Date: Sun, 30 Mar 2008 10:20:19 -0500 From: Charles Hughes Subject: HE LOVED HIS TEACHER - Part 3 (M/b oral) This story is fiction, depicting the relationship of a man and a young boy, including their sexual relationship. If you are not 18 years of age, or if it is illegal for any reason for you to read such material, you are to leave. Copyright 2008 Charles Hughes, all rights reserved I will try to answer all emails: the.empty.room@hotmail.com HE LOVED HIS TEACHER - Part 3 (M/b oral) Dear Mr. Hughes: Since I last wrote you, I have hardly been able to think of anything else but my time with Dillon. I am remembering things I thought I had forgotten. Of course, it's been just over twenty years. By the way, thank you for changing his real name to "Sammy" when you transcribed his little note. I would not want to embarrass my little friend. Of course, he is older now, too, isn't he? He would be around 29 or 30 years old. That's amazing to me, because I was about that age at the time, although I'm sure I seemed old to an eight-year-old boy! I appreciate, also, that you allow me to remain anonymous. I am still teaching, and being identified with this account would do me great harm. Yet, somehow, it does me great good to be able to remember -- and write -- all that happened back then. It seems strange after all this time to be thinking about Dillon as a grown man. He was such a sweet boy and, as I've said, such a pretty one. After that first experience with him in my classroom, I wondered what would happen next. It was even possible that Dillon would be angry enough to tell someone. I needn't have worried, however. The next morning he was in the first row, smiling broadly, when I entered from the little office/storage room off the main classroom. I had to smile back. He was wearing shorts again. It was still warm, but I wanted to believe that he wore them because I had complimented his beautiful legs the day before. His tan tee-shirt was just a shade darker than his light brown hair. I had to look away from him as his eyes followed me to the front of the room. I was getting hard. The day went as usual, at least for a day early in the school year. At recess the children went outside to play, and I stood at the window watching Dillon as a group of boys played dodge ball. His shorts tightened around his boybutt as he ran and jumped. His tee-shirt had come untucked from his shorts, and I could glimpse his tummy now and then. The window was open, and I could hear his high clear laughter. I kept my mind on teaching, though. I had already found several children in the class who would become, I knew, "star" pupils; a teacher can sense this early on. Dillon was one of them. We moved from spelling to social studies to science to math, and in each area Dillon was among those who paid attention and responded. At the end of the day the children usually ran from the classroom, ready to get on with the rest of their lives, but Dillon remained in his seat. When everyone had left he came to my desk and asked if he could help me with anything. There was nothing, but I didn't want the boy to leave. I gave him some sets of papers to assemble, and when he handed them back to me I decided he should be the one to determine what might happen next. "Dillon," I said, "there isn't anything else to do here. If you would like, I have some things at home you could help we with." "Oh, yes, I want to!" He responded immediately. "And, please... maybe... could we do more?" His enthusiasm morphed into shyness. "You know, like... yesterday?" "Dillon..." I began. Of course, I wanted to! "But, won't you have to be home soon?" He shook his head, and his nest of brown hair moved gently. "No. My folks won't be home until almost 7:00. I take care of myself. They don't really care." I wasn't sure what that last comment meant, but I gathered a few things, and we went out to the parking lot. I was very self-conscious about the two of us getting into my car, but there was no one around to see it. We went into my back door, and I got a couple of cans of soda. We went into the living room. I wasn't sure just what would happen next -- or what I should do. Dillon stood in front of me as I sat on the sofa; his large brown eyes stayed on my face as he sipped his soda. He stepped closer until he was standing between my legs. In for a penny, in for a pound. I lifted him up and sat him on my lap. He giggled so sweetly as he tried to keep his soda from spilling, but he snuggled down onto my lap. I took his soda from him and sat it on the endtable next to mine. I put my arm around his shoulder and pulled him into me. His soft hair was just below my chin, and I couldn't resist nestling my nose into it and inhaling deeply. He giggled again and wiggled his little butt. I realized my cock was as hard as it ever got. And I realized he, surely, must be aware of it, pressing into his cheeks. He put both arms around me, under my shoulders, and pulled himself close. "I like you, Mr. Richie," he said, his voice muffled as he spoke into my chest. "Mr.... What did you say?" I moved him by his shoulders so I could look at his face. He was grinning ear to ear. "Richie. Mr. Richie, I said," and his grin became even broader. "That's what I call you when I... I mean... I think about you, like, at night." He looked down shyly. "When I go to bed. And I call you 'Mr. Richie.' When I think about you." I laughed, and he joinded me. "'Richie?' That's very creative, Dillon!" And as we spoke and laughed he wiggled over my hardness. I put my left hand on his soft, smooth thigh. Our laughter faded quietly as I began to stroke his leg. "I do love it when you wear shorts to class, Dillon. You have very beautiful legs." He was sweet enough to blush a bit at that. "You are such a pretty boy." My left hand was up inside his shorts now, caressing that part of his thigh that I would never see in class, that I had seen only once, yesterday, when I sucked his little dick. Since he was holding himself against me, my right hand was free to stroke his other leg. So very warm. Such smooth skin. He wiggled a little more, partly to encourage my hand to move upward, but partly, I think, to feel more of my hard cock under him. He giggled again, and I knew he was enjoying both the touch of my hands on his thighs and the pressure of my cock against his shorts. "I like you, Mr. Richie," he said again. "And I like you, too, Dillon. Very much." I kissed the top of his head. Would he let me see him? See more of him? All of him? I moved my hand to the bottom of his tee-shirt and pulled up gently. It wasn't tucked into his shorts any longer, and it moved up enough I could lay my palm on his warm tummy. I felt his breath move his belly underneath my hand, and my heart pounded. "May I take this off, Dillon?" I asked quietly. He responded by raising his hands high over his head. I pulled the shirt up, revealing his bellybutton, then his little chest, then his smooth underarms. It caught on his head, and I pulled a little harder. He giggled again when the shirt came free, and he shook his head, moving his hair in soft waves. Naked to the waist now, he sat up in my lap and let me look at him, watching me carefully. I lay one hand gently around the curve of his soft shoulder and lay the other on his belly. His skin was flawless. Not a bump, not a scar, not a blemish. I stroked his belly, and, I swear, he purred like a kitten. I moved my hand upward to his flat little chest. "You have such smooth skin, Dillon." I suppose a boy doesn't know how to respond to that, so he just smiled at me. When my finger reached one of his nipples -- so pale and almost invisible -- he giggled. I laughed gently with him and toyed with that tiny nipple. He sighed. I fingered his other nipple, and he lay himself fully into my arm around his shoulder. The boy was giving himself to me. I stroked his chest, giving his boynipples little pinches now and then. With each pinch he wiggled against me, and I knew what kind of pleasure was shooting through his body. He looked up at me, and I couldn't resist kissing his sweet cheek. "Dillon, I'd like to kiss you on your lips. Is that all right?" He looked puzzled for a moment, but when I lowered my lips to his he didn't pull away. In fact, he pressed into me. His lips were unbelievably soft. They were so warm against mine. I hugged him tightly, but our lips touched only gently, moving just a bit side to side. I began to rub his back while I was kissing him, and he pulled away to press himself into my hand. I could feel every little bump of his young spine. I rubbed up and down for a moment and then moved my fingers down inside the waistband of his shorts. "I'll bet you have a smooth boybutt, don't you?" He giggled. "Are you going to feel my... boybutt?" he asked. I smiled and moved my finger slightly into the top of his crack. Such warmth! Smoothness! The elastic band of his little briefs pulled my fingers into him, and I slid my forefinger a little farther down his crack while my other fingers massaged his cheeks. "I'd like to take your shorts off now, Dillon," I said. He nodded. "Will you... like yesterday? You know?" He looked up expectantly. I smiled and unfastened his shorts. He wiggled over my hardness as we pulled the shorts down and off his legs. He was seated on me wearing only his little briefs and his socks now, and his briefs were twisted around him. I traced the top of the elastic band around his tummy, though it was pulled down almost to his smooth pubic mound. He seemed to purr again at the touch. Such smooth, virgin-white cotton covering my smooth little virgin. He had scooted outward a little, and my other hand cupped his boybutt, holding both cheeks. I massaged the soft cotton covering them, and I watched the movement pull his little pouch on the front from one side to the other. His briefs had a pocket which would have to be pulled down for him to pee. I imagined him standing at the low urinal in the boys room, unzipping those shorts that were now on the floor, reaching into that soft pocket, and pulling out his boyhood. Pulling it a little farther. Pointing the head of it downward. Peeing his boy's stream... But at the moment that boyhood was probably too hard to pee. It was a boy's stiffie that was caught inside that pocket. I knew my movements were making the soft cotton slide back and forth over his dicklet, encouraging his boy erection. I watched the cotton move, and, beneath it, his dicklet rolled a bit from side to side. I slid my hand fully into the back of his briefs and squeezed his little butt once. And I pulled his waistband down at the front. After a bit of rearranging, the soft material that had been hiding him from me wound up in a little pile on the floor. He was naked. His boydick was standing straight out. It had been pink yesterday. It was a deeper pink now, moving with the beat of his heart, as though it were angry at being teased but not pleased. His nakedness was stunningly beautiful. I lowered my head to take his dicklet fully into my mouth. "Yesssssssss..." His soft hiss was an echo of the pleasure-sound from yesterday. I licked him slowly, letting his dick drop from my mouth now and then to lick above it, up the rise of his smooth pubic mound, and below it, down to his tiny balls. He slid backward and came to rest on the seat of the couch, spreading his legs for me as my face followed him down, and I was feasting on his boysex again. My hand had remained under his ass, though, and I wiggled it into place so that my forefinger could find his little target. As I licked and sucked on him, my finger explored inside his crack until I found him, his entrance. So small. A tiny circle of puckered skin, soft but tight around a hole so small I couldn't even feel it. For the first time I heard a moan from him. A long, high, moan of pleasure. I toyed with his pucker and licked at his dicklet and let those waves of pleasure surge through his middle and up into his brain. But I didn't want him to orgasm. Not yet. I sat up. "Would you like to see my penis, Dillon?" "Yes!" he responded immediately. "Oh, yes! I've never seen a man's peter before." "'Peter,'" I repeated. "That's cute. When I was a boy we called it our wiener." "Wiener?" he giggled. "Oh, you mean, like a hot dog. You had a hot dog?" I laughed with him. It is funny, all the odd little names we give our dicks. I sat him up on the couch, and he pulled his legs up to sit cross-legged. His hard dicklet pointed right at me. I watched his eyes as I removed my socks, then my pants, then my boxers. My cock is six-and-a-half inches when I'm fully hard, but it must have seemed monstrous to the boy. "Wowwww," he said, his eyes large and fixed on my cock. "I didn't know peters could be that big!" I stepped a little closer and let his eyes examine everything. "Oh, you'll be big some day, too, Dillon; maybe even bigger than this." "You think?" He raised his hand, as though to touch me, but he stopped just inches away. "It's all right," I said. "You can touch me if you want to." His hand went first to my pubic hair, though. Since he had never seen an adult cock before, I suppose he was equally intrigued by pubic hair. He rubbed his hand over it, and then he ran his fingers through it. It was all I could do to keep from moaning. Then he touched my cock. Just with his fingertips. Then he slowly lay his hand alongside it and curved his fingers over it. He was holding me. This time the moan escaped. He looked up at me and smiled. He recognized the sound of pleasure. "Do you want to put it in your mouth?" I asked. He squeezed it slightly first, as if testing it's hardness, and my cock throbbed in his hand. "I... Yeah... But I can't. I mean, it's too big." "Oh, I don't mean the whole thing, Dillon. Not like I did yours. You can just put the tip of it in, but only if you want to." He raised the finger of his other hand and touched the drop of precum that was gathering at the tip. "That's not pee, Dillon. It's okay to taste, if you want. It doesn't taste bad. In fact, it tastes good." He moved his head forward, and then, without hesitating, he licked the precum off my cockhead. My knees weakened at the touch of his warm little tongue. I think I moaned again. Instead of placing my cockhead in his mouth, he began to lick it all over. I know I moaned at that. It was electrifying. I had to force my eyes to stay open to watch the amazing scene in front of me. His pink little tongue came out between his lips and pressed against my cockhead, then moved upward. Another drop of precum met his tongue. "Oh, god, Dillon... that's so... oh, yes, Dillon..." He opened his mouth then, and he placed the top of my cockhead inside him. I moaned at the sudden heat, wetness. He sucked. I felt myself shaking inside. "Oh, Dillon... such a pretty boy... such a good boy..." I suppose I had expected he might lick or even suck just once or twice, but once he got going he became enthusiastic about it. He opened his mouth wider and took my entire cockhead inside him. I don't think he was quite sure about what he should do with his tongue -- and there probably wasn't a lot of room left for his tongue! -- so he continued to suck. So amateurishly. With such boyish enthusiasm... "Awww Dillon my boy... such a good cocksucker..." I ran my fingers through all that wonderful soft hair on his head as I watched. "Yes sweet Dillon..." But I had to pull away. He was barely touching me with the fingers holding my cock, but the suction from that little mouth was causing such turmoil inside. And I didn't want to cum yet. I picked him up and held the naked little boy against me. "Let's go into my bedroom, sweet Dillon. We can have more fun there." I carried him into the bedroom and placed the boy -- beautiful naked boy -- in the center of my bed. I took the rest of my clothes off, then. Strangely, I was still wearing my shirt and tie! When I approached the bed he almost jumped into my arms, throwing them around my neck. I held him with one hand under his butt and the other around his back. He rubbed his face through the hair on my chest, and I was delighted by that surprise. When he raised up, I kissed his lips again. But this time I licked them, the tip of my tongue barely poked out from between my lips. In a moment, he responded. I felt and tasted the sweetness of his tongue. Our tongues moved around each other for a moment, and he wiggled against me. I could feel his little stiffie pressing against my stomach. I lay him on the bed. What a beautiful sight! The naked boy spread his arms out and separated his legs a bit, as though he were offering all of himself to me. I crawled up beside him, kissed him on the cheek, and I just wanted to eat this child up! So I licked everything. His neck and ear. His upperarm. He giggled when I licked into the smoothness of his underarm. His flat chest. I licked roughly across his nipples to make them rise, and then I sucked on them a moment. His tummy was delicious, and his bellybutton. I kissed and licked the little mound where his hair would one day appear. I licked around his dicklet into the cleft between his trunk and upper thigh. He giggled so beautifully again. I kissed and licked the smooth warm skin of his thigh and lower leg. I watched as his eyes became large when I kissed his lovely feet and sucked on his toes. Dillon was exotically delicious! His taste altered in a subtle way as I moved from the boysweat of his underarm to the coolness of his tummy, from the heat of his thigh to the tartness of his little toe. He cooed and purred as I worshipped his beauty. And then I moved to his privates, to the little dick that had been demanding my attention and the tiny balls that remained tight against his body. I licked his cocklet around and around, then I held it carefully between my thumb and forefinger as I licked his dickhead. So small. So perfectly formed! From the tiny crown circling it to the pinprick of a peehole. A boydick so delightful on a boy so sweet! I had barely begun to actually suck when his dry cum began. He squealed as his dicklet became slightly more engorged and then thrashed against my tongue inside my mouth. He pushed his groin at me, as though he were trying to cram his entire eight-year-old body into my mouth! His squeal became a high-pitched ringing tone so sweet to the ear. It faded away as he shook against me. And then he became limp. I let him lie peacefully for a while. His eyes were closed, and his breathing only gradually slowed, though with a deep sigh of satisfaction now and then. My eyes feasted on the prettiest boy I had ever seen as he savored the mysterious pleasure that was still yet inside him. At this point, Dillon, I'm afraid, misremembers this first time. He is conflating his memories, for he did, indeed, give me his virginity. It just wasn't on this occasion. I realized the time had flown by, and I kissed him on the cheek and told him it was time for him to dress and get home. "I got to pee first, though," he said. He sounded disappointed that he must leave, but his voice was tired. I followed him into my bathroom, watching the roundness of his boybutt bounce. I hadn't tasted him there yet, but I would one day soon. I stood next to him. That perfect little boydick performed it's other duty beautifully; his little stream continued until I realized that I, too, needed to piss. I simply stood closer to him, aimed at the toilet, and joined my little pee-boy. We walked, still naked, into the living room where his clothes were. I helped him dress, every touch a delight. When I picked his little briefs up from the floor, I watched him grin broadly as I held them to my nose and inhaled deeply. I realized I was still naked when he threw his arms around me for another kiss. His tongue was as sweet as every other part of him! He had told me he lived only four blocks from my house, so I let him out the back door. I watched through the curtain as he cut through the hedge at the back of my yard and went into the alley. I knew I would see him at school the next day. And I knew, also, that he would soon be back in my bedroom. Only then did I realize that I hadn't cum myself! My cock was still rock hard, so I went into the bedroom and lay on the bed, still warm from his little body. I closed my eyes, remembering every moment of it, and experienced one of the most satisfying climaxes I'd ever enjoyed. But I determined to enjoy them again, soon, with my little Dillon. Remembering -- and writing -- all this has made me rather exhausted. I'll save a description of our next meeting for another email, if you don't mind. I think I'll strip, lie down on my bed, and remember this all again as I do what you know I will do now. I promise that I'll write again soon. Sincerely, Mr. Richie --------------------------- Dear Mr. Richie: Thank you for sharing this very exciting time with your little student. I eagerly await your next email. In the meantime, I may do exactly as you did after writing your account. Only I will do it as I read again, slowly. Sincerely, Chuck