn as part of our evacuation plan. That put us seniors in the west corner along Wyoming Avenue facing Wendy's restaurant.
Miles could feel the fresh air and breeze against his skin, but he clearly could not see. "You can't take me outside," he said, although it was unclear whom he was talking to...me or Steve or anyone in particular.
"Follow me," Steve said. I looked down and realized that Steve had grabbed Miles's penis and was using it to pull Miles along in the crowd. I was puzzled what Steve's intentions were. Clearly we weren't going to be able to get away with parading Miles around naked outside.
But, Steve seemed to be mindful of the risks. He pulled Miles towards the outer edge of the crowd. In doing so, Steve was using the fellow students to shield Miles from passing cars on either Wyoming Avenue or Ash Street.
"Is that Miles Klarkson?" an adult voice calls out from our left.
I look up to our left and see Mr. Sykes, the art teacher, approaching.
Steve let go of Miles's penis in surprise. Many thoughts were running through my head. "Was I going to get in trouble?" "Was Miles going to get in trouble?" "How do we explain this?" "How had Mr. Sykes recognized Miles, when Miles was wearing a pair of black boxer shorts over his head?"
I managed to answer only the last question. It wouldn't have taken that much deduction for Mr. Sykes to figure out who our 'masked' prisoner was. Our school didn't have that many bronze-skinned male students with chiseled physiques. That, after all, was a subset of one to which Miles was the only member.
Looking down again, my eyes were drawn to Miles's nether regions. Of all the times I had seen Miles naked, one of the things that struck me was that his penis and balls always hung down to the exact same length. But, now Miles's cock was extending nearly an extra two inches beyond his balls. Clearly, Steve's tugging had caused it to stretch out.
Mr. Nolan called out, "All clear. Return to the building."
Mr. Sykes stopped in his tracks and turned back the other direction. "Saved by the bell," I thought to myself, as Mr. Sykes headed back towards the juniors whom he was responsible for monitoring during an evacuation.
Then Mr. Sykes turned back and faced us. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile phone. Two Büyükesat Escort (http://etlikcivciv.com/ad-category/buyukesat-escort/) quick flashes of light told me that Mr. Sykes had just snapped photos of Miles. Granted, Miles's face was covered, and he was unaware of Mr. Sykes's actions. But, I was standing there terrified. "Why had Mr. Sykes taken pictures of Miles?" "Was he going to show them to Mr. Nolan?" I wondered to myself, "If he shows them to the principal, we're screwed."
"James!" "James," I heard Miles shouting.
"Right here," I responded.
"You've got to help get me back upstairs. I can't go to Miss Mancuso's class like this," he said, with just a little bit of cracking in his voice.
I grabbed his hand and said, "Follow me!"
"Get this scarf off my face," Miles exclaimed.
At that moment, I saw Vinny reach up and pull Steve's boxer shorts off Miles's head. "I wonder if Vinny realizes those aren't Miles's," I thought to myself.
We pushed back into the building. Most of the seniors who had been surrounding us headed down the stairs, returning to the cafeteria. Miles and I headed upstairs, back towards Mr. Vanston's classroom. We were the first ones to arrive there.
"Where is my sheet?" asked Miles.
I stared at the floor where I had dropped his toga some 20 minutes ago. "It was right here; I swear," I said.
As I was looking at Miles, again I found my line of sight redirected to his nether regions. I guess the 40-degree (Fahrenheit) March air had finally caught up to Miles. What struck me the most was how much his penis had shrunk. Like a turtle whose head is pulled back into the shell, it seemed that his entire shaft had disappeared, with just the button-cap jutting out from his pelvis. Even his balls, which typically hung down in a sack resembling a plump avocado, had diminished and were now barely the size of a ping pong ball.
We heard a clamor of voices and heavy footsteps in the staircase.
"To the bathroom," Miles shouted.
"What are we going to do," I asked, as we arrived in the men's bathroom.
"We need to make a toga for me out of toilet paper," Miles replied.
Our bathrooms were supplied with those massive industrial size rolls of toilet paper. While the large rolls were seemingly never-ending, they were also pathetically single-ply. When doing one's business, you generally needed to fold the toilet paper over itself five or six times to prevent your fingers from breaking through.
Miles stood just outside a stall. I started pulling and unrolling a spool of toilet paper. I started at his shoulder and then reached down between his legs and began creating a make-shift sash. With his hands still bound by the cable ties, Miles wasn't able to offer much assistance. I made seven or eight passes, wrapping toilet paper from his shoulder, down between his legs, and back around.
"This isn't going to work," Miles interrupted.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Look!" Miles said, as he dipped his head and beckoned my eyes towards the mirror hanging over the bathroom sink. "My entire side is bare. Miss Mancuso will know that I am naked."
Miss Mancuso, our Spanish teacher, was a man-hater. She was a misandrist...or whatever they call the opposite of a misogynist. She was in her early 40s and had never been married. It was certain that she, in her later years would become a 'crazy cat lady', but in her present condition she was simply a teacher that had an obvious bias against males in the class, particularly against those who came from a position of higher social standing.
"Start over," Miles said. "But you have to go from my shoulder to my hip. Don't go between my legs".
I hastily ripped off the toilet paper. It gave way without much force. I honestly felt a bit like a kid ripping open a Christmas present. I paused for a brief moment as Miles was once again standing completely naked in front of me. His left nipple had two hairs growing out of it; they seemed quite out of place on his otherwise smooth chest.
Then I resumed the task of trying to make a Charmin toga for Miles. I started at his shoulder and wrapped it diagonally across his body down to his hip. We quickly realized this alone wasn't going to work either.
"Then wrap it back across my waist," Miles directed me.
And so, I began a three-step wrapping process, in which I would go from his shoulder, to his left hip, then around his crotch and butt, circling back up to his shoulder. I was frantically pulling toilet paper off the roll, faster than even the most crazed cat would ever be able to accomplish.
"Brringgggggg." "Brringgggggg," the class buzzer sounded.
"I guess that will have to do," Miles said.
I looked at Miles and at my creation. Given the frantic conditions imposed on my design, I was reasonably pleased with my accomplishment. It was a plausible toga, albeit a very short one. However, if Miles could hide his legs under his desk, what Miss Mancuso would see, or not see, might be just enough to keep Miles out of trouble.
Miles Elvankent Escort (http://etlikcivciv.com/ad-category/elvankent-escort/) and I ran out of the bathroom, heading in separate directions. I deliberately was taking German, rather than Spanish. Officially my motivation for taking German was because of my Pennsylvania Dutch roots, but unofficially, I was terrified of Miss Mancuso and could not envision myself taking any of her classes.
I didn't have any other classes that day with Miles. As I was sitting in my German class, I was wondering how Miles was faring in Spanish class. Was he keeping his legs together? We never did get to 'test' his Charmin toga in anything other than a standing position. Would it ride up when he sat down? Would his balls poke out the bottom when sitting? Would any other students recognize that Miles's toga was a bit...unorthodox?
The next time I saw Miles was after 8th period. We hadn't planned to meet up, but he happened to be coming off the second floor just as I was descending from the third floor. The entire student body was headed to the gymnasium for an assembly. It was the start of the PIAA Track
"What are you doing?" asked Ryan.
"I was arrested," replied Miles.
Recognizing the confused look on a number of the seniors' faces, I explained, "We were in Mr. Vanston's class performing my play. I arrested Miles and had to bring him to the jail."
"But...why are you naked?" asked Christina.
I started to try to come up with an explanation, but Miles interjected. "My toga got ripped in the scuffle."
Miles then stepped onto an empty seat at the middle table and then stepped right up on the table. I couldn't believe it. Miles, rather than making any attempt to hide, was using the table as a stage.
It being high school, some of the guys started doing high school things. There were a few tater tots thrown at Miles, one bouncing off his chest, another bouncing off his stomach. Then Sean reached up to him and flicked Miles's penis with his banana. Brian came over and tried to place a few raisins on Miles's dick, but they slid off.
Suddenly, there was a piercing high pitched sound. The fire alarm was going off. I looked over at the wall where the fire alarm box in the cafeteria is located. Steve was standing right there with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. Oh my god, had Steve pulled the fire alarm?
As I was looking over at Steve, he reached down under his own toga, and I saw him pull down, then step out of, his black boxer briefs. "What is he doing?" I thought to myself. "In event of fire, remove underwear?" I could not make sense of Steve's actions.
Miles had jumped down off the table, barely managing to maintain his balance, with his hands still tied behind his back, upon landing. But the innate athleticism that he used to evade rushing linebackers gave him the inner core strength to twist and right himself just before landing on his feet. Students were now starting to press towards the staircase. I found myself immediately behind Miles. For the first time, I sensed a bit of fear, rather than sparkle, in his eyes. "James, I can't go outside like this!"
At that moment, Steve blended into the funnel of students converging at the door to the staircase. In a swift motion, he reached his arms up and pulled something over Miles's head. It was black. And then I realized it...Steve had pulled his own boxer briefs down over Miles's face.
"Stay with me," Steve said to Miles. The crowd behind began to push us towards the stairs. It was one short flight of stairs and then out the side door onto the lawn of the school. Each of the grades was assigned their own quadrant of the lawn as part of our evacuation plan. That put us seniors in the west corner along Wyoming Avenue facing Wendy's restaurant.
Miles could feel the fresh air and breeze against his skin, but he clearly could not see. "You can't take me outside," he said, although it was unclear whom he was talking to...me or Steve or anyone in particular.
"Follow me," Steve said. I looked down and realized that Steve had grabbed Miles's penis and was using it to pull Miles along in the crowd. I was puzzled what Steve's intentions were. Clearly we weren't going to be able to get away with parading Miles around naked outside.
But, Steve seemed to be mindful of the risks. He pulled Miles towards the outer edge of the crowd. In doing so, Steve was using the fellow students to shield Miles from passing cars on either Wyoming Avenue or Ash Street.
"Is that Miles Klarkson?" an adult voice calls out from our left.
I look up to our left and see Mr. Sykes, the art teacher, approaching.
Steve let go of Miles's penis in surprise. Many thoughts were running through my head. "Was I going to get in trouble?" "Was Miles going to get in trouble?" "How do we explain this?" "How had Mr. Sykes recognized Miles, when Miles was wearing a pair of black boxer shorts over his head?"
I managed to answer only the last question. It wouldn't have taken that much deduction for Mr. Sykes to figure out who our 'masked' prisoner was. Our school didn't have that many bronze-skinned male students with chiseled physiques. That, after all, was a subset of one to which Miles was the only member.
Looking down again, my eyes were drawn to Miles's nether regions. Of all the times I had seen Miles naked, one of the things that struck me was that his penis and balls always hung down to the exact same length. But, now Miles's cock was extending nearly an extra two inches beyond his balls. Clearly, Steve's tugging had caused it to stretch out.
Mr. Nolan called out, "All clear. Return to the building."
Mr. Sykes stopped in his tracks and turned back the other direction. "Saved by the bell," I thought to myself, as Mr. Sykes headed back towards the juniors whom he was responsible for monitoring during an evacuation.
Then Mr. Sykes turned back and faced us. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile phone. Two Büyükesat Escort (http://etlikcivciv.com/ad-category/buyukesat-escort/) quick flashes of light told me that Mr. Sykes had just snapped photos of Miles. Granted, Miles's face was covered, and he was unaware of Mr. Sykes's actions. But, I was standing there terrified. "Why had Mr. Sykes taken pictures of Miles?" "Was he going to show them to Mr. Nolan?" I wondered to myself, "If he shows them to the principal, we're screwed."
"James!" "James," I heard Miles shouting.
"Right here," I responded.
"You've got to help get me back upstairs. I can't go to Miss Mancuso's class like this," he said, with just a little bit of cracking in his voice.
I grabbed his hand and said, "Follow me!"
"Get this scarf off my face," Miles exclaimed.
At that moment, I saw Vinny reach up and pull Steve's boxer shorts off Miles's head. "I wonder if Vinny realizes those aren't Miles's," I thought to myself.
We pushed back into the building. Most of the seniors who had been surrounding us headed down the stairs, returning to the cafeteria. Miles and I headed upstairs, back towards Mr. Vanston's classroom. We were the first ones to arrive there.
"Where is my sheet?" asked Miles.
I stared at the floor where I had dropped his toga some 20 minutes ago. "It was right here; I swear," I said.
As I was looking at Miles, again I found my line of sight redirected to his nether regions. I guess the 40-degree (Fahrenheit) March air had finally caught up to Miles. What struck me the most was how much his penis had shrunk. Like a turtle whose head is pulled back into the shell, it seemed that his entire shaft had disappeared, with just the button-cap jutting out from his pelvis. Even his balls, which typically hung down in a sack resembling a plump avocado, had diminished and were now barely the size of a ping pong ball.
We heard a clamor of voices and heavy footsteps in the staircase.
"To the bathroom," Miles shouted.
"What are we going to do," I asked, as we arrived in the men's bathroom.
"We need to make a toga for me out of toilet paper," Miles replied.
Our bathrooms were supplied with those massive industrial size rolls of toilet paper. While the large rolls were seemingly never-ending, they were also pathetically single-ply. When doing one's business, you generally needed to fold the toilet paper over itself five or six times to prevent your fingers from breaking through.
Miles stood just outside a stall. I started pulling and unrolling a spool of toilet paper. I started at his shoulder and then reached down between his legs and began creating a make-shift sash. With his hands still bound by the cable ties, Miles wasn't able to offer much assistance. I made seven or eight passes, wrapping toilet paper from his shoulder, down between his legs, and back around.
"This isn't going to work," Miles interrupted.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Look!" Miles said, as he dipped his head and beckoned my eyes towards the mirror hanging over the bathroom sink. "My entire side is bare. Miss Mancuso will know that I am naked."
Miss Mancuso, our Spanish teacher, was a man-hater. She was a misandrist...or whatever they call the opposite of a misogynist. She was in her early 40s and had never been married. It was certain that she, in her later years would become a 'crazy cat lady', but in her present condition she was simply a teacher that had an obvious bias against males in the class, particularly against those who came from a position of higher social standing.
"Start over," Miles said. "But you have to go from my shoulder to my hip. Don't go between my legs".
I hastily ripped off the toilet paper. It gave way without much force. I honestly felt a bit like a kid ripping open a Christmas present. I paused for a brief moment as Miles was once again standing completely naked in front of me. His left nipple had two hairs growing out of it; they seemed quite out of place on his otherwise smooth chest.
Then I resumed the task of trying to make a Charmin toga for Miles. I started at his shoulder and wrapped it diagonally across his body down to his hip. We quickly realized this alone wasn't going to work either.
"Then wrap it back across my waist," Miles directed me.
And so, I began a three-step wrapping process, in which I would go from his shoulder, to his left hip, then around his crotch and butt, circling back up to his shoulder. I was frantically pulling toilet paper off the roll, faster than even the most crazed cat would ever be able to accomplish.
"Brringgggggg." "Brringgggggg," the class buzzer sounded.
"I guess that will have to do," Miles said.
I looked at Miles and at my creation. Given the frantic conditions imposed on my design, I was reasonably pleased with my accomplishment. It was a plausible toga, albeit a very short one. However, if Miles could hide his legs under his desk, what Miss Mancuso would see, or not see, might be just enough to keep Miles out of trouble.
Miles Elvankent Escort (http://etlikcivciv.com/ad-category/elvankent-escort/) and I ran out of the bathroom, heading in separate directions. I deliberately was taking German, rather than Spanish. Officially my motivation for taking German was because of my Pennsylvania Dutch roots, but unofficially, I was terrified of Miss Mancuso and could not envision myself taking any of her classes.
I didn't have any other classes that day with Miles. As I was sitting in my German class, I was wondering how Miles was faring in Spanish class. Was he keeping his legs together? We never did get to 'test' his Charmin toga in anything other than a standing position. Would it ride up when he sat down? Would his balls poke out the bottom when sitting? Would any other students recognize that Miles's toga was a bit...unorthodox?
The next time I saw Miles was after 8th period. We hadn't planned to meet up, but he happened to be coming off the second floor just as I was descending from the third floor. The entire student body was headed to the gymnasium for an assembly. It was the start of the PIAA Track