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Archive name: fumble.txt (M-teen, exh, humor)
Authors name: Dats Him (Address withheld)
Story title : Fumble

--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2003.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  All rights reserved. Thank you for your 
consideration.
--------------------------------------------------------

Fumble (M-teen, exh, humor)
by Dats Him (Address withheld)

***

A boy has an embarrassing episode while dressed in a 
hospital gown as he's wheeled to X-ray due to a possible 
broken arm.

***

Men are basically lazy. Let's face it, who do you think 
invented the remote control for the television? It was a 
married guy who didn't have any kids to change the 
channel.

We're also not the most patient of God's creatures. How 
many guys out there have, at one time or another, wanted 
a pocketknife while trying to take your girlfriend's or 
wife's bra off? Especially the ones with the hidden 
front clasps which, by the way, I believe are also used 
to secure the engines to the wings of a Boeing 747.

Most of us become grunting animals with a sports game on 
the television in a bar too. Hell, if it weren't for the 
beer and car commercials, we'd probably piss in our 
pants before a televised game was over. As it is, I've 
seen some guys just about do just that, only because 
they didn't want to miss any of the action.

Also, God forbid that a rational thought ever entered 
our head while we're sporting a hard-on. I'm not really 
sure, but I think this is the criteria Catholic's use to 
elect a new Pope. I don't mean they pick a candidate who 
can still think with a hard-on, although this in itself 
would be a miracle, but that the new pontiff must be 
past the age of having one.

Where's all this leading to? Regretfully and 
humiliatingly, I'm trying to work up the courage to tell 
you about the first time I ever had a climax with a 
female present.

Notice, I said 'present'! She, or in my case the three 
of them, didn't physically participate in this 
experience. They only watched.

As a reasonably normal and always horny teenager I had 
many orgasms before this incident, but I really don't 
count beating off while looking at a centerfold in some 
steamy bathroom as having sex. True, you eventually do 
cum and it's better than nothing, but it's just not the 
same when you're alone and you DO feel like a jerk after 
you've finished. Is this why some people call it jerking 
off?

Unlike some of the stories you may have downloaded from 
the internet (yours truly included), my sex life didn't 
begin with shapely, beautiful, walking wet-dreams 
throwing me down on the playground and having my brains 
fucked out.

Wa-a-a-y back then, if a little girl liked you, she hit 
you a lot and pestered you in the most annoying way. To 
a boy who couldn't even spell hormones yet, let alone 
know what they were, this was not a person you wanted to 
be near. To me, girls were to be avoided. 

Somewhere along the line, as all 5 and 6 year old boys 
find out, I realized I was stronger than the girls who 
were hitting me, so it was only logical that I should 
start to hit them back.

This was when I first enrolled in the course; Big 
Brothers - 101. Looking back at this period of my life, 
it's really a shame my school didn't include the subject 
on their report cards. My parents would have definitely 
been more proud of me. There were so many Big Brothers, 
and those of us who attended their classes had a 
difficult time graduating.

Besides learning the relationship between a cold 
compress and a black eye, I was taught how to properly 
re-align mangled fingers, the different techniques to 
stop a bleeding nose, shown that, yes, I could be lifted 
up by the ears just like a puppy. 

And for the last lesson I was amazed to learn the tiny 
things hanging between my legs had nothing at all to do 
with how much pee I could retain before I finally had to 
find a toilet. The small and hard to control rubbery 
organ, which I seldom pulled out in time anyway, was 
primarily there for pain! Big Brothers always hit or 
kicked these first so they must be protected at all 
times.

With all this new knowledge, I focused my attention on 
sports and stopped hitting little girls. I felt though 
if someone I was competing against in a sport hit me, I 
could justifiably hit them back without the threat of 
retaliation from a Big Brother. From the age of 7 until 
I turned 16, I ran up against a whole different set of 
problems, though.

Not to appear boastful, but I was pretty good at almost 
every sport I tried out for. I didn't have any silly 
dreams of becoming an All American. I just wanted to be 
good enough to make everyone forget about Johnny Unitas, 
Wilt Chamberlain and Sandy Koufax.

But again, those dreaded girls came out of the woodwork. 
Thankfully, they had retired their Mohammed Ali like 
jabs and, more importantly, their brothers were chained 
up in basements, or in jail where they belonged.

The girls now began giving me these strange looks 
instead of hitting me, and started to ask me to walk 
them home from school, like I was some kind of 
bodyguard. A few even suggested we do our homework 
together. Boy, these frilly little things sure were 
dumb. I could take the garbage out at home by myself! I 
had to be told 8 or 9 dozen times, but I certainly 
didn't need their help doing it. 

Little did I know all of their kindness made these girls 
even more dangerous. To be fair, they weren't this way 
intentionally. Anyway, this was when I enrolled in my 
second extracurricular studies; 'The Disposition of a 
Jealous Boyfriend'.

I can't really say this course was more difficult than 
'Big Brothers', but I sure did hate all the pop-quizzes. 
You know the ones I'm talking about, where you walk 
around a corner and suddenly four or five guys are 
standing there, looking at you as if you just said 
something bad about ALL of their mothers.

If the female readers of this story think men have no 
idea what it's like to be gang-banged, you're mistaken! 
Some of us have a pretty fair idea of what it must feel 
like. The best result of the class 'Jealous Boyfriends' 
was that our family doctor and I became close friends. I 
also learned a lot about hospital emergency room 
procedures and X-ray machines.

After a particularly hard homework assignment from two 
jealous guys and three of their friends one afternoon, I 
was waiting in the antiseptic hallway of my new campus; 
"The Hospital of Forms, Forms, and More Forms'. As 
people walked by, I tries to keep my crotch covered just 
in case. Being 14 at the time, I thought everyone wanted 
to see how big or small I was down there. Nobody was 
really sneaking any peaks, but they kept giving me these 
funny looks.

"What happened this time, Ken?" a soft voice asked.

It was Mrs. Unbelievable, a young and very attractive 
volunteer worker I first met when I had my nose broken a 
couple years back, and who I last saw a few months ago 
when my friendly doctor finally fixed the hernia left 
over from my 'Big Brother' days.

"I think my arm and a couple of my fingers are broke 
this time." I replied, lifting my left hand up and 
forgetting all about the gown.

Although it hurt like hell and tears came to my eyes, I 
wanted to show her it beat the shit out of getting 
kicked in the nuts again.

"That looks painful so why don't you put your hand back 
in your lap, and we'll get you over to X-ray."

When her gentle fingers wrapped themselves around my 
wrist to place my hand down, the pain disappeared. I 
suddenly became aware of two things. Her tits! Those 
magnificent, missile-shaped mountains of flesh were 
almost poking me in the eyes. I could even see the white 
lace covering them up beneath her blouse.

"You can cut my hand off, just don't move." I found 
myself mumbling. Luckily, Mrs. Bountiful-Boobs 
misinterpreted my words.

"You're such a baby! Of course we have to move you. If 
your arm and fingers really are broken, the doctor will 
have to reset them but I promise he won't have to 
amputate your hand."

I almost jumped out of the wheelchair when I felt her 
hands on my thighs, trying to close the gown.

"Honestly, Ken! I think you're a bit of a show-off! 
You're always putting this thing on the wrong way."

"Everyone can see my rear end if I wear it the other 
way!"

"Would you rather they see something else? Oh well, just 
keep it closed until I get you to X-ray."

I was definitely going to keep it closed! I now had a 
hard-on you wouldn't believe, and it wouldn't go away!

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" Mrs. 
Juggernaut-Jugs asked when we reached the elevator.

I couldn't reply. I had lost the ability to speak the 
moment her tits started bouncing up and down on my head 
while she wheeled me through the hospital. I then felt 
her leaning over me, the front of her soft warheads 
poking into my shoulders now.

"Don't you think you should cover up again?" she almost 
whispered as the elevator doors opened.

I don't believe I'll ever be more embarrassed as I was 
then. I looked up and saw two girls, maybe 17 or 18, 
both of them wearing the red-stripped outfits and both 
of them giggling their heads off while staring at my 
lap. I must have been dreaming about Mrs. Nike Missiles 
because my dick was harder than ever and sticking 
straight up out of the gown I had on backward.

"I'm sure you two have something better to do," my 
private Florence Nightingale said, "so stop embarrassing 
this poor boy and move out of the way."

Just before she pushed my wheelchair, I leaned my head 
back to beg her to wait for the next elevator. While 
gazing at the two perfumed beauties only inches above 
me, my hand slipped and out popped my dick again. I must 
have looked like someone who just received a lobotomy, 
because all I could do was drool over the two lace 
covered mounds which were about to smother me in the 
tight quarters.

When her hands closed the front of my gown and then 
patted it in place, I went off like a rocket! My dick 
sprang free once more and waved around, spraying my cum 
like I had never done in the bathroom back home.

No, the two girls in the elevator didn't suddenly drop 
to their knees and start devouring my dick. And no, Mrs. 
Make-Me-Lose-Control didn't begin to lick my eruption 
from her fingers and beg me for more. In my mind they 
did all this, but in reality the two girls began 
laughing their asses off and Mrs. Baker (the volunteer's 
real name) jumped away from me like I had some dreadful 
contagious disease.

After finishing in the X-Ray department, someone else 
wheeled me over to get a cast put on my broken hand and 
arm. The coaches at school cried a little, but I didn't 
tell them what really happened. After all, I still had 
other limbs to worry about!

*

Yes, the story of how I acted like a sex pervert by 
cumming off in the elevator had run the rumor mill even 
before I was released. My friendly doctor told me the 
version he heard, and I gave him mine after he explained 
Mrs. Baker could be fired because of what happened. 

The only good thing about the whole incident was how 
everything was blown out of proportion. All the female 
nurses kept checking me out with sly smiles, and several 
offered to help me into my street clothes. Of course, I 
wasn't as big and hadn't cum as much as all the rumors 
said, but who was I to spoil all those dreams (I'm 
talking about mine, not all the nurses).

I did have a chance to see Mrs. Baker several times 
afterwards, but she would only smile, say hello, and 
quickly walk on. Can't say as I really blame her. All 
those rumors were more cruel to her than me, but they 
did eventually die down.

END

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Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of
the hands of children. They should be outside playing
in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 22