Date: Tue, 13 Jan 2009 22:03:30 -0800
From: Laugh
Subject: I Always Get the `A'

Disclaimer: This situation is completely fictional and depicts nothing more
than my own imagination. I do not condone between teachers and students in
any way. If this material is inappropriate or illegal for you to read,
leave now!

I ALWAYS GET THE A

To be honest, I don?t remember everything, but I remember everything
good. I remember walking to his room, my report in hand. I remember opening
his door slowly because the lights were off in his room. I remember seeing
his sitting behind his desk, the light from his laptop illuminating his
face enough for me to notice him look up and smile. I walked up to his desk
as he quickly closed out of something and sat back in his chair, smiling,
waiting for me to arrive in front of his desk. His smiled seemed somewhat
off. It was a genuine smile, I knew that much, but it seemed to hold more
sympathy than joy.

	Arriving in front of his desk, I cleared my throat and said, ?Hey
Mr. Allen, did you get my email??

	?Yeah? he said, waving a hand distractedly to his screen, ?I was
actually just reading it?

	?Great. I was just wondering if I could talk to you about my latest
article and a couple of the comments you made on it. I just don?t feel like
my grade was justified.? I handed him the article. It was an opinion piece
I wrote for the school newspaper on the newly formed GSA (Gay Straight
Alliance) at our Catholic school.

	He glanced at the paper and said, ?So, what do you want to ask??

	?I just didn?t understand my grade. My article was well written,
well researched, and well received by everyone other than you. I don?t
understand how I could have gotten such a low grade?? I somewhat faltered
at my last comment. I never want to seem like the ?grade-grubber? kid that
every teacher hates.

	Mr. Allen sighed, and smiled. ?Pull up a chair?. He indicated the
chair next to his desk. I walked around to this side of the desk and pulled
the chair up next to him. ?Jared? he began; I could tell he was searching
for words, ?a B+ is not even close to a bad grade.?

	?Valid? I said, ?but that was an A paper.?

	?Okay, the paper was, not to blow smoke up your ass, brilliant. It
was probably the most well-written piece I?ve seen in a number of
years. You have an incredible talent for writing, Jared. There?s no
question about that. But your paper doesn?t fall in line with our school
policies. As a religiously affiliated school, and a Catholic school at
that, we have certain messages we must convey in everything we do. Your
support for the GSA contradicts that doctrine. I?m sorry.? He placed his
hand on my leg and looked me in the eyes over his glasses. He looked
genuinely apologetic. ?If I had given you a better grade the administration
would have been in an uproar.?

	?So you marked me down for my opinion rather than my actual skill.?
I stated blandly.

	?I had to. I really am sorry? he said, giving my leg a sympathetic
squeeze. I looked down at his hand. It was warm and looked pretty
soft. Hair was just creeping from his wrist. His arms were much hairier and
fairly muscular. He was probably a pretty avid athlete in the past. A man
of probably around forty?most likely late thirties?can?t get too much
physical activity anymore. He was wearing a collared long sleeve shirt,
sleeves rolled up, top two button undone to expose soft, light brown chest
hair?his standard garb. His face showed signs of 5 o?clock shadow and he
still retained the bright eyes and warm disposition of someone much younger
than his actual age. His eyes were mature and comforting.

	He must have taken my silence during this observation as a sign of
my disappointment. He sat more upright in his chair and said, ?If it?s any
consolation, I agreed completely with your article?

	This came as a bit of a shock to me. ?Really?? I asked, giving him
a surprised look.

	?Yeah, what you had to say was real Jared. It took courage. You?re
a good journalist. You have the courage to write about what others fear to
write about. That makes you a good journalist.?

	I was now beginning to wonder what my article made him think of
me. The rest of the school knows I?m gay, but I was wondering if he gleaned
that little piece of knowledge from my writing. And I was also curious as
to why exactly he agreed with everything I wrote. I was thinking fast.

	?And you have the courage to tell your students what they need to
hear, instead of what you?re supposed to tell them.? I returned the leg
squeeze, but much higher up?about mid thigh. This caused him to start
somewhat, but he gained his composure quickly. I left my hand resting on
his thigh. He placed his hand on top of mine. In order to reach his thigh,
I had leaned forward slightly in my chair. He leaned forward slightly too.

	?Jared? he said quietly.

	?I know? was all I said before I leaned in closer, slowly, and
kissed him lightly on the lips, eyes closed. I let our faces remain close,
waiting for him to make the next move. I felt his slide up my arm and find
the back of my head. The hand that had found mine resting on his thigh
moved up my arm and to my bicep. One hand found his chest while the other
remained on his thigh. I moved in closer, getting out of my seat as our
lips met again. Our mouths opened and his tongue found its way into my
mouth. The feeling was explosive. I felt his kiss in my feet. We kissed
deep and long as I moved closer, crawling onto his lap.

	We began a deep, methodic make out session. His hands roamed around
my upper body, working their way up and down my back, resting on my hips,
and crawling through my hair. My hands found their way to his shirt. I
began at the top, slowly unbuttoning one button at a time.

	He drew in breath and pulled back, somewhat. Looking me in the eyes
he asked, ?Are you okay with this??

	I smiled, laughing lightly, and leaned in again to kiss him. I
finished opening his shirt and my hands roamed through the soft fur
covering his chest and stomach. I grazed his nipples and began nibbling his
neck. He leaned his head back and groaned deep in his throat.

	His hands found their way to the edges of my shirt, which he slid
up my back and over my head. He stared at my chest and stomach hungrily,
then pulled me closer to him. He kissed my collar bone, then in between my
pecks, over my nipples and neck. The entire time wrestling with my belt and
khaki?s. Having undone the belt and top button, he slowly found the zipper
and eased it down.

	At this point I was dying to see what he had down there. I slid off
his lap, losing my pants in the process. In my skin-tight briefs he could
clearly see the bulge that was my dick, fighting to get out. I knelt down
in front of him, undid his belt, and slid his pants around his ankles. His
thighs were thick and hairy and I massaged them, working my way towards his
crotch.

	I bent down and kissed him through the taught fabric of his
underwear. His dick screamed to get out. I kissed him just about the belly
button, admiring his treasure trail that disappeared into this
tighty-whities. I slipped my fingers in the band of his underwear and slid
them down to his ankles.

	His dick sprang forth to greet me, gasping. His dick was about 8
inches long, and incredibly thick. It grew from a thick, soft patch of
brown hair at the base. His balls were enormous. Big, nastily low-hangers
than sat in between his thick legs.

	I bent down and swallowed his entire dick in my mouth. He cried out
quietly as I worked my way up and down his dick. My hands roamed his chest
and balls, squeezing here, massaging there. When I was certain his dick was
well lubed, I stood up and dropped my underwear to the floor. He admired my
dick for a second before he grabbed my waist and pulled me so I was
standing over his soaking, hairy cock.

	His hands rested on my ass cheeks, slowly pulling them apart as he
lowered me to his dick. When it reached my ass hole, we paused for a
second. I felt the pressure against my hole for a second before it forced
its way inside. I gasped. He was thick and the girth tore my ass open as he
forced me lower and lower until I finally sat down on his thick soft
pubes. I rested for a second before using my legs to stand and lower myself
back on. I began pumping faster and faster, up and down on his swollen
member. His threw his head back and moaned, eyes closed.

	I concentrated on my rhythm. His dick was the perfect size and
struck my prostate with every thrust. My cock oozed precum which slid into
my pubes. I used it as lube so I could jack off while gyrating my body on
top of his.

	Suddenly, he stood up, lifting my onto my back on his desk. He
began tearing at my ass, pumping harder and harder, faster and faster,
deeper and deeper. I knew he was close, and so was I. I furiously jacked
off as I felt his balls tighten and his dick begin to swell. He let out a
goliath yell as he came in my ass. His hot cum poured over my prostate as a
wave of hot intense pleasure jolted through my entire body. I tense up and
shot my load into his furry chest and abs.

	He leaned down on his elbows, his face close to mine, dick slowly
softening in my ass as he emptied himself inside of me.

	He smiled, then laughed and bent closer and kissed me. ?Okay? he
said, face to face with me, ?you get an A?


THE END