Date: Sat, 19 Apr 2008 04:34:43 -0500 From: Manny Oaks Subject: Our Secret - 1 Usual Rules Apply. Feedback appreciated. mannyoaks@gmail.com (c)2008 by Manny Oaks. I was fifteen years old the first time I had an encounter with a man. Little did I know, it wouldn't be my last, but to this day I remember every second of what transpired then. Over the years some of the faces fade; some of the names blur, change, dissipate into a whirl of lust. But that first time comes in clear as a bell. Always has, always will. The Thirty-seventh annual Willow Way Art Fair was held each year in the country sides of Pennsylvania, just a few miles from town. Mr. Kean, the art teacher, had encouraged me to submit a few of my photographs and sketches. He told me that I had a real talent; a genuine knack for form. "One look at your shots, and you can't miss it," he said, an excited, wide-eyed grin on his face. His expression made me smile, which I knew had been his plan all along. I'd expressed a great deal of concern about submitting my work, all the typical stuff you'd expect a kid to say--that he wasn't good enough, that it was just for fun, It's just luck. Truth was, I knew. Deep down inside, I knew that there was something to my shots. Mr. Kean said I had a good eye for details and lighting, and a heightened perception when it cames to making the ordinary come to life. That was the first time he ever made me blush, in fact. "Darryl, you could take a picture of a drop of red paint in a bucket of red paint and make the drop stand out, couldn't you?" I would laugh and smile. He flattered me frequently, praising much of my work, giving me small pointers, and really just being a friend to a kid who really needed a friend. Like I said, I'd scoffed at the idea of the fair. But it didn't take much prodding on his part to convince me otherwise, so I picked three digital photos and two watercolor paintings. All three photographs placed in the top fifteen, with the highest one coming in second. Sure, it wasn't as nice as first -- no prizes! -- but I did get a silver medal for placing second. "Congratulations, champ!" Mr. Kean said, smiling down at me as I walked back to my seat beside him. "Thanks, Mr. Kean," I mumbled back, too embarrassed at my noticeably awkward nervousness to look him eye to eye. "I know you wanted me to win, but I guess--" "Win? Darry, you... I only wanted you to do your best, Darryl," Mr. Kean said. If you didn't place at all I'd still be proud of you! You're my number one student... You know that, don't you Darryl?" Mr. Kean's brow furrowed heavily when he said this. "You mean it?" I asked, bravery intact. "Absolutely, kiddo!" he said. "I just know you're something special, and in time, EVERYONE's gonna know it! Just you wait and see, Darryl!" Our drive home was always fun. Because it was a school activity, Mr. Kean had to drive a bus to the art fair. It was one of those short buses, and the seatbelts were very uncomfortable most of the time, but there was no one else on it aside from Mr. Kean and I, and he let me pick the radio stations. It was late when we pulled into the school parking lot. Mr. Kean carefully drove the bus into the maintenance yard, parking it in the very space we'd only pulled out of that morning. The little bus rumbled into silence against the sound of crickets and cicadas. IT was somewhat chilly for a fall evening, but I was bundled up. Mr. Kean stood up from his post at the driving wheel, leaning back to stretch after 90 minutes behind the wheel. As he did, I noticed his jacket and shirt ride up, revealing the solid gut beneath. Mr. Kean wasn't a large man, but at about 5'10", he was a few inches taller than me. He had a closely trimmed beard and mustache with a full head of curly, dirty blonde hair. After his stretch, he smiled ernestly down at me for a moment, then came and sat beside me on the bus seat. He put his right arm over my shoulder, which caught me by surprise, but quickly became soothing. "You did real nice work, Darryl," he cooed. "I'm so proud." "Thanks, Mr. Kean," I smiled. "Yep, real nice, real nice," he said again. The tone was a little colder this time. "Nice and easy," he said quietly, almost as if directing my motions was something he did everyday. I felt his hand begin caressing and massaging my shoulder. It felt nice, but then his arm began to move down my back. "Um, Sir? Mr. Kean?" I spoke into silence. The teacher continued to draw circles on my back with the tips of his fingers, and I felt him reaching over with his left hand, which he gently touched to my belly, causing me to turn white with panic. "Mr. Kean, I REALLY don't feel comfort--" "Shh, Darryl, uh, son, just.. just hold still, okay?" Mr. Kean slid his left hand gently over my limp crotch before taking my paralyzed hand and placing it onto his thigh. I slowly glanced over, too frightened to speak or scream, and noticed the massive bulge running only an in from my fingertips like an engorged vein. He began to unfasted his pants and slide them down around his ankles. I could only inhale sharply. When Mr. Kean sat back down, I saw without question his huge erect cock, standing out of a brown bush of curly hair. I'd seen some of the boys in the locker rooms during gym and after school, but none of them looked this large. "That's nine inches of man-meat, Darryl," Mr. Kean whispered. "I need you to help me play with it," he said, sliding my hand onto the shaft and guiding it slowly up and down. "Oh... Mr. Kean, sir.. I really really need to get home!" I said. I stood and tried to get away, but he grabbed my arm and forced me back into the seat. I sat perfectly still, my eyes like saucers watching his cock bounce around with each movement. I noticed a small pearl of precum force it's way from the tip, which he caught on his index figer and smeared across my trembling lips. He carefully stood me up and led me into the aisle of the bus. "Now I'm going to let you go, and you're gonna take your clothes off, okay?" I was scared and didn't want to, but I just couldn't find the words, and before I knew it, I was nodding "yes." I began to slowly take off my clothing, layer by layer, while Mr. Kean watched me and admired me. He moaned when I pulled my shirt off, my undershirt riding up the way I'd seen his jacket do earlier. Only this time, I wa almost naked, and he we soon be too. In fact, he was completely naked except for his boots when I finally stepped out of my briefs. He walked up to me and gently touched his cock to my belly. I felt it throb and thrash in time with his pulse, and I soon had a small river of precum dripping down onto my fully erect cock. "STroke it," he commanded calmly, raising up on his toes to slide the head up my chest. I grabbed on with both hands and began to slowly slide my hands up and down his shaft. Mr. Kean responded by throwing his head back, his mouth fixed in a silent "O," and I felt him begin to thrust into my hands. His solid, furry belly rubbed against my chest, the fur tickling my nipples. "Mmm, yes, Darryl. THat's it, baby, that's the way. Stroke on my hard cock, boy, stroke it!" He began to run his hands through my hair, over my face. I could smell his precum on his fingers. "Oh boy, you're a pro at this, aren't you, Darryl?" Mr. Kean asked. I didn't respond. "Come here," he said finally. He let me back to the rear of the bus, turned me around, and pressed me against the emergency door. "Sir, I.. I--please don't!" I said, panicking. "Relax, Darryl," Mr. Kean responded. "We're gonna take things as slow as you need, baby." "Mr. Kean, I don't want---" "LIsten to me, Darryl," Mr. Kean said, his voice full of command. I went to turn my head, but the teacher pressed his hairy body against mine, pinning his massive belly against my back and mashing me into the door. "You do what I say, do you understand?" Silence. I was afraid he was going to fuck me. "I Said do you understand!?" He barked. I'd never heard Mr. Kean yell before, and I immediately felt I'd somehow let him down. "Yes, sir," I said. Then I felt his massive tool resting between my asscheeks. "Don't worry, baby," he said, still authoritative, "I'm not gonna put it in you tonight.. not for a while.." He began to slide up and down between my checks, his precum lubing the way. The sensation of his hard, pulsating, dripping cock between my cheeks began to send chills down my spine. My senses became heightened; I could feel Mr. Kean's hard nipples dancing around my back, the feel of his warm breath on my neck or in my hair. I let out a small moan, which only seemed to excite Mr. Kean even more. He began to take longer, steadier thrusts, and on one stroke, his cock slipped down between my thighs. This didn' stop him, though. he began to slide slowly in and out, just as before, only now I felt the smooth head rubbing over my virgin asshole. I became afraid again and tried to move away, but again Mr. Kean grabbed me and held me steady. "Damn it, Darryl!" He barked. he pressed me firmly agains the door again, grabbing my ass and pulling it out. He then wrapped his strong, fuzzy left arm around my neck, while grabbing hold of my fifteen-year-old erection, a small tuft of hair up above, and began stroking. "Ohh, Mr. Kean.." I moaned, lost in the sensation of this adult's hand on my private places and the feel of that hot, hard shaft sliding around my tight pucker. "That's it, boy, let me hear you tell me how much you love it, bitch" He growled into my ear. "Oh, sir, I... I love it sooo much..I need it, sir. I need it bad, I need it so fucking bad!" I moaned loudy as his hand and cock both brought me to the edge. I felt him pick up the pace, sliding his cock around between my thighs and over my anus with wild abandon. "OH shit, boy," Mr. Kean shouted, his composure completely gone. "You're gonna get my fuckin' load, Darryl. You're gonna getting my fucking come all inside your hot little crack, boy--Oh! Ohh! ooh!!" he began shouting. I felt his dick throb as he stabbed blindly at the space between my legs. "OOOOOOOOH FUUUCK!!!" he shouted, thrusting forward one final time. "OH! SIR!" I screamed. The head of his penis had broken into my anus, knocking the wind out of me. I Heard Mr. Kean moan again and suddenly realized he was shooting his hot load into my ass--and he hadn't even actually fucked it! I couldn't take it anymore, and before I knew it, my body was shaking and jerking as I fired six thick shots of fifteen-year-old cum onto the bus door. Mr. Kean leaned against me, panting heavily, dripping with sweat. I could smell his scent against mine, feel his hands slowly caressing my body. MOst of his cum was dripping down my thigh. He was a grownup, but he'd just done something with me that only grown men should do. He told me so as we got dressed, and he made promise never to tell if he promised not to do it again, and I did. When Mr. Kean's car pulled up in front of my house, he gave me a smile and a pat on the head. "Remember, our secret?" He asked. "Our secret." I said in a whisper. (Stay tuned..)