Bad Mittens

That wasn’t the funny one, but Brian was the first one that said “Shuttle Cock” on the bus.

On the way back from the Field Day.  We went on the busses, so all the schools in the city could compete.  Not the high schools against us, but the 6 graders got to compete against each other, and everyone got a ribbon just for competing.

Okay, nowadays “Participation Trophy” is perverted into an argument about how SJWs are ruining society, but back then? It was just fun, and something you could find later to remind you of that day.  I’m pretty sure the ISD had no intention that it would lead kids to our first hand-jobs, on the bus.

I’ll blame it on Brian, “He started it!”  Badminton was the kind of girl game we got to play, while the boys were out running around, and seeing how far they could throw stuff.  Javelins, Hammers, and Discuses.  Disces?  Disci?  I don’t know, whatever the plural of Discus is.  I’m gonna guess disces, because the Olympics are Greek.

Decathlon stuff, maybe about half of that is running, and jumping, and the other half is throwing stuff to see how far it will go like the Shot Put.  We didn’t get to do any of that, and we didn’t have to participate.  So, most of us 6 Graders got a ribbon for standing around, and watching high school boys throw things across the field.  

I guess I liked the Javelin the best, because the Discus, Hammer, and Shot Put were all spinning around throws, but the Javelin.  That was a run up, and throw with a Grunt, and nobody was wearing skirts, or kilts.  Oh yeah, and Coach Argyle was Scottish, so he did the Highland Games in a kilt.  I guess that’s the Scottish version of the Decathlon, because most of that is throwing heavier things for distance too, but when they spin around like that, you get to see what they wear underneath their kilts.  Lycra spandex mostly.  Unfortunately, but you still get to see their hairy legs, muscular thighs, tight buns, and if you’re lucky, a flash of crotch.

What?  I’m 11, not 7.  It’s not like most of the boys in school have much to look at but we’re all 6 graders.  It was the 6th grade bus for once, instead of the neighborhood bus, or the soccer, and football busses.  We didn’t get to play football, and soccer, because all the fields were being used for Decathlon stuff, or had nets set up. 

The middle-school girls played Volleyball, the High Schools had Volleyball, and Tennis teams, but the kids got croquet, and badminton. The boys all wanted to play Croquet, because that let them make “Bonk” noises with the cartoon mallets, and try to hit balls out of bounds. Already trying to see who could make them go the farthest.

The little kids, “Scoff scoff.”  Most of the 6 grade girls had already started puberty, one way or another.  Most of the boys?  Well, they seemed to wait until middle school.  Most of them.  Not Brian though, and they didn’t split us up into boy seats, or girl seats either.  They just kinda ended up that way, because most girls wanted to sit with their best friend, which left the boys to sit together, too.

I got lucky, since I was next to Brian, across the aisle.  So, when he said “Shuttlecock,” I giggled, and looked over when he lifted up his shirt.  “You know why they call it a shuttle cock?”

I giggled even more, and turned to tell my best friend “Brian’s got a boner!”  She leaned over to look, so I turned back too, but it wasn’t just that.  We also dressed in Gym Clothes, so he had on shorts, a tank top, and hairy legs.  Sweaty armpits too, and he wasn’t the only boy you could smell on the bus, neither.

“Ew, fag.”  His friend Scott pushed him, so he almost fell out of the seat, so I caught his arm. 

“Uh!”  Already blushing madly, I giggled, and said.  “Why don’t you switch seats with me?”

“Yeah!”  My BFF practically squealed, because she had such a crush on him since 4th grade, when she started getting pubes.  She showed me, so that led to counting them, touching them, playing with them, and then exploring more between her legs, but she just told me about it, after. 

Most importantly, who she thought about, and Brian was up around the top of her list.
Scott wasn’t even on mine, but I sat next to him anyway.  I was horny, and even though he wasn’t as hairy as Brian, I knew my friend liked him a lot more.  Okay, he’s got a great body, for a 6 grader, and even a pretty deep voice too.  He’s tall, and not bad looking, but that doesn’t make up for how crude, and rude he acts.  So, I can’t imagine going out with him without him embarrassing me.

Scott, on the other hand.  He seems nice.  “So,” I broke the ice, “Do you know why it’s called a shuttle cock?”  I tried not to giggle, but I was that age where you just started telling dirty jokes, but I wasn’t that good at it.  

So, he didn’t laugh. He just looked at me, “Uh,” then he closed his mouth.  

Shook his head, “Yeah, me neither,” but then I heard giggles behind me, and looked back to see a curious little hand go up the leg of Brian’s shorts.  “But it looks like he’s a little busy to ask him, so maybe we can figure it out?”

“Uh!”  He looked up from my chest, and closed his mouth.  “Huh?”  

I leaned over his shoulder, and whispered in his ear.  “Shuttle,” and slipped my hand in his lap, “Cock.  You get it?”  I felt something hard, but it didn’t feel right.  Not like I ever felt a boy up before, but I had some idea what to expect.  “What’s this?”  I risked tapping it, and it felt like plastic.

“Oh, that’s my protective cup.”  He pulled out his elastic waistband, and took it out.  “I don’t need it any more.”

“Huh, yeah.”  I grinned, “You don’t want to protect it from me?”  Then, I felt his dick, but it was still soft.  Squishy, and floppy, but it started swelling before I even got it straightened up in his jock strap.

“Uh,” he leaned over, and his eyes shut, but he managed to whisper.  ‘do you have a bra on?’

‘a sports bra. Of course, but why don’t you see what it feels like?  Huh!”  His hand went right up my shirt, because we didn’t get tank tops.  We got school teeshirts, so we didn’t get separated, but you couldn’t see our bra straps through the arm holes.  “Huh, you’re a grower not a shower, huh?  Good.”  I could squeeze it, but I couldn’t get my hand around it.  Through his shorts, and the crotch of his jock strap, but I could pinch them around it, and rub them up and down.

“Hhuh!  Huh huh uh!”  His head fell back, and hit the window in the corner, but he didn’t just gasp, and pant.  I felt it twitch, and spit in his pants, but he let go of my boob, and his hand fell out of my shirt.  “Huh, huh!”  He caught his breath.  “Uh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I was a little disappointed, but I also felt.  Weird, funny how it felt like a prize or something.  A lot better than getting a blue ribbon for standing on the side lines, and watching teenagers throw stuff.  I guess, if they gave metals for jerking boys off. I’d get gold for finishing him first, and he’d get silver for not going the distance.

“NGHM!”  Brian sat up straight, and grunted.  “NHT!”  Trying to hold his breath, like he was sneezing, but trying not to be too loud.  “Nh!  Hn!  H!  Hu Huh!”  His eyes flew open, and he just stared off into space.  Eyes wide open, panting like he just run a mile until he finally caught his breath, but I looked over at my best friend.

She grinned, and turned her hand over.  Twisting it out of his shorts, she held it up with her thumb cupped over, and held it up.  To show me the thick white teaspoon of cum bore she pulled his shirt out.  Stuck her hand in there, and wiped it off on the inside, where it wouldn’t show.

“Huh!”  He let out one last satisfied sigh, before I leaned over and said “Okay, switch back.”
My best friend giggled, and asked me right away “Did you get some too?”

“What, dick snot?”  I shook my head, “I don’t know, if he shot anything, it didn’t soak through his shorts, but what’s it feel like?”

“Warm, and sticky, but also a little slippery at the same time.”  She held her hand up, and sniffed her palm. “Yeah, I guess kinda like snot, in a way.”

“What’s it smell like?”  I took her hand, and closed my eyes.  “SNH!”  Took a deep breath.  “Huh, I wish I thought of that.  I didn’t even get to touch it bare handed, but I guess he had on a jock strap, or something.”

“Maybe next time you can stick your hand down his waistband.”  She leaned over, and looked around me again.  I looked back, to catch him slip it back, and adjust it in.  Whatever he had on to hold the protective cup.

Brian had his legs out in between the seats, so he could lean over and ask me.  “You ever play pocket pool?”  He had one eyebrow up, and winked when he sat back up.

I turned back, to ask my friend, “You ever play pocket pool?”

“No, but it sounds fun!  Tell him…”

“Why don’t you switch places, so you can talk to him yourself?”  I had a lot to think about, but the first thing was, I decided that I don’t really like Scott.  I don’t really know him at all, but I don’t think I want to.  Get to know him better, at least not until I see how he looks when he’s a little older.  A little taller, and maybe even a little hairier.  

“Huh!”  Of course I like older boys, because I’m 11, and most 11 year olds just look like boys to me.  Well, I guess Brian is 12, and almost a teenager since he got held back.  He should be in middle school, but I can wait.  “Huh!”  It’s just one more year, and Brian’s already taken.  They even make a pretty cute couple, but she’s a little more shameless than me.  She always was, and “Ihihmn!”  I can’t believe I even did that!  I don’t think I did it to show off, I don’t know why, but also I’m so satisfied, which is weird.  He barely even touched me, I guess that’s second base, but I didn’t even get close to an orgasm.

Not yet, I could wait till I got home to find a comfortable place, some peace, and quiet, private enough to finger it out myself.  I knew just the place, but I’m not saying, because it’s private.  it defeats the purpose of having a secret place if you blab about it on the internet, but first we had to go back to school.  Change back into our school dress code clothes, get on another bus, and go home. 

That gave me another couple hours to think about what I really wanted, and I don’t really even care what sport it is.  A jock, a high school jock, with a jock strap, and do you think protective cups are sexy?  I bet it gets pretty sweaty in there. Just like it smells so sweaty in here, and there’s so many boys.

“Snh!  Huh, yeah.”

I want a jock.  A real one, not some hairless boy with a jock strap, and nothing but a couple empty balls to protect.

“Hm?”  The bus stopped, so my head rocked on the window, and before I knew it, we’re back.  “Yearh!”  I stretched, “I must’ve nodded off there.  I miss anything?”

“Well,” she grinned and leaned over.  “We better wait until we get to the girls room, before I tell you.”  A dirty little grin, so I had to giggle.

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