Car Ride & Hard Times

In the classical parental strategy of making sure their kids get to work and school safely, my parents bought Rick and me one, dingy, sun-damaged painted car from two decades ago. I rush to the haggard vehicle, with 25-ish minutes left to use for a 20-minute drive.

Hey, there was evidence of my virility all over the ceiling and floor! What, do you think it wouldn’t inspire a round two? Or three? Or... four... Jeez... maybe I should call a doctor...

Adjusting my seat felt humiliating, how far back and low Rick needed the seat combined with how far up and forward I needed it made me feel punier than normal.

Thorogood and Courtney is the worst intersection in town. Every classmate I have that doesn’t drive like a racecar driver has either crashed or almost crashed at this intersection, no matter their intent. I’m no different, and I get honked at by a woman not using her turn signal and zooming near 65 in a 45 zone.

I try not to speed, but I have a bad habit of getting “congestion” by the time I reach school. One good wank in the secluded science building bathroom and I can make it until second period... maybe? It’s been cutting it kinda close since before winter break. As December drew closer and closer, the blue balls grew more and more painful. I might need to risk leaving a mess in the library bathroom between first and second, seeing as it’s right between three of my classes.

Blue balls hit as I park the car in the school’s rear parking lot. Hard. And so becomes my dick, twitching down by my knee, darkening from the rushing pre. I scan the area. Deserted, but the mess would be awful with it sitting in the sun, and Rick would have to clean it up, and he’d probably just rat me out—

God, did that thought make them feel heavier? Ugh... I don’t think I could keep my “big secret” secret enough for first period. My hand itches for the zipper...