Occasionally, after a particularly strenous gym class, Douglas Clarington’s penis would arrive in the showers just a little before him.
There wasn’t much down there to be particularly proud of. In fact, under any other circumstances, it should’ve been the subject of ridicule; but no one dared be the first to point it out, because we all knew the penalty for looking at that sort of thing, even though everyone was.
And so, in a way, I had to admire Doug’s courage. I’d have sooner run another ten or twelve laps than walk naked past my classmates with a stiffy.
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