Date: Tue, 24 Jul 2018 19:12:20 +0000 From: Tiao Wu Subject: Here Cums the Neighborhood: Part 13 This writing contains sexually explicit material, unsuited for readers under the age of 18. If you are underage, live in an area that disallows the reading of this type of material, or are offended by homosexual content, please do not read further. This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, settings, and ideas featured in this series are based on fantasy. Any character that resembles someone in your reality is purely coincidental. If you enjoy these stories, please donate to Nifty so that we can continue reading. Feel free to email hjk7359@hotmail.com to give feedback or constructive criticism. Please enjoy. *************************************************************************** Chapter 13 - The First Day of School Dad pulled me by my hand through our dark house. He walked on the balls of his feet, making the least amount of noise as possible. Rain water dribbled from my body, landing on the tile floor of our kitchen. Red and blue police lights flickered behind us. Moments ago a stand off occurred between my father and a member of law enforcement--a police officer, who had just finished fucking me in an open ditch. A police officer whmo I never even learned his name. I wish I could say that the lights weren't my fault, but they were. "Don't make a sound," my dad hissed. Earlier that night, I ran away. Looking back it was a foolish thing to do. I was angry that my dad wouldn't fuck me. That he wouldn't treat me like he used to. The reason was clear: my mother was home, and she ruins everything. Before she came back from her girl's trip with my sister Lisa, our house was our playground. I would take my morning doses of cum on the dining room table, I would wake from an afternoon nap with my father's lips on my asshole, and we would take our last breaths of the day filled with orgasmic cries of pleasure. Then we would wake up and do it all over again. Once my mother came home, all of that changed. My dad would avoid even looking at me, and if we ever were alone, he seemed skittish and nervous. He explained that it was all just to protect me. That my mother wouldn't understand. And maybe she wouldn't, but last night, I couldn't take it anymore. I ran. I bolted out of the house, straight into a thunderstorm. What I found in those distant bolts of lightning was the most important helping of cum I would ever taste. "In here," my dad whispered, pulling me into my bathroom. He flipped on the light, and turned on the shower water. My heart began to race, excitedly. Dad was finally going to fuck me, right here, right now. I fell into my dad, affectionately, embracing his hard body, running my hand along the bulge in his pajama pants. "Cut that shit out, Sebastian," he threw my hand away from him. I furrowed my brow, kneeling in front of my dad, looking up at him longingly. My mouth opened, tongue extended, essentially asking my dad for dick. I wiggled my hips expectantly, like an animal. I reached my hands up and tugged on the waistband of my dad's pants, revealing his cutting hip bones, and shroud of pubic hair, teasing me with what I desperately wanted. "No, Sebastian," he whispered, frustratingly. I huffed frustratedly, as though I'd forgotten the trouble I was in. I turned on my knees, slipping my pants down, showing my dad the top of my ass, hoping that at least he could fuck me before bed. "On your fucking feet, Sebastian," my dad snapped. Dad leaned over yanking me from under my arms. My limbs flailed a bit, but finally, I landed on my feet. "Take a shower. Go to bed. We'll talk in the morning." And with that, Dad left me alone in the bathroom. Steam began to fill the bathroom, just like my foggy brain was beginning to grow weary of all that happened that night. Dejectedly, I stripped my clothes from my body, leaving them on the floor in a soggy slump. Leaning over the sink, I wiped the condensation from the mirror examining the person in the reflection. I hardly recognized him. Sebastian a few months ago was so eager to get the new comic books at the mall, to go playing in the woods with his friends, his eyes excited for a new day of imagination and play. Looking at myself, it was like I had taken the form of something else. My hair was curly and wild. My eyes seductive, almost in a constant leering come-hither sort of way. My cheeks were caked with mud. My arms were beginning to grow stronger, though still in the lanky stages of growth. My chest and stomach, though spackled with dirt and mud, were tightening up. My nipples small and brown were beginning to perk up. I turned and looked at my ass. Pale and petite as it once was, had the tan-line of my Speedo, and was growing more voluptuous, though not massive by any means. A series of hand prints were beginning to fade along both of my cheeks. As I stepped into the shower, I recalled who those handprints belonged to. The farmer. The man the entire neighborhood of kids feared. The man who I shared my very first orgasm with. What the rest of the neighborhood didn't understand, however, was that he was simply misunderstood. On the outside he was a crazed sasquatch of a man, but in reality, he was the victim to a debilitating curse. A curse that was now passed on to me. The curse outlined what was to be a new control over the libidos of all the men around me. With a look I could take men by the shirt collar and have them filling me with cock in no time. Or at least that's how I understood it. There were caveats to every element of the curse, however. Even though I could swallow the largest elephant of dicks, my need for the taste of cum will be with me like a constant thirst. Even though I could store as much cock as I wanted in my ass, the amount of yearning that my hole will feel in withdrawal will be unignorable. And last, though I can inspire intense needs for sex in those around me, whoever I have sex with will need my hole, my mouth, even more badly. In the moment, I didn't see how these "catches" could really be so bad, but the idea that I was so close to having another cock inside me from my dad--the cock that made me, no less--I could already feel the need that the farmer was telling me about. It was like a throbbing pulse, deep inside me. That buzzing that I'd been attuned to in the past, but now it seemed so much more violent. After my shower, I went to bed. Laying still, under the covers, I was wide awake. I glanced at the digital clock next to my bed. It read 1:30. I sighed rolling over, trying to go to sleep despite my persistent erection. Before finally falling asleep, I must have beat off three times, tumbling into an orgasm induced slumber, drying cum stained my chest and stomach. The idea that my first day of school was the next day seemed to be distant in my brain. * The next morning, I travelled downstairs, groggy, sleep stuck in my eyes. Walking into the kitchen, Dad was drinking coffee in the kitchen, dressed in a white polo shirt and tight jeans. Seeing his muscular figure standing in front of me, woke me right up. "Glad you decided to join us today," my mother said, sitting at the head of the dining room table. I rolled my eyes, and poured myself a bowl of cereal. "Anything you'd like to say?" she asked, not looking at me. "Sorry," I mumbled. "Sorry?" she asked incredulously. "You're sorry? We've been living in this neighborhood for less than three months, and already we've had the police on our front lawn. Now, I don't know about you, but I intend for us to have a nice life here, and to not have to explain to the neighborhood that my child is a feral cat that runs around in the rain. I thought that you were smarter than that, but I suppose not." My mother stood up from her chair and left. No idea where, but I didn't care. I didn't need to hear it from her. Once she was gone, I looked over at my dad, scowling, as if to say "If you would have just fucked me, this wouldn't have happened." Dad finished his coffee, and grabbed his keys. "Get yer stuff. Let's go," he said. I left my finished bowl of cereal in the sink, and grabbed my backpack full of supplies and went outside to the truck. The ride to school was quiet. Dad didn't even play music on the radio. An erection was hard and rigidly planted against my inner thigh, warm and sticky in the morning humidity. I stared out the window, trying to keep from thinking about sex. It was impossible. As we would pass by different cars, I would see men driving to work, and imagining giving them head. I would see their faces, thrown back in a wild daze of lust and orgasm. I would see the mailman walking to a neighbor's mailbox, and imagine him fucking me senseless against the post of the mailbox. I decided to just close my eyes. Some time went by before my dad chose to speak up again. "We gonna talk about this?" he asked. "What do you wanna talk about?" I asked, my arms folded across my waist. "Why did you run off last night?" he said, concern in his voice. "Just wanted to, I guess," I replied, shifting away from my dad. "Look," my dad sighed. "You don't have to tell me all that happened while you were gone, but we need to set some ground rules." I didn't say anything. "If it's six o'clock, you're home. You don't leave anywhere, without first telling me exactly where you're going." "What about swim practice? Sometimes that goes later than six," I retorted. "S'fine," he said. Some more silence went on as we drove along a long empty road. The sun still had yet to really climb that high in the sky. We must have been five minutes away from campus. Suddenly, Dad pulled over onto a gravel road surrounded by trees. Rain water from the night before dripped from the branches and leaves and on to the windshield of the truck. "Seb," my dad said, as he put the truck into park, "I know that this hasn't been easy with yer mom bein' back." He turned to face me. "You gotta know that it hasn't been easy for me either." "So why don't we just go away somewhere? Why don't we just run away? Then we could do whatever we wanted, like before!" My erection twitched painfully in my shorts. I slammed my body against the seat of the truck in frustration. "We can't run away from things, son. We have to learn to get through things. It's not like we won't ever have time together," he said. "We jus' have t'be extremely careful." I leaned close to Dad, looking deep into his eyes. Trying to use my new powers on him, trying to transfer the message of "Fuck me. Fuck me right now in these bushes. No one will know. Feed me your cock. Anything. Anything!" But nothing happened. I grumbled in frustration. So much for a curse. "So when ca-aan we?" I asked, running my hands over the bulge in my jean shorts. "'Can we' what?" he asked. "Have sex again," I asked. "When can we, Dad?" He sighed in return. "That's hard, Seb," was all he could say. I couldn't take it anymore. Being this close to Dad, like this. Knowing that behind that zipper was a massive cock that could make me see stars when it was buried deep in my ass, it was too much. I shoved my hand down my pants, adjusting my erection. "Somethin' else hard?" he asked, with a smirk. "It's been hard since last night, Dad. It's torture," I groaned. "Can...can I at least jack off real quick?" I pleaded. Dad just stared at my waist, not saying anything. In a quick motion, I unbuckled my seatbelt and unzipped my fly, yanking down my shorts and underwear, letting my prick fling against my waist. A fiery excitement was building in my loins as if I could cum any moment. My toes tingled with an eager horniness. It was a whole body experience of lust. "S-sorry, Dad, it's...it's too much." "Damn, Seb," Dad said. "You weren't kiddin'." I scooped up my hard on in my hands, slowly jacking myself off, my eyes fixated on my Dad's tight and full body. Scanning him up and down. "C-can, I at least suck you, Dad?" He shook his head, his head hanging low. I moaned half in pleasure and half in anguish. "I think we should just not take any chances, Seb," he explained. "Ungh, but...but don't you like my mouth around your cock, Dad?" I asked, trying to charm him into letting me have it. "I...of course, son." "Mmmmm, Dad, your cock, mph, it's so good," I whispered, stroking myself. I watched as Dad's bulge pulsed inside of his pants. "Can...can I at least see it, Dad?" I asked, innocently. My dad sighed. He looked around the truck to see if anyone was around. Finally, he obliged, but unbuckling his belt, and with quick motion of his thumb, ripping open the buttons of his fly. Spilling forth was my dad's beautiful dick. My eyes widened in a crazed excitement. I stroked myself more fervently, taking in as much of my dad as I could. Slowly, my dad began to pleasure himself as well. Our eyes locked in intense focus as we ran our hands over our erections. "Yer lookin' good, Seb," my dad whispered, with a husky voice. I could have came just from the sound of his voice. I took the bottom of my T-shirt, and rolled it over the top of my head, showing my dad the rest of my body. "Mmmm," my dad grumbled, running his hand across his chest, feeling his nipple through his polo shirt. Dad was driving me wild, and I know I was getting to him as well. Precum began to seep from my dad's dick. Without thinking I reached over, and dabbed my fingertips over the head of his cock. "Ohhh, D-aaad," I whined. I lifted my legs up and rested my feet on the dashboard, taking Dad's precum and circling my asshole with my fingers. "Ohhhhungh," I moaned, feeling my dad's seed along the skin of my hole. Slowly, I began to slide one then two fingers into my ass. "Fuckin' A, son," Dad grumbled. "Love watchin' you finger your hole. Feels good?" he asked, a bit of drool starting to form on his lips. "Yeah, Dad. Ungh, it feels so good," I said, my voice full of yearning. "Ohhhh, Dad, I can't wait for your to fuck me again," I whimpered, pulling my fingers in and out of my hole. "Your dick feels so amazing when it slams into me. I wanna feel you all the way in," I groaned, shoving my two fingers as deep into me as I could. "ANNNNGH!" I shouted, my eyes rolling back into my head. "Yeah, son, I wanna feel your warm hole around my cock," he said, spit flying from his mouth. My balls began to tighten around the shaft of my five-inch prick, precum began to surge from my dick, the nerves running down my legs and to my toes shot with electricity. "Oh, god. I'm...I'm gonna cum, Dad. UNGH ERRRGHHH!" As I made my final moan, cum shot from my dick, landing on my sternum, my nipples, my stomach, my hand. "AHNNGH!!" I wailed as I pushed my fingers back into my hole, milking a final rope of semen, causing it to land in my belly button. My legs quivered with pleasure. I looked over at my dad, his mouth was agape, shoulders shaking, knees bouncing. "Ha...haah! HANNGH!" my dad's face twisted into a pleasure filled expression of ecstacy. He pulled his shirt up, causing his cum to fling into the tangled web of hair that spread across his abs. Dad's orgasm was more a series of sharp breaths, as though he were trying to keep quiet. Finally after both of us were finished, we reclined in our seats, taking the time to wipe the cum from our bodies, and feast upon our seed. Once were were all cleaned up, Dad started the car again, and we were off to school. I felt better having cum, but I could already feel that need for more coming back. Dad had a smirk on his face. "What's funny, Dad?" I asked. "Ha, nothin'. It's just," we pulled up to a traffic light. "y' do crazy things to me, s'all," he explained. As we waited for the light to turn green. My dad spoke up again, "Look. If you have a first day 'a school. When I come pick up you after swim practice," he made a long pause. "I'll take us somewhere. Somewhere that we can get it outta our systems." My hand slammed against the handle of the truck door. "Really?!" I beamed excitedly. "Yeah, but I don't wanna hear anything negative from your teachers on the first day, or else I'll just make ya go to yer room," he said, as he pulled up to the drop off zone at Birchwood Middle School. "Thanks, Dad!" I said, overjoyed. Finally, a chance for us to really fuck, just like the good days. I pulled on the door handle, and grabbed my backpack. "Have a good day, son," my dad said. "Bye!" I shouted back. * Birchwood Middle School used to be the high school, at least that's what I'd heard from my mother as she was describing how great it was before we moved here. "And they even have a little swimming team," she explained sarcastically. Looking around, I could tell. The buildings seemed giant compared to my old school. Each major building having at least two floors. And all of them were connected with breezeways, or garden paths, with awnings to protect the students from rain. Lots of trees grew in the campus's main Quad area, with picnic tables and benches for lunch. It was a bit overwhelming. Looking around, I saw most kids heading for the gym, so I decided to follow them. I looked high and low for anyone that I might have known from the swim team, even Bowl Cut would have been a relief to see in this sea of strangers. But no luck. As I walked into the gym, the musk of old wood and locker rooms hit me right in the face. In the bleachers, dozens of students were reuniting for the first time since summer, excited to see one another again. I climbed into the bleachers, searching for a free spot to sit. Thankfully I found one near the back that had some space between the other kids. Sitting a while, I started to wonder what we were all doing here. Before long, I heard a familiar voice, "Smalls!" I jerked my head to the side to see Curt Bronkaufsku bounding up the stairs. "Hey, Curt!" I said, relief sweeping over me. Thank goodness, a friendly face, I thought. As all the other kids continued filing in, we caught up, talking about swim times, movies we wanted to see. "Yeah, Die Hard 2 isn't supposed to be that great, but I really liked the first one," Curt rattled on. The sheer size of the class sitting around me was hard to take in. My old school had one class of each grade, and we all went to the same school, just in separate buildings. So I knew the kids in my grade since I was in kindergarden. I was basically seeing my entire school crammed into one gym. "My dad wants me to join wrestling, but I don't even think we have a wrestling team," he continued. On the gym floor there were a series of tables with letters on them. I could only assume they were supposed to represent our last names. A handful of teachers were standing on the sides and at the front of the gym, probably to assert some kind of watchful authority. All the of them were dressed nice and professionally--not what I'd typically associate with teachers. Suddenly, one of the teachers from the crowd stepped forward, fists clenched. He was a bull-dogish looking man, wide shoulders, narrow waist, and long powerful arms. He had a well-groomed haircut, with a full black beard around his face. "He looks like Donkey Kong!" Curt shouted, laughing hysterically. "Good morning," I could see him say, but the voices of the gym drowned him out. "Good morning!" he shouted over the cacophony. A few people looked his direction, but it seemed the hivemind knew that if we continued talking, then we wouldn't have to listen. "'EYYYY!" he shouted over everyone. The gym grew instantly quiet, with a few whispers trickling in. "Thank you," he projected. "On behalf of Principal McCook and the rest of your teachers, I'm happy to see all of you make it to school today after a long summer." He began to walk the floor, engaging each corner of the room. "My name is Mr. Sands, and I am your vice-principal," a couple of girls giggled, and a few voices murmured under their breaths. "I know, I know, Mrs. Rankin, after thirty years at Birchwood chose to retire." "Ugh, I h-aaated her," a voice behind me said. I pulled my attention back to Mr. Sands. I followed each of his movements with hungry eyes. He looked almost mechanic in the way he was built. Despite being covered in the armor of a suit and tie, I could tell that he had powerful muscles hidden under all those clothes. Each time he would lift his arms, I paid close attention to how his chest unfolded and balled up. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, trying not to get riled up too early in the school day, especially since it would be a long school year if I kept this up. "I'm very familiar with this campus, because just fifteen years ago, I graduated from Birchwood, back when this gym was part of Birchwood High. For ten years I was in the Marines, where I got to serve our great country in Iran." A nervous hush swept over the students. All of the sudden, this wasn't just some guy trying to be tough. He was someone that was demanding our respect. "So being a graduate from Birchwood, I know a-aaaall the places that my classmates would run and hide. SO!" we all jumped. "You can be sure that you can't hide from me." Part of me kind of wanted to be found by him, if I was being honest. I pictured being hiked under his bazooka of an arm, as he took me back to his prisoner camp. "Gimme the answers, or I'll gag you with his cock!" he would yell, ripping off the front of his uniform pants, letting a fat dick flop in front of my face. I shook my head laughing softly to myself at how insane I was acting. "What?" Curt whispered. "N-nothing," I said, wiping the smile off of my face. "In a moment, you will step forward and head to the table that has the letter that starts with your last name. Make two lines. You will then receive your schedules for your classes. Once you receive your schedules, I want you to make your way out of the gym, and to your first period class. Class starts at 8:30 today. Understood?" he asked. The gym mumbled various responses. "Alright, on your feet! Head to your last name initial!" The bleachers quaked and shook as we all got up at once and headed to the tables with our letters on them. Once we all got moving, everyone felt more comfortable speaking again. "See ya, Curt," I said. "I'm over here," I gestured to the "S" table. As I made my way to my line, I saw Mr. Sands going through each of the lines, checking our dress code violations, making sure that we were following the rules. "This skirt needs to be a good inch longer, ma'am. Tomorrow, I wanna see something different." "Sir, those shoes need to be close-toed. I don't need anyone getting hurt, understood?" Finally Mr. Sands approached me. Sizing me up and down. Being up close to him, he was definitely shorter than I imagined. Maybe only 5' 11". His attitude made him seem much taller. "Sir," he said, addressing me. I looked at his chest, rather than in his eye. "Up here," he said pointing to his face. I looked up even further, looking into his dark brown eyes. His lips were a soft salmon color that popped nicely against his dark beard. A sheen of sweat was forming on his forehead. As I continued looking in his eyes, I saw his powerful and prominent brow twitch slightly. He backed away a bit, almost like one does when you see someone that you might have known for years, surprised. "Your hair. It's...messy," he said, in a confused stupor. "Get a haircut, or I'll shave your head here at school, understand?" he asked. I ran my fingers through my hair, untangling some stubborn knots. "Okay," I said. "Thank you, sir," he said, and making a left face, he sped away. The line began moving more quickly, and finally I reached the front, only to find. "Smalls!" a familiar voice sounded. "Hi, Coach," I said with a wry smile. It was good to see him. I was beginning to see Coach Scott as a second father. I don't know what it was. Maybe it was the idea that I knew deep down that he wanted to have sex with me. That he saw me as special. He recognized my talents, in and out of the pool. "Let's see here," he said while flipping through a series of papers. He was dressed up in a button up and slacks, unlike the typical board shorts and school spirit T-shirt that he normally wore. I gazed admiringly at him. His deep tan mixed with the blush of the sun was even more exaggerated in the lighting of the gym. His silvery grey hair was combed, but still had the semblance of pool water that I've always known him to have. Just seeing him sitting here caused me to flash back to our first time in the pool showers, where I had zero idea about the world of pleasure still to come to me. "Ah, here we go." He flipped over a paper that had my name, my locker number, and a list of all the classes I would be taking this year. "Hmm," he said. "Looks like you have Ms. Lewis for English second period," he said rubbing his chin. "I heard she's pretty tough, but I know you'll do fine." I smiled at his confidence. "But, if you find that you're having a hard time in that class, my off-period is also that same period." "Off-period?" I asked confused. "Yeah. It's a period where I don't have a class. Just me by myself in the locker room office over there," he pointed to a set of stairs that lead to a room beneath the gym area. "In fact, I bet I'll be free around 10:00, if you were to stop by," he winked at me as he said that. My heart skipped a beat as he said this. "Uh, ah, yeah, Coach. Definitely!" I smiled at him, giving him a hungry look. I took my schedule, and made my way to the exit where the rest of the students were headed. I looked over my schedule and checked to see where my locker was, as well as who all my teachers were. S. SMALLS -- BLD. 2 LKR # 69: 21-23-21 A1: Math - Flores rm. 201 A2: English - Lewis rm. 203 LUNCH Cafe A3: Health - George rm. 311 A4: History - Lucas rm. 102 Underneath that list of classes was a second one with the letter "B" before each of the course numbers. B1: Science - George rm. 311 B2: Art - Ensalada rm. 412 LUNCH Cafe B3: Spanish - Rodriguez rm. 101 B4: Athletics - Scott GYM I remember hearing that this school had "A" days and "B" days that alternated each day. That way you would be in class longer, and not have to see the same classes everyday. Just looking at my schedule, it looked like "A" days would be the hardest. I made my way to the Building number 2 where my locker was. Scanning the stickers on each of the doors, I finally found mine: 69. That's ironic, I thought. As I went to put in my combination, my eyes widened to see who my locker neighbor was. "Paul!" I said, excitedly. Paul was dressed up as usual in a white button up with a tie and slacks. "Uh...oh, hey," he said, somewhat shyly. "I haven't seen you in weeks!" I said. "How are you?" "I'm...good I guess. I guess my dad told your dad what happened?" My heart sank. Paul's dad, Mr. Grisham was a pastor in town. During a sleepover at his house, I caught Mr. Grisham jacking off in the bathroom, and the next day at church, we had sex in his office. "I...I just know that he wasn't sure if I was the best influence for you," I said, somewhat sadly. I knew that my actions caused that to happen. But maybe I won't have to lose a friend over what cock caused me to do. "He wasn't super happy about me going into the farmer's yard," he said glumly. I wanted to tell him how I went back, and how the farmer is actually a good person, but I knew there would be no way to explain that to him. "Yeah. I'm sorry, man," I said. "Maybe we can at least be friends at school?" I asked. "Sure," he said, with a smile. Once we both figured out our lockers--it only took us about a dozen tries--we left for our first class which we realized that we both had: Math. We walked into room 201, looking for empty seats and scanning the room for anyone that we might recognize. I noticed a couple people on the swim team, giving them a head nod in their direction before having a seat in front of Paul. The classroom had an older feel to it. The walls and floors were in need of being renovated, and the desks were reused from the high school, with pencil drawings from students past. "Buenos dias, amigos!" a chipper voice called from the hallway. In bounded a young man who I assumed was Mr. Flores. He definitely didn't fit the mold of what I typically recall as being a teacher from my school. My teachers were all older women. Mr. Flores looked like he was in his mid twenties, had light brown skin with curly black hair and stubble that spread from his cheeks down to his neck. He wore a sweater vest, a tie, and tight slacks that showcased the strong legs of a soccer player. He had warm, dark eyes, with crows feet that pinched the corners of his eyes. "How are we doing class?" he asked enthusiastically. The class groaned in response, all in good humor. "I know, I know, summer's over, but we're going to have a good time. Don't worry," he said, looking at each of us. Then, he spun around to face the chalkboard. My eyes instinctively when to his butt. It was small, and wiggled a bit as he wrote on the chalkboard. I blinked a few times to snap myself out of my horned-up gawking. On the board, Mr. Flores wrote "2+2=?" The class laughed softly at this. "Anyone have the answer?" He tapped his chalk on the board, waiting patiently for someone to speak up. As the class remained silent, his eyes got bigger, resembling someone who is seeing a dead person walk toward them. "FOOOOOOUR," a kid in the back yelled. "Ay! Muy bien!" Mr. Flores said, patronizingly, erasing the question mark he'd written and replacing it with a four. "Okay. How about this." He erased the second "2" so that the board now read "2 + x = 4". Mr Flores pretended to have his brain explode as he finished writing. The class giggled at this. "Anyone?" he asked us again. This time Paul spoke up. "Um...two?" he said awkwardly. "Ye-eeeees! X equals two," he wrote what he said on the board, drawing a big box around it. Then he erased the whole thing, and wrote something new: "9x+4=-5+14+13x". The classes eyes grew wider as he continued writing. As he finished, he looked at us again. "Anyone?" he asked with an understanding that we would not know. But I knew. I knew the answer. At my old school, our math teacher taught us algebra, so I could solve these kinds of equations in my head. My eyes raced across the blackboard combining numbers and letters as I saw them in front of me. Mr. Flores looked across the class in pretend expectation, giving us ten seconds, twenty seconds to respond. Finally, I raised my hand. "Yes! Thank goodness," he said pointing to me. "X = 10?" I said, unsure of myself. The rest of the class sort of laughed nervously. Mr. Flores looked at me with surprise. "That's correct," he said, pleased and somewhat stunned. "Would...would you show us how you got the answer?" he held out the piece of chalk that he was using as though it were a magic crystal. "Uh," I said, shifting in my seat, feeling the remnants of an erection that still hadn't decided to dissipate. "O-okay," I said. I shoved my hands in my pockets, tucking away the boner in my shorts, praying that the bulge in my shorts wouldn't be noticable. I took the chalk from Mr. Flores's hands and approached the board. With ease, my hand flew across the slate of the board, combining like terms, cancelling out positives and negatives, and finally writing "x=10" on the board, drawing a box around my answer, just as Mr. Flores had. "Well," he said, "looks like we've got an expert on our hands. Thank you...what was your name?" he asked. "Sebastian," I responded. "Sebastian Smalls." The rest of the class looked at me with malice. I knew that appearing smart wasn't the best way to make friends, but the way I saw it, I already had a couple of friends, and, well, Mr. Flores was who I was really trying to impress. An hour and fifteen minutes blew by, and the bell rang signalling for us to be dismissed and head to our next class. "Good job, Sebastian," Mr. Flores commented on my way out. "Uh, th-thank you!" I sputtered. "Oh, and my dad calls me 'Seb', if you want to just call me that," I explained. "Sounds good, Seb," he said, flashing a smile at me. Paul and I checked our schedules together to see what classes we had next. "Looks like this is the only class that we have together today," I noted. "See you at lunch then!" Paul said walking off to his next class. It felt good to know that I had a friend my age in this school. Looking at the clock--9:26--I began counting down the minutes until I would get to meet another one of my "friends." My next class, English, was probably one of my worst subjects. Entering the room, I saw the same kind of posters that most English teachers had. Famous authors--dead and white--with quotes that they had said printed next to them, helpful reminders about what a noun and a verb is, and baby animals playing in the grass with a motivational slogan, like, "Friendship is what brings us closer together," or something useless like that. I chose a seat close to the door and not too far up front. A bookshelf towered next to me, and I scanned the spines, checking to see if there was a title that I might like. Red Badge of Courage, Johnny Tremain, Pride and Prejudice. I flopped to my desk, resting upon its cool surface in defeat. I glanced at the clock again--9:29. I wiped my eyes, trying not to seem disrespectful and distracted. "Hey," a girl's voice chirped near me. I looked to my side and saw a girl, who I could only describe as striking. She had long, wavy black hair, pale skin, bright pink lips and green eyes. "H-hi," I said, clearing my throat. "Your Sebastian, right?" I looked at her with confusion. "Yeah. Yeah, that's me," I said dumbfounded. "Math boy?" she asked to clarify. I guess my reputation precedes me. "Ha, yeah, I guess so," I said, somewhat embarrassed. "I'm Shirley," she said, stacking her pink and yellow binder on her desk. She flipped it open to where she had a section of notebook paper. "Gonna be real with you," she said, tossing her hair out of her face,"I royally suck at math," she confessed. She tore a piece of paper out of the binder scribbling something on it. "You're royally awesome at math, and I really need at least a B in every class, so," she handed me her paper. Her name Shirley Benevidas was written in cursive along with a phone number. "Maybe you can help me out?" The bell rang, cutting through our conversation. "Alright, everyone, settle down. Settle down!" the teacher appeared at the front of the class. I took the paper and slipped it in with my journals. I took another glance at the clock--9:30. I sighed in frustration. "I'm Ms. Lewis, your English teacher this year." She was a toadish looking woman with a broccoli stalk sort of haircut. She wore a floor length dress and flat beige shoes. "I've been teaching here for over twenty years. Some of your parents sat in this very same classroom." She spoke in an authoritative way that made me uneasy. Suddenly I realized, I needed to think of a way to get out of class so that I could go visit with Coach Scott. "In this class, you will read, and you will write. These two things are the most important skills that you can learn in your entire life, whether you think so or not." I glanced at the clock again--9:31. My left leg started to bounce up and down with anxiety. Ms. Lewis continued to spout phrases to indicate her experience in teaching and how no-nonsense her classroom style is: "If you don't have a pencil with you, you might as well not come to class." I looked across the room, and a majority of the students looked bored, a couple were asleep. Only a couple of overachievers were diligently taking notes, sitting near the front. I felt bad, since she was obviously a person I was supposed to respect, but my mind was drifting as well. Glancing at the clock again--9:38. I took a deep breath, trying not to think about my uncomfortable erection, dying to be set free. I wondered if Coach Scott was sitting in his office right now, thinking about me with this painful eagerness, just like me right now. I wondered if, as he waited for me to arrive, was stroking himself to pass the time, pulling his soft foreskin over his erection. Kneading his balls, running the palm of his hand over his tight chest. I wondered if his head was thrown back, eyes closed, fantasizing about all the magic I was capable of doing to his cock. My mind raced thinking of my coach naked. Of him standing, astride, cock swinging from his waist, prepared to feed me. "If your spending your nights playing Nintendo and watching TV, you'll need to change that real quick. There will be no time for games," Ms. Lewis squawked over the dead-eyed crowd. I glanced at the clock: 9:47. Eight minutes, I thought to myself. Just eight more minutes. I can do this. I started to worry. What if she makes us do some kind of group activity? What if we have to take test? What if there's a fire drill. I glanced at the clock: 9:48. I glared at the clock, as though I could move forward the minutes with my mind. "And your first assignment starts now," Ms. Lewis said, followed by a choir of groans. "Groan all you want," she said, with a flip of her hand as she reached for a stack of papers. She began handing out assignments in uneven stacks to each of the rows. "This is to see how well you know grammar," she instructed. "Correct each of the sentences with accurate proofreading marks." "Can we work in partners?" a boy asked. "That would defeat the purpose of seeing how well you know how to correct grammar on your own," she said dismissively. The sound of paper flipping and sliding on the wooden desks filled the now quiet room. Most of my classmates were working sort of robotically on the assignment, some were just staring at the page as though it were a magic eye painting. I glanced at the clock 9:52. My heart was practically beating out of my chest. My swollen prick throbbed beneath my jean shorts. My breathing began to quicken, almost as though Coach Scott's mouth was around my cock beneath my desk. My balls rolled against my shaft. Sweat began to form at my temple. I began to wonder, was it possible to cum just from thinking about someone? I was worried to find out, but something within me was heating me up, and I knew I couldn't sit in this room much longer. I didn't care what time it was at this point. I needed cock. I needed it. "Can I go to the bathroom?" an apathetic voice sounded from the back of the room. "Make it quick," Ms. Lewis said. My hand shot into the air, as the kid was making his way out of class. "What is it?" Ms. Lewis said from her desk. "Can I go to the bathroom, too?" I asked honestly, and urgently. "Only one person at a time," she said dismissively. I watched in agony as the door slowly began to shut. I looked down at my desk, at my assignment that I'd barely even started. The words on the page were beginning to not even make sense. What I knew said "she took a taxxi to the stor", a sentence purposefully full of errors, appeared to read "dick cock penis sex fuck cum." I'm going crazy, I thought to myself. It seemed like an eternity was going by as I waited for my classmate to return, and judging by the nature of the rest of the class, he was probably taking his sweet time. I glanced at the clock--9:57. Minutes with my coach were being stolen from me. I began to go through a series of nervous thoughts. What if I don't get there right when he told me to, and he ends up leaving his office thinking I'm not showing up. What if Mrs. Lewis just ends up being strict and doesn't let me leave at all? What if--? The door opened and the apathetic kid slumped into the class. My hand went in the air again. "What is it this ti--?" Ms. Lewis asked. "Can I go to the bathroom, please?" I asked, entirely too eager. "Quickly," she said despondent. I practically lept from my seat, taking the bathroom pass from my classmate, leaving the class at a brisk pace. In the empty hallway, I realized that I didn't remember where the gym was exactly, especially without the hordes of students to follow. I did my best to retrace my steps. I rounded the upstairs hallway, past my locker and saw the stairs which lead to the first floor. Clutching the restroom pass, I started skipping down the stairs, my erection rubbing against my briefs with each step. "Lost?" I heard a familiar voice say. I froze. Mr. Sands was standing at the bottom of the stairs arms folded across his massive chest. "Oh, I-I was..." I searched for a response. I was holding the restroom pass, but I wasn't going to the restroom. I couldn't lie. Mr. Sands seemed like someone who could see through any kid's excuses. "Coach Scott needed to see me," I said. I looked Mr. Sands up and down. Lust coursed through me. It was in every cell of my body. I could feel the phantom probings of a finger, or something drilling into my hole, pressing me further. I locked eyes with Mr. Sands, who continued standing his ground. I fixated on his eyes; the light brown color that circled around pupils. As I continued staring, the arms that were once folded across Mr. Sands's chest, slowly began to loosen, and fall to his side. The authoritative sturdiness that had once characterized him seemed to soften. Mr. Sands looked around behind him, almost dazed. "Wh-where are you supposed to be?" he asked, regaining his confidence once more. "Coach Scott asked me to come down," I said, stoically. "So the gym, then?" he continued. "Yes. I'm new, so I forgot where it was," I shrugged. Mr. Sands pivoted so that he was facing the same direction as I was. "Down this hall, through those double doors," he explained, stretching out his arm. I marched down the stairs. As I reached the bottom, I slightly brushed my body against his. "Thanks, Mr. Sands," I said softly. I took in a deep breath of the musk that I could sense through his layered suit. Baked bread is what it reminded me of. As I walked away from Mr. Sands, I couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenaline having just gotten away with skipping class, especially with the biggest hardass in the school. At the end of the hall, I triumphantly pushed through the double doors and headed to the gym. It was odd being in the gym after the short little orientation we had in the morning with all of the students at the same time. Now it was just empty with the distant hum of the lights over head. The smell of musk and old wood was even more powerful than before. I found the steps that Coach Scott told me about earlier this morning and travelled down into the locker room. I realized that this is where I would be tomorrow at the end of the day, so it was nice to be able to explore a little bit. The smell of body odor and aerosol deodorant was the first thing that hit me as I entered the boys locker room. The room was essentially series of lockers stacked on top of one another organized into cubbies. Turning to my left, I saw a door with a small rectangular window that had the word office labelled next to it. Approaching it, I gave the door a couple of knocks. Nervously, I stood waiting for someone to answer. At this point, anyone on the other side of that door, I would be happy with, just as long as they gave me what I needed. Suddenly, I saw Coach Scott peak around the small window that lead into his office. My eyes widened and I gave him a big smile. The door swung open. "Morning, Smalls," he said, very officially, allowing me to come in. Since this morning, he had changed into a school spirit T-shirt, and blue sweats. "Good morning," I replied, snickering a bit. Looking around his office, it looked like he was in the middle of working on things for the swimming season. Lots of filing cabinet drawers ajar, files spread upon his desk. I glanced at the clock--10:03. Class was over at 10:55. "Are you busy?" I asked. "Hooo," he replied. "Just getting things started for the year. It's always hectic these first few days back. I'll get caught up though. No worries." I hadn't realized that being a teacher or a coach could be so stressful. I wondered if Ms. Lewis or Mr. Flores was feeling this way as well. "Oh, okay," I said sort of nervously. "I can go back to class if you need to keep working," I said moving back toward the office door. "No!" he said reaching for me. "You kiddin'?" he pulled me close to him. I felt his hard-on resting against my stomach. He leaned down toward me, resting his lips on mine, sending electricity through my skin. His tongue hooked into my mouth, getting a long and thorough taste of me. I kissed him back, wrestling my tongue with his, slurping on his full pink lips, until we finally pulled away from each other. "How's school going so far?" he asked, sort of breathlessly. "It's fine," I said smiling. "Great right now!" I added. "Mmmmmm," Coach Scott smiled, and returning to my mouth once more, pressing his lips to mine, sliding his tongue around my mouth. With a free hand he shut and locked the office door. Soft groans entered my lungs as we continued making out in his office. Our hands ran across each other wildly, sharp breath escaped our noses. Our fingers searched each others' bodies, unsure of what to probe, what to pinch, what to grope. I gripped one hand to Coach's chest, feeling the firmness of his nipple in my palm, while my other hand cupped his heavy erection. Coach had his left hand under my shirt, sliding his warm hands around my bare chest, my lower back, petting me anywhere he could touch. His right hand was shoved down the back of my shorts, kneading and working my ass. "Nnnngh, God," he moaned, pulling away from my lips for a moment. "Just...just wanna play with you all day, Smalls." "Mmph, c-can we do that?" I inquired. Why wish for it if we could just do it. He laughed while nibbling my neck, sending waves of pleasure through me. "Don't want Ms. Lewis to wonder where you've wandered off to," he said cheekily. "Ungh, that class is so boring!" I complained, as Coach began unbuttoning my shorts, easing his access to my ass. "Th-this is...ungh...way more fun!" Coach laughed deeply. In one swift motion, he lifted me off the ground, letting my shorts fall to the floor, and rested the palms of his hands against my ass. I wrapped my legs around Coach's sides as he carried me. Slowly he continued to kiss me, and I kissed him back. We drifted around the room, until Coach planted me against a wall. My legs rested on Coach's biceps as he used his fingers to slowly strip away at my briefs. "Smalls," he addressed me, pawing at my erection that still lay hidden under my pair of pre-cum soaked briefs. "You like our special time together right?" I nodded in a daze. "R-right. Yes sir." "And you like being my special guy, right?" he asked, sneaking a finger through the leg of my briefs, circling my asshole with it. "Ahhh. Y-yes," I whined. "And you wouldn't want it all to stop, right?" he asked, sliding that finger into my asshole, sending fire through my legs and toes. I was worried about this line of questioning. Was he suggesting that this was all going to end? "R-right," I responded, arching my back in response to Coach's finger pushing its way in and out of me with ease. "So you'll make sure," he pressed two fingers into me, sending shivers through me, "that no one knows about this." "O-of course, Coach," I winced with pleasure as he probed me in and out. "I wouldn't want others to get envious about all the special time we have," he said working his arm slowly in and away from me. Coach Scott, at this point, was my only sure fire source of dick that I had. I wouldn't do anything to screw it up. "Yeah, me neither," I said finally. He smiled in response twisting his two fingers in me, causing me to throw my head back, my voice deflating with a severe moan. My briefs were practically see-through with all of the precum I'd excreted throughout the day. Sweat began to form at my brow and neck. Finally, Coach lifted me off of the wall, and turned around, laying me gently on top of his cluttered desk. Coach slid my briefs off of my legs and tossed them to the floor. With a bewildered look in his eye, he shook his head like a bull before charging into a crowd and dove onto my prick, swallowing it whole with no problem. "ANNGH!" I yelped, my hips instantly bucking against his face. Coach ravenously lapped up any residue of precum that I'd left behind, cleaning my cock with his tongue. I gripped the back of my Coach's head as his he continued to bob up and down on me. With a pop, he resurfaced, lifting my legs up over his shoulders, and taking a face-full of my asshole "HANNNGH!" I whined, deliriously. Coach ran his lips and tongue around, inside, above, below, all the prepositions I could imagine. Worshipping the asshole in front of him. Taking his tongue, Coach ran the length of my asshole, my taint, balls, shaft, and then swallowed my cock whole once more. My toes curled, and my knees quaked as my legs rested on Coach's shoulders. Coach was driving me wild. He was taking me to a different plane of the universe with his mouth. As amazing as it felt, I wanted something more. "Unnnngh, Coach, lemme...mmmph, lemme suck you!" I pleaded. Coach jumped to his feet, yanking his sweatpants down the length of his legs, along with his underwear, revealing that sweet, plump, cock that I'd grown so fond of. Velvety foreskin kissed the tip of his pink dick like a rosebud getting ready to bloom. Coach also slipped his arms through the sleeves of his shirt, and tossed it over his head, letting it land on the floor with a soft thud. My Coach was naked with me. Once again. I took in an eye-full of my Coach's stocky body. His dark tan mixed with hues of sunburn. His powerful chest, armored with muscle. His round stomach, completely devoid of hair. His thick legs, round ass. I could stare at him all day. Coach grabbed one of my ankles and spun me around on his desk, so that my head was hanging off the edge, facing the ceiling. Coach took his hands and pulled my shirt off me. Like a curtain being pulled over my face, once my shirt was off, Coach's cock was only millimeters from my mouth. Like a fish to bait, I latched my lips around the tip of his cock, and crunched my abs, so that I could push my head through the entire length of his shaft. Coach exhaled in a long, gruff moan. He squatted his legs a bit so that his dick would sink into me even further. "Yyyyyyeah, open that throat, Smalls. UNGH," he belted. Coach pushed the entire length of his dick into me, his balls resting on my eyes. It was exhilarating to feel the force of a man that far inside me and not even hesitate or gag. I began to feel the sheer awesomeness of his newfound power. Voraciously, I continued sucking my coach's cock, tasting every inch of him with gratitude. Drool leaked from the corners of my mouth, staining my cheeks. Coach stooped over and gobbled up my dick as well, forming a comfortable sixty-nine. I loved feeling his heavy and warm body across mine. His belly on my chest. His chest on my stomach, the perkiness of his nipples tickled my abdomen. Coach Scott plucked and prodded my hole as he continued sucking me off sending my brain into overdrive. I grasped Coach's ass, and encouraged him to skull fuck me, his balls dancing across the top of my face. We both whimpered with pleasure as we continued gargling on each other's dicks. Coach drove two of his fingers deep in me, prodding my prostate. I moaned in a pleasure-stricken stupor, sending thick vibrations through my Coach's dick. I felt my balls reeling and rolling tightly against my prick, and Coach's fingers were milking drops of precum out of me. I knew I was close to cumming. I gripped Coach's soft yet firm ass, holding on for dear life as my orgasm surged through me. "MMMMPH...MMMMMMPH!" I squealed, bucking my hips wildly as cum surged down Coach Scott's throat. My legs spasmed and quaked across Coach Scott's desk, my feet accidently kicking over stacks of supplies. Coach continued his quickening pace of driving his cock in and out of my throat, as he lapped up the final drops of cum from my dick. "Ho shit," he groan, "Ho shit, Smalls. Yeah...yeahyeahyeah! YEEENGH!" he wailed, emptying what tasted like bottles of cum into my stomach. The warmth of his juice made my skin tingle. Just feeling Coach Scott's cock completely lodged inside my mouth was heavenly. I could have laid like this all day, accepting deposits of cum, and feeling the spongy leatheriness of Coach Scott's dick raking my throat, blinded by his sticky ball-sack. Coach slowly withdrew his dick from my mouth, and stood up. We both were shiny with sweat. Coach stooped down, out of breath, and landed his lips onto mine, kissing me deeply, even though I was still facing upside down on his desk. Our shared breath wreaked of an intoxicating mixture of cum. I felt like I was floating. Coach finally pulled away, and walked around to the other side of his desk, and helped me up, so that I was facing him. I fell, exhausted from my orgasm, into his chest, instinctively kissing the salty sweat that rolled between the peaks of his pecs. Coach propped his hands under my ass and pulled me into him, both of us falling into his large office chair. I sat straddling his naked body, slowly gyrating my hips, humping his round stomach, sensing the warmth of his cock near my hole. I leaned into his face, collecting another series of long and sensual kisses from his lips. I glanced at the clock--10:51. I gasped. "Holy shit, Coach," I said, as I craned my neck toward the clock. "Class is about to be over!" Coach kept his strong hands around my lower back, kneading my ass. "So?" he asked, with a pleased smile on his face, jutting his dick against my hole. My eyes fluttered at the sensation of a dick pressing that spot. "I-I...I have to get back to class," I sputtered. "Ohhhh, c'mon," Coach teased, pulling my cheeks apart, and pushing his cock harder against my hole. He'd gotten it so lubed up with his spit, that he could have slipped inside of me with no problem. "M-Ms. L-lewis," I stammered in a lustful drunken state. "She'll be..." Coach Scott slowly slid a couple of inches inside. My mouth dropped, and formed a satisfied smile. Then I shook my head. "N-no, really, Coach," I said pushing up on him. "Aww," he whined as I dashed around his office searching for my scattered clothes. I awkwardly shoved my legs through my briefs and did the wild dance of pushing my feet--already decked out in my shoes--through my jean shorts. I found my T-shirt, and whipped it over my head. I looked around, making sure that I didn't miss anything. My eyes ran across my Coach, still sitting nude in his office chair. "S-sorry, Coach," I said sheepishly. "Hey," he said, standing up and walking over to me. "If you could, would you?" he asked, pressing his dick against my T-shirt. "Ho, man," I said, shaking me head. "Definitely. I want you to fuck me so bad," I said, gripping his uncut cock. I glanced at the clock--10:53. "Ahhh, I have to go Coach!" Coach unlocked the door, and stepped back to where his clothes were piled on the floor. "I'll see you at practice!" I said making a sprint out of the locker room. With seconds to spare I made it back to Ms. Lewis's class. Everyone was already standing up and getting ready to leave, so I managed to sneak inside, find my things, scribble my name on my practically blank assignment, and toss it on her desk before escaping for lunch without any words. I was exhilarated. I couldn't believe I managed to play with coach--during school! If this was what each day could be like, I couldn't wait to for more. * I met up with Paul and Curt at lunch, sitting at picnic table outside, even though it was hot. "Hey, where's Sarah?" I asked Paul. Sarah was Paul's twin sister. She was one of the first people I met in the neighborhood along with Paul. "Oh, she has her own crowd," he remarked. "She's like a different person in school, than at home." "I wouldn't know," I said. "My sister's basically never around. She's always in her room, listening to music, or talking on the phone." "Well, I don't relate to either of y'all!" "Curt interjected. "I don't have any siblings. Just me and my dad." My head shot in Curt's direction. "Just you and your dad? Man...that sounds awesome." I might have said that a little too excitedly. "R-really?" Curt asked. "Uh, well, yeah," I started. "My dad's kinda boring. He works all the time, so he's always tired. Kinda strict, too," Curt said. "Yeah, I guess my Dad's pretty strict, too," I said. I was happy to have gotten some time alone with him this morning, but part of me felt like we were drifting apart. Hopefully, he follows through and we do get some time together after swim practice, I thought. I just have to keep flying under the radar, and hopefully Ms. Lewis doesn't get too mad about me not being in class. Eventually it was time to go to 3rd period. I looked at my schedule. "I have Health with George next," I said to Paul and Curt as we tossed our trash away. "Me too!" Curt replied as we started off. I was glad to have Curt with me since this class was in a different building than my first two, so he was able to show me where to go. As we stepped into the room, there were a few familiar faces from other classes. One of them being Shirley, who was sitting by the window, daydreaming as the rest of the class filed in. "H-hey Shirley," I said, awkwardly. "Oh, hey!" she said her hair falling to the side. "Hey um, where did you go during Lewis's English class?" My stomach twisted in a knot. Even though I'd just finished with lunch, I could still sense Coach Scott's cum on my breath, and as much as it riveted me to have his cum in my stomach, I knew I needed to be more conspicuous in the future. "Oh, I, uh...the bathroom," I said finally. Her face dropped into one of mock disbelief. "No you weren't, let's be real," she said coolly, and taking a seat at one of the lab tables. "Sebastian, did you skip a class?" Curt whispered. "You might get in trouble with Principal McCook!" "Oof, yeah, he's no joke," Shirley added. "You know they give licks here right?" Curt said quietly again. "Licks? Really? At this school?" I said surprised. My old school further south used them, but I would have thought a bigger school like this one would be different. I shrugged, "It doesn't matter anyway. I don't know if Ms. Lewis even noticed." And with that comment, the bell rang. I had George's name on my schedule twice, so I was eager to see who was teaching both Health and Science. Just as the thought entered my mind, in walked Mr. George. My eyes widened as a giant hulk of a man walked through the door. "Afternoon everyone. I'm Mr. George. Scientist, football coach, dad of three," he said his short introduction. Mr. George looked like a drill sergeant. Dark tan skin from being in the sun, hairy gray arms that punched out of a striped polo shirt. A flat top military style haircut with a stripe of gray rounding his skull. A broad physique, giving me the impression that might have actually played as a defensive lineman on an real professional football team. His waist was narrow, with two thick yet long legs that pushed him well over six foot tall. I couldn't get over how beefy all the teachers at my school were. How was I ever supposed to learn anything, when all I can think about is Mr. Flores sitting on my face with his hairy hole, Coach Scott gagging on my cock, Mr. Sands's dick plunging down my throat, and now Mr. George pounding me into next week. I squirmed in my seat as I tried to keep from checking him out too much, despite it being so difficult to resist. "Now, as I'm introducing myself, I'm gonna pass this around, and I want all of you just hold it in your hands for just a few seconds. Then, hand it off to the person next to you. Mr. George grabbed a football from a beige tote bag, and as we passed it around the room, he told us things about his life. "I used to coach football here when it was called Birchwood High. In fact I was the defense coach when Mr. Sands was here as a student, when we went to State." His voice was deep and loud, like a coach's needs to be. "Everyone had a chance to hold the object in their hands?" he asked. We all nodded and the last girl tossed it back to Mr. George. "Alright. This is a brand new football--right out of the packaging And already there are 250,000 microscopic germs all over it." The class recoiled in disgust. "Each hand has an average of 5,000 germs on it, so by the time the ball reached...what's your name sweetie?" he asked the last girl. "Courtney," she said in a tiny voice. "...Courtney, she got the brunt of all of y'all's germs," he finished with a smile. "Ewwwww!" we all yelled. "Now don't worry, don't worry, I have wipes for all of you so you won't feel like you're gonna catch some gross disease. But think about it!" he said, as he started handing wipes to each lab table. "How many items do you come into contact everyday? Why aren't we all getting sick all of the time from all these germs? And how do we keep from spreading germs?" he listed and listed all of this big and kind of scary questions. We all were leaning in with our crumpled napkins in hand, dying to know the answers to all of these questions. "Well, that's what we're here to discover," he said. Suddenly, a sound rang over the intercom speaker. "Mr. George," a monotonous woman's voice spoke, cutting through all other sound in the room. "Yes? Voice from the sky?" the class laughed at this. "Can you please send Sebastian Smalls to the principal's office?" My heart sank to my feet. No, I thought. I was supposed to get through this day without getting in trouble. Already, I've messed up. "I'll send'm to you!" he called back. He looked around the room. "Sebastian Smalls, who's that?" he asked. "That's me," I said, raising my hand, and getting out of my seat. Mr. George followed me to the door, a tower of a human being compared to my size. I avoided looking into his eyes, worried that I might trigger something. As much as I'd love to see what was underneath his clothes, I felt like I needed to wait before I tried anything. "Just go through those double doors, and he's in the building in the very middle by itself," he explained. "Godspeed, sir!" he shouted, and I walked away sheepishly. Outside while everyone else was in class, I almost felt like crying. My dad was going to be so upset with me when he finds out that I got sent to the principal's office, I thought. On the first day! I was angry at myself for not being able to control myself, skipping English to get my rocks off with my coach was a dumb idea. I walked into the office and saw the face of that same monotonous voice I'd heard earlier. She was an older woman working on a word search book at her desk. "Um," I said approaching her. "I'm Sebastian." "Down the hall, last door on the right," she said without looking at me. I turned and walked down the hall, my heart racing, wondering what kind of principal this guy was. Maybe he'd let me off with a warning. Maybe I just needed to sign some sort of paper that my parents forgot to do. Finally, I reached a door that said "Guy McCook: Principal". I tepidly walked through to find a man in his mid fifties sitting at his desk. Balding with stringy wisps of black hair covering the top of his head. Bushy eyebrows that were in a flat line over sad and tired looking eyes. A thick Chevron mustache obscured his upper lip. He was dressed in a suit and tie. He appeared to be rather husky, but I couldn't really tell since he was sitting. "Come in," he said. "Shut the door please," he said in a rushed and brusque tone. "Have a seat," he said gesturing to one of the two seats in front of his desk. I took a seat and sat on my hands nervously. "Mr. Smalls, I understand that you are coming from a different school?" he asked and declared at the same time. He wrote down something on a form as he asked. "Yes," I said. Mr. McCook continued writing notes and clicking his pen against his desk. "At your old school, were you allowed to take short bathroom breaks during class?" he asked again, a bit more probing. "I guess so," I shrugged. "You guess so," he repeated, continuing to jot down notes. Finally, Mr. McCook sighed deeply and leaned back in his brown leather office chair. He lifted his hands over his head, giving me a better idea of his body. Definitely huskier. A body that once knew exercise, but now has grown complacent in later age and financial comfort. With an exhale he finally said, "Ms. Lewis says that you were out of her class for almost an hour." I sat still, not saying anything. "Do you have any explanation for this?" he asked, sending daggers from his eyes. On the first day of school, it was clear that he was not interested in dealing with discipline already. I also got the impression that Ms. Lewis sent lots of referrals to Mr. McCook. Maybe he was just tired of it. "I..." I searched for what to say. He could easily ask Mr. Sands what he saw when I bumped into him in the hallway. I also remembered what Mr. Scott said. About how our special time together would all go away if I told anyone. "I was just wandering around. I was bored." It was a lie. But it was a lie that I knew made sense to a principal who just saw me as cutting into his alone time in his office. Mr. McCook smirked, causing his mustache to stretch slightly. "So here's what we can do. We can either make a phone call home," a sort of evil grin spread across Mr. McCook's face. "Or you can take some licks and head back to class." "I'll take licks," I said, without even a moment's hesitation. Mr. McCook's eyes jumped in surprise. It wasn't even a question. I couldn't afford a phone call home, and plus, my ass was used to punishment. How bad could it be. "Well, alright then," Mr. McCook stood up from his seat. He was much taller than I'd imagined--at least six foot five. His suit created a sort of boxiness to his frame. He opened a drawer and pulled out a wooden paddle that had eight holes drilled into it. "On yer feet," he ordered. "Hands on the desk, and lean forward." I smiled a bit as I stood up and assumed the position. I pushed my ass out a bit more than necessary, rocking it back and forth as I spread my legs preparing myself for my punishment. "Skipping class, and I still don't know if you are telling the truth," he said as he circled around his desk. "I think that's ten licks," he said. I gripped the wooden edge of Mr. McCook's desk tightly, preparing for the first one. The erection that I'd had all day was now raging and throbbing as hard as ever. I sensed footsteps behind me. "Here's one," he muttered. THWAP! "ANGH!" I gasped, feeling the sting of the paddle whip through my whole body. Tears instantly welled in my eyes from the cutting pain. The erection in my shorts pulsed with need. I panted as I spread my legs wider, wagging my ass. "Two." THWAP! "GYRAHH!" I grunted, as my waist jerked forward, thrusting into Mr. McCook's desk, jostling some of the items he had organized upon it. I regained my composure, gripping the edge of the desk tightly. "Three." THWAP! "URRRRRGH!" I roared into my forearm, my left leg lifting off the ground. I whimpered softly as I stood my ground. "Had enough?" I heard his voice ask behind me. I turned around to face my principal, standing steadily only a foot or so behind me. The paddle hung loosely in his hand. I locked my eyes with him. My veins were hot with racing blood, and my hard on was only growing more uncomfortable. I telepathically screamed my messages of yearning to him, saying everything I could with just my eyes. "I can take so much more than you're giving me." "Lemme show you what I can do." "Feed me cock." "Pound my ass you sad, fat fuck." "Keep going," I whispered, lust dripping on my voice. His eyebrows shot to the middle of his forehead. A smile spread beneath his mustache. "Ha, really?" I furrowed my brow, nodding yes to him. He checked me up and down. "Take those shorts off," he commanded. "They're taking too much of the sting off." I thought he'd never ask. I quickly and eagerly fumbled with my fly, slipping my shorts down to my ankles. My dick bobbed up and down, pressing against my underwear. The front of my briefs were translucent with my precum. I assumed the position against my principal's desk once more, pushing my ass toward him. "This oughta do it. Four," he said before winding up the paddle again. POW! "ANNNGH!" I gasped, my knees shaking. I felt my balls snap to my shaft as though magnetized. I went and grabbed my dick instinctively, as if to hold in something. My eyes widened, my jaw dropped, I felt veins in my neck showing themselves. Sweat beaded on my forehead. My ankles rattled for about ten seconds. Finally I relaxed my body, with a small slump. Did I just cum? I thought. I looked at my hand, sticky with precum. I ran my hand beneath the waistband of my briefs, tending to the rawness of my ass. I retrieved my hand, looking back at Mr. McCook, slowly panting, with need in my eyes. "Five," he said, maintaining eye contact with me. POW! "Mmmmm," I moaned softly as I tightened my ass as the paddle swung against me. By now I didn't even recoil at the stinging force against me. I simply enjoyed it. I bit my lip as I turned to face my principal once again. I slipped my hand beneath my briefs, running my fingers against my ass, making sure to give Mr. McCook a peek. "Hurts doesn't it?" he asked, in a low voice patting the palm of his hand with the paddle. "Want me to stop? We can still make that phone call home," Mr. McCook offered. "No! Anything but that!" I barked. "D-don't stop," I begged. "Keep going," I whined, pushing my ass closer to Principal McCook. My skin was on fire. My need for cock was growing more and more intense with every breath I took. "Six." Ka-POW! "UNnnnngh!" I moaned, gripping my stiff penis. I slid my fingers in my mouth, tasting my precum. I balled up the bottom of my shirt, grabbing hold of the fabric tightly. My ears rang as I grew more and more horny and desperate. "I still don't think you're getting the picture," Mr. McCook grumbled. I felt a finger loop through the back of my briefs. "This little bit of cloth is gettin' in the way," he remarked, peeling down my underwear. My erection acted as a wedge, keeping my briefs from falling completely off. If only he could pull just a little bit tighter. "Unngh, yeah," I whispered greedily, feeling the cool air on my backside. "Seven." SLAP "GRRRRRRNNNGH!" I wailed into my arm. The wood electrified my senses, feeling it on my bareskin. "Eight." SMACK "Ahhhhhhhhhhhh," I whispered with relief, stroking my erection through my briefs. I turned to face Mr. McCook. My lips were wet with drool, my eyes wet with tear, and my skin wet with sticky sweat. I looked down at my ass, seeing my once pale skin, was turning a bright pink. I scanned my principal standing before me, getting a closer look him. He wore black dress shoes and gray slacks with thin stripes running up the legs. At his waist I saw a bulge swollen between his legs. "Nine." Thud. Mr. McCook's hand connected with my ass this time. He didn't remove his hand once made contact with me. Instead his hand gripped my muscle firmly. "Mmmm," I moaned, exhaling through my nose, at this softer, gentler thud. Mr. McCook gazed at me, in wild confusion. His eyebrows furrowed, his jaw clenched. Even though a mustache covered his lips, I could sense the he had a bewildered sort of smile. "You're..." he started, awkwardly. "You're liking this." I was panting slowly, as a response to my intense heat. "So are you," I said, exasperated. I turned around to face Mr. McCook, revealing my hard-on covered by what was now completely soaked underwear. Mr. McCook's eyes were practically bulging out of his head as he saw what I was displaying to him. It felt like an eternity went by of him just locked into looking at my boner and me waiting for him to say something. I stood my ground. "Don't I have one more?" I asked. My prick bounced in my briefs, doing its best to tempt my principal. I locked my eyes into his. Encouraging him with as much of my thoughts as I could. "Do it," I shouted in my head. "Take the step. Come and taste this cock. I know you want it. Take the fucking step." Suddenly, my principal reached behind him, locking his office door and took a step forward. Mr. McCook was inching toward me, his breath shuddering and hoarse. Finally, he was only maybe an inch away from me. I kept my eyes on his. "Do it. Feel my cock. Put your hands on me. Enjoy yourself. Do it," I repeated in my head. Mr. McCook took a deep breath. "Will...will you speak of this to anyone?" he asked softly. I shook my head. "No," I said solemnly. My heart raced in my chest as I felt my principal's warm body heat radiating from his suit. I glanced down at his waist again to examine the cock that he was housing inside of his slacks. Mr. McCook stepped forward once more, pressing his body against mine, grinding his erection against my stomach. He let out a long whispering moan as he slowly dry humped me. The fabric of his suit was hot and itchy against my skin, but I enjoyed feeling him. His motions were slow at first, causing me to become planted against his desk. His hands with hair of dark strings across his knuckles ran across my t-shirt, and finally around my back feeling my ass once more, giving it soft and tender squeezes. He looked down upon me, his mouth drooped open, eyes glassy with lust. "Kiss me," I said softly. I don't even remember him inching forward to lay his lips on mine. Suddenly his mouth was on me, kissing me hard. His breath smelled of the lunch he'd had earlier that day. His thick Chevron mustache tickled my nose and upper lip. I kissed him back, letting my tongue travel into his mouth. He sucked my bottom lip, wrestling his tongue with mine. He was an awkward kisser, of someone who hadn't been kissed in a long time. His movements were rushed and frantic, as though he were in a hurry to get something done. His hands moved about me wildly as he kissed me, not knowing what to touch. I perched myself at the edge of Mr. McCook's desk, swinging my legs around his waist. I tossed his suit jacket off the sides of his shoulders so that it was only hanging off his elbows. I eagerly began unbuttoning my principal's shirt. With each button that came loose, a thicket of gray and black hair was burst forth like cotton. My eyes widened at the amount of body hair he had. I untucked his shirt and flung open each side like a set of curtains revealing his body to me. His chest was soft and sagging somewhat but still retained some definition, and his hairy stomach was somewhat doughy. His nipples were a soft pink that contrasted brightly against the dark mess of chest hair that covered practically every inch of his chest and stomach. I instinctively dove my face into his chest, rubbing my face against his carpet of hair, running my teeth and tongue across his pecs. "Mmmmm," he groaned softly into my ear. His hands shook away the suit jacket and shirt that he was wearing, leaving nothing but a tie hanging loosely around his neck. "Mmmmph, yeah chomp on those tits, boy," he grumbled. I did was he asked, as I felt around my principal's body, petting his hairy back and feeling up whatever part of his chest I wasn't worshipping. Principal McCook after having been worked up, finally hooked his hand under my shirt and ripped it over my head, leaving me in nothing by my precum-soaked briefs. He shook his head in bewilderment, his hair a slight mess, before practically tackling me against the top of his desk. He continued kissing me ravenously, issuing soft whimpers into my mouth as though he had just spent weeks crawling through the desert and I was an oasis of fresh water. His erection pressed into mine as he dry-humped me, rocking me back and forth against his desk. His lips traveled from mine, to my cheeks, to my neck, to my chest, to my nipples, to my stomach and finally, he began gumming my erection through my underwear. "Annngh," I groaned as I wound my hips against my principals face, my legs lay gently across his hairy back. I ran my fingers through his thin hair, gripping his neck as I thrusted my hips against his lips. Mr. McCook inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of my precum, his eyes fluttering at the impact of the scent. He slipped his hand under my briefs, feeling my sticky hard-on underneath. I shuddered with pleasure as he stroked me, kissing my smooth thighs. Finally he hooked his wrist through the fabric of my briefs, slipping them down my legs, across my shoes and to the floor of his office. His hot breath rolled against my erection, and it was all I could to keep me from grabbing Mr. McCook by the ears, getting him to suck me off. He sort of just stared at it, as though my cock were some kind of gem that he'd been looking for in a cave. In awe. His lips dipped toward my skin, and flicked his tongue out to taste my cock. My joints vibrated with excitement. He ran his tongue up and down my shaft kissing the tip of my dick causing my toes to curl in my shoes. With a deep breath, he wrapped his lips around my dick, slowly lowering his head so that he was swallowing each inch of me. I couldn't help but throw my head back in ecstacy. Mr. McCook's movements were somewhat stiff, inexperienced, but the warmth and texture of his mouth was enough to make my balls jolt with excitement. "Unggh," I moaned as his mouth ran up and down my cock, his hands petting the length of my stomach, sending chills through my skin. His large and beastly hand coiled around my dick as he continued sucking me. My body writhed upon Mr. McCook's desk as my balls began to tighten up against the shaft of my tool. "Oh, Mr McCook, yer...yer gonna make me cum. Yer gonna ma....ungh UNGNMMMPH!" I clenched my forearm to my mouth, keeping my volume from being too uproarious. Slow waves of pleasure shot through me from head to toe. My lower back lifted off the desk, as my cock surged into my principal's mouth as though into a vacuum. "Mmmmm. Mmmmm. Mmmmm," Mr. McCook moaned softly through his nose, gulping down my cum. I relaxed against my elbows, my bones and muscles a shuddering mess. Mr. McCook retreated from my cock sending one sharp jolt of sensitive energy through me, a gasp shooting from my lungs uncontrolled. "Wha...what..." he whispered, slowly stroking me, sweat forming on his forehead. "What is happening to me," he said, shaking his head like a tired horse. I lifted myself up and gripped his tie, pulling him toward me, planting a firm kiss on his lips, ravenously taking in the smells and tastes of my cum. Mr. McCook uddered whimpering moans as we continued making out. My hands fumbled with my principal's belt, undoing it clumsily while still continuing my dance with Mr. McCook's tongue. Finally I got it off, and pulled hard on the buckle, the sound of his belt leaving his pants whipped through the room. Instantly his slacks dropped to the floor revealing an oversized pair of white briefs, his erection sagged in the extra fabric, and pubic hair sprawled from every opening. On his pale and hairy legs he wore sock garters coiled around his sturdy calves. I clapped my hands against his thighs, pulling his groin against mine. Feverishly he began to dry hump me. His core flexing with each thrust. More and more gruffly, Mr. McCook's moans intensified. I slipped off the edge of Mr. McCook's desk, and ran my hands along the outline of his erection. "Since you got to taste mine, can I taste yours?" I asked innocently, continuing to stroke my principal's cock. "Ahhhhgh," he hissed. "Fu...fuhg...sh...sure," he said in a sex-crazed stupor. I smiled, and began tugging on Mr. McCook's underwear, until the waistband travelled past the tip of his cock, leaving it wagging in the wind. My eyes widened with hunger. It was no more than seven inches, but thick as I've ever seen. Glancing at my hand, it was probably the width of three of my fingers. The main of pubic hair that shrouded around his groin probably gave the illusion that it was smaller, but I didn't mind. His balls hung like lemons from his shaft. Without thinking, I pounced upon his dick with my mouth, working the thick and spongy head that was almost purple in color, before proceeding to travel down the shaft of his cock. "Huhhhngh, HUHHhhngh!" he groaned unintelligibly, rocking back and forth as I took more and more of him into my throat. It wasn't long before my face was completely masked in pubic hair, drawing in thick clouds of my principal's musk. His pelt tickled against my face, but I loved it as it gave me a sense of progress in completely deep throating Mr. McCook's cock. As I continued pushing myself deeper onto Mr. McCook's cock, my jaw began to stretch more than I even though it could, especially with a dick as thick as his. But sure enough, with enough effort, Mr. McCook's cock was mine. "Ho...holy shit," Mr. McCook grumbled with a soft and wimpy voice that I hardly recognized as his. I began to pick up the pace, stroking Mr. McCook's cock as I worshipped it with my tongue and mouth. "Ohhhh, ohhhngh!" Mr. McCook whined as he began pushing his hips against my face, feeling more comfortable and aware of my limits (which, if I had any limits, I had discovered them yet). Mr. McCook's hands began sliding themselves through my long and messy hair, guiding his hips into me. I wrapped an arm around his thick thigh, allowing the force at which Mr. McCook was able to drive his dick into me to be even greater. "Ahhhhhhh, fucccccccckkkk," he groaned relaxingly, arching his body to lean on his desk in front of him. I looked into his eyes, and saw a face that was totally different than the one where I walked in earlier. What was once a depressed-looking man who was complacent in his job, cut in by a desk, mindlessly going through bureaucratic monotony, now stood someone different. His eyes looked in a direction that could only be described as looking into a different universe, his jaw drooped in a slacked smile, his tongue wagging slightly past his lower lip. A strand of spiddle hung suspended from that tongue, rocking back and forth as he thrusted his dick into me. He looked like a man reliving a purely blissful experience from years ago, and from the way his cock was drilling into my head, I could tell that he never wanted it to end. It wasn't long before the steady strokes he had been making into my throat became more staggered and clumsy. The balls that I fondled in my hand began to bounce, and the legs that were planted in front of me began to vibrate and shake. "Oh. Oh. Oh oh. Ohohoh," he stuttered. "Oh shhhhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiit!" His face twisted into a pained and pleasure-filled expression of ecstacy. "GAHH!" he belted before pounding my face in uneven increments. I held my spot firmly as slowly a familiar taste entered my mouth, and I realized he was cumming. Greedily, I began swallowing each ounce of his warm and tangy load. My eyes widened with surprise at the volume of cum he was able to produce. Seconds went by and I was still taking my satisfying drink. Finally, the massive balls that were flexing toward my principal's thick shaft, finally dropped, and Mr. McCook's body softened with relief. I pulled my mouth away from Mr. McCook's dick, wiping my mouth of any extra cum that might have collected around my lips, and stood up close to him. "Jesus Christ," he whispered in a daze, stumbling on his feet. I slipped my hand into his, and pulled him in for another long and passion-filled kiss, the flavors of our cum mixing within the chambers of our mouths. I eventually perched myself upon Mr. McCook's desk once more, spreading my legs considerably, showing him my tight, pink, asshole. Mr. McCook stepped back in a mixture of fear and awe. I examined my principal in this vulnerable state, admiring the fur that seemed to spiral around every inch of his skin, the body that I at first underestimated was making my cock scream for more. I locked eyes with him, begging for him in my mind. "Come on, run your mouth on my hole. I wanna feel your mustache tickle my balls." "I...I..." his cock danced between his legs with excitement. "I wanna taste it," he said, with a voice of confliction. "Yeah," I whispered, smiling, pulling my cheeks apart for him, giving him a better look at it. Mr. McCook practically stumbled forward, pushing the two chairs that were in front of his desk, far and out of the way, before swan diving into my hole. "Annngh!" I jolted with surprise. Mr. McCook feverishly smeared his face against my ass, shoving his tongue in and out of my hole, gripping my cock, all at the same time. I could only laugh, not because I thought it was funny, but because of how skilled Mr. McCook had become at pleasuring this kid, he'd only just met. "Yyyyyyeah," I roared, gritting my teeth, punching my principal's shoulder. "You like that hole?" I whispered, tauntingly. "You fucking like that you piece of shit?" I growled, and spat a wad of saliva square on his forehead, which caused him to look at me with surprise. A look that said "What did you just call me?" In retaliation, he spat a wad even bigger, its frothy consistency landing right on my lips. I smiled, lapping it up. Mr. McCook, jumped to his feet, and swooped up to my face like a predator and sucked the spit right off my lips, before leaking it back into my mouth in the form of a French-style kiss. I moaned wildly as he defiled me, thrusting my cock against his hairy stomach, slippery with our sweat. "Get back down on that fucking hole," I ordered my principal who was only millimeters away from my face. Without question he jumped off of me before driving his face back into my ass. "ANNNNGH, yyyyeah," I growled, gyrating my hips against his nose, mustache, and lips. Something about bossing around the top person who made the rules in this school was exhilarating. A vein snaked along my principal's temple as he sucked and chewed on my warm hole. Suddenly, Mr. McCook, jumped up again looking exasperated. "Oh, god, I'm gonna cum again," he said, jacking himself off frantically, his chest shaking with his mad strokes. Holy shit, I thought. I positioned myself so that my body would act as a landing pad. "ERRRRGH!" Mr. McCook roared as he catapulted load after load of thick cum along the length of my hips, cock, stomach, and chest. A volcanic eruption of an orgasm that painted me that familiar color of off-white. Mr. McCook whimpered as a single strand of cum dangled from his shining clenched fist that gripped his thick cock. Greedily, I began wiping up Mr. McCook's seed and feeding myself as though it were maple syrup left behind on a plate. My lips smacked as my fingers left my mouth with each mouth for of cum that I thankfully swallowed. Mr. McCook stood in a dazed and content stupor, a childish smile twisted on his face, slowly stroking himself, building a foamy coating around his thick cock. While I admired Mr. McCook's naked and oversexed body, I lifted my legs once more, sliding a couple of my fingers into my hole. I looked deep into Mr. McCook's eyes as I fucked myself with my fingers. "I still have one more lick," I said, driving a third finger in my ass, my jaw dropping in pleasure as I felt around my insides, pressing against my prostate. A bead of precum emerged from the head of my cock, staining my stomach with it's clear, jeweled color. "Maybe if you fuck me, I'll learn my lesson," I said suggestively. I withdrew my fingers, and inched off of Mr. McCook's desk, spinning around for him, and assuming the position that got this whole thing started in the first place. I wagged my ass for him, giving him a perfect view. "God, I...I can't say no," he panted. I felt an increasing wave of warmth approaching me. Suddenly, I felt the warm stickiness of the tip of Mr. McCook's cock pressing against my hole. I gasped with excitement. Slowly, his cock began to make its way inside of me. Due to how thick he was, my whole body recoiled, not expecting to be stretched so widely. "Annnnnngh," I moaned as Mr. McCook slowly began pushing further and further into me. My knees began to shake, and looking down, I saw my dick dripping with a practically invisible strand of precum. "Y-yes...yes," I whispered. Finally Mr. McCook pushed the final three inches of his dick into me, huffing a massive exhale into my ear. I felt the wild hairiness of his body press against my back and ass. The pillowy mane of his pubic hair tickled my ass and lower back. "Ohhh, gyaaahd," Mr. McCook rumbled deeply, causing my chest to vibrate. "Y-yeah," I said stiffly. "Y-ya l-like my ass?" I asked softly. "G-god, I....I love it," he whined, slowly pulling himself away, before pushing himself back into me. "Onnnngh, your cock is so big," I whimpered, encouragingly. "B-biggest dick....ungh...I've ever seen," I said, lying obviously, but knowing that it would get him fired up made me want it even more. "Mmmmmm," I moaned, as he rocked against me. "Ooooomf, I...I need more licks, Mr. McCook," I whined. "Gimme more. I promise I won't break the rules again," I said, pushing back against his ass. SMACK! "ANGH yeah. Again, Mr. McCook," I whimpered. SMACK! "MMMPH, God yes," I whispered animalistically. With this, Mr. McCook was picking up his speed feeling the need to thrust against my faster and more energetically as his hand connected with my ass. "Again," I pleaded. SMACK! "Ohhhhhhhh, fuck yeah. Fuck me, Mr. McCook," I wailed. "Nnnnnngh," he growled, beginning to pick up speed, his cock plowing into me. His cock, though not as long as other's that I've experienced, because of how thick it was, my prostate was taking a perfect pounding. I could feel the thick veins that encircled his dick massaging and teasing my insides. I could feel the massive knob of his dick hooking itself in my body in a perfectly orgasmic way. "Fuck yeah, come on, faster. Faster!" I begged. And faster he went, smacking his thighs against my ass, his stomach and chest sliding up and down along my back. My cock bounced wildly. "Ungh. UNGH! Yyeah, fuck me, Mr. McCook. Fuck me with that big cock," I pleaded. Mr. McCook, hooked his hairy arm around my neck, pulling me back toward him. His head craned around to meet mine, so I turned and faced him to meet his lips with mine. His voice trickled into my lungs with soft moans as his dick surged into my ass, his balls swinging against the backs of my legs. I was driving him wild, and I was loving every second. Suddenly, he pushed me from my back, sending me, flopping against the top of his desk, fucking me more fervently. My body became a rag doll as his cock powered into me. No matter the speed or the force, my ass kept up, squeezing and tending to my principal's massive cock. Looking at one of the corners of his desk, I saw a framed picture of a much younger version of himself--the same Chevron mustache--along with a woman I assumed to be his wife. SMACK! "NNNGH!" I squealed as his hand slapped against my ass once more. I felt my balls beginning to tighten against my shaft once more. "Yeah...fuck me. Fuck me just like Mrs. McCook. I know you make her scream with this cock of yours." I winced as I felt Mr. McCook's cock power into me even more forcefully. Five inches retreating from my ass and then all five slamming back into me. "OH FUCK YES," I screamed. I looked up at the picture again. My eyes focusing on Mr. McCook's wife. I scowled at her in her dark blue dress, with freshly permed black hair. Her red lips against off-white teeth, and a piece of jewelry anywhere it could be placed. I glared at them in this picture with a smile on my face as my principal continued reaming me with his thick cock. My cock began to fill with electricity, with that familiar feeling that I was about to spill. My legs began to go numb, and the cock that I knew what lodged in my hole, I could feel pulsing behind my eyes. "Ho fuck," Mr. McCook howled, "I'm gettin' close again," he whimpered. "Yeah, Mr. McCook. Fill me up with your cum," I whimpered. "Keep fucking me, keep fucking me, fuck the cum outta me," I begged almost zombified. Shooting a look at the picture in front of me, I reached forward, and snatched it off of Mr. McCook's desk. I looked at it closely, their smiling faces, the idea that they dressed up for something that meant a lot to them, and the idea that the very man twenty years or so later was plowing me from behind, his cock buried into me, seconds from unleashing a third load to be stored in my ass. "FURRRRRRRGGGGH!" he bellowed. I felt his dick pulsing as he emptied what felt like scalding hot water into my ass. My eyes rolled at the sensation of it. "Keep fucking me! Keep FUCKING MEEE!" I demanded. I shoved the picture of Mr. McCook and his wife near my dick, and watched as I emptied one rope after the next. One stream of cum landed on the bottom of the picture glancing off, another landed along Mr. McCook's suit that he was wearing, the next right on Mrs. McCook's smiling face, until finally the two of them were drowning in my sperm. I panted taking deep breaths as Mr. McCook's moaning voice hummed behind me. I tossed the picture on his desk, letting it slide to some untouched corner of his work space. As Mr. McCook's cock pulled out of my ass, I felt a glob of cum spurt from my hole and land on his dress shoe. Without thinking, I crouched down, lapping up his cum that had just been in my ass. I looked up at my principal. Sweat poured down his voluptuous body, raining down upon me. I jumped to my feet, taking his still stiff cock in my hand, stroking him slowly. He coughed out a soft moan, a smile flashing on his face. A bell rang signalling the end of third period. "Should..." I started innocently, "I go back to class?" I leaned forward, tasting my principal's salty body, his hairy chest matted with perspiration. "Get back on that desk," he said softly, a twinge of teasing anger in his voice. "I don't think you've learned your lesson yet." His hand planted in the middle of my chest, easing me backwards, until my lower back hit the edge of his desk again. I perched myself back up on the edge, and swung my legs open for him to assess my now ravaged hole. I could feel cum leaking out of me. Thankfully, Mr. McCook stooped over and planted his lips against my asshole, his mustache tickling me. "Annngh," I shuddered with pleasure. My dick was twitching violently with need, despite having cum twice already. I wondered how long Mr. McCook would keep me here. I also wondered if it even mattered. My principal emerged from tending to my hole, cum stuck in his mustache. He leaned into me, offering a taste of the cum he'd just retrieved from my hole, and allowed me to clean his mustache by letting me tenderly nipple the gobs of cum from his hair. Suddenly I felt his cock, reinvigorated, pushing into me once again. My hands clenched, gripping stray pieces of papers. As Mr. Cook made his entrance inside of me once again, my eyes rolled with his steady intensity. "Gaw-wwwd," he whispered, thrusting in and out of me. "I don't wanna stop," he mumbled, increasing his pace. His tie still dangled loosely around his neck, occasionally tickling the tip of my dick as began to fuck me with vigor. "Yeah," I whispered. "Fuck me, Mr. McCook." I slapped my hand against his hairy chest, grabbing a handful of meat and hair, running my thumb along his nipple. My insides were on fire as he churned whatever leftover cum that was inside me, my stomach fluttered with overstimulation. I took a chance to spit on him again, this time it landed on his cheek. He flinched slightly. His fingers wiped up my spit, and with a force of sexual liberation, he shoved his fingers into my mouth, feeding my spit back to me. I gagged on his fingers, sucking on them with need. I moaned incomprehensibly as his thick cock raked against my prostate, sending fire through my veins. KNOCK KNOCK "Excuse me, Mr. McCook?" a woman's voice called from the hallway. Mr. McCook froze in place, as though snapped out of a spell. His dick was still lodged in my ass. Thankfully he remembered to lock the door earlier. "Yes, Ms. Johnson?" he called. I slowly lifted my body back and forth fucking myself on Mr. McCook's cock. "Mr. George just called up. He was wondering where Sebastian Smalls is. His belongings are still in his classroom." I began stroking myself as I worked Mr. McCook's dick slowly, as he twisted his head around to throw his voice in Ms. Johnson's direction. "R-right," he said nervously. "I'm almost finished with him!" he called. "I'll let him know," she said, and then we listened to the footsteps slowly soften in volume. I smiled mischievously at him, continuing to fuck myself with his dick as he continued standing still. He shook his head, smiling. He leaned in planting a kiss upon my lips once again, and slowly began fucking me faster and harder. My legs gripped the sides of Mr. McCook's back, as I submitted to my principal's thick cock, allowing him to fuck me silly. His hand slid around my leg and began milking my cock slowly. "Oohhh fuck," I whimpered. "Yeah, keep going." I encouraged, my eyebrows furling. With each punch forward of my principal's cock, I could feel a second closer to climax. "Fuck the cum outta me again, Mr. McCook. Fuck yeah, FUCK!" I squeaked. Mr. McCook's chest hung close to my face, so instinctively, I chomped on his nipple, letting him nurse me with his heavy pectoral. "Nnngh, I can't hold it much longer," he groaned. "I'm gettin' close," he huffed, wiping his sweating face along my chest. "I'm cummin'. I'm--FUCK!" he barked, pounding my ass three steady and solid thrusts. He threw his head back like an animal howling to the trees, as his balls emptied themselves in me once more. "Keep jackin' me off, Mr. McCook, keep goin'" I whispered. As I felt my ass filling up with cum once more, I knew I was being pushed over the edge. "AH. AW YEAH...ERRGNNNgh!" I squealed as spurts of cum shot from my prick, landing on my belly. My volume was considerably lower after having already came upwards of six times already. But the orgasm still drove me crazy. Blood rushed to my face as the heat and the air around me sent me into an over-sexed daze. We both panted wildly. I was pancaked under Mr. McCook's deflating body, sticky with cum and our mixtures of sweat. BRRRRR BRRRRRR Mr. McCook's telphone began to rang, a red light flickering in the corner. Exhausted, Mr. McCook reached over and picked up the phone, still pressing his naked body against mine. "H-hello," he said, worn-out, exhausted. His cock was still twitching slowly in my asshole. "Yes. I have him." He adjusted himself so that he was standing, his softening cock plopping out of my ass, sending a couple of ounces of sperm plummeting to the floor. The cord of the phone stretched across his now totally disorganized desk. I reached over and stroked my principal's dick, milking a couple of final drops of cum from the tip. I thankfully dabbed them on my tongue. "I'm sending him back now," he said over the phone. "Thank you, sir," he said finally, and hung up the phone. I watched him as he pain-stakingly began picking up the mess in his office, and slipping his clothes back on. I took the hint and started getting dressed myself, despite the hard-on that still stretched from between my legs. "I trust that you won't let anyone know about this," he said tightening his tie. I nodded my head. I slipped my shorts over my underwear, and held my shirt in my hands. Mr. McCook lifted the picture of he and his wife and examined it, looking at the display of cum that I'd left drenched upon it. He stared at it for a while. Finally, looking into my eyes, he began licking off my still fresh cum from the photo. When he was finished, a string of cum stuck to his Chevron mustache. I walked over, still shirtless, and propped my knees up on his desk, so that I was a little bit higher than eye contact than him, and sucked my cum from his mustache, leaving it in a blob on my tongue. He glared at me in annoyed frustration. Until finally, he leaned into me, shoving his tongue into my mouth, and sucking my spit and cum back into his mouth, and swallowing it as though it were water. I jumped off of Mr. McCook's desk and walked over to the doors, whipping my shirt back over my head. "Thanks for teaching me a lesson," I said happily. "I won't forget it." I waved, unlocked the door, and left. * Walking back to Mr. George's class, I had a newfound sense of confidence. I was beginning to think that this curse of mine really worked! So maybe with my dad it doesn't, and who knows why, but if I can get someone to fuck me for that long all the time? This will be the best school year yet! Fourth period had already started, and I was counting down the minutes until swim practice. I walked into Mr. George's classroom to pick up my stuff and found Mr. George looking through a series of playbooks in front of him on his desk. "Sebastian!" he greeted, catching me off guard. "Oh, hey," I said, walking over to where my spot was. "Whoa," he said standing up making his way over to me. "Everything alright?" "Huh? Yeah, yeah, everything's fine." "You look like you just ran a marathon," he said a bit skeptical, getting a better look at me from head to toe. I imagined that I looked pretty haggard after the lesson Mr. McCook just taught me, but I just shrugged it off, and walked toward the exit. "Bye, Mr. George!" I said with my supplies under my arm. My next class was History in a room on the other side of the school, so I picked up my pace to try and get their as soon as I could. I was already fifteen minutes late. This building was much smaller with maybe only four classrooms, so finding the one that I was supposed to be in wasn't a challenge. When I pushed open the door, Ms. Lucas was mid-sentence. "...so that's what my expectations are for--there you are!" she said, directing her attention over to me. The entire class had their eyes on me, and looking around I noticed quite a few were in the class where I got called over to the principal's office. Ms. Lucas directed me over to an empty seat, my ass tightening up as I sat down from the licks I'd received earlier. Voices around me instantly started asking me questions: "What happened?" "Did you get licks?" "Are you going to be expelled?" "Alright alright, let's come back to me," Ms. Lucas said, waving her hands at us to receive attention. I sat comfortably in my desk, letting the minutes go by, relaxing in my seat feeling good after a good couple of rounds of fucking. As I continued to think about Mr. McCook, I began to speculate if there was anything I could really get in trouble with. I licked the tips of my fingers, tasting the faint flavor of his cum. As I squirmed in my seat, I could still feel traces of cum leaking out of my hole. I smirked knowing that none of the kids around me realized the power that I was growing, and what fun I was able to have in the process. * The final bell rang, and students rushed out of the classrooms to either head home or to after school activities. Curt let me know that swimmers would be picked up at the buses and shuttled over to the community pool that we typically practiced at. Practice was over at 5:00, but I told my dad 6:30, just in case Coach wanted to hold me after, and after our meeting in the boys locker room earlier today, I had a feeling that we were going to have some special time after practice. The bus was lively with teammates that I'd grown to get to know over the course of the few weeks we'd started practicing. Bowl-Cut was at the front of the bus with some of the other 8's, and I sat next to Curt. "Yeah, Smalls got sent to the principal's office today!" Curt shouted excitedly. "Did you get licks?" he asked with a crowd of students leaning in to hear what I had to say. "Let's just say, I won't be sitting right for a few days." In the changing rooms at the pool the team looked at the welts that were turning a bright shade of pink on the right side of my ass. "HOLY SHIT!" one of them yelled. "I didn't know that he was serious about that. What did you do?" "Skipped class," I said nonchalantly, slipping my Speedo on, giving it a tight snap. "Yeah, keep up the rule-breaking, sevie. You'll be off the team in no time," Bowl-Cut said, squinting at me. "I think I'll be fine," I said stoically. If only he knew where I was when I was skipping class. It was generally understood that Coach like Bowl Cut the most, but ever since I joined the team, Coach Scott seemed to like me better. Even to the point where he unknowingly stuffed a load in my ass in broad daylight, screaming my name, with no one around to see, except Bowl-Cut, Cole "Stupid-face" Mayo. Bowl-Cut brushed passed me, his army of 8's following him, and headed outside. I rolled my eyes, taking my swim-cap and goggles with me. Once outside, practice began as usual with stretches and warm-ups. Coach Scott arrived a bit later, but we started on time regardless. Just seeing Coach Scott in the sun was getting my blood pumping. I had to be careful though in a Speedo. An erection in a Speedo is not only uncomfortable, but incredibly obvious. I tried to just focus on my exercise and go through the drills as usual, rather than get distracted by sex. I just kept telling myself, "Stay focused. Dick will come as a reward for working hard." And I did work hard. In our practice race, I scored a faster time than anyone else, even Bowl-Cut. He ended up making some excuse that he injured his arm earlier that day, but I tried to tune him out. As the sun started to set, I knew that it was getting close to being time for practice to be over. After the last round of laps, Coach Scott called us over to let us know that our first meet would be. "We're meeting with Riverton Middle School for our first scrimmage," he said. A lot of the student jumped up and down getting pumped up. Curt let me know that Riverton is our rival, which I thought was interesting, since at my old school, we didn't really have any rivals since were so small. It was mostly grade levels vs. grade levels. "The meet is in three weeks, so we need to come to practice each day, and work our tails off," he said seriously. "I hate losing, but I hate losing even more to Riverton," he added. "Yes sir!" we all yelled in return. "Hit the showers. I'll see you all on Wednesday. Hands in, Bears on three. 1...2...3...." "BEARS!" we all roared. The team jogged off the the changing rooms to shower and rinse before heading home after a long first day of school. As I turned to head to the changing room, I heard the voice that I had been waiting all practice to hear. "Smalls, stay behind for me," Coach Scott ordered. "Yes sir!" I said in return jogging his direction. As I approached him, butterflies filled my stomach. It took every bit of me to keep from pushing him in the pool and start diving for his dick right here and now. "Hop on the diving blocks, let's work on that push off," he said. I did as I was told. As I climbed up and leaned forward. Coach Scott approached me, resting a hand on the back of my thigh, the other on my food. "Arch your back a little more, and--everything okay? I heard you got sent to the McCook's office," he said softly. Word travels quick, I thought. "Yeah, everything's fine, Coach," I said. "Promise?" he said gripping the back of my thigh tightly. "Promise," I said, looking into his eyes. We stood this way for a while, waiting for the rest of the kids to go into the locker room. "Remember what we talked about?" he asked softly. "Our special time can go away, if anyone knows about it." "I promise I didn't tell," I said, squatting down on the diving block to meet him. "I said I was skipping English because it was boring, and just wandered the halls." Coach sighed, resting his head against the diving block. "Alright, let's do a 50, and then I'll see you back here," he patted the ass, signalling me to get up and dive. I powered into the water, speeding through as fast as I could, knowing that the quicker that I motored through the water, the quicker I could get back to Coach. I kicked through the water like a fish, gliding along the surface like a manta ray. All I could think about was Coach Scott's naked body against mine, his plump dick stuffed in my ass. I smiled as I kicked off the end of the pool and made my back stroke journey to the other side of the pool. I imagined what fun we were going to have. I could hardly wait! And I remembered that my dad promised that if I didn't get any bad news from school, that we'd have some alone time together as well. It couldn't be more perfect. I swished my legs finishing the final meter, tapping the starting wall and pushing myself back to the surface taking a good gulp of air. "Ha! That was my best backstroke yet!" I called out triumphantly to Coach Scott expecting him to be there. When I didn't hear anything, I peaked over the edge of the pool. Through my foggy goggles I saw two shadows standing in near the pool entrance. One I recognized as Coach Scott, the other I wasn't so sure. I rested my arms on the warm edge of the pool, and removed my goggles, and what I saw made my heart sink to my feet. My mother stood with Coach Scott with her arms folded. She cupped her hand next to her mouth and called, "Ready to go, Sebastian?" ******************************************************* Chapter 14 to follow. Please email hjk7359@hotmail.com for feedback, questions, or constructive criticism. Thank you for reading.