It sucked. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep his eyes open. At the ripe old age of 15, and after having had Ugali for lunch & having to take a Math class right after, it was nothing short of miraculous he could even keep his eyes open in the afternoon heat. For some reason the Itis was amplified that afternoon and, despite the knowledge of what his teacher would do to him, he relented and let his leaden eyes slide shut.
No sooner had he succumbed to the sweet abyss that is drowsiness than he felt 'The Man in The Middle' awaken. He had been having trouble with that lately; his member would, of its own volition and completely devoid of any subjective influence, be engorged and push, almost painfully, against his shorts. These episodes often occured without any warning and eased up when they willed, and so far he'd been lucky that no one in his class had been none the wiser. He often prayed that nothing would make him get up from his desk while he was in the middle of these - shall we say - attacks.
Suddenly, through the sleepy reverie, he heard the teacher yelling, and I quote:
"Francis! Come up to the board and write out this equation!"
[Part 2 coming up next]