Date: Sun, 24 Oct 2021 02:28:53 +0000 From: Tiao Wu Subject: Here Cums the Neighborhood - Part 23 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 23 - Orange Crushed "I want you to know that I'm very disappointed." As my mother's car powered through the dark country side, nothing but the sound of the road beneath us in the air. Visions of Cole's father flashed in my head. Maybe to distract me of the prison that I felt of being near my mother. His heavy cock. His sculpted body. His gunk still stewing in my ass. "Pojke." I could still hear that name in my head. He told me he loved me. I told him to make me his wife. Is this how I really felt? "Hey Sevie. Try to keep up next time." "Smalls. Heh, yeah he's SMALL all right." "Maybe one day you'll be as good as us." Cole Bowlcut Mayo. Mr. Mayo's pompous asshole of a son. With every pelvic thrust his dad bore into me, I felt I was ripping his own father away from him. Making him mine. Becoming the object of his obsession. As I walked up the steps to leave the pool party at the Mayo's house, I thought of my mother and Mr. Mayo standing there. My mother still in work clothes; Mr. Mayo wearing nothing but a bathrobe. I imagined that he didn't even have time to put on underwear after the fun we had. It was a close call, but it was worth it. "Sebastian," my mother said. "There you are." With hardly a happy face, she stood with her arms folded. "Hey," I said. "I guess we're going home?" "That's right we're going home. Have everything?" she asked. "Just need my gym bag." "Oh it's over by the balcony door," Cole's mom said reassuringly. I turned on my heel and went to retrieve it. While I was gone, the two parents did their best to talk well about me. "He's very good for his age. You should be so proud!" Cole's mom said. "Yes, he definitely has figured out something to work at, huh?" my mother replied. "He's very fast. Better dan our Cole!" Mr. Mayo said. I smirked hearing that. I grabbed my gym bag and walked back to the front door. "Ready?" my mother said, as though she was a nurse asking if I were ready for a shot. "Yeah," I said, trying to sound fine. Just as we were about to leave, Mr. Mayo's spoke up once more. "Y-you know, we heard you are running for Mayor." I thought back to our last conversation: "...do you want to see me again?" I asked. "Do you want to fuck this ass again?" "Ja...a-anything, pojke." My mind raced, frantic with what to do. Then it came to me. "Support my mother's campaign," I said lifting my hips up and resting them all the way down on Mr. Mayo's cock. "Haaa...v-vie should I do dat?" he asked in childish confusion. Good question, I thought. I lifted my hips off of Mr. Mayo's cock. "B-because, then you can come to all of her events that she's gonna do. And every time, I'll be there. Your pojke will be there," I said falling into his lips giving him one more long, lingering kiss. "Yes, I'm running against Mayor Jones," she said with a matter-of-fact smile on her face. "W-well," Mr. Mayo said looking, first at his wife, then back at me, a look of longing in his eyes. I noticed a stirring in the waist of his bathrobe. "Ve...I vould like to make a donation." My mother chirped with excitement. "Ha! That's so nice, Mr. Mayo. I can't ask for you to do that. You really--" "Right, we haven't even talked about it," Mrs. Mayo spoke up with the same pitch as my mother, but with more concern. "Five towzand dollars. And any of my sculptures at an auction," he said, beaming, hands on hips. "Uh...oh my goodness," my mother said, her hand on her heart. "L-Lars..." Mrs. Mayo said, astonished. "I've decided. After watching your boy hear today, I know he must be raised by a great modder," he gestured toward me. Mrs. Mayo looked astonished, trying to mask her frustration. My mother, however, looked positively elated. This would push her over the top of her proposed budget, giving her a head start over Mayor Jones. "W-well, there's no need to make any decisions right at this second, but..." she whimsically fished through her purse. "Here is my card and campaign information, and we can arrange something." She gave a card each to Mr. and Mrs. Mayo. "Perfect. I...ve'll be in tawch," he said, smiling at my mother, and then at me. I smiled back, sheepishly. My mother and I left the Mayo's house, got in her car and left. As my mother pulled out of the Mayo's elaborate driveway, I looked in her direction and hoped to see her still as excited as before. "I want you to know that I'm very disappointed." My mother gripped both hands on the steering wheel, her jaw clenching with each passing second. "I...I'm sorry." I said, dejected. Nothing would make her happy. "You know what happened last time you left home, and I didn't know where you were," she said, her voice with the tremolo of a violin. "I know! I just...I don't really have many friends. It just happened at the meet, maybe if you were there I could have asked you, but--" "So now it's MY fault. You know what? Maybe you shouldn't be on this little swim team anymore." "NO!" I shouted, slamming my hand on the dashboard. We sat in silence for a moment. "I just thought that maybe Chance would tell you about where I was." I saw my mother's hands clench the steering wheel tighter as she took a deep inhale. "What? What's wrong with Chance?" I asked. "Nothing," she said sternly. "Is he okay? Why didn't he pick me up?" I genuinely began to imagine the worst. Did he get into a car accident? Did he leave my mother's campaign? "He's fine!" she shouted. "He..." she sighed. "What?" I inquired. My heart began to race with worry. Chance was annoying, pestering, but at the same time, I didn't want to imagine him not around. "He...doesn't get to decide what you do every day, okay?" she explained. "He may be...special to me, but that doesn't mean anything to you." She slapped her fingers against the blinker lever in annoyance. "Special to you?" I pressed. What did that mean? I thought. Sure he was a hard worker, but so were a lot of people working for her. "It's nothing." And that was that. I continued to study my mother, watching her drive us both back home. She took sharp turns, flustered, pressing me against the side of the car. Were my mother and Chance together? I thought. Now it all was beginning to make sense. This younger guy, dedicated to my mother's success. My dad, the one who I knew loved me unconditionally, who could never abandon me. "Hey Champ!" "What's goin on, Buster!" "Got any room on that couch for me, Kiddo?" My eyes started to fill with tears. I made a soft sniffle and wiped my nose with my wrist. My mother didn't split with my dad because of what happened with Daddy, Dave Hammond, my captor. She was in love with Chance. They were together. She wanted my dad out of the picture. Fucking bitch, I thought. Our car rounded our street and in a moment was in our driveway. Before the car even came to a stop, I pushed myself out of the car and took several quick strides to the house. "Sebastian! You wait just a minute!" I pushed through the side door to a softly dim version of my home. I threw my gym bag to an unnamed corner of the entryway. Chance was sitting in an armchair, reading some papers, glasses perched on his nose. "H-hey, Bud!" "Hey yourself, asshole," I said scowling at him before starting up the stairs. "Whoa!" he said. "Hey, Sebastian, don't talk like that with me." "Why don't you go and...kick ROCKS!" I shouted. My mother's heels hit the tile floor of the entryway. "Sebastian, you come down here and say you're sorry to Chance," my mother demanded. "Why don't YOU go and ask CHANCE to tell me I'm sorry!" I spat and sprinted off to my room. The second I got through the door, I slammed it shut and dove onto my bed, wrapped my head in a pillow and screamed as loud as I could. Stars skimmered in my vision as I took an exhale and sank into the mattress. I tossed over onto my side and reached for my journal hidden between the wall-facing side of the screen. I undid the latch and flipped to a dog eared page. I clicked my pen and scribbled. 15. Mr. Monroe 16. Mr. Mayo I needed more for my plan to work. My plan to ruin my mother's life. To orchestrate an orgy of all orgies. I observed my list and realized that I wouldn't even know how to reach some of these men. Jeremy and Al? The two movers who fucked me in their truck? Daddy, or Dave Hammond, was in prison. I closed my journal and let it fall to my side. I needed more. Hundreds if possible. Even more importantly, I needed them to be in the neighborhood. * The next day I went and visited my dad. "How's school goin'?" he asked, dick deep inside me. I sat on his lap facing the TV. We were watching some old movie from the 70s. Not really watching it, but just something to have on in the background. I bounced up and down on my dad's cock nonchalantly, feeling his hard meat filling me up. "Mmmph...it's fine," I said, resting my back against my dad's firm chest. His hands stroked my chest and stomach as he moved his hips along with my rhythm. "Erngh...that's it? Mmph....fine?" he asked, tenderly kissing my neck and shoulders. "Hungh...hmmph...mmmmph..." I fell up and down on dad's cock. I didn't want to talk about school. I didn't want to talk about anything. I just wanted him to fuck me. "Seb?" he asked a bit more sternly. I rocketed up and down on Dad's cock, slapping my ass against his thighs. "Mmmuuuugh...mmph-mmph-mph," I grunted and whimpered, ignoring him. "Hey!" he barked, clutching my hips, freezing me in place. I squirmed slightly trying to get even the faintest feeling of Dad against my prostate. Dad used one of his hands to slide his cock out of my ass. "NNn-gahhh..." I sighed in frustration, falling into Dad's lap. I took a few deep breaths. "C'mon, Dad," I whined. "No. Not til you talk t'me," he said, holding me in his arms. "School's fine. I already told you," I said, annoyed. "L'then why do I feel like I'm missin' somethin'?" he retorted. I didn't want to talk about Chance or my mother. Much less the idea that they were possibly together. I didn't want to even think about it. Sundays were supposed to be just for us. I sighed impatiently. "Dad, everything's fine." I turned to him and gave him a smile. He looked at me blankly. I leaned against him, bringing my lips to his, kissing him softly. I let the moment hover for a second and then kissed him again more deeply. He kissed me back with equal force. I squirmed eagerly against his scratchy and hairy torso, wagging my hips along the length of his exposed cock. "Hmph," I whimpered. I fumbled blindly for Dad's dick. Once I found it, slick and ready for entry, I tapped the tip of his meat against my hole before gyrating my hips onto it. Guiding his meat back inside of me where it belonged. "MMMMMMMMMMPH," I growled, surging my tongue into his mouth as I sank down the entirety of my dad's tool. My eyes fluttered involuntarily. "Hmmmmmm," Dad hummed, his voice rattling my rib cage. I rose myself seven inches off Dad's rocket and sank myself all the way back down again. "Mmmmph hooo," Dad's hot breath seared my cheeks. "Fuuuuu-huh-huh-huck," he laughed in bliss. I lifted myself up seven inches again and plopped back down, Dad's cock punching against my prostate sending a spritz of precum into the air. Again and again I did this, faster and faster, pulling my father back into our time. Our time together. * Monday morning, I sat groggily in the passenger seat of the car. Chance was driving. Lisa sat in the back listening to headphones. The air was especially snappy outside, and despite the bright sun, I was chilled to my bones. I felt the vent to see if any hot air was coming out. Only cold. "You have the A/C on in winter," I said coldly. Chance tapped the air setting. It was pushed all the way to the heat. "Takes a little time for it to warm up, Seb. Be patient," he said calmly. Seb, he called me. Only my friends and Dad called me that. "Don't call me, Seb," I snapped. "Okay, Champ," he said, understandably. "Don't call me that, either." We dropped Lisa off at Birchwood High. "Bye, weirdos," she said before disappearing into a crowd of friends. We pulled away and headed toward my school. "Lisa sure has a lot of friends, doesn't she?" Chance said. "Yeah! She does! Hahahahahah!" I mocked. "Sebastian. Would you tell me what is going on with you today?" he asked. "Gee. I wonder. I finally get invited to something with my friends and I get picked up by my crazy mother." "She is not crazy. She was just worried about you. I'm sorry. I should have been clearer about where you were. I thought she would have understood." "WHEN have you ever seen my mother that would make you think THAT?" I shouted. "Cool it, dude!" Chance said. "My mother would love it if my hair never grew, I never spoke out of turn, and if I liked her more than my dad," I said, my voice starting to shake. "But we all know NONE of that is ever gonna happen. So I guess I'm just STUCK like this." "That's not true, Cham--," Chance cleared his throat. "Sebastian." "Yeah you know her soooooo well." I rolled my eyes and rested my head against the door. The heat was finally beginning to come on. "What's that supposed to mean?" Chance asked gripping the steering wheel. "You think I don't know?" I asked. Silence hung in the stale air. Minutes went by without us saying anything to each other. We pulled into Birchwood Middle, waiting in traffic. "Look," Chance finally said. "Your mom is important to me." "Great," I said. "And I might be sticking around a lot more. A lot longer, so..." he paused. "Maybe try to like me?" The car came to a stop, and I reached for the door handle. "Hey." Chance said, grabbing one of the straps of my backpack. "I'd like to be your friend, too. I'm really not so bad," he said giving me a twisted grin. I studied him for a moment. At all hours of the day he looked put together. Handsome. As if at any moment he'd be asked to be in front of a camera. "Bet you'd love to see him all sexed out, wouldn't you?" a voice crawled in my brain. "You'd love to see that perfect haircut, sloppy with sweat. That sweet mouth stuffed with cock." I blinked the thoughts out of my head before I got too worked up. I yanked on the car handle and pushed myself out into the freezing cold air. I swung the door shut, leaving Chance behind. I didn't have a group of friends to disappear into like my sister. At least there were a couple of people I could talk to. I saw Paul Grisham talking to a couple of other people we shared classes with. "Hey!" I said with a smile. The two boys Paul was talking to gave me an uneasy look before saying "See ya," and heading off. "Wh-what's up?" I asked nervously. Paul looked at me sort of sourly. "Hey, Seb," he said softly. "You okay?" I asked, concerned. Paul scratched his hair beneath his knit cap. "H-honestly?" he said. "I don't know. I can't really talk about it with you." Paul started walking away. "Wh-whoa...what do you mean?" I asked jogging after him. "Sorry, Seb," he focused his gaze on the ground. I put my hand on his shoulder and spun him around. "What's going on?" I said. Paul looked to the side, avoiding eye contact. "N-nothing. It's just my dad." I swallowed hard, trying to contain my nerves. Did something happen? Did Mr. Grisham spill the beans on their arrangement? We'd been meeting once a week in the Grisham's tool shed. Like clockwork I'd enter the shed, Mr. Grisham would be on his hands and knees, and I'd fuck his brains out. "What happened?" I asked, trying to keep my composure. Paul shuffled nervously on his feet. "Dad told me something about you," he said somberly. My heart rate started to quicken. No one in my school could know these secrets about me. "Wh-what did he say?" "He said that you..." he paused uncomfortably. "...don't believe in God." I sighed with relief. I laughed softly to myself. Our secret was still safe. Then I began to register what he was saying. "You do though, don't you?" he asked. "Believe in God?" I repeated. I searched for an answer. I didn't really feel one way or the other about it. Honestly, God probably hated me for all that I was doing at such a young age. "I-I mean. I don't know if I do or not. "But you'll go to hell if you don't!" he said frantically. "I don't know if I believe in hell either though, Paul," I explained. "H-how can you--?" Paul put his hands to his head in frustration. I let him think for a moment. The warning bell sounded throughout the school and students made their way to their first class. Paul came back to me and had a peaceful look on his face. "I'll help you." "Help me?" I asked as we both made our way inside. "Help you find the Lord," he said optimistically. "O-oh. Okay. Would that make your dad happy?" I asked. "Would that make YOU happy?" I added. "Yeah. It'll be fun!" Paul smiled before walking away toward his locker, leaving me in his dust. I took a sigh of relief. After storing my bag in my own locker, I made my way to math. Mr. Flores greeted us all with a smile as we entered. A warm-up activity was on the board. I remembered we were reviewing for a test today. "Hi, Seb," Mr. Flores said warmly. His beard was freshly trimmed, and he was wearing a sweater vest and collared shirt. His dark chest hair was poking out at the highest button. He wore tight slacks that accented his strong legs. "Hi," I said politely. I made my way to my desk. The second I sat down, I was reminded how tired I was. Good sleep was becoming a rarity for me these days. Anytime I was left alone to my own devices for more than five minutes I became tormented by my own lust. Often I woke up early in the morning, three fingers in my ass, my chest covered in cum, not remembering how I got like that. The bell signaled the start of class, two students scurrying in just before Mr. Flores shut the door. "Alright alright, yer lucky I'm in a good mood," he teased. "Let's hit the warmup, take a few minutes, and we'll go over the answers." My gaze dropped to my notebook, my hand flying across the page. Within thirty seconds I was finished. I observed everyone else looking confused or taking their time. My head dropped as sleep was starting to take hold of me. Before I could get too comfortable. "Times up! Who's got an answer?" A couple of hands shot up. "x=-7?" "Nope." "x=3.79" "H-how? How did you even get that?" the class giggled in response. "Seb, you got it?" My eyes blinked back into focus. I looked at my answer. "X=14." "Anyone else get that?" About half the class raised their hands. "Oof, we need more practice. That's right, but yeesh. Alright let's go over the homework." Mr. Flores began erasing the board. I watched as his ass wagged from side to side. I imagined his pants falling to the floor, revealing a tight jock strap. I could only picture how hairy he was down there. My pants began to tent thinking about it. I wonder how big he is, I thought. He doesn't look like he'd be that big. "9 inches," Mr. Flores said, turning around and letting a dark brown piece of meat flop onto his desk. My jaw dropped. "Bet you wanna suck it don't ya," he asked coyly scratching his beard with one hand and stroking himself with the other, a bead of precum leaking out of his cock. "Think you can take all of this?" he asked, slapping his dick in his hand like a beating stick. "Think you got this?" he asked, stroking himself faster and faster. His free hand twisted and kneaded his balls like a pair of limes in his hands. "Oh yeah, Sebastian, you make me feel so good." His dark eyes squinted in pleasure. "Are you with me?" he asked, his cock leaking like a faucet. "Are you with me, Seb?" he moaned. I felt a sudden push on my side. The girl next to me nudged my shoulder. I snapped back into reality. "Seb? Are you with me?" Mr. Flores asked, looking concerned at the front of the class. "Y-yeah," I said in a daze, my dick throbbing in my pants. "Got an answer for us?" he asked again. "Nine inches," I said, still coming out of my dream. "Hm," he smirked. "Seb the Math Whiz, can even solve equations in his sleep. That's right. Nine inches." I sunk in my seat with relief, wondering how I could be so lucky. "Back to sleep," Mr. Flores joked, but I took the offer seriously. My head slumped to my desk. The rest of the class laughed nervously. I was out for the rest of class. The bell sounded and I was jolted awake. The class shuffled out and I tried to sneak away with them. "Seb, hang back," he said. I froze in my spot. I turned to face him, feeling the shame on my face. I adjusted my erection before he got too close to me. "You'll need this before you go." He handed me a paper with all of my classes. Each had a spot for a grade and a teacher signature. "Coach Scott wants you to get all your grades so you can keep practicing. Obviously you're doing fine," he said with a sad smile. He pointed to my grade for math: 97. "I just hope you're doing just as good in your other classes," he finished. "Thanks, Mr. Flores." I turned to head to my next class. "Hey," he said again. "Everyone's been talkin' about ya." "Huh?" I asked, confused. "All the teachers I mean," he explained. "Saying you've really turned around. You're one to watch." He looked at me proudly. "Th-thanks." I could only imagine that he was referring to the fact that I'd had such a rough start. The thing with Daddy happening. I guess I had grown a little bit. "Just take care of yourself. Find some time for fun," he said patting me on the shoulder. I was already thinking of all the fun I wanted to have. All the fun I couldn't stop thinking about having. "I will. Thanks," I smiled weakly at him and moved on to my next class. * "You know," Mrs. Lewis said, signing her name next to the space for English, and circling my grade: 94. "Your mom reminds me a lot of my daughter. She's tough, driven." She handed the progress report back to me. "I'd counted you out early on," she said. "You're really proved yourself. You remind me a little bit of Billy Budd." "Who's Billy Budd?" I asked taking the paper back from her. "Hermann Melville. He wrote Moby Dick." That word dick struck my brain like nail into a wall. I let out a soft groan. "Oh, come on. It's about a sailor, and you have a lot of qualities about him. Young, charming, liked by all, but..." she stopped herself, her whimsical look changing to one of stern seriousness. "Never mind. Have a good lunch." I thanked her and left. I walked briskly hoping to find a good spot to sit and eat and not think about school or sex. I found Curt at the end of the cafeteria line. I walked quickly up to him before anyone else could get in line between us. "Hey!" I said. "Ah, hey," Curt said a bit mopey. "Doin' alright?" I asked. "Yeah, I'm just nervous about this grade check thing." "Oh yeah, me too." I did my best to hide my progress sheet from him. "Right like you're failing anything. You probably have all A's." I remembered my goal: all A's before anymore sex at school. So far I'd been sticking to it, but it was getting harder and harder every day. The Orange Crush bottlecap still sat snug in my pocket, just in case I needed to clutch it. It's sharp ridges digging into my fingers, snapping me out of getting too horny. "Hope so," I trailed off. The Eights travelled up to both of us. "Hey Smalls," Collins said. "What're you lookin' at Sevie?" he directed toward Curt. "Hey guys," I said with a small wave. "Hey, we got pizza, so come to our table," McDough said. "U-uh...okay, just a minute," I replied. I looked back at Curt who looked pissed. "What?" "Really? You're eating with them? The Hateful Eights?" he said spitefully. "You can come, too!" I said encouragingly. "Yeah, right. Just go eat your pizza. You're basically one of them anyway." Curt spun on his heel and walked into the hot lunch line. I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach that I'd just betrayed a friend. Curt was the first person to make me feel welcome on the swim team, and none of it mattered. I made my way to the table of Eights. "Yo, Smalls," Martinez said making room for me. "Sorry you had to leave early. That sucks, man." I shrugged, trying to not let it show that I would have much rather stayed. Especially knowing that Cole's dad had such a monster cock on him. "Cole fell asleep like ten minutes after you left anyway so it's not like we had fun," Collins said. "Shut up, man. I was tired. And it was not 'ten minutes,'" Cole said before shoving a slice of pizza into his mouth. I looked around and saw other Sevies at their own table looking my way, talking under their breath. I reached for a slice of pizza. "I was pretty tired, too," I said. I wasn't really, I just wanted to diffuse any confrontation. Halfway through my slice of pizza, Martinez's eyebrows went up, signaling that someone was approaching us. "Shit, it's Sands," McDough said, trying to hide the box of pizza under the table. We all quickly tried to hide our plates as well. "Afternoon, boys," his voice sounded behind me. I turned around and observed the tank of a man standing before the table. It looked like he'd bulked up this year. His powerful arms were sharply defined beneath his white button up. His nipples pressed against the thin fabric, and I could practically see the coloration of his body hair tinted beneath. I had to do everything in my power to suppress the lust I felt in the moment. Mr. Sands cocked his head slightly to see the pizza under the table. "Did you get permission to get pizza delivered?" he asked. "My mom brought it," McDough said. "Really, now?" he said, a skeptical glare carving his brow. "Smalls? Can I have moment?" he said. Oh no, I thought. I stood up while the rest of the team laughed, mocking whatever punishment I was about to receive. I followed Mr. Sands out of the cafeteria into the brisk open courtyard. "Doing alright, Sebastian?" he asked sweetly, gazing into my eyes, inching closer to me, looking around to see if anyone was watching. "Are you gonna try and fuck me, Mr. Sands?" I asked bluntly. "You know what I'm gonna say." "I know. I know," he said dejectedly. "Thought I'd at least give it a shot." I glanced down and saw the bulge in his suit pants. It was like holding a candy bar over my head, and I felt foolish not accepting it. I slipped my hand into my pocket, adjusting my own erection, and feeling the Orange Crush bottle cap, sharp against my fingers. My totem to remind me that I needed to stay focused in school and worry about getting dick later. "Where are we going then?" I asked. Some silence passed, and I realized that we were heading to the principal's office. "Mr. McCook has been asking about you all day. I told him the same thing we've both been saying to each other over and over," he trailed off. "Then why are you taking me to him?" I asked firmly. "He's...well...you'll see, I guess," he said somberly. "Just go easy on him." We made our way into the central office. The front desk workers were all out in the lounge eating their lunches, clueless to what was living in their principal's office. Mr. Sands and I parted ways and I rounded the hall to Mr. McCook's office. As my hand reached for the door, it swung open. A hair covered hand reached out and grabbed me by my shirt and yanked me inside. I spun around by the sudden force and saw Mr. McCook standing before me. Drenched in sweat. His suit jacket tossed carelessly on the floor. His top two buttons undone showing off the thicket of chest hair that lay beneath. "M-Mr. McCook...?" I stared at him wide eyed. His shoulders rose and fell with each deep breath. Raspy growls gurgled in his throat. He began to slowly pace toward me, his lips snarling beneath his mustache. "Give...me...your...hole," he said, step by step, getting closer to me. I took cautious steps backwards. The room smelled of jizz. Wasted jizz. "N-no....not until I get all A's this semester," I said firmly. He whimpered like a child and fell to the floor, scooting toward me, walking on his knees. "You HAVE all A's! I can give you any grade you want! Puh-lee-hee-heeze," he cried. Sweat rained from his forehead. "Look!" He began groping himself showing me his thick bulge. He fumbled through a stack of papers. "Allison Page. Has a C in Spanish." He took a few scratches of his pen. "Muy bien, now it's an A." I looked around for anyway out before I began to lose myself to his demands. He sniveled looking up at me. He undid his belt with shaking hands. He fished out a rock-hard cock and heavy balls. Precum already leaked from the tip of his dick. "I need it. Just a taste. J-just a little..." His hands ran up and down my leg. He buried his face into my crotch. "I can smell it," he hissed. "I can smell how hard you are." He took a long inhale, his throat rattling like a snore. He massaged his chest, looking wildly at me, rising up and down on his heels, humping the air. "Mr. McCook, I have to get back to lunch," I said. "Have my cock for lunch," he whimpered, his eyes began to well with tears. "I have so much cum for you, Sebastian Smalls. You'll never go hungry again. I'll do anything," he rambled. His hands reached into the buttons of his shirt. With a swift motion he ripped the rest of his shirt off, revealing his hairy torso. His body odor wafted through the room, causing my eyes to roll back in intoxication. His hands ran all across his chest and stomach, matting his hair with sweat. He began to hyperventilate, looking feverish and delirious. "F-f-fugggh," he gurgled. His hips began to spasm as though possessed by something else. "I-I have to go, Mr. McCook," I said, uneasily, through my temptation. "U-ugh...I can feel it..." he whispered, a drunken and deranged smile spreading across his face. He leaned backward against his heels, his pants slumping down his thighs a bit. "Uhh-huh-huh...oh yeah..." his eyes rolled back in his head as his smirk became a wild grin. "Oh fuuhhhhhk," he shook his head in pleasure. His index fingers and thumbs began to pinch and twist at his nipples. He bounced up and down on his heels, precum spritzing out of his cock. "Fuck yeah, take my fucking dick," he spat, his brow furrowing, veins sketching across his sweaty forehead. He began thrusting the air, looking at his dick with childlike amazement, like a baby seeing a bubble float through the air for the first time. "M-Mr. McCook?" I asked, concerned. "Gawwwd your hole...ennngh...it's so warm. Yeah...you like how that dick makes you feel you little slut?" he said, eyes rolling in and out of focus, his tongue flicking against his lips. He brought his hands to what appeared to be a pair of imaginary hips. "Aggggghhh...that's it baby. Make me feel good, heheheheh," he laughed, his tongue hanging out of his head like a dog. "Oh fuck. Oh fuck yeah. Now I've got you. Now you're all mine. Finally...f-finally all mine. Take my fucking dick," he took deep laboured breaths, drool spewed forth and frothed at his mouth. "Hoo. HOO! F-FUCK. Unnnghhhgnnhh yeah, ride that fucking cock." He began wildly bucking his hips, miming what must have been my ghost of an ass slamming into him. I just watched him in pity. "Haaaa!" he threw his head back in bliss, gyrating his hips, scooping his dick through the air. "F-f-fuck yes. Oh fuck yes just like that," he whined. He brought one hand to his chest, twisting his nipple, the other hand stayed where it was, giving a pretend slap. "Yes, you beautiful fucking boy. You fucking angel. Your my fucking beautiful toy to play with. Y-yeeees. Unnnngh. Fuggghh...fughhhh....mleeehhhh...." His body began to shudder and spasm. "Unnnngh....fughh...ha," he gave a flash of a smile, looking to a non-descript corner of the room. I just watched as he drove himself wild, looking at the door. My one escape. "Hahaha," he laughed, shaking his head, starting to take deep thrusts. "Yeah....fuck yeah," he hissed. "Unnnngh...yer...yer gonna make me cum." His body began to stiffen, his jaw dropping. His eyes became completely white. "NNGHH NNNNGHHH!" he wheezed; his arms spread open as though submitting himself to the total ecstasy. "ERRRRRNNNG-GAAAHHAHAHA!" Cum began to fly out of his dick in thick ropes. His hands slammed against his thighs with each powerful push of his hips. "MMMPH..OOOOMPH!" With each jolt of cum, his hips lurched forward. I stepped back to avoid his mess. "UNNGHHH!" he looked down at his thrashing dick with horrified glee. "Hennnngh...heeengh..." he panted slowly with a maniacal grin, the face of a man who had finally gotten what he had wanted. He fell to his hands, slowly scooping his hips, his body jumping with residual pleasure. "Heh...heh heh," he laughed, shaking his head in a stupor. "You needed that, didn't ya?" "M-Mr. McCook?" I asked uneasily. He slowly raised his head, looking up at me. Sweat poured from his messy balding head, drool caked his mustache. His doofy smile slowly fell into one of fear. His looked down at the mess he'd made, then back up at me, still fully clothed. "No," he whispered. He crawled toward me. "No," he said more loudly. "You...no...please," he whimpered, his eyes wincing. He looked at his still twitching cock. A small glob of cum eked from his piss slit. Tears streamed down his face. "Please. I need you. I need you!" He raced toward me, his hands gripping my legs. "I NEED YOUUUU!" he wailed. I jumped out of his grasp and ran toward the door. "DON'T GO, SEBASTIAN!" he cried. I swung open the door and slammed it shut before any more noise could be heard from inside. I paced out of the office. Students were already heading out of lunch and to the next class. I rolled my eyes in frustration. I did my best to suppress a smile. I could still see Mr. McCook groveling at my feet, begging for my sex. Fucking my spirit. Had my power over people grown to this point? Was Mr. McCook still laying in his office, pathetically stroking himself, writhing in his own cum, sweat, and tears? "I hope so," I said before making my way to Coach George's class. * "Don't forget turn in the review on the day of the test and you'll get five extra points," Coach George announced as we were all getting packed up. "On our whole grade?" Curt asked. The class laughed in response. "Right. I'm gonna give you all those points for doing a review of what we learned a month ago. Yer killin' me, Curt!" The bell sounded as we all got up to leave for our last class. A few other boys that had Coach Scott stood in line and had Coach George sign and fill out their progress report. "Have a good day, Jeremy...Have a good one, Mike...Sebastian?" Coach George called. Our interactions had been strained and forced ever since Coach George showed me his dick after school. What he didn't know was that I would have guzzled his meat in a second. I knew I couldn't afford to have yet another avenue for sex at this school. Coach Scott, Mr. Sands, and Mr. McCook all had taken so much of my time and focus. A day would come soon when I would fuck them all again, but now I needed to prove myself that I had earned it. "Listen, Seb," he said softly. "I know I've said it before, but...I'm so, so sorry about what happened after school. I don't know what came over me, and," he trailed off, putting his hand in his hands. "I'm going to do whatever I can to make this right. Whatever you want me to do." I thought for a moment, trying to block out the thoughts that I felt searing in my mind. "Get his cum," I could hear the voices saying. "Milk him dry. Give him the pleasure he so desperately wants." "Here you go," I said, holding out my grade sheet. Coach George took the paper and signed his name to both Health and Science. 97 in health and-- "E-eighty-three?" I asked, a tightness growing in my throat. "Yeah! That's great. Congrats on all these good grades." He offered an encouraging smile. "B-but I need..." my mind began to race. "I'm supposed to..." My breathing started to quicken and trying my best to stifle the panic that was growing inside of me. "Is there anything I can do to bring up my grade?" I asked sweetly. Coach George looked helplessly at his gradebook. "Well...unfortunately, even if you aced the final," he said somberly. "I can tell you're disappointed. I wish there was something I could do. I really do," he said. I gazed at the hulking coach at his desk, sitting so properly in his athletic wear. I began to gaze longingly at him. My eyes became hooks digging into Coach George's clothing, peeling them off in my mind. "Sebastian? You still there?" he asked. I blinked my eyes back to reality. "Y-yeah..." I whispered. I saw the number 83 on my paper. This mark besmirching my record. The cock and cum that I wouldn't be able to have because of it. My eyes went back and forth between the number 83, and to Coach George. I sank my corrupted vision into his, needling my pornographic thoughts in his brain, like a thread going in and out of his ears. I observed him squirm slightly in his seat. "Um, Sebastian? D-did you have anything else you wanted to ask?" I wetted my lips with my tongue. I set my books on the classroom floor. "S-Sebastian?" he asked. "Take him. Make him yours." I heard the voices again, throbbing, pulsating in my skull. I propped one of my knees up onto Coach George's desk, and then the other one, and crawled toward him, locking my gaze onto him. His face began to morph from stern to fear. "Uh...um Sebastian, what are you doing?" he asked nervously, rolling his chair back a little bit. I reach out and hooked my fingers into the collar of his Birchwood Middle Football t-shirt and pulled him toward me. The wheels of his desk hair clicking against the tile floor. "Giving you what you want." I slid my hand under Coach George's shirt feeling a carpet of wiry hair. My cock slammed against the fly of my pants, demanding to be pulled out. I reached for his hand, which resisted my touch at first, but as I continued petting his pelt, he gave into me. I guided his hand under my shirt, and let his hand, calloused from age, run against my skin. Goosebumps skittered across me like fall leaves in the wind. "Hmmmm," I smiled as I felt him touching me. I withdrew my hand from his furry body and brought it to his powerful forearm. With two hands I gave him a tour of my body, letting him touch and grope as he pleased. His eyes showed me that he was petrified, but he didn't cower. He read me like a Ouija board. I brought his fingers to my nipples, encouraging him to feel. I left him momentarily to fling my shirt over my head. I let him admire my body, still on my knees, displayed before him on his desk like a piece of art. I held his giant hand in my hands, bringing his fingers to my lips. I gave laser focus on his eyes as I slid his middle finger into my mouth. It's roughness was immediately evident as his fingertips touched my tongue. I brought my hips to Coach George's arm and began grinding my hips against him. I wriggled about like a snake, entrancing him, inviting him to awaken the part of himself that we both knew wanted to come alive. "Th-this...this is wrong," he said, bewildered by the situation. I smirked as I started unbuttoning my jeans. The second the fly was down, my cock sprang forth, its one eye pointing directly at Coach George. Precum flecked from the head, landing directly on Coach's t-shirt. I shimmied my hips a bit letting my jeans fall around my thighs. I took Coach's hands again and placed them next to my crotch. Like an insect reaching for prey, Coach George snatched my prick in his fist. "HA!...haahh..." I sighed. I slowly rocked back and forth, fucking Coach George's rough hand, my precum lubricating my cock with each slow thrust. "Oh...o-ooh Coach," I moaned, a cheeky look on my face. I had him. I had him now. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this." I whimpered. It was one of the phrases I'd be begun saying. It made sure that they always wanted to come back for more. "No one makes me feel the way you do," I said. That was another one. "H-h-ho...god..." he grunted. "I-I..." he looked down at his warmup pants. A tent had risen, displaying the thick erection that hid beneath. "S-Sebastian...I...I need you to suck my cock," he said like a boss asking an underling to stay late on a Friday. "No problem," I said, stirring my precum soaked dick in his hand. Coach awkwardly got to his feet. I could see his cock twitching in his pants. "I-I...I don't get like this anymore, so..." he said sheepishly. "Get like what?" I caught my pinky in the elastic waist of his pants, and gently pulled them down. A piss-stained pair of white briefs was beneath. I used my other hand to grip my science teacher's firm erection. "HA. Ho...L-like...like this," he said, signaling to his cock. "What do you mean?" I asked sweetly, continuing to stroke him over his underwear. His eyes darted around, trying to think of the right answer. "Hard?" I asked, gripping his cock and balls. "YEAH!" he yelped. "N-not since I met you have I--" "Gotten hard?" I asked, massaging his groin. "Yeah," he whispered, throwing his head back slightly. I watched as his face twisted in pleasure with each of my motions. "You just wanna cum, don't you?" I asked nicely. Like a wife asking her husband "You've had hard day, haven't you?" "G-god, yes," he huffed. I could see his head swimming. He had no idea why this was happening, but he was grateful that it was. "That's why you need me to blow you? That's why you need to swallow your meat right here and right now?" I asked coyly. "W-well...when you put it that way," he said, somewhat embarrassed. I reached into the leg of Coach's underwear and pulled out his thick cock. It was a dark brown with a marbling of white, almost in a cow print. It barely registered any length with the amount of pubic hair that had been allowed to grow in the years that I imagined Coach George had gotten laid. "You should trim this down," I suggested. "Don't get me wrong. I love pubic hair. Love it when a man buries my face in it," I said bending over and taking a long inhale, as though he were a bag of freshly opened coffee. "But I'd love to see this cock again. And I'd love to see all of it." I looked up at him and gave him a wink. "Th-this isn't your first time? S-Sebastian, what are you saying?" I giggled a little bit as I fished out his balls, one by one, hanging like two eggs, full of stored cum. I loved acting like this experienced slut with him. The boy who volunteered to organize slides after school wasn't as innocent and all-American as he thought. "What if it isn't?" I asked, my lips approaching my teacher's cock. The scent of his pent-up musk was flowing through the room like freshly baked bread. "I...I don't know," he admitted. "I guess, when I look at you, I see--" "A perfect boy?" I said, running my nose along the length of his dick. Coach George's cock reached perfectly to my mouth as I planted my hands and knees on his desk. I dropped my jaw and began my magic. The tangy saltiness of Coach's cock shocked my tongue, prompting me to take a deep, shuddering breath. In one easy gulp, Coach's thick cock was hitting the back of my throat. "Wh-whaaa-haaaa," he moaned. Coach's pubic hair tickled my nose and eyelids. I puckered my lips around his hard shaft, opening and closing my throat. "Ho-ho....hoooo man," he grumbled. I loved hearing his voice this way. Less of the charismatic showman in front of the classroom, and now puddy molded by my mouth. I began bobbing up and down the length of his dick, tasting the irresistible flavors of his precum coating my tonsils. "Mmmlp...mmmlp," I squeaked as I fucked my own skull with his thick member. "Unngh...wunnnngh..." he groaned. His hips began to rock along with my motions, allowing the tip of his dick to knock against the back of my neck with greater force. My eyes fluttered at the sensation. Coach George, reached for my genitals once more, stroking me in sync with my movements. I could hear the slippery sounds of precum sliding against his skin. "Mmmmrph," I whimpered, looking up at him longingly. I sucked and slid my lips slowly all the way up Coach's shaft, smacking my mouth once the tip left me. "Haaa," he sighed, looking up at the ceiling with a smile on his face, looking incredulous. "Ho my god." I slowly continued stroking him, washing his crotch with my spit. I brought myself back to my knees, my chin dripping in my own drool. I looked deep into his eyes, watched his shoulders rise and fall with steady breath. I slid my hands under his shirt once more, feeling his furry chest and stomach. His brow furrowed in frightened pleasure, shaking his head in exasperation, his eyes locked with mine. I bunched up the bottom of Coach George's shirt and hooked my hand inside his collar. I pulled his face to mine, planting my lips upon his. Immediately I felt the sensation of his facial hair scraping against mine. "Mm! Mm!" he moaned in surprise. Within seconds, his jaw relaxed, allowing his tongue to spill into my mouth. "Hrmmm," he grumbled, his lips sliding to my chin, slurping the drool on my mouth into his. "Ahhhh," he purred as he blindly made his way back to my lips. His hands danced across my body, exploring my every muscle, eventually snagging my cock back into his grasp. "Ha!" I squeaked. Naturally I slowly began fucking my teacher's hand. "Mmmmph," I whined as Coach George continued pillaging my face with his lips. I felt his tongue digging in the corner of my cheeks, pressing against my tonsils. As I would catch my breath, he would smear his face, soaked with our combined spit, along my forehead, my nose, completely marking me with his scent like an animal. Eventually, I no longer had to push my hips in and out of Coach's fingers, he was pushing and pulling me all on his own, ferociously trying to coax an orgasm out of me. My knees began to quake on top of Coach George's desk. I could feel my load building up inside of me. I shook my head slightly to free myself of Coach's lips. "Ha...Coach...i-if you k-keep goin...I'm gonna," I whined, looking deep into his eyes, his snarling breath hot on my face. I looked down, finally observing my teacher's body as I scrunched his shirt with my right hand. His torso was blanketed in black and grey hair, giving my no idea of his muscle definition. My eyes locked straight on his pecs, convulsing with each of his steady movements as he milked me. "Nnnngh, Coach...if...if you keep doin' that I think I'm...I'm gonna," I whimpered. "Yer gonna cum?" he finished; his voice gravelly. My navel knocked against fist, as my cock flew in and out of his grasp. Precum tricked from my dick down to his desk. "HANGH!" I yelped, as my balls lurched against my shaft, electricity building in my gut. My face twisted with agonizing pleasure as my Coach jacked me off. "MMMPH," I squealed. "C'mon, gimme yer cum, Sebastian Smalls," he coaxed sweetly, grinning as he said it. "Gimme all your sweet juice." "NNNGH. ERRGH. RAAHH!" I roared, as cum flew from my dick, spraying Coach's beastly stomach. "RRRRRGH!" I growled, scowling at Coach George as he performed his treatment on me. Each shot sent my hips surging forward, as though my wad was being exorcised from my body. "So hot," he whispered, a cheeky grin spreading on his face. "Errgh," I growled, continuing to fuck Coach's hand. Coach George's free hand stroked my throat as I threw back my head in pleasure. I balled up my free hand and gave Coach a hard jab in his chest. My hips powerfully charged back and forth, forcing my dick in and out of Coach George's hand, in a mindless state. "Hrrrg," Coach George snarled. I raked my hand through Coach's thick chest hair, tweezing his nipple. "Gyrah!" he shouted. "S-sorry," I whimpered. "No..." he huffed. "It's just that, I haven't been touched like this in..." he trailed off. "Hahaha," he laughed, shaking his head as though just realizing his own happiness. "Well," I said, averting my gaze back to his eyes, "why don't you let me make you cum, too? Wouldn't that be fair?" I pulled my dick out of Coach George's grip, a sharp plop echoed through the classroom as my cum-caked cock left my teacher's hand. "Sebastian, I don't know. That might not be necessary," he said, beginning to tighten up. He began snapping out of his sex-crazed delusion, smoothing his T-shirt over his hulking body. My hand, once casting magic about his skin, now covered in a cheap curtain. The doofy Bear insignia that was on all of our uniforms was now staring back at me. I could feel our time coming to an end. "Why not?" I asked sweetly, running my hands along his hairy arms, feeling his powerful muscles. "Don't you want to show me how much...semen? You have?" "Nice try, using a vocabulary word," he chuckled, beginning to sober up. "I think you'd find that this well dried up a long time ago," he said with gloom on his throat. "Don't let him get away. We're hungry for seed." The distant but present voice drove into my brain like a nail. "What do you mean?" I asked, playing with his clothes, doing whatever I could to keep him in my grasp. "I...haven't made semen in..." he looked down at his twitching prick. "In a long time." I brought my hands to my teacher's cock, letting my fingers trace the thick leathery skin, admiring his seven inches of dark meat. "Well, maybe I can try," I said crouching down and flopping onto my back. I let Coach George's cock rest along the length of my face. I bunched up my shirt, running my hands along my chest and stomach in anticipation. "S-Sebastian, wh-what are you doing?" Coach George asked nervously. I shimmied myself atop Coach's desk, his stapler, his tin of paper clips, his stack of papers falling to the floor. "Making myself comfortable," I said, resting my hands on my chest. "Getting ready to take all the loads you haven't made in so long," I smiled, dropping my jaw, and flicking out my tongue, eager for my teacher's milk. Coach's cock slipped along the length of my tongue, and as he grew adventurous, it plunged back down my throat. I adjusted myself so that my head hung off of my teacher's desk, allowing for Coach George's tangy sausage to easily slide itself into my mouth. "Hooo...jeez it's warm. I-I...heh...I haven't felt this since my twenties," he hummed. "Wow-ee you're good at that, Sebastian Smalls. Phew! Who knew?" he chuckled as he squatted his legs up and down, fucking my face with his old man meat. "Glorp...fllorp," was all I could say in return as my teacher began to indulge himself in the pleasures of a boy who will do anything for a spoonful of sweet cum. "MMmmflorp...gulpgulpgulp! MMMRMPH!" I brought a hand to my stiff cock and gave it a shake, sending a spritz of precum in wild directions, like a magic wand. "Ffffff...wow...you...you really love this huh?" he said getting more comfortable with stuffing me with his thick cock. "Mmmrmph," was all that managed to escape my mouth. I wanted to snag a couple more moments with Coach's face, to seal the deal with the possibility of more fun with anything else I could poison his mind with, but the view I had right now was much more beautiful. Each time Coach George would thrust into my face, his balls would bounce along my eyelids, his unkempt taint would smear against my forehead, and the view of the most delicious ass, electrified with dark hair would snap into frame. "Hunngh, oh wow!...oh yeah!" he would shout. "HERRRGH! FFFFFFAUGH!" Each time he would have a short meltdown, I would retreat from his mouth, wanting his cum to rain upon me. Hoping, perhaps that I could show him what his pent-up orgasm could do. What it would look like showered upon me. But after each aria of moaning and groaning: "HUMMMPH. YEAHHHH!" "HOOOOF. HUNNNNGH!" "Hmph. Hpmh. MMMPH. MMMPH. YEAAAH!" Nothing. Not a single drop of cum. What was I doing wrong? I thought. I dropped my jaw, giving Coach George full control of my throat. Hoping that would encourage him to satisfy his obvious need. He became more fervent in his movements. His hands pinched and tweezed at my skin, his thighs brushed against my ears, his balls blinded me. But I decided that I would let him use me as long as he needed me. My stomach growled, hungry for cum. My own cock twitched with need. As I reached for it to give it attention, precum blasted from my head in silent spurts, raining on my navel. Coach George did not relent. My face took the force of his whole body pounding against it, my tongue scooping along his shaft, my tonsils kissing the tip of his penis, my whole body hoping for at least a small helping of cum. "H-...Ho my god..." he grunted, stoically. "H-holy moth....mother of god..." he grunted. His hands slammed down on my stomach, taking even further control of my body. The hair of his taint was beginning to become tangled in my eyelashes. Blinded by sweaty hair and meat. "J-Jesus...Seh....Hhhehh...Sebastian..." he whined. His hands frantically ran along my skin like spiders until I felt his hands grip my hair. "MMPH!" I winced as his fingers tangled into my messy locks, tugging against my scalp. "Mmm...O-Oh...Oh god," Coach George said, almost in surprise at the sensations he was feeling. "I'm..." his dick surged out of my mouth, and as though someone had shoved him in his chest. As his back knocked against the supply cabinet, I watched as Coach George's face--the one that I knew as the comedian, the stern, the reliable--twist into utter hilarity. His eyes fluttered and then locked onto the ceiling, his eyebrows relaxed, his mouth a slack-jawed grin. I watched as his hips jutted once, twice, and three times, his cock slapping against his thighs. Before he took a deep breath, his hands fumbling behind him to grab something. "H-h-ha...h-ho god..C-c-c-c...c-cum," he managed to grunt before his cock became a geyser of clear fluid, spritzing first my navel, then my face. "HA....UNGH! F-F-FAAAAUGH." He crumbled against the supply cabinet, causing glass beakers to rattle on the shelf. "Drink his seed! Don't let it go to waste!" the voice roared in my head. "Quick! Give it back!" I said, dropping my jaw, and in a drunken stumble Coach George shoved his cock in my mouth just as he began dumping load after load of cum. Like pudding it slid slowly down my throat. Sugary, and slightly salty. "Mmmmph! HNMMPH! MMMMPH!" I whimpered in delight. Glancing down at my own quivering member, I watched as ropes of cum began shooting out of my prick, falling upon my torso. My ass bounced on Coach George's desk as I gulped down as much of my teacher's load as I could. I knew how special this was for him, and I wanted to taste every bit of it. Slowly Coach George rocked back and forth, giving me the opportunity to run my tongue along his shaft, milking the last helpings of cum from my teacher's cock. As Coach George's thighs trembled against the sides of my heads, his balls rested on the bridge of my nose. I took several deep breaths, memorizing the smell of the newest part of my collection of men. No longer was this my health and science classroom. It was now my den of pleasure, and I was in control. Slowly, Coach George withdrew his sopping wet meat from my face. "H-holy shit," he huffed, wiping his sweaty face. His body jerked, his thigh muscles rippled, his knees quaked, still in orgasm. Pit stains drenched his sides. He backed against the supply cabinet, regaining his composure. "H-How....How did I not know I had such a slut in my class?" He said, a massive smile on his face. I rolled over onto my stomach, and then propped myself onto my knees. I reached my hand into the collar of his now ruined T-shirt and pulled him back toward me. My lips, glossed with his cum pressed against his. "Hrrrngh," he growled, sucking my mouth into his. His hands slapped against my back as he pulled himself toward me. I left his face with a luscious smack. "How did I not know that my science teacher had a tank of cum between his legs," I said with a hiss of laughter afterwards. "You fuckin," he said with hunger in his eyes. He clonked his forehead against mine. "You wild boy," he hissed. I giggled as he huffed warm breath, reeking of his and my mixture of sperm. "I have to go to my next class," I squeaked playfully. "Mmmmmm," Coach George grunted, running his hands along my sides. "Or you and me could just stay here..." he said, voice like an animal. "Haha, and what would we do?" I asked playing with his dick, petting it like it was a new puppy. "Ummmph..." he moaned, throwing his head back. "So," I said resting my head against his firm chest. "What's my grade, Coach George?" "Heh," he laughed rubbing his eyes. "Don't worry about that." He slapped his still-firm cock against my chest. "Don't worry about that ever again," he gripped his hand around my chin. In a quick glance at my progress report, he took a pen and haphazardly scribbled out the 83 that I had in science and wrote a sloppy number 93. Relief swept over me. I'd earned that grade. I worked hard for that grade. My teacher thought I deserved it, so of course, what more did I need to do? Coach George approached me. His warmth swept over me, like a summer night. Our eyes met, and I could see him bashful, unsure of himself, but yet in love with me: "Heh, maybe tomorrow we can-- Suddenly, the sound of rapid knocking shocked us out of our playtime. Coach George's face went from elated, almost sleepy, to panic-stricken. "Quick! Under my desk!" he demanded. He shot his warm-up pants back up around his waist. As he made his way around his desk, grabbed a pen and scribbled out the 83 I giggled as I launched off my teacher's desk and crawled beneath it. As my knees hit the tile floor, I reached for the discarded pants and underwear that were nearby and started getting dressed. Coach George jogged toward the door. As his footsteps grew distant, I noticed some droplets of Coach George's cum splayed on the floor. My eyes grew wide. "It's yours. You've earned it." A voice drilled into the back of my head. I hastily crawled toward the cloudy puddle and instinctively lapped up whatever I could find. "Mmm. Mmmm..." I hummed, smacking my lips. Coach George opened the door. "Hey!" he said in the chipper voice that he usually uses for his students. Not another teacher. "Hey, Coach George." That voice. Like a willow branch. Cool as an autumn leaf. It was Shirley. "What can I do for ya?" Coach George asked. I could hear him doing his best to keep his composure. I put my underwear and pants on manically. Graciously, I hugged the belt I was wearing and latched it together and army crawled to the emergency hall exit next to the lab-safety fountain. "I think I left my Spanish journal in here by accident, can I check my spot?" she asked politely. Before I could hear his answer, I sat still against the second door of the classroom, holding my stiff breath. I wiped my face clean of any excess semen making sure I was presentable. "S-Sure, Shirley! Should be right over there!" he said pleasantly. I watched as her legs--my girlfriend's legs--skipped along the width of the classroom to her seat. Her seat. She sat exactly the opposite from where I sat in a different class. How did I not notice her belongings left behind. How was my vision so clouded? In a daze, I pushed myself out of the emergency exit, falling into the hallway. Thankfully, no one was around. I brought myself to my feet. I took several deep breaths. I wiped whatever cum might be on my chin, sucking it down off my fingers. Feeling fully composed I began marching my way toward Athletics: Coach Scott's class. Just as I was getting out of reach of Coach George's class, I heard a voice chirp behind me. "Hey!" I spun around. Shirley. She was chasing after me. We never had moments like this where we were in silence, where we were in person. "Where you off to?" she asked, tossing her hair slightly. "U-um, Athletics?" I said nervously. "The gym. Coach Scott...the gym...need to...you know...Coach?" I said stammering. Shirley's face began to drop. "Seb, you okay?" she got closer to me. I could smell her. The world around me was getting too intoxicating. The lockers in the hallway were no longer the bright blue that represented our school, but now they were the deep tan of my dad, or maybe Coach George, or maybe the color of Coach Scott's hole. Coach Scott's hole. I needed to get to him. I needed my Coach. My real Coach. I needed his meat. I needed to get to him before I dropped to my knees and creamed myself in front of my own girlfriend. "Y-yeah, I'm okay. I was just thinking...about..." "About cock. About cum. About how great it would be for your dad's cum to--" I heard a voice shriek inside my head. "about how much..." I said, my voice shriveling into nothing. "About how much..." The voices continued pressing into my nerves. "About how much you would rather have dicks inside of you than learn Spanish, you stupid BITCH!" "About how much I...LOVE YOU!" I spat. Shirley's face morphed into one of mortification. Someone who was pleased, yet scared. My own face must have been twisted into fear as well. "Y-you what?" she asked, her hand touching my elbow. Her eyes said everything. She seemed worried. She was gawking at someone who was out of his mind. "I-I..." I said again. "I said, I love you," more confident this time. Shirley remained shocked, but finally melting at the sound of those words. "Oh Sebastian!" she leaned forward and gave me soft pec on the lips. The same lips that had just finished worshipping Coach George's cock. "That's so great! I love you, too! I thought something was wrong, but I can tell that you were just nervous to tell me. Ha! I can't wait to tell my dad," she said, dancing on her tiptoes. "Y-your dad?" I asked. "Yeah! You'll have to meet him! And all my crazy brothers." What have I done? I thought to myself. She wants me to meet her whole family now? "I have to go to my next class, but I'll call you after school! Bye Sebastian. I lo-ooove you!" she giggled as she skipped away. Normally Shirley was so cool-headed, but now she was acting like a different person. I guess love does that to people. I definitely didn't feel what she was feeling, but I was happy that she was happy. I made my way to Athletics. As I pushed open the gym, it looked like everyone was playing dodgeball. Coach was standing with his back to me, arms folded. I stepped to his side. Still in a daze from how the day has gone on. "Your late," Coach said. "I'm sorry, Coach, I was talking to a teacher." He didn't say anything in response. He just looked over at me. "What's on your shirt?" he asked. I looked down and sure enough, a spray of white speckles polka-dotted my shirt. "It's cum," I said matter-of-factly. "Ah," he remarked, with a grin. "Who's cum?" he asked. "I sure as shit know it's not mine," he said with a hint of malice. "It's mine," I said. "Hmph." I watched as boys pegged each other with red dodgeballs. "Hey, hey, Mason, your out, buddy!" he barked. "Grades good?" he asked. "All A's so far," I said. Assuming Coach George changed my grade like he said he was. "Good boy," he said. "Go check my office, I have something in there for ya. And then get your fucking gym clothes on, Smalls." "Yes sir," I said as I made my way into the locker rooms. I rounded into his office, looking for what he might have been talking about. On his desk was an Adidas shoebox with a Post-it note that read SMALLS. I opened it to find three things: a jock strap, a small ramakin, and a note that read "To my precious Sebastian Smalls. I'm proud of you. Hope this gets you through the next quarter." I picked up the jock strap and held it in front of my face. It was way too big for me, so it must of have been Coach Scott's. I brought it to my nose, and took a deep breath, letting the noxious fumes of Coach's musk flood my head. "Haaaa," I said, my eyes fluttering. My cock sprang to attention. I picked up the ramakin and examined it further. Clearly, it was Coach Scott's cum. I felt like I'd just found a magic elixir. "Hoo, fuck," I whispered. I dabbed a finger in the cum. Still warm, I thought. I brought the milk to my tongue, taking in the delectable taste of my Coach's cum that I'd missed so much. "Mmmmm," I hummed. Without hesitation, I dropped my shorts to the ground, letting my dick spring free once more. I ran my fingers in Coach's cum, and began stroking myself with his jizz, taking in the slick sounds of my meat beginning to glisten. My own precum began to mix with Coach's juices. "Hmmm, yeahhh, Coach," I groaned. I dipped two of my fingers into Coach's cum and launched my fingertips into my hole. "ANNNGH yeah!" I yelped. The idea of Coach painting my insides with his hot cum. I began slamming my fingers in and out of my ass, making sure to jab my prostate. Precum swung from my cock in clear strands. I bunched up Coach's jockstrap and shoved it against my face, gulping down deep breaths of his odor. "Oh God, Coach," I whimpered, smothering my face with his underwear. "I love you. I love you so fucking much," I whined. The words felt so easy to say after wasting them on Shirley. I balled up the jockstrap and forced it into my mouth, letting the fabric gag me and tickle the back of my throat. "HMMMMPH," I roared. I slid a third finger into my hole, hooking my trembling joints inside my anal ring. "HMM. HMMM. HMMM," my screams of pleasure muffled by Coach's underwear. With every jolt of ecstasy I gave myself, I grew faster, stronger in each powerful push of my hand. I stroked myself wildly, sucking on the salty fabric of the jockstrap imagining it was Coach's cock lodged in my throat. "MMMMMPH! MMMMMPH!" I whined. I could feel my balls rolling against the base of my shaft, electricity building in the base of my toes. I could feel my cum welling up all the way in my lower back. Then, without thinking, I hiked my leg up onto Coach's desk, aiming my cock at an empty spot without papers or supplies. "HMMMMM! RRRRRRRRGHHHH!" I growled as cum rocketed out of my prick and splashed onto Coach's desk. "HMMmmmmmughhhh," I said as the jockstrap fell from my mouth and onto his desk. "Hennngh...hennngh!" I whined, my constellation of cum scattering on to my coach's things. I fell to my hands, letting my cock fidget against my belly for another second. I took deep breaths regaining my composure. "You are weak." The voice slithered in my mind again. "YOU'RE weak." I shouted, pushing myself off of Coach's desk, and grabbing my clothes in crumpled handfuls. I swung open the door to Coach's office, still naked, hard, and sweating. I strutted over to my locker, the locker room still empty. My cock bobbed up and down as I took each angry step. I grabbed what I needed from my locker. I hiked my gym shorts up to my waist and tossed my shirt over my head. I held my progress report still in hand. A few classes still missing, but I didn't care. This school was worshipping me. I was invincible. My cock still tented in my thin gym shorts. A chubby boy jogged into the locker room to get water and saw my boner. "Ha, like what you see, Smalls?" he sneered. "Sure do," I said confidently, and continued walking back to the gym. Coach stood sturdily monitoring the class still playing dodgeball. I approached him from behind, and rubbed my hard on against him. "Wh-whoa. S-smalls?" Coach turned to face me. "Thanks for the gift, Coach." I said. "Here's something for you," I said, slipping the paper with my grades into the waistband of his warm-up sweats. I snagged a peek of his pale skin underneath. "Couldn't get them all, but I know they're all at least passing, if not A's." "Stand next to me," he said, guiding me to his side. "And fix your hard-on," he said in a deep voice. He blew a whistle. "FRAISER YER OUT BUDDY!" he gestured to the sidelines. "So..." he said. "So..." I repeated, watching the class slamming each other's faces with balls. Coach was no longer paying attention. "This mean we're back?" he asked. I took an anxious gulp, still tasting Coach's gift on my tongue. "Yeah," I said assuredly. "We're back." ******************************************************* Chapter 24 to follow. Please email hjk7359@hotmail.com for feedback, questions, or constructive criticism. Thank you for reading.