Date: Wed, 30 Mar 2022 20:38:34 +0000
From: Tex Colorado <texcolorado@protonmail.com>
Subject: Detention 1

Disclaimer: It is fiction that involves minors having sexual relationships
with adults. If this isn't ok for you, do not read. If it is ok, read, jerk
off maybe, then write me and tell me all about it.

I've been away for awhile. I'm still writing a lot, just nothing to
post. You can still reach me at texcolorado@protonmail.com or coloradotex
on Wickr. I really enjoy talking with fellow perverts or anyone else
interested in this topic for any reason.

If you like this story, my author page is
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#texcolorado

This is an intentionally slow build-up story. It is eight short parts, I
will submit one per day. I hope that you like it. Also, story codes are
chapter specific.

Please donate to the archive: donate.nifty.org

Enjoy the story of Ethan.

Tex


Detention-Monday (m/b no sex)
by Tex Colorado


How We Got Here

He was crying. If you had walked in at that moment, there's almost no way
that you could have understood what was happening. Oh, you'd know what was
happening; our positioning, lack of clothing and the look of ecstasy on my
face would have told you exactly what was happening. What you wouldn't
know, what the most understanding and forgiving witness would fail to see,
was that Ethan wasn't crying, whimpering and groaning in pain. No, it was
nothing of the sort. It was the opposite, it was the fulfillment and
culmination of our love, something that had blossomed so rapidly, I
couldn't imagine the world that I had lived in before I met him. That was
one week ago.

If you just rolled your eyes, I don't blame you. I can only tell you the
truth. This is how it came to be.

I met him in the school library. I'm not sure what he was thinking, maybe
he didn't care about getting caught, but it was the smell that hit me
first. This was the early 80s, so smoking was much more prevalent. The
teachers' lounge door could be used to send smoke signals, such was the
amount of thick, white cigarette smoke that would pour out each time that
anyone entered or left. The residual stench hung about all of us who spent
even a few moments in there, so initially I thought that I was likely
smelling the tweed jacket of one of my colleagues. The high-pitched giggles
and coughing said otherwise.

Following my nose and ears to the back of the stacks, I found Ethan and a
boy that I knew, Colin, who was not normally in trouble, passing a lit
cigarette back and forth. When Colin, the younger by two years, saw me and
realized that he was caught, tears welled up in his eyes and he began
pleading as if I was about to murder him. I felt so bad for him that I
actually opened my arms and the fifth grader fell into me, his tears and
snot wetting my shirt.

As I patted his back and told him that it would be ok, I looked at the
other boy. He was holding the lit cigarette expertly between his lips,
rolling his eyes at his playmate's blubbering, "Jesus, Colin, grow up," he
scolded, pinching the cigarette between his thumb and index finger and
punctuating his words with it.

"Put that out!" I demanded, shocked at his lack of surprise, remorse or a
need to stop what he was doing.

"Where?" he asked with a shrug, the smoke back between his lips. I looked
around and realized that there wasn't a good answer. Luckily we weren't on
a carpeted section of the library, so I snatched it out of his mouth,
dropped it to the floor and put it out with my foot. When I saw the smirk
on his face as he appraised me I had a mind to twist his ear and haul him
to the principal's office howling in pain. Instead I took him by the arm
and guided him there anyway, Colin following behind.

The assistant principal did the disciplining at our upper grade school. The
district was divided; elementary to fourth, upper grade from fifth to
eighth. No junior high or middle school. The boys waited outside while I
explained the infraction to Frank. "That punk," he said as he snuffed out
his own cigarette, "he thinks that he can get away with anything," there
was zero awareness of the hypocrisy of a chain smoking administrator
scolding a young man about the habit, "send `em in."

Punishments were issued in increasing increments considering the severity
of the offense and the history of the student. Lunch detention, by far the
mildest, then after school detention followed by suspension, both in-school
and out-of-school, all proceeding expulsion. Colin, the innocent corrupted
by an older boy, received one lunch detention and no call home, a
miraculous reprieve for the distraught child. Ethan would be seeing me in
after-school detention for a week. The call home was made but not
answered. The signature on the note sent in its place would likely be
forged by the student, but that was the norm in those days of latchkey kids
and no answering machines.

"They don't give a shit about that one," Frank told me after the boys had
been sent back to class, "he's number five and the others all dropped out
of school. No dad, mom's a drunk. They're trash," he summarized bluntly,
"that kid's fucked." Then he lit another cigarette.

Detention was normally served in the classroom of the teacher who handed
out the punishment. When it was an administrator or a teacher who was not
assigned to the student who was doing the punishing, then there was a
general detention that was supervised by a rotation of the classroom
teachers. So when I say that he'd be with me all week, it was because I'd
drawn the short straw and was on duty supervising the delinquents for the
next five days. That's how Ethan ended up being my charge while he served
his penance.


Monday

Detention was served in a normal classroom that consisted of rows of desks
facing forward and a table with two chairs behind them where the teacher
sat. It was a sparse crowd, only students who had gotten in trouble that
Monday. There was a girl who had gotten caught making out with a boy in the
janitor's closet, the boy who was caught with her, another rotten kid named
Dennis, who would probably be with us most days, and Ethan.

I settled in to grade some papers, the kids had to remain silent, what they
did from there was their problem. It took five minutes before Ethan was
breaking the rules, humming loudly and drumming with two pencils on his
desk. "Ethan!" I shouted, making all of the kids jump, "Silent in here."

"Sorry," he said with a silly smile, ducking down like he was
embarrassed. I wasn't buying it for a second. And that's about how long it
took him to start trying to talk to Dennis.

"Denis, I want you to move to the front row, Ethan, back here," I ordered,
pulling the chair next to me out to indicate where I wanted him to
sit. Dramatically exasperated, he collected his things and walked back to
where I sat, plopping down in the seat with a huff.

Ignoring him for a couple of minutes, I finally explained, "We're gonna be
together all week, I won't put up with this behavior. I have the authority
to extend your detention." He rolled his eyes but didn't say anything and
we settled in. He pulled out a reading assignment while I went back to
grading.

"Susie got a D!" he blurted out of no where. I looked down and the top test
was indeed a girl named Susie and the large red letter did indicate her low
grade, "What a dipshit!"

"Language!" I shouted, "you can't swear in here," I clarified.

"Sure you can," he informed me, "Shit, fuck, balls, cock, pussy,
faggot. See?" he added with a shrug, "didn't get struck by lightning."

I looked at him stunned, not that I cared about the language, but the
brazenness was something that I'd never seen before. Looking up, I saw the
other students looking at us wide-eyed. "Back to your work," I told them
calmly. Turning back to Ethan, who was smiling smugly, I told him, "that's
two more days of detention."

"You can't do that, Mr. Yates has to do it."

"You can serve it in my classroom, I'm your teacher right now, so you're
breaking my rules," then I added. "That's how it goes."

"Oooo," he mocked, "not more detention, how will I live?" putting a hand to
his face in fake horror.

Feeling my blood start to boil, I took a breath and assessed the
situation. Any teacher will tell you that most kids acting out are really
just attention seekers. Any attention is better than none, so they will
misbehave to have someone notice them. What I knew about Ethan made me
fairly certain that this was what was happening. Ready to blow up at him, I
stayed silent for a moment while he smiled at me, challenging me to get in
a tit for tat. Knowing that I'd end up playing the fool, piling up extra
punishment that meant nothing to him, I changed course, "Do you need some
help with your homework?" I asked him.

"What?" he responded, the smile waning for a second and confusion setting
in.

"You seem to have nothing to do, I wondered if I could help you with your
homework," I explained.

"Uh...no, I'm ok," he told me.

"What do you have to do for math?" I asked, my subject.

"Uh, a worksheet," he told me and pulled a purple inked sheet of paper that
was untouched. Ethan was in seventh grade, which is what I taught, but
right away I recognized why I didn't know him. The worksheet was from the
lowest level, what amounted to remedial math, reviewing concepts which
should have been easily learned in sixth and even fifth grade.

"Ok, I want you to work on that and try to keep your mouth shut," I told
him, "but you can ask me any questions that you want."

"Does your wife know that you're a fag?" he asked with a laugh. When I
glared, he defensively pleaded, "What? You said that I could ask anything."

Despite him hitting closer to home than I would have liked, I only gave him
a stern look and said simply, "Just do the worksheet." His somewhat
permanent smirk was still present as he set pencil to paper.

I tried not to pay attention to him, but as you may have guessed, there was
a part of me that enjoyed the attractive boy sitting so close. Yes, I was,
and am to this day, a boylover. You can use any other word that you like
for it, but in my mind that's the one that best describes my feelings and
intentions. I would never molest a boy, or anyone else, same goes for
assaulting someone. Statutory rape is a load of crap. I believe young
people can consent the same as adults. I know this because I was able to,
back before anyone was on the lookout for those things, and I have zero
regrets.

But in the meantime, pedo hysteria had taken over, so I satisfied myself
with chaste interactions with the boys in my life, fantasizing but never
any more. Something that surprised me about my feeling towards Ethan was a
thought that was completely out of character. When I glanced sideways and
thought of his dirty mouth, I immediately had an aggressive thought,
picturing my cock plugging his mouth as he tried to swear and curse me out.

I was stunned by this train of thought. When I was younger, the joke among
the boys was to look for girls who smoked; if they were willing to put one
nasty thing between their lips, they probably would be willing to put other
gross things in there. Maybe seeing Ethan smoking earlier brought these
urges out, but I shook my head to keep my mind from going there and my cock
from hardening. Looking at his paper, I realized that he was still on the
same problem, "Can I help you with that?" I asked.

He slid the paper over and looked away, as if he expected me to just do the
problem. I reached over and grabbed his chair and pulled it closer, causing
him to jump. "You need to learn it," I said, "not just finish it. Ok, let's
see, fractions," then I decided to try to pull him in with a little
conspiratorial language, "yeah, those are a pain in the ass."

Ethan couldn't help but laugh, the first genuine emotion that I'd seen from
him and he looked at the paper as I started to talk through the problem,
asking him questions as we went. I tried several tactics to try to help him
understand and was impressed with his willingness to try and figure it
out. The more we talked and discussed what was on the paper, the more he
leaned toward me until our legs touched. Every few seconds he would shift
and bring us closer, his shoulder finally leaning into my arm, his head was
down over the paper, putting him right under my nose, so close that I could
actually smell the mustiness of his long, dirty blond, and just plain
dirty, hair. I couldn't help myself, inhaling as quietly as possible, the
scent of pure boy filling my nostrils, the aroma that I wished could be
bottled, letting me inhale it every time that I stroked myself dreaming
about them.

Younger students will do this, almost cuddle up while you teach them, but
I'd never had a seventh grader do it. It was awkward enough that I glanced
around to make sure that the other students weren't watching, but not
awkward enough to stop him. I had written three new problems that mimicked
the first as he began to show some comprehension. When he leaned back to
show me his work, he looked nervous. Glancing over them, I could tell that
they were all done correctly, "This one you made a multiplication error,
but the rest are perfect. Nicely done!" I said and held up my hand to give
him a high five which he took without question, slapping my hand so hard
that it stung.

There was a bell that rang for the after school clubs which also signaled
the end of detention. Ethan was looking at me smiling when it rang and we
heard the other kids quickly gather there things and start to leave. "I
have to dismiss you," I scolded and they all plopped down into the nearest
seat.

"But the bell rung, you can't keep us," Dennis complained.

"I can keep you as long as I like, please remember that. Ok, have a good
night," I finally said and they scrambled away. Ethan was putting his
papers away, then stood up and threw his backpack over his shoulder. He
wasn't a very tall kid, so his groin was slightly below the height of the
table. In his loose, champion sweatpants, it was obvious that they were
being tented, but being behind the desk must have given him the illusion
that he was out of my sight. He reached down and grabbed his hidden
erection, quickly moving it so that it pointed upward, probably trapped
under his waistband, if his cock was that long.

Looking up, he didn't seem to be paying attention to me, so was unaware of
my glimpse. Knowing boys that age, spontaneous erections were a
constant. But I couldn't stop myself from dreaming that the body contact
had the same effect on him as it did to me.

"Thanks Mr. Floyd," he said, "that's the first time that those made sense."

"I'm glad!" I responded cheerfully, "I'm proud of you, you stuck with it."

The goofiest look came across his face and he seemed unable to speak,
"Ah...ah...thanks, g'night," he mumbled and hustled out of the room, a
second groin adjustment on his way out the door.

That night, Ethan's little boner and boy smells filled my head as I stroked
myself to a massive cum alone in my little house. The last picture that I
had in mind was his smiling face, happy this time, not snarky, his deep
blue eyes, button nose and thin lips seeming perfect to me. In my fantasy,
my load splashed right across those features, rope after rope painting his
face until he stretched out his tongue to catch the last dribbles, pulled
it back between his lips and swallowing the last bit as I sighed.

To be continued...