Date: Wed, 9 Jul 2014 01:15:42 -0400 From: Evan Williams Subject: The English Teacher and Aaron English Teacher and Aaron ********************* The following is a work of erotic fiction for entertainment purposes only. It contains intergenerational sexual fantasies that some might find offensive. If you might be offended, or are underage, or are potentially unduly influenced by such eroticism, please search for another form of entertainment. ********************* At first he thought he was dreaming. Storm troopers from another galaxy were hammering on his office door. He was looking for a place to hide, but couldn't find one. Just when he resigned himself to jumping out of the window, which he may or may not survive, he bolted upright in his bed and realized that he was safe inside of his apartment. The room was dark, someone was banging on his door but it was hardly likely to be an alien storm trooper. Mr. Carlton groggily got out of bed and stumbled to see who it was. Without even bothering to look through the peep hole he flipped up the latch, ready to give someone a piece of his mind. Just as he launch into a loud lesson about night time apartment building etiquette he realized that the thoughtless intruder was, in fact, one of his high school students. It was Aaron, a lanky black teenager from his English class. The boy was carrying a disheveled blue notebook, crammed with rumpled papers. Aaron was never on time with his assignments and the one that would be due tomorrow was unlikely to be an exception. The young man stood awkwardly in Mr. Carlton's doorway, too embarrassed to ask for permission to come in, yet certain enough of his teacher's good nature to expect an invitation. "Oh, Aaron, why don't you come in," Mr. Carlton said, stepping aside to make way for the young man and silently cursing the day his students Googled him and found out where he lived. "Thank you Mr. Carlton," the boy said respectfully. He brushed past the teacher and sank into a couch in the man's living room. "What brings you here this hour?" The boy eyed his disheveled notebook and looked back at his teacher. The youth's shorts usually hung at mid-calf, as was common for most of his friends because they sagged their pants well below their ass, but sitting on Mr. Carlton's couch, Aaron's pant legs where hiked up to his knees. He looked like a traditional school boy, vulnerable and awkward. He nervously wagged his legs in and out, gently bumping his knees together, adding to his awkwardness. "Oh, I see," Mr. Carlton said, in answer to his own question, "You waited until the last minute to work on your paper and now you are coming here for help. Well, I shouldn't help you. I should have a life outside of school too, you know. I should just let you suffer the consequences and take a low grade. Maybe that will teach you not to procrastinate." Aaron's eyes were wide and moist with genuine fear. "I'm sorry Mr. Carlton. I didn't mean to put off doing your assignment. I guess I just got too much goin' on..." The boy's voice trailed off. Mr. Carlton wanted to be mad at the boy, but he really couldn't be. Aaron was a nice boy. He was a bit of a prankster, and could be unpredictable at times, but that was part of what endeared him to the teacher. Anyway, Mr. Carlton knew that the boy was basically good at heart. Mr. Carlton had enough experience with teenagers to know that they are impulsive creatures who don't always think before they act, and who regret the actions they've taken after it is too late. If there was one thing Mr. Carlton had learned from working with teenagers it was that sometimes you just have to "ride with it" and not get too angry or flustered. "Okay, so whatever your reasons, you're in the situation that you're in and we've got to try to find a way to get you out of it. You'll need a place to write..." Mr. Carlton looked around his living room and kitchen, but bills were stacked up on the living table, and he didn't want to disturb them, and the kitchen table was stacked with dishes he hadn't put away. "Come on," he motioned to the teenager as he went into his bed room. There was clear space on his writing desk. He motioned for the boy to have a seat at the desk, but Aaron looked around the room, stared at the grown man's unmade bed and smirked. "Dayum, don't your mama ever tell you to make the bed when you get up? What you be doin' in here anyways?" The boy glanced around the room as if he were searching for something hidden, "You got some chick up in here somewheres?" Mr. Carlton felt a rush of discomfort as he realized that he was in a highly compromised position. It dawned on him that he was in his apartment bedroom with teenage boy. His student, no less. This was not the best move for someone who values his career – or who wants to stay out of jail. The boy seemed to think the whole thing was a joke. Mr. Carlton decided to just ride with it, "Okay, smart aleck; you're the one who needs help with his paper. Have a seat and stop making wise cracks." Aaron sat down and plopped his folder on his teacher's desk. He shuffled through the crumpled pages of his notebook until he found the assignment that was due. Mr. Carlton stood behind the boy, leaning over the teenager and impatiently tapping his desk. "What do you need help with, we don't have all night." Aaron held up a copy of the assignment as if he were deciphering a secret code, "Basically, I don't understand what you want from us. You say you want our reaction to the story we read in class, but what kinda' reaction you want?" Mr. Carlton rolled his eyes and sighed. It was the kind of question he frequently heard when he asked students to think for themselves. "I want you to think about the story we read and I want you to show me what's inside of you." Aaron made an expression as if the man was crazy. He stared at his paper. His face began to look as twisted and crumpled as the paper he was holding. His expression was a study in frustration. He stared at his paper for a long time, then he stared back at his teacher, then he stared at the paper again. "You want to know what's inside of me," the boy slowly repeated. "Yes, I want to know what's inside of you." The boy sat wordless, his lips moving but nothing was coming out. His hands held the paper in tight fists. He was clearly frustrated. Mr. Carlton felt sorry for the boy. He didn't want to see the young man suffer. The boy's young, smooth face was pure anxiety. Mr. Carlton wished there was something he could do to relieve his pain, but the student would have to work his way through it. "You want to know what's inside of," the boy said again, as if he were trying to drive the thought deep into his mind so that it would produce some kind of result. Mr. Carlton just stood behind the boy and nodded. Aaron looked annoyed, "You're makin' me frustrated, man." Mr. Carlton knew his student well enough to know that the boy probably needed to blow off a little steam, so he just let it pass. "Good; maybe you need to be frustrated. Maybe that's what it will take for you to get your shit together in my class." A goofy expression suddenly crossed the boy's face, "It aint that kinda frustration, man. It aint that kind of frustration." The boy slowly stood up and faced the man. He was almost as tall as his teacher. The boy pushed his teacher backward, sending Mr. Carlton sprawling across the bed. "You wanna know what the fuck is inside of me? Muthafucka, Ima show you what the fuck is inside of me – Ima put it inside of you." Mr. Carlton's heart leapt for a brief moment. Was this boy he trusted really about to harm him? He noticed a playful gleam in the boy's eye. Aaron was now giggling. The boy pulled the belt off his pants and held it in threatening loop over the man's head. "You want some of this? You want me to spank your ass?" He roughed up his teacher a bit but Mr. Carlton could see that at least the boy wasn't really angry. He was probably just frustrated with the assignment. Mr. Carlton had learned that a teenager's mood can swing on a dime, almost always in extreme directions. Rather than getting alarmed Mr. Carlton decided to just ride with it and play along with the boy. The boy's presence was so commanding, Mr. Carlton found himself saying, "Oh yes, daddy – spank me. That's what I want." The boy seemed stunned for a moment. Then a wicked smile crept across the boy's face. He saw that the older man was not afraid of him and was enjoying the rough-housing. The boy switched off the lights and pounced on top of the man. He tore his teacher's shirt open, "Oops, my bad," the teenager giggled. Then, in a deeper and more serious voice he added, "Looks like you about to get your teacher-ass raped." He started tugging at the older man's pants until they came down to the man's ankles. Mr. Carlton was torn; he knew that what the boy was doing was totally inappropriate, but he also found himself uncontrollably aroused. Rather than put up more than just token resistance, he decided to see what would happen if he let himself go. Having exposed most of his teacher's naked body Aaron started stripping off his own clothes. His smooth black body, in front of the window, gleamed in the moonlight of the dark room. Mr. Carlton could see that the boy was lean, but muscular. Within seconds the naked boy plunged on top of the older man and began humping between his teacher's thighs. "Now I'm the one in control," the teenager said as he pinned his teacher's arms against the mattress. Mr. Carlton couldn't control himself. He cock rose like a stiff board. The boy held the older man against his smooth, firm breasts and panted in the man's face. Mr. Carlton could taste his student's hot breath. He could feel the teenager's hard cock plunging against his body, stabbing just below his testicles, searching for a hole to enter. Being held so tightly by the horny teenager, and holding the boy's smooth firm body in return, made the older man feel more comfortable and secure than he had felt in a long time. He could have thrown the boy off if he wanted to, but he clutched the boy's back instead, wrapped his arms more firmly around the student's slender, naked trunk and allowed the teenager to mount him. Mr. Carlton heard a voice in his head saying, "Are you crazy? Way to lose your child clearances and never see the inside of a classroom again." But another voice entered his mind saying, "I'm just being a good teacher. This is what the boy needs. He needs to have some confidence and this will give it to him. Not everyone expresses themselves in words. Some people express themselves through actions. Who am I to stop my student's self-expression?" "Oh baby, you're so strong," Mr. Carlton gasped, ever playing the role of the supportive teacher who wants to encourage his students. Aaron responded to the encouragement by thrusting harder inside of the teacher's body and gasping and groaning in the grown man's face. He breathlessly penetrated his teacher and fucked the man is if he were a woman. "You wanna know what's inside of me?" the boy gasped, "Well you about to feel what's inside of me right now." In the heat of the passion, with the warmth and firmness of his student's smooth body on top of him, all Mr. Carlton could manage to say was, "That's it Aaron – Express yourself." Mr. Carlton allowed himself to grasp the smooth humping globes of the youth's ass as the boy pushed deep inside of him. Mr. Carlton was struck by the irony of what was happening; his teaching philosophy was that sometimes – in working with teenagers – you just have to ride with it; now he was riding on his student's hard teenage cock. The boy's words had deteriorated into unintelligible grunts and groans. His hot breath continued to envelope his teacher's face and the youth's sweat covered the older man's body. Mr. Carlton took in the sight in the moonlight. He looked beyond the humping globes of the boy's ass, all the way to the teenager's smooth, slender legs, pressed against the older man's white sheets. The lad's legs looked almost dark blue as they reflected the moonlight. Suddenly it occurred to Mr. Carlton that to teach teenage boys who have all sorts of frustrations and problems that they are trying to work out, one has to be a prostitute, making himself available for the teenager to use. The bed squeaked as the boy humped his teacher relentlessly. Mr. Carlton watched in the moonlight as his horny student worked through his frustrations and found his confidence and his self-expression inside his teacher's ass. With one, final, hard thrust and a loud grunt – as if to punctuate a point – the boy cried, "Take it," and shot a thick, warm sticky load inside of the man. This was followed by repeated bursts of cum until both teacher and student were exhausted. The two naked bodies lay in the moonlight. Mr. Carlton was proud of the obvious effort and energy his student had put into his lessons that night. The next day in school Mr. Carlton saw Aaron with his buddies – the boy looked sheepish and gave the older man a slight smile, but kept his distance for fear that his friends might be able to detect something. When the boy handed in his paper, however, it was a work of genius. Mr. Carlton called the boy to his desk, "This is really a fine piece of writing. When did you do it?" "This morning," the boy answered shyly. "After I got over all that shit that was blocking me I knew what you wanted and I gave it to you. I gave you what was inside of me." "You sure did," said Mr. Carlton, taking a deep whiff of the teenager's body as the boy leaned over him. "I think Ima need your help on another paper tonight," the boy quickly added. "Bet," the teacher answered, pounding fists with the boy. The bell rang and the teacher watched as his student disappeared, with a new sense of confidence, down the hallway.