Lines Written (Sequel to Writing Lines)
All my stories take place in a parallel world, very similar to our own, where STI’s do not exist, so my stories are filled with practices that are highly unsafe in this world. I’m not going to say don’t try this at home, but take care of yourself.
All my characters are of legal age, and you should be, too—do not read my stories if you are under the legal age in your country/area. Any resemblance to real persons, locations, or events is entirely coincidental.
This story is brought to you by my wonderful Patrons. I love you guys!
And now, our feature presentation…
“Jesus, look at this faggot.” An astonished voice broke the silence as I continued to writhe naked on the boys bathroom floor, pissing all over myself from my erect penis.
“It looks like he’s cumming, but it’s piss!” Another voice howled in delight; a far more familiar voice. It was Zayne Mcintosh, the leather clad punk with a pink mohawk and piercings…
The one whose penis I’d imagined and drawn in my notebook.
When it was finally over, I wiped my eyes clear and blinked up at Zayne and Ethan Middleton, two of my summer school classmates. Ethan, with his shaggy black hair, was sneering at me through his thick, horn rimmed glasses.
He called me a faggot!
I drew his penis, too!
It was hardly a surprise that I hadn’t recognized his voice; Ethan was always so quiet in class, and in general since he’d gotten back from his family emergency. Most of his friends bailed on him after whatever-the-fuck happened.
It looked like he made a new friend at summer school; Zayne.
The two really were an odd pair; the punk and the nerd. I stayed where I was, laying on the cold tile floor, hard, horny, and dripping piss. My eyes flicked back and forth between them. As different as they were, their looks of disdain were near identical.
“What was that all about, faggot?” Ethan asked in a snide tone, reaching up to adjust his glasses.
“Uhh,” I struggled to explain what I was doing, naked on the bathroom floor. What words could possibly lessen the embarrassment? I opened my mouth to speak, still not sure what I was going to say, and I surprised myself with the word that came out. “Penis.” I gasped, realizing what I’d said. “Peeeniiisss!” I tried again, my eyes falling to Ethan’s corduroy covered crotch before flicking over to trace the thick shaft making a bulge in Zayne’s leather pants. “Aww, peeeeeeeenis,” I sighed.
“Penis, huh?” Ethan snorted.
“Like what you see, faggot?” Zayne asked, reaching down to run his fingertips across his leather-covered erection.
“What’s this?” Ethan asked. I looked over to see him holding the notebook Mr. Miller had given me, the one I’d filled with penis as punishment. My eyes fell to his crotch as he started flicking through the pages, and I could see it swelling under the corduroy.
“Uh, n-no, ohhhhh, peeeeeeeeenissssss,” I purred as I watched him start flipping through the pages. I knew that each page was bringing him closer and closer to the drawings I’d done of the two of them.
What would they say?
“You know what, you’re such an eloquent faggot,” Ethan complemented me. “Listen to this, Zayne—’Penis penis penis penis, penis penis, penis penis penis,’” he recited in a lyrical tone.
“That’s some real fuckin’ poetry right there,” Zayne complemented me. My eyes flicked over to his crotch, his cock thick beneath the leather. “Have you ever thought of trying a haiku?”
“Hey, look dude! It’s you! He drew a fucking picture!” Ethan cried out gleefully, and I looked up to watch him hold the notebook for Zayne to see.
I even wrote his name above it, I remembered.
“Huh,” Zayne said in fascination. “So that’s what you think my penis looks like…” His eyes met mine, and I dropped my gaze back to his bulge. “You can already tell that I’m bigger than your drawing, can’t you faggot?”
“Penis!” I agreed pathetically.
“That’s right. Penis,” he agreed firmly. “You missed a few piercings, though.”
“Hah!” Ethan burst out as he flipped the page and came across my drawing of his dick. “You know what, I think we need to give the faggot a little sneak peek,” he said stepping forward, towering over me, as he started to open the fly of his pants.
“Yeah, what the hell,” Zayne said, copying his friend. “I need to piss anyway.” I found myself laying on my back, hard, in a puddle of piss, with two of my classmates towering over me. Ethan pulled his penis out—it was chubbed up, but not hard. Zayne on the other hand had to peel the leather away in order to let his cock spring free.
My eyes darted back and forth, taking in the details of their penises. Ethan’s penis was fatter than I’d guessed, and Zayne had some piercings that I hadn’t even considered.
“Penis,” I sighed, watching as they manipulated their shafts.
It started with Ethan. As I was watching Zayne try to force his erection pointing down at me, a stream splashed down from Ethan’s penis. I looked over, watching as the stream sparkled beneath the fluorescent lights.
The heat of it was burning my flesh as he directed the flow up and down my body. I closed my eyes and kept my mouth open as he got to my face. My eyes were still closed as I followed the stream back down my body.
And my mouth still open.
A second stream hit me right in the mouth, and I knew it was Zayne.
“Jesus, it’s like pissing with morning wood,” I heard him joke, but my concentration faded away as the heat from their piss started to overwhelm me. My penis was still rigid, still leaking, and it was about to.
“PEEEEEEEENNIIIISSSSSSSS!” I gurgled as I started to cum, the echoing sounds of their laughter only succeeding in inflaming me further. When I blinked my eyes clear this time, they had both put their penises away.
“Oh,” I said in disappointment.
“You want to see more, buddy?” Zayne asked.
“You want to get a good, close look?” Ethan fed off him.
“Want to get in really close to our dongs?”
The barrage continued, and I was helpless against the shame and pleasure that was washing over me in waves; I didn’t even soften.
“If you want more, you’ve got to come to church with us tonight,” Zayne informed me.
“You’ll love our church,” Ethan cooed.
“You’ll fit right in; I know it. You’re going to be so popular,” Zayne tempted me.
“Come to church with us and we’ll let you look really close at our penises,” Ethan promised.
That was it.
I couldn’t fight it.
I didn’t want to go to church, but…
“Say you’ll go.”
“Guh,” I cleared my throat. “Penis!” I nodded my head.
“No, you have to promise that you’ll go,” Ethan pressed. I moaned.
“I’ll g-g-go!” I agreed.
“Good.” Ethan took out a pen and wrote something in my notebook. “Be there at six. The both left me laying there, struggling to get myself back under control.
I came from them peeing on me, I realized.
No! Don’t think about that! I cut myself off when the memory made my penis throb.
They wanted me to go to church with them; that was so strange, so unexpected. Ethan might seem like the church type, but not Zayne. I guess you couldn’t judge a book by its cover after all.
But why did they want me there?
I got to my feet and used paper towels to try and dry myself off. When I went back for my clothes, I noticed that they were all sopping wet. The guys had spared my bag and books, but that was all.
I can’t go anywhere like this!
I gathered my things and padded naked to the door, peeking out into the hall. I know there had been a box of lost and found clothes in the gym, and I could also use the showers. Carefully, quietly, I moved naked through the hallways. I had to pause or duck to the side a few times to avoid getting caught, but instead of getting my soft it only seemed to make it harder.
Almost getting caught was making it hard not to moan.
At last I let myself into the locker room, the lights making a loud electric hum as I switched them on. I’d have the place to myself. I decided to check out the clothes first. Fortunately, the box was still there.
Unfortunately, there were only a few items left in the bottom of the box that would fit me: a white tank-top with nothing but a few inches of material connecting the front and back on the bottom, leaving the sides wide open, a pair of short, grey mesh shorts, and a jockstrap. I didn’t want to wear these clothes, but after triple checking the box, there was nothing else that would fit. I looked at the jockstrap more closely, aware that my ass would be on display through the mesh shorts. It was obviously dirty.
The word echoed through my head, fading slowly, but not forgotten. This had been on someone else’s penis, and it looked like someone had cum in it. I brought it to my nose and took a gentle whiff of the pouch. I let my breath out in a pleased sigh; it was cum. I pressed the jockstrap to my face and stood there with my eyes closed, huffing at it.
I jumped violently as a throat was cleared.
I turned to see one of the coaches standing there, staring at me with one eyebrow raised.
“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked.
“I…” I cleared my throat, barely stopping myself from saying penis again. “I got… My clothes got dirty, so I came to use the shower and…” I trailed off, pinned under his gaze. He sniffed the air.
“Is that piss?” He asked.
“Yes s-s-sir,” I confessed, still clutching the used jock as I brought my hands down to try and cover my erection.
“What the fuck happened to you?” He asked, his eyes seeming to pry at my hands and peer at my erection.
“I… I dropped my clothes,” I explained weakly. His eyes flicked over to the sopping pile of my clothing where I’d left it on the bench.
“Where?” He asked with a sneer.
“I just wanted to take a shower and use these,” I indicated the jock, shorts, and shirt I’d grabbed. He stepped forward, moving right up to me. “Sir?” I squeaked, staring up at him.
“What really happened?” He asked in a husky tone, staring me down.
“They…” I squirmed. “They peed on me, sir,” I admitted. He reached down and pulled the clean clothes from my hands, tossing them to the side. I went to cover myself up again, but he slapped my hands to the side, and then pressed on my shoulders. I sank down to my knees and watched him fumble at his crotch, eyes glued on mine, holding me.
“Like this?” He asked as he let it flow, drenching me in piss for the second time that day.
“Oh, sir!” I sputtered, swallowed, and then opened my mouth to catch more. He laughed and finished emptying his bladder.
“Go ahead and take that shower,” he said, tucking his penis away. “And enjoy those clothes.” He guffawed and walked back out of the locker room. I got to my feet, stunned by what had just happened. A coach peed on me. I crossed to the shower and reluctantly stepped in. Part of me didn’t want to wash, but I figured I should if I was going to church with Ethan and Zayne.
By the time I was done showering, I didn’t have enough time to go home before church. All the seats on the bus had been taken, and I could feel eyes on me as I stood there with so much flesh exposed. Several men bumped and brushed me as we moved; the bus was crowded, but not that crowded. My penis was throbbing.
“Penis, penis, penis…” I muttered softly as the vibrations from the road got to me. I exited the bus when my phone indicated and walked the rest of the way. I did a double take when I got there. The building didn’t look like a church, it looked like a private club; there was even a little sliding window in the door. There was no sign, other than the word “private” painted on the door next to an upside-down pentagram.
What kind of church is this?
I knocked, and green light was revealed as the slot moved to the side. A man moved into the gap and peered out at me.
“Private establishment,” he said gruffly.
“Um, Ethan and Zayne told me to come,” I said, feeling the doorman’s eyes slide up and down my body. The slot closed, and then the door opened. I stepped forward, unable to see through the fog and green light that lay beyond the door.