Braxton

The outlook at Braxton was something else I found rather unusual. We were taught that Braxton was like some form of fraternity, and we were all a member of a sacred brotherhood. Braxton men watched out for one another. We were encouraged to support our fellow brothers, and were told that they in turn would help us out. Braxton kept a list of its alumni who held powerful positions throughout the world. These people have pledged to assist us in obtaining employment, meeting the proper contacts, and steering us in the right direction for our future success. In addition of promising to help fellow Braxton brothers, we were encouraged to donate substantial amounts of money back to the school when, not if, we became able to do so. To merely obtain financial security was not enough to be considered a success at Braxton. A person would have to be earning millions or better before their picture would be displayed on the wall of financial achievement.

Classes at Braxton were another matter entirely. I thought that I had worked hard in public school, but I quickly learned that my previous efforts had been a joke compared to this. At Braxton A's and B's were considered passing, anything below that meant that you failed. I really struggled my first semester, but in the end I managed to pull all my grades up to an A. Soon after they were posted, I received a notice saying that the dean wanted to see me. I thought he was going to congratulate me on getting all A's my first semester; boy was I mistaken!

"Mr. Canton, it has come to my attention that you were not doing all that well in some of your classes until the very end where you barely managed to pull your grades back up to acceptable levels." Dean Merit said.

"Sir, it is true that I had a little trouble adjusting to life here at Braxton, but I did score all A's on my report card," I replied.

"Yes, and you did so just by the skin of your teeth or so I am told. You came to this school on a full scholarship program, and as such you are held to a higher standard than the rest of our students. We only award a couple of those scholarships ever few years. I would hate to think that we made a mistake in choosing you as the beneficiary of our generosity," He said.

"Sir, I am sorry that it took me so long to get acclimated with some of the procedures here at Braxton, but I can assure you that I will do whatever it takes to keep up my grades and prove to you that you made the right choice by allowing me to attend this fine institution," I pleaded.

"Well seeing that this is your first semester here, and the fact that you managed to pull your grades back up before it ended, I won't be putting you on academic probation, this time. I will; however, be closely monitoring your performance in the future. Now, if you'll excuse me I have other matters that I must attend to," He said dismissing me like I wasn't worth another second of his valuable time.

Exiting his office I felt like I had just stepped out of a twisted episode of the Twilight Zone. I couldn't believe the gull of this guy! I manage to pull off straight A's on my very first semester here, and he treats me like I was an embarrassment to his precious scholarship program. I felt like telling the asshole to go fuck himself and head back to Ohio, where at least I had been appreciated. Once I finally simmered down a bit I realized that the best way to get even with the son of a bitch was to make this guy eat his words. I decided that instead of quitting I would buckle down and try harder. I was now more determined than ever to show this school and everybody in it just what Johnny Canton could really do.

The next few years at Braxton were some of the most challenging of my young life. This place was definitely not designed for the average student, and it taxed even the brightest of pupils. I saw many of my fellow classmates fold under the immense pressure that we were continually being subjected to. Amazingly enough I somehow managed to persevere many times at the expense of sleep, a proper diet, or any form of a social life. I had now completed my fourth year here at Braxton, and was finally headed back home for a much needed rest. Had I attended any other high school I would be graduating by now, but since I was at Braxton I still had another year to go before that would happen. It sucked to know that some of my former classmates would be starting college in the fall, and I was stuck going through another year of Braxton's version of hell, which is how I have come to think of it, at least in private that is.

"So honey, how are your classes going," My mother asked?

"There doing just fine Mom. So far I have managed to get nothing but A's in all of my classes," I replied.

"That's wonderful dear, but aren't you scheduled to take that awful sex education course next semester," She asked?

"Yes, I will be starting that class in the fall," I answered.

"Johnny, couldn't you try applying to Harvard now, instead of waiting another year? Maybe since your grades as good as they are you would be accepted anyway, without having to take a fifth year of high school," She asked?

"Mom, you and I both know that Harvard will never accept me without a high school diploma," I replied.

"Well you could always take the GED this summer. With that and your transcripts from Braxton they might let you in," she suggested.

"Mom, without a diploma from Braxton I don't have a prayer of being admitted into Harvard, but with one I have a real shot at earning a full ride scholarship there. I am going to have a hard enough time getting through this next year without having to worry about you being upset with me all over again," I said.

"I know you're under a lot of pressure honey, and I'm sorry for adding to it. I just hate the thought of your first time being with some prostitute, instead of your wife, or at least someone that you are in love with," She replied remorsefully.

"I know mom, and I am more than a bit apprehensive about that as well. Would it surprise you to know that I am also looking forward to it, at least to some extent," I asked?

"Actually Johnny, being an 18 year old male it would shock me if you weren't. I just hate the thought of them turning such a milestone event in your life into a classroom project," my mother said.

"Well if you insist, I guess I could head on over to the mall and comb for chicks. If I play my cards right, I might get lucky before I even have to return to Braxton," I said fully expecting the slap upside the head that my mother always gave me when I got one over on her.

Mom didn't disappoint me as she got me really good right on what has obviously been her favorite spot.

"Gee I really missed your loving displays of affection," I said ducking yet another blow from my laughing mother.

Summer seemed to fly by, and with it all my fears and anxieties came bubbling towards the surface. The closer it came to me having to return to Braxton the more apprehensive I became. If the thought of having to take advanced sexual education was not terrifying enough, I also had to enroll in all of the social classes that up to this point I'd managed to avoid. My classes this semester would include deals made on the golf course, the business end of sports, mingling for contracts, the art of concentration, and of course advanced sexual education. Why I had to take these classes was still a mystery, but seeing as they were all required I really didn't have any choice in the matter.

On my first day back after summer vacation I received a piece of good news that took a bit of worry off of my mind. No, I wasn't going to be able to get out of my sexual education course, but I did learn that my sports related classes were graded on a pass/fail basis. This was to help maintain our GPA status for college admission, but it did not mean that our social classes were a pushover, a fact which was emphasized when we were told these classes were equally, if not even more important than any of the previous ones we had taken. I was taught that more multi-million dollar deals were negotiated on the golf course than ever were in someone's office.

My business end of sports class taught us that when we find something in common with our clients it helps create a personal connection that can be used to build relationships that will likely bring greater profit margins to whatever business venture we might be perusing. We were forced to not only learn the basic fundamentals of baseball, basketball, football, hockey, and car racing, but we also had to be able to name athletes and the stats of both their top and current players. My instructor told us that regardless of how we felt concerning any given sport, our job was to convince clients we loved it as much as any over the top fan ever did.

Unless I someday develop Alzheimer's disease, or a total case of amnesia I will never forget my art of concentration class as long as I live. The course was designed to help us learn to focus in the midst of a multitude of distractions. One day we would go in and there would be music blaring in the background, the next day there would be five separate televisions going, all on different channels, and each one turned up so loud that the professor had to practically scream over them to be heard. We came to class one morning to find the room decorated like one of the strip joints you see in the movies. Sure enough as Professor Moore started his lecture a group of three women that I had never seen before showed up in scantily clad clothing, and started dancing around the tall poles they had stationed on their makeshift stage. I couldn't believe it when these women actually began striping off their clothing right in front of us. Up until this point, I had only ever seen a naked woman on television and of course my computer screen. I nearly had a heart attack when one of their pairs of panties, came flying through the air and landed right on top on my desk. Needless to say, it was a very hard class that day, pun intended.

It was in the middle of my fifth year at Braxton, when my advanced sexual education class really started living up to its name. I remember coming to class one afternoon to find that the strippers I had previously seen performing in my concentration class were borrowed from the Sex Ed. program. Up to this point, we had probably only learned what most public high schools would have normally taught regarding health and sexual education. I had a strange feeling that was all about to change. The first thing I noticed as I walked through the door was that the room had been rearranged to accommodate three full sized rollaway beds that were now centered where the professors Briton's desk usually sat. As class began the three ladies introduced themselves as Helga, Jasmine, and Veronica. Professor Briton then took over saying that since some of us had already gotten a sneak peak during our focus class, we would now all be shown the various parts of the female body first hand. Taking their cue, the three women stood up and once more began to strip; only this time their actions were not accompanied by seductive music and provocative dance moves.

Once the ladies were clothing free, we were all given 5 minutes a piece with each of the women to explore the various differences and similarities that they all shared. Afterword's we would be assigned to write a ten page paper to be handed in the following day discussing our findings and what either attracted or repulsed us about them. We were encouraged to use as many as our five senses as possible in our examinations. Even now, so many years later, I can't even begin to describe what it felt like for a horny 18 year old boy to be given an assignment such as this. As I tried to steady my shaking hands I found that I was so nervous I literally had to concentrate on exactly what my five senses actually were. Let's see, there is sight, sound, touch, smell and what was the last one? Oh Shit now I remember, it was taste. Wanting to get a good grade on this assignment, I followed Professor Briton's instructions to the letter, as I attempted to memorize every aspect of each of their bodies. In addition to inquiring about the standard height, weight age, hair color, shoe, bra and other clothing sizes, I also looked for abnormalities, piercings and scars. I even asked about their brand of perfume and what type of soap they used. I requested that they each repeat a catch phrase so that I could compare the different tones of their voices. There were gasps of shock throughout the room when I knelt down and started to sniff and subsequently lick my subjects. The rest of the class thought that I had gone too far in my examination, but the professor just smiled and reminded them that he did say we were to use all of our five senses, and taste was definitely one of them. After that, some but not all, of the other boys followed suit in my demonstration of cunnilingus, but I did feel some semblance of pride at knowing that I was the first to try it.

Five minutes was not nearly enough time to explore all of the mysteries of the female body, and as it turned out 10 pages barely seemed to scratch the surface of what I had learned. I could have easily written ten pages a piece on each of the three women and still not had enough space to properly convey what I had discovered about them.

Our Friday class the following afternoon was rather anticlimactic as our three nude models were MIA. We were assured that they would return on Monday with our corrected essays. I was shocked and a bit embarrassed to learn that the ladies and not our professor would be the ones to grade this assignment.

As excited as I was to get to my Sex Ed. class Monday afternoon, I would have surly skipped it if I had known what all it entailed. Since several of the students had trouble accurately describing the various aspects of the female body beyond that of which was obvious, the ladies decided that a demonstration of what we should have been looking for during this exercise was in order. Upon the return of our essays I was relieved to discover that I had scored the highest in the class. That feeling was short lived when because of my high grade I was asked to assist the ladies in their tutorial.

Knowing that refusal was not an option, I was directed to stand near one of the beds while Jasmine once again stripped off her clothes to lay naked on top of the rollaway. I was then told to reexamine her body, describing to the class the methods I had used to generate my assessments. I had to relate how I sniffed, squeezed, touched, licked, and generally fondled each of the three ladies in order to determine their unique differences. If that wasn't embarrassing enough on its own accord, Jasmine decided to put me through the ultimate torcher when she asked if I would be willing to trade places with her so that she could explain to the class the various characteristics of the male body. Although I was told that I didn't have to do it at this time, I was informed that we would all be required to strip at some point or another if we intended to pass the class, so it was really pointless to be bashful about doing so. Being the most red faced than I have ever been in my life, I slowly began to peel away my layers of clothing until all that was left concealing my modesty was a single pair of white briefs with a noticeable bulge in the front. Turning away from the class I reluctantly lowered my underpants, carefully stepping out of them as to avoid stumbling and further intensifying my shame. With my head hung forward I gently sat in the middle of the bed before bringing my legs up and laying my head flat against the pillow keeping my eyes closed from embarrassment the entire time as if that would somehow shield me from this humiliating experience.

As I laid there with my blood alternating routes between my face to my engorged penis, I was subjected to the same type of examination that I had previously performed on Jasmine. I think she managed to describe every molecule of my body, even going as far as borrowing a ruler from Professor Briton and using it to measure my dick. I did feel a minuscule amount of pride when she informed the class that I was larger than average in that area, if only by an inch or so. When Jasmine decided to start her little taste tests on me I nearly went off right there in class. I will have to say that she was at least kind enough not to further humiliate me in front of the rest of my peers by causing me to prematurely ejaculate.

When the class finally came to an end Jasmine asked me to stay after so that we could discuss my essay in further detail. I was told to just remain where I was until everyone was gone. After the last guy finally left the room Jasmine knelt down and slowly took me inside her burning mouth, giving me my first and arguably best blowjob of my life. It felt like I shot a gallon of cum down her long slender throat, but she had me spit shine clean and ready for my next class within minutes of my eruption. She said that she didn't have the heart to leave me in the state that I was in and that was my reward for being so brave and doing so well on my essay.

From that day on, class was a mixture of sexual demonstrations and human psychology. We were taught seduction techniques, positions, massage theory, and how to read body language to determine what our partner most desired from us. We were also shown various sex toys and the most effective ways of using them. My instructor was not lying when he said that all of us would be required to strip if we wanted to pass the class. Since I had been the first to do so, I got the unique privilege of being able to sit back and enjoy watching everyone else be reduced to a quivering mass of utter embarrassment. My reprieve was short lived; however, because when it came time to demonstrate the physical act of intercourse, guess who was chosen as the Ginny Pig to go first?

Even today, so many years later it is still hard to express into mere words the infinite summation of excitement, fear, lust, and anxiety that I experienced that faithful Tuesday afternoon. I had a hunch that my time was coming and naturally I did my best to try and be prepared for it. Everyday I made a habit of ducking into the bathroom stalls to relieve myself before going to my lecture. In my art of concentration class I had been studying meditation as a method of tuning out distractions around me allowing my full attention to be directed towards whatever task I was trying to accomplish. When my moment of truth finally arrived I discovered that by reversing this procedure I could permit my mind to wander away from what I was doing at the time, thereby reducing my level of excitement, and allowing me to delay my ejaculation long enough to be able to impress not only my current lover, but my peers and professor as well. Although my plan worked to some degree, the intense feeling of sliding my rock hard blood engorged cock through a tight warm wall of silky membranes fundamentally designed to ignite every nerve ending in my male body, made the postponement of my orgasm all the more difficult to delay.

After each of us had been inducted into manhood, our class was then divided into two groups which would rotate between actually performing the various sex acts we were learning and discussing the ones that had yet to be attempted. We would critique each other's methods as we tried to discover new and better ways to please our partners. The goal of our professor was to attempt to instill a level of confidence in us about our abilities, without letting us get too cocky about them. It had long since been the belief of the founders of Braxton that if a man was secure in his performance in the bedroom, he was more likely to display a level of self-assurance in his daily life. They felt that this was a vital skill to possess when competing in the often times cutthroat world of business.