The first time I saw Tommy White naked I knew that he was something special. He was probably eleven years old then, and it was the first day of school, and he was in the sixth grade boys PE class.

That was in 1964 and I had been the daytime custodian at the old Highland Elementary School for going on twenty years and I naturally had my own secret little spy holes in both the boy’s and girl’s locker rooms.

That first day was always a bit stressful for the sixth graders. Most of them had attended the same school last year, but now that they were in the sixth grade they had to dress down for PE and shower afterwards, which was a new and somewhat embarrassing experience for most of them. Later on they would flaunt their nakedness, but the first time they had to strip down in front of their classmates and put on the jock straps that they were now required to wear, and later get into the shower and soap up with twenty other naked boys intimidated the hell out of most of them.

There were always one or two fat kids who were reluctant to strip, and usually a newly pubescent early bloomer embarrassed by his body hair, unaware that it would soon become a status symbol envied by his less mature classmates. The rest were all the same: Smooth pink asses and high, girlish voices, finger-sized pricks above tight, hairless scrotums. All except for Tommy.

Later that day I also checked out the seventh and eighth graders. The seventh grades kids had all been there before and were more comfortable with nudity. Some had entered puberty over the summer, but it had been no surprise for them and they seemed at ease with their developing bodies, proudly displaying and comparing their new credentials of manhood. The rest were still just noisy little kids.

The eighth grade boys, teenagers and now the kings of the elementary school jungle, were a different story. Most were now indeed young men and they strutted around naked and proud, knowing that they had what it took but not really sure about how to employ it. They were big into jokes about implied masturbation and other juvenile sex acts, and they regarded a righteous pop to a buddy’s undefended crotch as a major coup, and moaned in theatrical agony when they were caught unguarded. By the end of the school year nearly all would be pubescent and even in early September a few could be considered to be well endowed, but none were a match for Tommy White. Eleven years old and not yet pubescent, he had the biggest set of balls in the school. They were the size of small hen’s eggs and distended his pink, hairless scrotum far downward between his bony thighs, and they swung around when he walked to the extent that injury seemed certain. His cock was of normal dimensions for a boy his age, but it seemed almost infantile in comparison to his nuts. I decided to keep an eye on the boy and see how he developed.

Keeping an eye on people is something I was pretty good at. The night crew handled all of the major janitorial work around the school leaving me to do the normal daytime maintenance and emergency repairs on whatever broke down. This left me lots of free time to observe what really went on, and I could probably fill a book with what I saw.

I knew why Becky H. had transferred out to live with her aunt in another state, after all I had seen the baby’s conception in the storage loft behind the stage, and I also knew the thirteen year old father was fond of Camel cigarettes. I knew that Jimmy W. was a queer. They weren’t called gays or fags back then, just queers. He had tried to induct Bob K. and Doug L. into his fraternity, but although they apparently enjoyed his skill with his tongue and were willing to donate their sperm to his cause they refused to join in his lifestyle. Not so with Greg H.; he not only reciprocated but offered Jimmy his asshole as well, an act that was unfortunately consummated away from school. It would have been a good show. Pete R. thought he was pretty clever, leaving the playing field or gym to take a crap in the locker room toilet but using the time to masturbate instead, and the teachers weren’t much smarter.

Mr. Petrie, the smarmy music teacher, didn’t have a clue that anyone knew about his little thing with the dishwasher in the pantry closet every Wednesday afternoon, nor was Mr. Jacobs aware that anyone knew about his little hidey-hole in the gym equipment locker and his penchant for very young girls. The whole community would have been shocked to know what went on in the principal’s office between the prim and proper girls’ PE teacher and the principal, Miss. Evans, and doubly shocked if they knew the amount of semen that Mr. Edwards, the kindly one-armed daytime custodian, had spilled while witnessing these acts.

All of those incidents took place during just one school year, and any one would make a good story and multiplied by all of the years that I was there they would account for a mighty thick book, but this story is about Tommy.

By the first of October the chaos of a new school year had subsided and things had settled down to the ordinary grind. The sixth grade boys had by now learned to accept nudity, and most frolicked bare-assed around the locker room with carefree abandon. They had been raised to associate nakedness with naughtiness, and eleven year old boys are just naturally slightly naughty.

Tommy was one of the few exceptions. After comparing one another’s bodies the other boys had determined that he was indeed different, and they naturally teased him about it. They took to calling him Bull Balls, a handle that they shortened to simply “BB” in polite company. Tommy took it all in stride, although his body language clearly revealed that he was uncomfortable about others seeing him nude. He subsequently took to cupping his balls in his hands when naked or in the shower, although I imagine it was as much for comfort as modesty; that kind of weight swinging around down there had to be painful.

I felt sorry for the boy; I had seen enough kids develop to know that the rest of their bodies would eventually catch up with out-sized hands, feet or genitals, and that in a few years they would be perfectly proportioned. Unfortunately, Tommy proved that theory wrong as well. He did get a little taller, but his balls also continued to grow and by the time he started the seventh grade he was bordering on being a genuine freak. His testicles now looked to be the size of large eggs and they now hung even lower than they had last year.

Word got around, and there seemed to be a constant string of ‘visitors’ to the seventh grade PE class. Every male teacher in the school and several from other schools in the district dropped in occasionally to check him out as he showered or dressed. Even the district superintendent took a sudden interest in Physical Education, although it was just confined to the one boy’s class. One of the night janitors asked me if what he had heard about the boy was true, but I lied and denied having even looked and informed him that little boys didn’t do much for me. The janitor eventually came around during the day and made his own inspection of the situation, and then told me ‘the kid’s eggs are as big a stallion’s’, which was a bit of an exaggeration.

The real assholes in elementary school are always the eighth graders, and eventually six of them decided to see for themselves if the rumors about Tommy were true. They grabbed him one lunch hour and forced him into an alcove beneath the bleachers and stripped his pants off. They ogled him for a few minutes before one of them tentatively grabbed the enormous balls and felt them, as if making sure they were real. He then slipped his hand into his own pants to make a comparison, and then sheepishly stepped aside so the next boy could do the same thing. Watching it gave me a hard on, and for the first time in my adult life I envied the eighth grade boys and wished that I could participate in their fun. Tommy was obviously humiliated, and he tried to fend them off but was easily out maneuvered by bigger and stronger boys. I could have stepped in and ended the harassment, at least temporarily, but I had been chastised by the principal once before after breaking up a fight. The dyke bitch had informed me that my job was to take care of the facility, and that I should leave “education and discipline to those that have been properly trained in such matters.” According to her I was supposed to inform her about any “improprieties that I became of aware of” so that she could take appropriate action. I had seen her in action, and there was no way in hell that I would reveal any of my observations posts to her, or anyone else for that matter.

Puberty sort of gradually sneaks up on some boys, while others are virtually assaulted by the onset of hormones. Tommy was like that; late in May he seemed to suddenly be about two inches taller and a wisp of downy hair, fine as smoke, had appeared on his crotch and in his armpits, and his cock was obviously somewhat larger in length and girth that it had been a month ago. I didn’t see him at all during the summer but when he returned to school that fall, now in the eighth grade, he was more of a man than a boy. He was several inches taller than he had been in May and much more muscular. His downy pubic hair had coalesced into a solid mass of dark curls that had already spread onto his thighs and was edging upwards onto his belly, and his cock had lengthened to become more in proportion to his massive balls, and the squeaky warble of his prepubescent voice had given way to the deep baritone usually associated with large testicles.

His attitude had also changed. He had been somewhat meek and timid before but now he was assertive and confident, and it showed in the way he paraded around the locker room proudly displaying his endowments, basking in the knowledge that he was more of a man than his more modestly endowed classmates.

One of his eighth grade companions wasn’t impressed. Gerald was fourteen and had just transferred in. He was not only a bonehead who had been forced to repeat the eighth grade, but had been expelled from nearby Fremont School for fighting, which required his parents to drive him over to Highland every day. Gerald was the same size as Tommy, five-five and a hundred and twenty pounds, but he had entered puberty early and was just about fully grown whereas Tommy would eventually gain almost another foot of altitude and eighty pounds of bulk. Gerald was lean and wiry, and even though he was only fourteen he had the muscle structure of an adult, with bulging veins snaking along his powerful arms. His belly and calves and arms were covered with dark hair, more of which was already sprouting on his chest and ass. He shaved every morning and could easily have done so again in the evening. His balls were of normal size, which is to say they were half the size of Tommy’s, but his cock was larger, five inches flaccid and thickened by three years of daily massages. He always walked around ramrod straight, as if trying to look as tall as possible, but it was obvious that he had a chip on his shoulder and he was particularly resentful of boys like Tommy who would eventually stand much taller. The natural antagonism that existed between the two boys made it obvious that they would eventually tangle, so it was no surprise to see them slip away together one afternoon after school.

There is a small dogleg alley between two buildings in the school. It dead ends into a small area that is out of sight unless you happen to have the keys to some very old and rusty padlocks. It is a favorite place for kids bent on mischief and I have tried to get permission to install a gate, but the dyke principal likes to park there on rainy days so she always refuses my request. I made a beeline for a secluded spot where I knew they couldn’t see me, and then prepared to watch one of them beat the shit out of the other. A little blood on the ground might be enough to convince the dyke bitch to let me fence it off. Much to my surprise the boys didn’t square off with each other, but instead they dropped their pants and started stroking their cocks.

Anyone who has been around knows that some guys’ cocks get a lot bigger when erect and some just get hard. Tommy was the former and Gerald was the latter. Gerald’s five-inch dick maxed out at about five and a half inches hard while Tommy’s unit, which was smaller to begin with, grew to almost seven inches after a minute’s stroking. The boys looked at each other but kept their hands to themselves, and I figured the contest was over. They had something else in mind though and continued stroking, faster and faster until Tommy, a relative new comer to the sport, let go of his cock and let it rip, sending wave after wave of his white semen shooting down the alley towards the wall. Gerald was a few seconds behind him, but even though he retained his grip he couldn’t come close to matching Tommy’s distance or volume. I had seen this type of thing before and I knew there was usually some bet involved and a debt to pay. I had seen the losers take a kick in the balls and I had also seen them on their knees paying lip service to the winner, but I had never seen what happened next.

Gerald pulled his pants back up, took off his tee shirt and laid face up on the ground. Tommy, pants open and cock in hand stood astraddle of him and pissed, playing the steam up and down the cringing boy’s chest and face as if trying to use the stream to force open his tightly clenched eyes and lips.

Tommy finished pissing then nonchalantly stuffed his cock back in his pants before sauntering out of the alley and across the lawn on his way home. Gerald sat there a few minutes, quietly sobbing before using his shirt to wipe the piss from his face. He stuffed it in a garbage can by the fence, and just before he went out of sight I saw him steal a shirt from a younger kid about his size. There was a look of hatred on his face that could melt steel, and the younger kid was wise in not resisting him.

I knew that whatever the issue was between Tommy and Gerald it was far from over and that they would eventually have to settle it once and for all. There was a palpable hatred between the boys; something imbedded in their genes made them bitter natural enemies, but their war against each other was temporarily put on hold something else embedded in teenage boys’ genes.

Sharon was the girl that mothers warn their sons about. Nowadays she’d likely be called a Ho’or Skank, but back then descriptions like ‘slut’ or ‘tramp’ were more commonly used. She was also fourteen and had been the first in her class to enter puberty. She had long dark hair high and low and she wore skirts as short and tight as the principal in the school would allow, and usually a sweater that was even tighter yet. Back then girls weren’t allowed to wear shorts or even cut-offs to school and skirts were supposed to be below the knee. Every guy in school could tell you what color panties she wore every day, and a few claimed to have seen even more of her on occasion. She smoked menthol cigarettes and she was frequently seen ducking into the men’s room at the Texaco station to buy rubbers from the vending machine.

Last year an amorous eighth grader had showed her what he thought was a secret little hidey-hole in the storage loft behind the stage, and he hadn’t even had a chance to put the make on her before she had his pants off and his cock in her mouth. This year Sharon was in the eighth grade and she wasted no time in showing Gerald her secret love nest. The bulge in his pants revealed Gerald’s eagerness to lose his virginity, but his lack of knowledge in how to do so hindered the operation. He was just as horny as any fourteen year old but he wasn’t sure just how to proceed and what all was expected of him in the way of foreplay. Fortunately he had a good coach whom in a few minutes had both of their clothes off and a rubber installed on his dripping cock. He kissed her once then clumsily climbed on top, but was unable to enter her until she reached down and with her hand and guided him into her. It was over in less than thirty seconds. Teenage boys fuck with an animalistic fury; full speed ahead, without regard for the pleasure of their partner or prolonging the experience for their own enjoyment, just Git r’Done.

They say that opposites attract, and proof of that was Sharon’s best friend. Nancy was blonde, extremely smart, and a little on the homely side. She dressed extremely modestly in loose, somewhat frumpy clothes like those her mother probably wore. It was a shame; she had a set of knockers that could poke your eyes out and an ass that was heavenly. She was a little in the shy side but her mentor was slowly taking care of that.

“How was it?” Nancy asked Sharon later that day, as they were dressing for PE.

“He was about like this,” Sharon answered, holding her hands eight inches apart, “and hard as a rock. I can still feel it down there. He was a little too quick though, he only lasted about five minutes. Maybe we’ll do better next time.”

Nancy suspected that her friend was lying, but she also knew that she could never call her on it so long as she herself was still a virgin, a situation she wasn’t quite yet willing to change. “I’d like to do it with Tommy someday,” she said, sighing dramatically.

“Every girl would like to do it with Tommy,” Sharon said, “After all, he is hung like a horse.”

“You don’t know that!” Nancy rebuffed her friend. “Besides, he’s too nice for you anyway.”

“Mary’s brother is in his PE class,” Sharon stated, “And he told Mary that Tommy’s knockers are as big as a bull’s and that his hose is a foot long. Look at the way he fills his pants. I’ll bet it’s true.”

Nancy let the issue slide, but she was determined to get to know Tommy a little better and although she wouldn’t admit it she hoped that what she’d just heard about him was true.

Tommy was eager to try his hand at romance. It was now spring and he’d been hearing the obnoxious Gerald bragging for several months about how he was ‘getting some’ but he didn’t believe it was true. After all, what kind of girl would even let a guy like that get close to her? Anyway, he looked up from Math one day to find Nancy staring at him, only to quickly turn her head when he smiled at her. Girls. Who knew what they were thinking? He soon learned exactly what she was thinking.

Sharon had giver her friend permission to use the love nest, and now Nancy was showing it to Tommy.

“Gee, it sure is quiet in here, and kind of dark too,” Tommy commented, as his eyes adjusted to the gloom.

Instead of answering Nancy leaned over and kissed him, which she hadn’t done before, and taking Sharon’s advice she jutted her tongue through his lips and caressed him.

“Hey!” He exclaimed, “Where did you learn to do that?”

“I know lots of things, silly,” she said, teasing him.

Tommy had listened to the guys in the locker room, and he had read all the books he could find, and had even endured a half hour chat with his father about the birds and the bees, but the subject of frenching had never been breached. He knew a little about the sex act and he wanted to know a whole lot more but he also knew it was wrong, and that he was supposed to respect the girl. He also knew that his cock was right now showing her a whole lot of respect.

I watched them, and even had my own pants open in anticipation of the finale. She had her hand inside his pants and he had her bra loose and was fondling her magnificent hooters when the bell rang, forcing them to quickly straighten themselves up and scurry back to class.

“His balls aren’t as big as a bull’s,” Nancy told Sharon that afternoon as they dressed for PE. “They aren’t much larger than small lemons, and his prick isn’t a foot long,” she illustrated gripping and imaginary object the diameter of a paper towel tube with both hands held tightly together, “I put both my hands on it and there was just a little bit left over. It couldn’t have been more than eight inches long.”

I could almost hear the gears turning over in Sharon’s head as she compared her own hands to those of her friend, and the sudden protruding of her nipples and the way she squirmed around should have been a clue as to what would happen. Three days later she had Gerald on his back. She was fondling his nuts with her fingers, which she kept opening up to the rough dimensions of a small lemon. He acted confused: even though she was usually more or less in charge of their lovemaking she was acting kind of weird. She was not only playing with his nuts, not that he minded it, but she also took hold of his cock with one hand and was trying to see how many fingers of her other hand she also get around what protruded through her grip. He finally grew impatient with the foreplay and rolled her over and penetrated her. He wasn’t as quick as he had been a few months ago, and although she seemed to enjoy it, this time her mind seemed like it was somewhere else.

In retrospect I should have anticipated what would happen and could have taken steps to prevent the inevitable tragedy. I probably would have done so except that it would have incriminated me, and jobs for one armed guys, even veterans whose sacrifice also included an eye and one testicle aren’t that easy to find. I’ll also have to admit that I really wanted to see Tommy in action. My disabilities tend to turn women off and the only way I really get off is to watch kids go at it.

In his present state Tommy bore little resemblance to the shy boy that he’d been a few months ago. His pants and underwear were piled on top of Sharon’s skirt and panties, and he was eagerly fondling her formidable teats while she slowly stroked his cock. Nancy’s measurements had been correct; he was at least two inches longer than Gerald and his balls were easily twice the size. Her immediate concern was that the rubber was too small and that she’d have to take a chance on not using one. She finally got tired of waiting on Tommy and rolled over and spread her legs, drawing him on top of her and reaching for his cock to guide him home.

Something moving in the shadows caught my attention, and only then that I realized there was another spectator. Gerald silently approached the couple, and without hesitation grabbed Tommy’s arm and pulled him from the saddle. He then abruptly kicked out at the larger boy, catching him squarely in the jaw. I figured for sure that he’s drop his pants and take up where Tommy had left off, but instead he calmly took out a folding pocketknife, and in a move that was obviously premeditated and carefully planned he seized the unconscious boy by the scrotum and hoisted him from the floor. One quick slice and it was over. Sharon screamed and made a dash for the door, still bare-assed. Gerald calmly inspected his trophy before discarding it on the floor and unzipping his pants to free his dick. He directed the stream of urine directly into Tommy’s mouth, causing him to regain consciousness with a sudden awareness of both excruciating pain and perhaps also of permanent loss.

I rushed from my hiding place and through the open door, as if responding to the girl’s scream. I was quickly joined by one of the teachers, and eventually the paramedics and the police. Gerald was caught literally red handed; his castration knife had slipped and he had nicked a fingertip and was bleeding profusely.

The stage loft was soon empty, and it was left to me to clean up the mess. I scrubbed and mopped for most of the afternoon, then as directed by the dyke bitch I started fitting a new lock to the door. The strange thing is that they never found Tommy’s nuts. They all attributed the misplacement to confusion and were sure that they’d turn up sooner or later, but I know for a fact that the first adult on the scene kicked them through a hole in the floor. They now reside in my basement, nearly filling the jar of formalin that preserves them. They are still magnificent.