Sam had an amazing life. He was eighteen years old, finishing his second to last month of high school with a 3.75 GPA and acceptance letters to every college and university he had applied to. Sam was the stroke seat (pace-setter) of his school's crew team, which was nationally ranked. His family, or rather his adoptive family, was the richest in the entire town, and Sam had all that a weekly allowance of three hundred dollars could buy. Despite all this, he was still a virgin.
Sam was by no means unattractive. Short black hair clumped in an unruly mop upon his head, while bright green eyes lit up a chiseled face. His skin was tanned and without freckles or pimples, and three years of rowing had left his six-foot frame covered in wiry muscle. A healthy cock of seven and a half inches hung between his muscled thighs. Half of the girls in the school had entertained some fantasy with him at one point or another.
The only thing holding him back was a low libido. Sam had no desire for sex, and engaged in masturbation only twice a year, on his birthday and his half-birthday. While he knew he was straight, he felt no urge to get a girlfriend or even have a one-night stand with any of the girls from his school.
There was no way to know how quickly that would change.
-
Sam woke up with an uncomfortable feeling in his ear. He squinted at the digital clock by his bed, which read 3:08 am in big red numbers.
"Frickin' hell," he muttered.
Reaching a hand up to his ear, he rubbed it gently. A high pitched ringing was bothering him, and he appeared to have developed an earache. Stumbling out of bed, he went into his bathroom and pissed, then cleaned his ear with a Q-tip. He shuffled back and collapsed on the bed, staring at the clock until sleep embraced him again.
-
The alarm went off with an ear-splitting squawk. Sam slammed his hand down on the snooze button and rolled over, desperate for another five minutes of blissful relaxation. At least, he tried to roll over. Something was blocking his way. Sam looked down and saw... an erection? That was weird, as he had never had morning wood before.
Sam sat up. Why was he horny? He had masturbated only a month ago, on his birthday. Something wasn't right.
Grabbing a random pair of jeans, he tucked his throbbing penis to the side and prayed it would go away soon. He snagged a uniform shirt off its hanger before clomping downstairs for breakfast.
His sister, Isabella, was already downstairs and in her school uniform. She had the box of cheerios in front of her, reading the advertisements on the back as she chewed. Sam snatched it out of her hands.
"Hey! I was reading that!" She exclaimed.
"Yeah, well, I need breakfast. If you want to learn about the placement of grains on the food pyramid, I'll give you Mom's raisin bran." Sam winked back at her.
"Ew, no. I'm bored, not suicidal."
Sam poured the cheerios in a bowl and drowned them in milk. Placing it down on the table, he proceeded to consume the entire thing in five spoonfuls.
Isabella looked in horror at the gruesome display. "You know, I'm sure it would go a lot slower if you used a teaspoon instead of a serving spoon."
"Serving spoon, soup spoon, salad spoon, teaspoon. It doesn't matter, they're all spoons," Sam retorted as he wiped the milk off his chin. "Come on, we're picking up Max on our way to school."
Isabella groaned. "Fine, but he's in the back this time. Last week, his seat was so far back it almost killed me."
Sam laughed as he grabbed his backpack and headed into the garage, stopping a moment to admire his car. It was a brand new Dodge Challenger, black with orange racing stripes. It had been given to him as an eighteenth birthday present by his dad. Sam clambered into the driver's seat, honking the horn for his sister to tell her to move it. He hoped she wouldn't see his erection.
-
"Hey, Izzy! Long time no see!"
Isabella sighed, blowing strands of blond hair out of her face. "Shut up, Max. I saw you last Friday."
Max chuckled from the back seat. He had shocking red hair, freckles, and a big toothy grin. He was more muscular than Sam, although not quite as tall. "Come on, Izzy. To me, a weekend qualifies as a long time. In fact, the weekend is two days, or forty eight hours, or two thousand, eight hundred and eighty minutes, or one hundred and seventy two thousand, eight hundred seconds, or..."
Isabella slouched in the seat. "Shut up, Max."
Sam smiled. "That's what you get for arguing with a genius."
Isabella slouched even further. "Shut up, Sam."
"Kids these days. No respect for their elders," Max said jovially.
Isabella turned around. "Kids? I'm older than both of you!"
"Maybe he grades by maturity," Sam suggested. Isabella glared daggers at him, before turning back around and staring out the window.
-
They arrived at Landville Private Academy with ten minutes to spare. Max followed Sam over to his locker. "What's wrong with your own locker?" Sam asked.
"I may or may not have forgotten the code again." Max said sheepishly as he shoved his backpack in on top of Sam's.
Sam stared at him. "You've memorized nearly six hundred digits of pi, but you can't remember a simple combination?"
"The numbers have no mathematical correlation, so I don't remember them." Max stared at Sam for a moment. "What's wrong with your eyes?"
Sam looked up from the locker. "What do you mean?"
"Your eyes are a different color. They're gray, or something." He explained.
"What? No, they're not." Sam insisted.
"Yeah, they are, bro. Go check them out in the bathroom."
