Date: Mon, 27 May 2019 00:54:14 -0400
From: The Beaster <lovebigburlybears@gmail.com>
Subject: Mr. Cliff

Mr. Cliff

Or

Size Isn't Always a Blessing

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Comments are welcome: lovebigburlybears@gmail.com.


I was a quiet fifteen-year old boy, skinny and small for my age. I seemed
to be stuck in a permanent stage of pre-adolescence, while some of the
other boys at the boarding school already looked like men. I'd see them
naked in the showers after soccer practice and marveled at the thickening
dark brown fur that spread over their chests and stomachs. My own chest was
white and hairless. Sad face.

Even worse, I still hadn't started cumming yet, and all the other boys
seemed to be doing it. They bragged about how much and how far they could
shoot. I heard about late night competitions they would have in the older
boys dorm, where they would all jerk off together. Whoever came last had to
"clean up", whatever that meant. I didn't know, but I burned with jealousy
anyway. I wanted to cum so bad, but nothing worked for me when I tried to
fantasize. I tried playing with my little dick while I looked at some of my
uncle's porn magazines that I had smuggled into the school, but the
pictures of girls laid out spreading their clits open for the camera made
me kind of depressed. I wanted to offer the women some clothes or at least
a bathrobe. They weren't for me. But by the end of that semester, I knew
what was.

I had never paid that much attention to Mr. Cliff before. He was always
just kind of a scruffy middle-aged, overweight teacher. I know he was
Sicilian or Italian. He was definitely not one of my favorites. He was
usually really grumpy, and only later did I found out why -- his wife
wouldn't have sex with him. He was always trying to bust us for stupid
stuff, like having candy or soda in the halls during school hours. If you
were caught, you'd get night detention, and to a fifteen-year old that was
the worst thing in the world. When you go to boarding school, your weekends
are the only time you get to have any fun at all. All week long we looked
forward to Saturday night, when we would all gather in the auditorium to
watch whatever movie the teachers had picked for us. If we were really
lucky, it would be R-rated, with lots of swearing and maybe even a little
sex. Mr. Cliff always picked the ones with more sex. Police Academy. Risky
Business. Porky's. He probably picked those because it was the only sex he
got to see, because of his wife.

One time we watched a movie called All That Jazz. There's a scene in it
where a guy is about to go on stage to perform, but some girls start
rubbing their tits on him backstage. By the time he gets on stage, everyone
in the audience was laughing at him, because he had a cum stain on his
pants. Mr. Cliff must have thought this was too much even for an audience
of all boys, because when we got to that scene, he cleared his throat
theatrically and stopped the movie.

"Alright, birdbrains. Showtime is over for this evening. Everyone back to
your rooms."

He turned the lights up in the auditorium. He was adjusting his pants, and
I could distinctly see a fat tube pressed against the inside of his
khakis. It looked was going to split open from the bulging, obscene
contents. For some reason, I started tingling. Mr. Cliff walked up the
auditorium steps and right by me. I was still staring at his crotch.

"Hard of hearing, Bradley?" he said, and flicked my ear.

I cried out.  "Ow! That hurt!"

He chuckled and moved to the exit door, leaning back against the wall and
whistling as we started to file out of the auditorium. He had a real beefy
frame and I realized for the first time that I wanted to grab onto him and
have him hold me. But he also infuriated me, because he was such a
hard-ass. Later that night, I kept seeing his bulging pants in my head and
found my four inch cock straining in my pajama pants. I felt that tingling
again. Does this mean I'm gay, I wondered. I had no serious interest in
girls, but if I was gay, shouldn't I like the other boys? Why was my dick
tingling at the thought of my portly teacher's crotch?

Since Mr. Cliff was the weekend teacher on duty, he had to come around once
before we went to sleep. He always let us stay up a little later,
though. You always knew when he was coming because you could hear whistling
as he walked the halls. At quarter of ten he would saunter into our dorm
room. Some nights he would tell stupid jokes, or talk about his days in the
Navy, or complain about his wife. I always thought he must be really bored,
stuck living at this school in the middle of Montana with a wife who didn't
like to have sex. As teenagers, sex seemed to be about the only thing to
live for - and to have a wife who didn't want it? Well, it didn't sound
like it could be much worse than that.

"She never gives it up for me," he'd admit, a toothpick jutting out of the
right side of his mouth. He made a sucking sound and the toothpick
disappeared, then reappeared on the other side of his mouth.

"Why not?" we'd invariably ask.

"Size isn't always a blessing, kids." he'd say, pointing the toothpick at
us.  "Just remember that when you're all comparing your johnsons. Now turn
those lights out and get to bed."

***

One freezing January night, I was on my bed reading Tom Clancy's Red Storm
Rising. My roommate Kris was on his bed about four feet away playing his
handheld portable football game that he never went anywhere without. There
was a brisk knock at the door. Mr. Cliff came in, wearing his trademark
tight khakis and a light blue polo shirt. Gray fur sprang up from his
collar and around his neck. Kris continued to play his game, which made the
most annoying bleeps in the world every time he scored a touchdown. I often
thought of hiding the thing from him - in a dumpster. Mr. Cliff leaned
against the door and struck up conversation.

"Cold enough for you guys or what? Reminds me of my Navy days."

"Uh, was that in the 1800s when they didn't have heat?" I joked.

He grabbed a lacrosse ball from the dresser and tossed it at me."Think
fast, kid!"

I dodged it and groaned. Kris rolled his eyes and went back to his game,
too good for us. He thought talking to teachers was akin to fraternizing
with the enemy.

"Got to be faster than that, Mr. Cliff," I said, and tossed the ball back
at him, real fast. He reached up and caught it in one of his big hands
without even a blink. He turned the ball over in his hands, staring at
it. His dark brown eyes went far away and he got quiet. His short sleeved
shirt showed off his big arms, which were sleeve of thick black
hair. Mr. Cliff was a big stocky guy, built like an oversized solid
fire-hydrant. With his business casual outfits, gruff demeanor, and balding
hair going gray on the sides he reminded me of Lou Grant from the Mary
Tyler Moore Show.

"Close your eyes for a sec, guys" he said. " I have a joke to show you."

I closed my eyes. Kris continued to ignore us.

Since I was the only one playing his game, I felt Mr. Cliff move closer to
me. He smelled faintly of beer and Jovan Musk. Over the sound of the video
game, I heard what sounded like a zipper, then the sound of him adjusting
something.

"Ok, open up" he said. I frowned and opened my mouth and Mr. Cliff gave a
hearty laugh.

"Your EYES, birdbrain."

When I opened my eyes, I saw that he had pulled out one of his pants
pockets. And hanging from the fly of his jeans, under the light blue golf
shirt that covered his gut, was a fat piece of flesh as thick as a my wrist
and about four inches long. It was noticeably darker than the rest of his
body. A thick, rubbery-looking skin sheathed the whole thing and continued
a good inch past the ridge of what was a very fat head. I could clearly see
a nest of black pubic hair inside his open fly. He had no underwear on.

My first thought was: so this is an adult penis.

My second thought was: if this is the part I could see, how big was the
whole thing?

I noticed a single black pubic hair caught in the wrinkled foreskin at his
cockhead. The room seemed to expand and contract at the same time, like all
the dimensions were wrong. I was mesmerized.

As I came back to earth, some words were coming out of his mouth.

"Well?" he asked, his hands proudly at his hips, which were pushed forward
so that his adult equipment was about a foot from my teenage face.  "I
asked what you call that?"

Apparently we weren't getting his joke. He motioned with his head at his
crotch and the khaki pocket that was inside out, hanging at the side of his
waist.

"I call it gross," Kris muttered and went back to his game.

I noticed that a rich musky smell came from between my teacher's legs, like
locker room sweat but thicker, more potent.

"Last chance" he said.

I could barely hear, my heard was pounding so loudly in my head. I didn't
trust myself to speak and had no idea what he wanted me to say. And why was
this man in his fifties showing two boys his penis?

"You birdbrains are no damned fun. Just like my wife." he said.  "All that
fancy education and you don't even get the joke? It's a one eared elephant!
The pants pocket is the ear, see? And this" -- he shook his thick uncut
penis -- "is the trunk!". To be honest, the "trunk" looked slightly thicker
than it had when he first took it out.

He sighed and started to put himself back in his pants when he noticed the
stray pube.

"Damn hair. I'm always fucking shedding."

He skinned the folds back until they bunched behind the head of his cock
like an accordion. A sheen of wet fluid coated the head, with a wide slit
down the middle. He plucked the hair off and shook it onto the floor. That
dizzying smell got even stronger.

Then it was over. It took some effort, but he managed to get his oversized
tool back into his pants and he zipped up.

"Ok, kids. No more jokes. Lights out is in three...two...one." He turned to
go and flicked the switch on his way out the door. We were plunged into
darkness.

"What a wierdo" Kris said.

"Yeah," I said. Under the covers, my boxer shorts were wet and my penis
felt like it was going to break off. I thought of Mr. Cliff's discarded
pubic hair, on the floor next to me, and I shivered. I could still smell
him in the air. Something was welling up in me and I hadn't even stroked my
cock twice when a wave of pleasure enveloped my body as the hot teenage cum
pushed its way out of my body. My first orgasm.

***

Soon enough it was spring. Mr, Cliff's wife was no longer around. The rumor
was that she had some kind of nervous breakdown, but nobody knew for sure
and nobody dared ask Mr. Cliff. He took on more duties at the school, like
substitute coaching, and moved into a small apartment in our dormitory.

I started to see a lot more of him. I was really into model rockets and
sometimes Mr. Cliff would let me work on my rockets in his apartment during
the hour or so of recreation time we had before dinner.

"I like to build stuff, too, kid," he told me one day. "Keeps my mind off
things." Then he ruffled my hair and give me a sad smile. By now I was
regularly beating off, always thinking of the same thing: his big uncut
dick in my face, his hairy arms, the hair poking out of the chest of his
shirt. I craved an opportunity to see what the rest of him looked like.

It dawned on me that I was fascinated with older men. I had separated my
teachers into two categories: the ones who looked like they might be hairy
and those who didn't. There were two or three I really liked: Mr. Green,
the science teacher, Mr. McAllen, the history teacher. He was a big bear of
a guy, with a big fat gut and a beard. I also liked Gunner, the janitor,
and I would find out later that he was as hairy as I suspected.

That spring, Mr. Cliff was the backup coach for our soccer team while our
regular coach was out. I hated sports but they were mandatory. Mr. Cliff
seemed to be as uninterested as I. I was on the sidelines I lot, where I
could watching my new idol and try to get glimpses of his body hair. It was
more on display during during soccer practice than any time else. Every
time I saw Mr. Cliff raise his arms to call time out, the fabric on his
arms of t-shirt would slip down. I'd see that thick sleeve of hair continue
under his arms and into his dark armpits. I'd feel a slightly sick feeling
in my stomach, like I was standing at the edge of a tall building.

"Phew, it's hot out here," he said one afternoon. It was one of those hot
days in late spring that felt like summer. The other kids on the team were
running up and down the field. I sat on the bench while Mr. Cliff stood
next to me. He pulled his t-shirt out from his chest to air himself out,
still complaining about the heat.

"Maybe if I just take it off for a few minutes I'll cool down," he said. I
tried to look disinterested as his stout, barrel-shaped chest came into
view, blanketed in curly black hair that stood at least an inch from his
body. A spreading patch of gray bloomed from the center. His stomach was
equally covered. It thinned a bit on the sides and shoulders, the only
place I could see his Italian skin. Everything glistened with sweat. His
movement waved a breeze of musky scent over my face and my crotch started
immediately tenting. I inhaled deeply, trying to bring his aroma into my
lungs to taste the scent that was coming off of this incredible
man. Meanwhile, the soccer game seemed a million miles away. Someone messed
up a penalty kick and the ball went sailing off the field.

"I think, boys, the point is to get the ball into the goal, not the woods."
Mr Cliff called out with his typical dryness. "Or did I miss something?" He
pulled the shirt back on and started to walk towards the field but he
stumbled and almost went down.

"Fucking hell" he said, looking down at his untied shoelace. He sank to one
knee to tie it. His shirt pulled up and I could see that his back was a
blanket of hair too. It got denser as it led from the small of his back
into the top of his ass crack, which was just visible above the tops of his
gray sweats. He clearly wasn't wearing underwear again, as I was able to
see at least a half an inch of hair coating the crevice at the top of his
butt cheeks.

He reached back and scratched exactly where I was looking, inadvertently
pulling his sweats farther down with his movement. His thick fingers dug
into the dark fur. I could hear the scratching sound on his hair as he
roughly raked his fingers across the top of his butt.

"I swear this heat makes me damned fur itch," he said, and looked back at
me with a sheepish grin while his got two fingers deep into the furry
furrow between his cheeks. With his eyes boring into me and my heart
pounding, I blatantly looked down at his ass and for a second I saw almost
the entire top half of his fur covered asscheek, then he yanked his sweats
back up and held the hand out that had just been nestled in his ass hair.

"Help this old man up, would ya?" he asked. "I think I just ruined what was
left of my back."

After practice, I headed to the locker room showers. When I got there, the
other kids were half-naked and scowling. I saw my roommate, Kris. One hand
was holding up a towel and the other held his beloved football game.

"What's going on?" I asked, sitting down on the bench in front of his
locker.

"No hot water, dude. This place is the best, isn't it?"

Mr. Cliff overheard us as he was walking in. He was dragging a mesh bag
with several soccer balls in it.

"You boys are such pussies. And Kristopher Langley, I know I don't see a
video game in your hand during sports hour."

Kris groaned and walked away, muttering something about a douchebag.

"I heard that, Langley." Mr. Cliff said loudly.  Feel free to work on it
during detention this Saturday".

A couple seniors walked by on their way out. One of them smacked Mr. Cliff
on his broad back.

"You're the man, Mr. Cliff. Show that kid who's boss."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," the burly man said.  "A little lower next time."

Mr. Cliff started to put the soccer balls away, whistling while he
worked. Eventually the locker room was empty. It was just me and
Mr. Cliff. I sat on the bench and tied my shoes and he came over to me with
his bag of balls, which he still hadn't put into the storage room. He had
that crooked grin on his face. Sitting below him, I felt frail and
small. At 5'8", he must've been 200 pounds of beer gut and hairy, stocky
man. His shorts had started to sag a little around the waist and I could
see his stomach hair. I started to get that tingling feeling and looked
everywhere else except at his crotch, which was difficult because it was
directly in my line of vision. I had to get out of there and go jerk off.

"Say," he said "I bet I have hot water back at my apartment. If you help me
take care of these balls, I'll let you use my shower. " He hiked his shorts
up with his free hand, pushing his fat bulge into relief against the
fabric.  "And maybe you can work on your model rockets before dinner, if
you like."

***

I sat on his couch while he showered. He'd closed the bathroom door, of
course, but my heart was still slamming so loudly I was sure he could hear
it. Here I was in this teacher's apartment, and I was turned on and
terrified. The shower water stopped and he called my name.

"Your turn, buddy."

He opened the door, a white towel held up to his gorilla-like frame. It
seemed barely the size of a washcloth against his solid features. I
couldn't help but ogle him as steam flowed out of the door and rose up
around him. His rugged, unshaven face. The big beefy arms. That big round
belly, sitting on thighs were wider than my waist. Everything coated in
hair. I didn't know people could be so hairy.

"That water felt damned good on my bad back," he said.

I edged into the bathroom, which was clearly too small for both of us to
navigate comfortably. He didn't make a move to leave, he just started to
whistle while he toweled down. I could sense something hanging between his
legs but I couldn't bring myself to look directly at it. All the while, his
vigorous rubbing was brushing into me and I could feel my cock starting to
swell. I slowly took off my shoes. Then my socks. Then my shirt.  I stopped
when I got to my underwear.

"You don't have all day, bud," Mr. Cliff said, then wiped the mirror with
his hand. He reached in front of me and into the shower for something, his
damp underarm brushing across my lips. His hand returned with a razor.

 "Forgot to shave," he said.

 I'd never been naked and so close to another man before. Even though I was
scared, I remember it felt so good that he was comfortable being naked
around me. Like I was being introduced to manhood. Still, I was trembling
like a frightened animal. I had to get in the shower without him seeing my
erection. It was now or never. With a quick yank I pulled my boxers down
and stepped into the shower and turned the handle.

He had one of those clear shower curtains so while I soaped up I could see
him. He set his towel on the rung, leaving his body exposed and naked. I
got my first unobstructed view of my teacher's ass cheeks. They were coated
black with hair, the skin not visible. I wanted to stay in that shower
forever, but the water started to run cold. Mr. Cliff was just finishing
shaving when I turned the water off. He handed me a towel without looking
at me.

"Thanks," I said.

"No problem, bud. Lemme just take a quick leak and I'll be out of your
hair."

He hoisted his fat penis up and started pissing a loud thick stream, like
it was from a fireman's hose. He was looking down at himself, and since I
was to the side, that meant I could watch him without him looking at
me. That dizzy feeling crept over me again. His dick was so thick, he held
it like he was holding a twelve ounce can of soda. He had his foreskin
peeled back and as his flow began to slow, he coaxed more out by skinning
the folds back and forth slowly. Soon the only sound in the bathroom was
his lazy whistling.

"Gotta clean it off," he said.

Mr. Cliff half-turned towards me and held his cock out and away from his
body, like he was offering it to me. I wanted to sink to my knees. But he
was just positioning himself to reach over and grab the toilet paper
without dripping pee in the floor. There were a few drops left hanging to
the skin, which had wrapped over the head again. His balls hung deep, two
plump oranges in a fur sac that hung over a third of the way down to his
knees. They were obscenely big and made me think of a bull. He began to
blot his penis with toilet paper. After a few blots, the drops were gone
and he was dry.

"I gotta tell you, the problem with having no wife around is that you just
get used to walking around doing what you want."

He skinned himself back and inspected inside the folds. His piss slit was
really wide, a half-inch gash across head. He pinched it and it made an
O-shape. Some clear liquid burped out and drooled down over the ridged
crown. I had stopped toweling and was trying to melt into the shower
tile. I tried to imprint his cock on my brain so I could call it up later,
a favorite scene in movie or a memory of a perfect birthday.

"The other problem, of course, is that your johnson doesn't get milked
regularly."

He turned to leave bathroom and promptly slipped, contorting he body as he
regained his balance.

"Dammit, my back!" he yelled.

He leaned against the wall, clearly in pain. I ran over to help him.

"Just get me to the bed! It's a cramp, it'll pass."

He draped his damp furry arm around my neck and I had no choice but to hold
him around the waist. In my haste, I had dropped my towel. The two of us
were naked as I walked him over to the bed. His body hair scratched against
mine, and my hard-on would have been clearly evident if he had looked
down. When we got to the bed he collapsed with a groan on his stomach. I
stared at his big hairy ass and legs.

"Fuck, but that hurt," he said. "And my useless wife isn't even here to rub
the knots out."

I moved to the edge of the bed, my heart pounding. He was laying down and
facing the other way.

"I can do it, sir." I offered, as casually as I could. A beat. Then
another. Then another.

"Aww, Bradley" he finally said, "that would do me a world of good."

Before I could think about it, my hands were on his back, kneading his
muscled hairy shoulders. My pale hands looked tiny against that dark
Italian skin and black fur.

"Ohhhhh" he groaned. "That's just perfect. Keep that up."

I sat on the side of the bed and rubbed the man I'd been fantasizing
about. After twenty minutes, my dick was leaking precum all over my
legs. As I rubbed him, I lowered my head down and inhaled deeply, starting
at his shoulders and moving down towards his rear end as I breathed him
in. The smell made me weak. I kept at it for a while. My head drifted
closer to him until I felt his body hair against my lips and nose. I
lightly rubbed my face into his the damp fur of his ass, just softly enough
so he wouldn't notice. To distract him, I dug my fingers into his lower
back. "Mmmm, yeah, boy, that is doing the trick," he growled.

I kneaded lower, my hands right at the top of his ass cheeks now,

Without a word, he slightly pushed his ass upwards. My face was so close to
his ass that when he raised it, the cleft of his crack went right against
my lips. Unable to control myself, I let my tongue rest against the
inch-thick fur that led into his hole. Then I pushed through the hair and I
made contact with the skin of his crack.

"Bradley...?"

I quickly moved downwards with my hands and rubbed his thick legs, digging
in with my thumbs.

"Sorry sir, I just haven't seen a man with so much body hair before and I
wanted to see it up close"

He grunted a laugh.

"Ohhh, okay. Well, go ahead and explore if you need to. I think I'm getting
the better part of this deal, that's for sure!"

I tentatively ran my fingers through his fur, rubbing him up and down his
legs. I had abandoned the massage and was now just stroking him all over. I
moved my face back to his ass and rested my chin below the crack, the hair
covering my face. I tentatively licked into the darkness that led to his
most intimate spot. The clean sweat and musk made me delirious. I had never
known an ass could be hot, but I felt drugged and had to get more of it. A
low groan came from above me. I went deeper, parting the hair softly with
my tongue and coating it with my saliva. The coarse hair from his ass
covered my face and blotted out the light. I pressed forward until I felt
the tender skin of his actual asshole against my tongue. He instinctively
pushed back into my face. My body shuddered as I pushed the tip of my
tongue into him.

"Whatever you're doing back there....it sure feels good, boy. My wife never
hit those spots."

I climbed up behind him on the bed. Pulling his cheeks apart so I could
access it better, I dove my face back into his hairy ass, licking and
probing it with my tongue. He grunted and bucked back and forth under me as
I ate his hole, hungry for his masculine musk. My face was soaked in saliva
and the smell of Mr. Cliff. When I pulled off to take a breath, I
gasped. An erection was sticking out from under his belly. It lay splayed
across the sheet, a rolling-pin of uncut flesh crushed under his stocky
frame. It was as a hairy as the rest of him, with black hair at least two
inches up the massive shaft The foreskinned head was soaked with fluid and
the sheet was soaked around it. I bravely ran my thumb along his asshole
and he moaned and pressed flat into the bed, grinding down on his dick. The
skin slid forward, pushing more precum out in big, wet gushes.

I moved my head downwards and, careful not to touch his penis, lapped up
the emerging juice. Then I sucked the sheet below. I couldn't believe I was
tasting the sweet rich nectar that this man's balls were producing. It
turned me on even more to know that that his dick was leaking because of
what I was doing to him. My face covered in saliva, ass-juice, and
Mr. Cliff's sticky nectar, I whimpered softly as the pleasure of an orgasm
wracked my body. Ropes of my cum squirted into my hand.

Emboldened by the good feelings, I took the head of his penis into my
mouth. The angle was awkward and he was as fat as beer can, but I got an
inch or two in and tasted the rich flavors of an adult penis for the first
time.

Mr. Cliff yelped and flipped around onto his back.

"What the -- OUCH!"

He grabbed at his back again.

Naked, I scooted back on the bed, afraid he was going to hit me, but he was
more concerned about his back.

"Gotta remember not to move so fast when I'm having a spasm!" he said,
grinning.

On his back now, his giant dick stood up straight, precum pouring out of
the head and collecting in his dark pubic bush. On any other man it would
look like he was cumming, but I knew from the pool on the sheets that he
had not cum yet. He was just a gusher.

He sighed and looked at me with those dark brown eyes.

"Well, I don't know what to tell you boy, but I'm obviously in a state
here. I am not gonna lie."

"It's okay, sir!" I said. I was staring at his thick prick, the foreskin
pulled halfway down around the head. He wrapped one of his giant hairy
hands around it and hefted it, barely able to get his hand around it.

"Do ya mind if I finish it off? It's not healthy to let your balls fill
up."

I shook my head.

He pulled his hand up and down the shaft. The foreskin slid back and forth,
making a wet "slap-slap" sound. He rubbed the ridge of the head with his
thumb and grunted and winced.

"Problem is, it hurts my damned shoulders to move my hand."

I moved forward on the bed until my face was six inches from his big
dick. The smell of his crotch was so rich, like the woods after heavy
summer rain. Thick gushes of fluid pooled in the foreskin then ran down his
shaft and onto his enormous furry nuts.

"I, uh..." I stuttered.

He looked at me, his eyes searching into mine. My face was wet with his
juices and there's no way he could not have noticed.

"You what, buddy?"

I took a breath.

"I can help."

He said nothing for at least a minute, the only sound the wetness of his
foreskin being juiced up and down, up and down as he continued to stroke
himself.

"Oh, yeah, how's that?"

I reached my hand and wrapped it around the base of his fat dick, feeling
the giant tube that ran along its underbelly pulse with his heartbeat. He
closed his eyes. After three or four strokes he opened them again.

"I ain't that way" he said weakly. He wrapped his slick, wet hand around
mine as if to remove it. I held on.

"I think it would be better for your back if I did it, though. You don't
want to hurt it any more than you have already," I said.

I started to stroke him, using the same technique he had used, going all
the way up the head and bunching the skin up then rubbing my thumb on his
exposed slick head on the way down. He moaned. His hand stayed on mine, not
pulling it away.

"It's not right, buddy."

I moved closer, my face right near his lemon-sized balls. When I stuck my
tongue out and tasted the juice running off his cock that was collecting
there, he groaned and pushed his body up off the bed slightly. His fingers
tightened around mine.

"I'm just gonna close my eyes and take care of myself, if you don't mind,
son" he said, his voice barely a whisper.

And that's when Mr. Cliff began to masturbate himself with my hand.

With my free hand I slowly scooped up the cum I had shot from my cock while
I had been eating his ass. I moved up to his meat and coated it with my own
cum, adding it to the copious natural lubricant he was producing. Between
his precum and my semen, a thick white froth now coated his dick. He sighed
and spread his mammoth hairy thighs as if to welcome me in. I crawled up
between them, feeling safe as I nestled in the crook of my teacher's stocky
body. I looked up while I nursed on his huge balls, my face a glaze of his
fluids. I reveled in the sight of his broad hairy chest and his beer
gut. Beads of sweat were running down his forehead. His cockhead seemed to
get thicker, and the foreskin could barely get around it on the upstroke.

His free hand found its way down to my face and cupped my chin
forcefully. Hair spread across the back of his hands. To my surprise, he
pried my lips open with his thumb and pushed into my mouth. He ran this
thumb roughly across my tongue and I sucked on it like a baby. When I
looked up he was looking down at me with a strange expression on his face,
almost a sneer. It was like something had possessed him.

I felt his dick thicken even further and his hips started moving faster
beneath our hands. Then his hand fell from his dick and I was masturbating
his creamy dick for all I was worth, up and down the whole thing, juicing
his sloppy meat like a pro.

"Fuck." he said. "Oh fuck."

His balls were pushed up all the way into the base of his dick and I knew
something was going to happen. I moved my head above his cock.

"No, you can't--" he said and tried to pull me off of him.

I dropped my head down as the first shot blew out of him and into my
mouth. The taste of his rich male semen flooded my mouth, salty and
strong. I wanted more. Lust took over both of us and as I devoured him, he
pushed my head all the way down onto him with both hands. He wrapped
massive thighs around my head as if to prevent me from escaping and
jackhammered his massive adult meat into my head. A long low moan filled
the room as he ejaculated his stuff into me. I was in a blackout, unable to
breathe, surrounded by this man's hairy flesh, stuffed to the gullet with
his manhood. My eager throat contracted around the wet sloppy foreskin as
he dragged it in and out, in and out, in and out. At first I gagged, but
then something in me relaxed and I effortlessly took him all. I swallowed
intentionally around his cock and he gasped and I pulled spurt after spurt
of cum out of him, seven, eight, nine big jets of thick cream depositing
directly into my belly. He writhed around on the bed underneath my as I
suctioned him greedily.

Spent, Mr. Cliff's trembling legs fall back. He released me from the
headlock and let out a sigh. Cum ran down the sides of my mouth, and I
hungrily caught it and fed it back to myself, embarrassed at my hunger, but
not too embarrassed to stop. I wanted the moment to last forever. His
frothy dick was still burping out juice but the head was retreating into
the foreskin. I ran my tongue around and under the the folds, cleaning out
the slick wetness, darting my into the slit to get more whenever it started
to bubble out.

The burly man squirmed beneath me and pulled his fat prick away from me. My
mouth kept moving instinctively.

"That's enough. I think you're done."

He squeezed up the shaft and pinched off the loose foreskin, forcing one
more big dollop of his seed out of the folds with his thumb.

"But--"

He interrupted me.

"Nobody can know what we did. That was an accident, son. It was wrong and
it can't happen again."

The pearly drop slid down his dark and swollen shaft. I gulped
involuntarily, hungry for the last of him. He rose from the bed and began
pulling on clothes.

"Now, get dressed and lets take a look at that rocket you were building."

With the taste of his cum still strong in my mouth, I went into the
bathroom and pulled on my pants. His seed was inside me now. I had ingested
his most male part of this incredibly masculine bear of a man. I knew that
I was changed forever. He called for me as I dressed.

"Get in here, boy, we got work to do."

I pulled on my shoes and socks and smiled.

"I'll be right there, sir."

From the living room, I heard Mr. Cliff begin to whistle.

Other stories:

Cleaning Up the Janitor
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/cleaning-up-the-janitor