Date: Fri, 13 Jan 2023 04:35:42 -0600
From: Xhaiden Angel <xangel.author@gmail.com>
Subject: A Year With Mr. Yates 2

Remember, to keep Nifty FREE, it relies on donations! Go to:
http://donate.nifty.org/ and make a generous donation to keep the HOTNESS
cumming!

February 3

It felt like the semester just started. Kids moved around like ants looking
for crumbs. Dillon didn't feel like getting out of bed, much less start the
day. First period Biology had other plans for him. He shoved his feet into
his shoes and pulled on a blue shirt. After some Fruity Pebbles, he was out
the door, on his bike, and headed to class.

Biology teacher, Freeman Sweeney hated morning classes almost as much as
his students did. They always made him feel like he'd propped his eyelids
with toothpicks, just to keep them open. Putting on a gray sweater and new
gray loafers, he went out of his apartment to start his walk to class. It
helped to get outside, into the fresh air, but not by much. Walking gave
him time to think and most mornings, he thought about the kid in the second
row, the one in the fraternity shirt with the messy curls and fuckable
lips. He thought about the senior with the tight ass who talked about
working in California when he got his degree. He thought about the Curry
kid, who made excuses to lean back in his chair and flash him glimpses of
his smooth, tight stomach. The kid fucked with him, making faces and
winking. Freeman wanted to rail the kid, to throw his sweet ass on the desk
and hate-fuck him into the middle of next week. Of course, he wanted to
keep his tenure and six years at this university even more. The last thing
he wanted was to throw it all away an end up working the check-out at Pick
and Save.

That morning, Dillon Curry took his seat and pulled out his book without
any of the usual sexual theatrics. The others filed into the room and did
the same. Professor Sweeney took his place behind the podium and Dillon
gave him his undivided attention. Picturing Mr. Sweeney in a tight blue
Speedo, strutting around a pool in the hot summertime, Dillon couldn't help
but grin. The bulge in the Speedo swelled, straining the fabric and causing
a dark spot to appear on its front. Of course, Dillon also pictured himself
on his knees in front of the hunky Bio teacher, begging to be face-fucked.

February 11

"Who's the hunky fucker in the pink shirt?" Dillon asked, peeping out the
dining room window. "You know that, at least, right?"

"No idea. Get away from the window before he sees you."

"You're such an old man," the kid said, giving his dad a good
eye-roll. "Think he's boning the pink-shirt guy? He has to be. It's not
like there's any grass for him to cut or housework for him to do."

"What Yates does in his own house is his own business. Why aren't you at
the Valentine's Day dance, anyway? Don't you want to boogie down with the
homies?"

Another eye-roll. "God, will you stop trying to be hip?"

"I'll have you know, I am hip. Hipper than you'll ever be. Set the table,
please. Your brother is coming."

"I'll bet he is. All over that footballer's sweet face."

"Goddamn, the mouth on you." Preston took down the plates and set the table
himself. Dillon got the glasses and put those out. "Mom joining in?"

"Your mother is in Baltimore until Tuesday." He sighed. "Thank god."

"Why don't the two of you just divorce, already? You sleep in different
rooms, hardly ever see each other, and you talk at each other when she's
home. I mean, why stay together?"

"Insurance for your cars doesn't pay itself. College for two of you is
expensive. You little snots are why we stay together. Get out of school and
on your feet and your mother and I might think of moving our own separate
ways. Till then, we're sticking it out."

"Damn, that's dark." Dillon said. He propped against the counter. "So, you
think Yates is the bottom or the top with Pink-Shirt Dude?"

"Fuck's sake, who cares?" Preston said, throwing out one hand. "Cut the
salad, please? I'd like to eat when your brother gets here."

"I'll bet he's already eaten...that sweet footballer ass! I'll bet he's
tongue-fucked that hot bastard from one chair to another! I'll bet they've
rode each other's faces for the last six hours! Hell, I'll bet they're
still doing it! That's why he's late, the fuck!"

"What's his name, again, this football player?"

"Cruz. Like a nice, long thing you take in the woods...so you can fuck like
deer!"

"Your hormones need a break and so do I. Cut the salad, please. I'll make
sure I'm not burning down the house with this roast."

February 13

Lying on his bed, meaty legs over the shoulders of the eager young stud
going down on him, Freeman wanted to hold the fucker's head down until he
gagged. He didn't, but he wanted to. He let the sweet little thing mouth
and suck and lick on his uncut cock all he wanted. Clean-cut hair, shaved
face, angelic brown eyes, and the smoothest, darkest skin anybody in their
twenties could ask for, this cocksucker was his favorite of the
four. Ex-student, of course. Twenty one, last summer. Forty was cruel for
Freeman but no more cruel than to see the lean, muscled body of this young
man contort to get himself comfortable between his ex-professor's
outstretched legs.

The warm pink tongue swirled around his head, dipping into the foreskin,
his favorite part. Freeman smiled as the kid let a thick glob of precum
roll onto his tongue. The kid savored the stuff like it was a fine wine. He
stuck out his tongue for the next few globs and used them to lube the head
and shaft. Goddamn, he was a fine cocksucker, Freeman thought as the kid
raised his feet and interlocked them at the ankles. Such a kid thing to do,
like he had all the time in the world to suck this meaty cock, and he
did. They would be at this for the next two hours. It's why Freeman liked
this particular cocksucker over the others. He was masterful and so eager
for cum.

Freeman gently brought the kid's mouth back to his shaft and this time, he
pumped another three inches into his throat before letting him up for
air. The kid choked but kept sucking. Freeman pumped another few inches,
realizing he needed to get off sooner than he expected. The kid went with
it, his eager mouth working and sucking at the professor's own pace.

Rising up on his knees, Freeman face-fucked the kid hard, not caring about
the choking sound. He just saw the blissful look in those gorgeous eyes and
the strings of spit and precum on that dark, beautiful skin. Freeman
watched his pale cock go in and out of eager lips.

"God..." the professor hissed, holding the kid's face.

Finally, the kid's mouth was too much for him and he blew a hard, hot load
all over that handsome face. Sure, the kid sucked down the last of it but
he loved seeing the kid wear most of his cum. They shared a deep, sloppy
kiss before Freeman announced that it was Plowing Time.

February 20

Dillon thought about Pink Shirt Guy. He could be anybody since he never saw
the dude's face. He could be the guy at the corner convenience store with
the lazy eye and cute smile. He could be the studly altar boy at the
Catholic church. He could be the mechanic from the shop his dad took his
car to. Hell, he could even be the pastor's hot, brunette son.

Lying on his back, Dillon pondered the identity of his neighbor's hot young
fuck-buddy. Whatever went on in that house between them, he wouldn't mind
getting a piece of it. Maybe with the two of them together. Dillon hauled
out his uncut cock and gave it several strokes. Thinking about Papi Yates
and Pink Shirt Guy, he stroked himself in long, easy motions. He peeled
back the skin to expose the smooth head. Precum leaked like a small stream.

He loved making a complete mess when he jerked off. He loved cum being all
over his smooth stomach and clinging to his pink, pearly nipples. He loved
the idea of being covered in the stuff and the source being all the hot
daddies he knew.

Neighbor Yates, Pastor Santino, Mechanic's Dad, Mr. Sweeney, and best of
all, the fuckable Sheriff Malone, the stocky fuck loved stopping him on
Saturday nights to give him a sobriety test. Dillon loved blowing into the
tube while he batted his dark eyelashes and flashed his hazel eyes at the
fucker. He made damn sure the sheriff could see the way he wrapped his lips
around the tube and gave it a little tongue action before blowing into it.

Sheriff Malone got his engine going, just like Mr. Sweeney did, causing
Dillon to stroke out a hot, frothy load of sweet, hot cum.  The last thing
he thought about before slipping into sleep was being their willing, eager
cumdump.

February 22

Freeman walked the aisles while the students finished their tests. Half of
them would fail. The test was easy but they were stupid. Even the basics of
Biology might as well have been the mysteries of the universe for most of
them. Curry would pass. He would more than pass. He would write additional
information into the margins. Sometimes, he would write on the back. The
Montez kid would pass, too. They were both whipsnap smart and could make a
career out of Biology, if they wanted. Freeman watched Montez for a few
minutes, admiring his bare arms and the veins running over his
biceps. College swimming was kind to Montez.

Curry looked up at him and smiled that dick-hardening grin that made
Freeman want to throat-fuck the little shit. Sure, he looked amazing in his
tight blue shirt and jeans. The same jeans that rode the kid's slim hips
and showed the world he wasn't wearing underwear. Picturing Curry at the
receiving end of his cock got him hard but standing behind the podium, the
professor didn't give a damn. Curry, still looking at him, put his pencil
down and turned his test over. Then, he made sure the man saw him cup the
bulge in his jeans and mouth the words, "Come get it."

Freeman gave him a "You wish," look and shook his head. One day, the
professor thought, shifting his eyes to look out the window. One day, I'm
going to give you what we both want.

At the end of the period, everyone else filed out of the room and Dillon
stayed in his seat. When he got up, his eyes were on the professor's dark
blue sweater and the open shirt under it. Tufts of light brown hair peeked
out, teasing him. He took his paper to the podium, wondering how the man's
mustache-beard combo would feel scraping against his bare ass as his tongue
worked its way into his ass.

Dillon smiled. "I had to correct a few of the formulas."

"Uh-huh," Professor Sweeney said, taking the paper.

Dropping his voice, Dillon asked, "What would it take to get long, hard
ride on that sweet piece of meat swinging between your legs?"

"Dropping out or graduating," the man replied, sliding the test into the
pile of others. "Short of those two things, the only relationship you and I
are going to have is in this classroom as teacher and student. I hope we
understand one another, Mr. Curry."

Dillon watched the man leave, realizing his dick was throbbing in his
pants.

February 26

"You sure you want to do this?" Nathaniel asked, smirking. "I'm not forcing
you into it."

"You kidding? Now that you've moved here, this is the one place I can relax
and not worry about the rest of this fucked up town passing judgment!"
Freeman took off his shirt and tossed it onto the couch. "Start the movie,
already!"

The teacher, now only in tight black briefs, sprawled out on the
couch. Pushing back in his chair, Nathaniel pressed PLAY on the Blu-Ray
machine and the movie started. In just a gray jockstrap, he adjusted his
firm bulge and settled in. After the opening sequence, the doorbell
rang. Pushing himself up, he went to the door. Curious, Freeman
followed. Nathaniel looked through the peephole in the door, then turned to
his friend.

"You are not going to believe it," he said, his grin growing devious. "It's
that smirky little shit from next door, the slender one I told you about
with the cute ass. I think I'm going to let him in."

"With us like this, half-naked?"

"My house, my rules," Nathaniel said, already unlocking the door. "I'm
letting the little fucker in and seeing how he reacts. What's the worst
that can happen?"

On the other side of the door, Dillon started to say something polite when
the sight of two half-naked men stole his words. All he was left with was,
"Hell, yeah."

"Glad you approve." Nathaniel said, leaning on the door. "Something I can
help you with?"

"From where I'm standing, looks like I can help the two of you with
something. Two somethings."

Knowing the kid wouldn't resist, Nathaniel took hold of his shirt and
pulled him in. He closed the door, turned the lock and pushed the kid's
jacket off his shoulders. It stayed where it landed. Next, he tugged at the
back of the kid's shirt and pulled it frontwards, off his head. It fell
without protest. Dillon smiled at the man and commented on his forthright
nature.

"I believe in being direct and in giving somebody what they want."

The kid smiled. "By the way, I'm your neighbor from across the
street. Dillon Curry."

"Take your pants off, Dillon Curry."

"Yes, sir!" The kid said, already unbuttoning them.

"This is my friend, Freeman. He's watching a movie with me."

"Hello," Dillon said, waving a little wave as he worked his shoes off and
pushed his pants down. "Good to meet you. What's the movie?"

"Hope Floats," Freeman said, stuttering out the words as he watched his
student undress.

"Like your briefs," Dillon said, pretending he didn't know the
professor. "Blue's my favorite color. Reminds me of the
ocean. Deep. Unrelenting. Fierce."

"You hungry, Dillon?" Nathaniel asked, kicking away the shoes and
pants. "Boy like you looks like he might be hungry. I'm sure me and my
friend can find something to put in your mouth."

"Matter of fact, sir, I'm starving. I'm not picky, though. Anything you
have will be fine. I'm not all that picky about meat." He smiled, arching
his eyebrows. "Cream, either. Anything is fine as long as it fills me up in
whatever way you intend for it to."

Dropping like a stone to his knees, Dillon's mouth came open as Nathaniel
pulled his jock to one side. The man took hold of his dick and laid the
hooded head on the boy's lower lip. Eyes upturned, Dillon slid his tongue
out and under the helmet. Thrilled to be serving this hot, hairy fuck, he
let the man slide into his mouth at his pace. When the head tapped the back
of his throat, he relaxed and let it go on in. He did have to hold onto the
man's hips to steady himself but he kept going until his nose was buried in
thick, wild pubic hair.

Freeman took several steps back while watching Dillon's sweet lips wrap
around his friend's dick. The kid took the full length, then let it drag
out of his eager mouth. His tongue worked the head, then slipped into the
fleshy sheath. He did not miss an inch, nor did he stop at the shaft. He
dipped his head, swirled his tongue around the man's full, smooth balls,
too. He took each of them into his mouth and gave them a good sucking.

"Born cocksucker," Nathaniel said, tilting Dillon's head back so he could
get in deeper. "Look at you go! I love a boy who loves cock -- and you love
cock, don't you, Dillon? Yes, you do!"

Releasing him, the man let Dillon work at his own pace. The kid opened his
mouth and took the majority into it. He closed his lips over the base and
eased back up. When he reached the head, he sucked hard on the loose skin
to get the collected sap. It tasted bitter but sweet. Nathaniel's fingers
raked through his hair as he returned to the shaft, licking all the way to
the head. His lips closed over the top and he started a slower descent.

"Let him do you too," Nathaniel said, reaching for his friend.

"I don't think so," Freeman said, shaking his head. "He looks like he's
happy with what he's got."

Nathaniel took a step closer to the professor. Dillong moved with him, not
letting the cock slip out. Nathaniel slid his hand into Freeman's blue
briefs and around the man's cock. While Dillon sucked him off, the man
stroked his friend. Freeman watched his student pleasure his friend,
wishing that he hadn't chosen to be a chemistry teacher, instead.

"That's a good boy," Nathaniel crooned, rubbing Dillon's face. "You love a
good cock, huh?"

Nodding, Dillon rubbed the man's hairy legs, then slid one hand in between
the tight cleft of his ass. His eyes found the man and asked a question his
mouth couldn't. Smiling, Nathaniel closed his hand and tugged Dillon
forward by his hair. Forced to crawl, the boy went with him into the living
room, back to his comfortable recliner. Once he was seated, he put one leg
over Dillon's shoulder, the other to his side. The boy's mouth never left
his dick.

Freeman watched from the doorway, his hand sliding along his exposed
shaft. Dillon's technique was one of a seasoned cocksucker, a fact that
made the professor harder than ever. In this new position, he had access to
Nathaniel's hairy crack and made sure to taste it more than once. After a
few licks, the man slid to the edge of the chair and held his cheeks
open. Freeman was envious of how Dillon attacked the man's furry trench and
how his talented tongue made the man groan.

"Mouthy little fucker," Nathaniel muttered, feeling Dillon's tongue sliding
into him. "Much more of that and I'm going to feed you a nice, creamy
snack!"

Enthused by this promise, Dillon forced more of his tongue into the man's
hole. While he did, he made sure his hand never stopped working on the
thick shaft. He tried hard to imitate the speed and depth he saw that night
from the hedges. Nathaniel's heavy leg on his shoulder made him want to
have all of the man's heavy body pressed onto him. With this in mind, he
worked even harder on the shaft and hole, causing the man to dig his heel
into the small of his back. The groans got louder and deeper. Dillon made
little groaning sounds of his own as he worked.

"Wear it or swallow it, boy," Nathaniel asked, his hips bucking up from the
chair. "Your choice -- but you're going to have to make it soon!"

When he felt the first hard throb against his tongue, Dillon eased back a
little. The hard shaft slipped a little further, leaving only the head
behind his lips. The hooded underside felt good against his tongue, another
sensation to remember. He made his decision by firming up his lips behind
the head and groaning a little louder. Nathaniel smiled down at the boy,
working his hips a little faster.

"You got me there, Dillon...oh, fuck, yeah, you did!"Nathaniel took hold of
the boy's head. "Fucking take it, cocksucker!"

Freeman saw Nathaniel's body go rigid. Dillon made a surprised, choking
sound. Seconds later, he started moaning. Cum spilled out around his full
lips and ran down his chin. It continued on down his bare chest and stomach
as he kept sucking. His fingers kept working. He meant to get everything
the man had and make sure he felt as good as he could while doing it.

"Damn, kid," Nathaniel said, rubbing his hooded head on Dillon's
cheek. "Looks like you really were hungry. Get your fill?"

"No, sir! Matter of fact, as soon as you're ready, I'd love another hot
load!" Dillon turned toward Freeman, a sly smile on his face. "Maybe your
friend would like to feed me, next?"

End of Chapter Two: February