Date: Wed, 10 Oct 2007 13:02:50 -0700
From: Joseph Farrin <bigblaise@hotmail.com>
Subject: GAY TEACHER-GAY STUDENT

Because, a while back, I'd attended one Summer Quarter I completed
everythinngrequired for a degree from the State Teacher's College on
February 28th,at theend of the Winter Quarter, instead of with my class on
May 31st.  It was the wrong time of year to find a job as a teacher even
though I had my Teaching Certificate and sure needed the money.

Almost packed, I was one day from leaving when the College lacement Office
called me.  The receptionist directed me to Ms. Thompson's office and she
started by saying, " Jason, I'm glad we caught you before you left the
campus,we have a job prospect you might be interested in.  It's difficult
for students graduating this time of year to find jobs. This one is
temporary if you don't want to commit yourself for the next school year.

 Her speech sounded canned but a couple of points caught my attention --
jobs were hard to find -- this one meant a pay check in two weeks or a month
- it was a fill-in instead of a long term commitment.

I agreed; she called the School Principal at Clayton, wherever that as, and
told him I could report Monday.  Did he have any suggestions as to housing?
He replied the town was very small, rentals almost non-existent but he had
arranged something temporary until I was able to find something else.

She had the phone connected to a speaker so I'd heard both parties
talking. It didn't seem I had too many choices. So I nodded my head in
acceptance and she responded, "You're young, think of it as an adventure."

I had no clue whatever where Clayton was so Ms. Thompson pulled a Rand
McNally Atlas out of her credenza and pointed to a small dot on the map
near the eastern edge of` Parson County, the most northwest county in the
state, 130 miles from the College and over 400 from home, so I wouldn't
have time to go home first.

My buddies were off campus until the Spring Quarter started so I left
Friday around 9:00 AM after a quick breakfast at McDonalds, armed with
thephone number and name of my new landlady (Claudia Braun) who'd
assuredthe school principal, Mr. Jackson, that she'd be home all day,
except for the noon hour. And, I should phone her on arrival, as she had a
PO Box but no Street Address.

Driving all by myself was a rare treat -- an opportunity to collect my
thoughts on what I wanted to do.  I made a written notation of my first
thought --go to the principal's office before calling Claudia, which seemed
better than appearing at the school cold turkey on Monday morning.

The rest of the items were Graduation Resolutions (something like New Year
Resolutions only a little different).  My mind wandered back to high school
when my knowledge of what it meant to be Gay was limited to rumors about
this boy and that boy and what they supposedly did for sex.  In fact, at
the time, I even dated girls on occasion but was too shy to go beyond what
was considered proper.  Too, I'd heeded my dad's admonition: "You're too
young to get entangled with a girl and if you do you're on your own.  It
won't be easy for your mother and I to get you through college and you damn
well better put your nose to the grindstone and keep it there."  That was
certainly clear enough.

I'd have had a hard time making ends meet but an aunt wrote once a week and
enclosed ten dollars.  Then a bachelor uncle never wrote but send me fifty
dollars at the end of the third week of every month.  Guess he knew that
was just about the time I'd be running short.

Then in college, things changed when I returned from my first Christmas
holiday and found outdoor activities hampered by cold weather. The change
began one afternoon in the men's room in the College Library, when a
student exposed himself to me at the urinals, and reached a high a few
weeks later when a really terrific looking Senior Classman invited me to
his and his roommate's off campus house for a party one Saturday evening.

He told me to bring eight dollars for the booze kitty. There were between
fifteen and twenty people there, including two girls, one of which I knew
by virtue of the fact that I had a morning class with her.  There was some
pot smoking and a lot of drinking going on; people kept urging me to loosen
up and have some fun.  On the way to the back part of the house to use the
bathroom, I saw a first year student guy getting fucked by an older
upperclassman.  It was the first time I'd ever seen two guys going at it
and I thought I was going to shoot a load right then and there.  After a
while a guy who lived on the third floor of my dorm came in, we recognized
each other and ultimately went into one of the bedrooms, locked the door
and engaged in 69.  That was the first time I actively engaged in a sex act
with another guy, but it was by no meas the last.  I was hooked, really
hooked.  I liked it a lot.

The wildest thing that happened at that first party was several of us
watched the girl from my morning class fuck her friend with a rubber dick
strapped on, which Harold, the boy from my dorm, explained was called a
dildo.

Recalling all this made me realize I better reform now that I'd be
teaching.  But, about twenty miles on down the road I pulled into a truck
stop to have a cup of coffee and when I went into the detached men's room,
a guy put his already erect dick through the glory hole in the stall
partition and that was the end of my resolve.  I jacked off while sucking
him and felt gloriously relaxed.

The school wasn't hard to find but it was the lunch hour so I went back
down the two block long main street to where I'd noticed the most activity
going on -- people, including students, going in and coming out of a place
named "No-No".  I was curious about the name, anyway.  It turned out to be
two businesses, divided by a wall starting about twenty-five feet from the
entry door.  One half was a café serving hamburgers, French fries, chili,
coffee, milk shakes and cold drinks. The other half was a bakery with glass
cases displaying fresh baked bread, breakfast rolls, and a large assortment
of cakes and pies.  It smelled like a bakery and smelled delicious.  I
ordered a hamburger, a piece of chocolate cake and coffee.

Looking around, the place was packed and I couldn't spot a place to sit.  A
woman sitting alone at a small table by the window looked at me, called out
and asked if I was Jason Lowell.

Isaid, "Yes." To which she replied, "I'm Claudia Braun, please join e." I
asked, "How did you know I was Jason?"

"By the way you're dressed, the way you spoke to the girl who took your
order and your car; I watched you parking and it's too clean for a Clayton
car."

Claudia went to the school with me and introduced me to Mr. Jackson, the
Principal.  He got right down to business and said he'd called Ms. Thompson
back and she told him I was an honor student and was outstanding in all the
practice teaching sessions in the schools I been assigned to.  As a result
of those recommendations, he'd polled the School Board and had two offers
for me to choose from:

1.Teachers are paid on a yearly basis and receive checks for June, Julyand
August, even though school is closed those months.  The board originally
intended contracting with you for March, April and May only.  The teacher I
was replacing had quit with short notice so the Board interpreted it that
he had defaulted on his contract so they did not owe him for the summer
months.  Too, they would not include summer month payments in your new
contract.

2. If you contract for the remainder of this school year plus next year
they will consider you are assuming an existing contract and will pay you
forthis summer plus next summer.  The yearly salary is $26,400 or $2,200
per month. This option is going to put more money in your pocket and save
you job hunting again in three months.  It is offered because good teachers
are hard to find.

He handed me a copy of the proposals and told me to think about it until
Monday morning and he'd get together with me during my free period.

All and all I liked him; he was short, heavy set and quite jolly.

II followed Claudia home in the dust cloud created by her Chevrolet lverado
pick-up truck.  We hadn't gone far, about a half-mile from the school,
which was at the north edge of town.  The road she'd turned on went through
a fence, indicating we were entering private property and continued up a
low hill, but she pulled up to a fieldstone structure not far inside the
fence, got out, came over to my car and told me her grandson would help me
carry stuff in when he got home from school.  The structure was obviously a
small house with an attic above and what had been an attached, three-car
garage but the doors had been removed and replaced with glass.  It was
interesting looking, nice but at the same time a no-nonsense structure -- it
reminded me of Claudia, a very attractive woman, probably in her early
fifties, dressed in blue jeans, leather jacket and wearing cowboy boots --
or, as she probably called them, cowgirl boots.

We entered into the ex-garage area, which she explained she'd converted
into a studio; she was a potter -- a very talented and widely known one I
found out later.  We continued through a door into a kitchen, on into a
large family room and around through a bedroom and by a bathroom back into
the kitchen as she explained it was once a cottage for the hired man and a
garage for vehicles.  Back in her studio she led me upstairs and into a
sizable, finished attic room with windows in the gable end and the large
dormers on each side -- one opening into a bathroom that jutted out into the
main room, making it U shaped.

"Jason, this will be your and my grandson's room.  His name is Kurt.  We'll
go pick him up when school lets out, two hours from now. Lets go back to
the kitchen, sit down and have a highball before we pickup Kurt.  I don't
usually have one before 4:30 but I have some things I want to tell you."
That pronouncement snapped me to attention -- the grandson had to be a
maximum of 18 ears old and the room I would be sharing with him had one bed
-- a double one at that and double beds are quite cozy for two.  I wondered
what I'd gotten myself into.

Claudia said she was going to have a Scotch and soda.  I'd never had one so
decided to try it.

"Jason, as I told you, this was once a cottage for a hired man.  I lived
with my son and his wife in the main ranch house on up the road.  My
husband has been dead for some time. My son was also named Kurt."  She
paused, closed her eyes momentarily before continuing, "Kurt was
accidentally killed in a hunting accident three years ago last fall."

"Oh God, how awful for you and Kurt. I'm so sorry Claudia."

"His wife Theresa went to Los Angeles and took Kurt, Jr. with her, but he
was so unhappy I had to go out there and bring him home.  Of course I'm his
grandma but he is a beautiful, loving boy.  At the same time he is a very
lonely boy.

 I took him to a psychiatrist who told me there was no treatment or program
that could help him -- only time.  "He never mentions his father
anymore. That's why I wanted to have you live with us."

"I'm sorry, Claudia but I don't know how to respond.  I don't envision
myself, a newcomer on the scene, inserting myself into Kurt's life in a
role that could help the boy."

"Jason, stay seated, I'm just going to put a roast in the oven.  I got it
all ready for the oven before going to town to pick up my mail and have
lunch. I see your side Jason, but please try.  It is my opinion that nobody
could ever become a father figure to him but if you became a big brother
figure to him it would help.  Living alone with a fifty-three year old
grandmother isn't cutting much mustard."

"What if I didn't cut much mustard either?"

"I have no grandiose expectations and would harbor no grudges.  All I'm
asking is to try."

On the way back to school to pickup Kurt, I learned that he was thirteen
years old.  I stared as I watched this blond haired, blue eyed kid, as
skinny as I was at his age, taking the school's front steps two at a time,
run bee-line for the Chevy and open the passenger side door, say "Hi
Grandma" then, looking at me and asking, "You must be Jase, did grandma
show you our room, yet?"  I think I unconsciously managed to answer him but
I'm not positive.  Kurt - his bone structure, his skin, his hands, his
voice, his exuberance, even his smile and his perfect teeth, stunned me. I
was beyond speaking at the moment.

In short -- he was everything!  Claudia was right -- he was beautiful, so
beautiful that his facial features made him seem almost fragile.  I hadn't,
no couldn't have, pictured in my mind a boy like Kurt.

Once he was in the truck, I offered a hand for him to shake.  Instead, he
grabbed me around the neck, hugged me and announced: "Boy am I ever glad to
have another man in the house!"  Claudia smiled one of those "I told you so
smiles".

I didn't do anything. Kurt talked constantly all the way home.  He had a
million things to tell me, a million things to ask.  He must have complied
a list and memorized it.

Claudia's roast was delicious, watching TV was punctuated by more
conversation and laughter.

On the way to bed, Kurt and I detoured by my car to get the piece of
luggage containing stuff I'd need now and in the morning; we'd forgotten
all about unloading my belongings.

Getting ready for bed Kurt stripped in front of me, draped his clothes on
the back of a chair, put on a sweatshirt, took off his shorts and flashed
me with his boy cock, as beautiful as the rest of his body and pointing 90
degrees out from his body.

Following his example I put on a sweatshirt and pulled off my boxers while
setting on the edge of the bed ready to lie down.  The bed lamp was on his
side.  He switched it off, rolled over facing me and at the same time
reached down and pulled up the covers.

"Goodnight Jason, if you wake up and there's not enough light to see your
way around, poke me and I'll turn the light on for you."  With that said,
he scooted over next to me and threw his arm over me.  He even raised his
knees to fit my position so every part of our bodies from the waist down
was in contact.  His boy cock pressed against my butt.  God, I'd probably
stay awake all night -- afraid to move.

I did go to sleep at some hour of the night to be awakened at the first
light of Saturday morning by the banging of radiators as they began to heat
up.  If you've never heard the noise it is well described as the sound of
someone pounding on the pipes with a hammer.

Kurt was no longer plastered up to my back but was on his back, still bare
below the waist, and totally uncovered.  I wanted to, I really wanted to,
touch him, but didn't. I just looked at him instead. I still couldn't
believe how beautiful he was.

I watched him until suddenly his body jerked up and he propped himself up
on his elbows and frantically called out, "Jason, you're awake.  Why didn't
you wake me up?"

TO BE CONTINUED