Date: Wed, 9 Jul 2014 01:15:42 -0400
From: Evan Williams <classic14rider@gmail.com>
Subject: The English Teacher and Aaron

English Teacher and Aaron

*********************

The following is a work of erotic fiction for entertainment purposes
only. It contains intergenerational sexual fantasies that some might find
offensive. If you might be offended, or are underage, or are potentially
unduly influenced by such eroticism, please search for another form of
entertainment.

*********************

At first he thought he was dreaming. Storm troopers from another galaxy
were hammering on his office door. He was looking for a place to hide, but
couldn't find one. Just when he resigned himself to jumping out of the
window, which he may or may not survive, he bolted upright in his bed and
realized that he was safe inside of his apartment. The room was dark,
someone was banging on his door but it was hardly likely to be an alien
storm trooper.

Mr. Carlton groggily got out of bed and stumbled to see who it was. Without
even bothering to look through the peep hole he flipped up the latch, ready
to give someone a piece of his mind. Just as he launch into a loud lesson
about night time apartment building etiquette he realized that the
thoughtless intruder was, in fact, one of his high school students.

It was Aaron, a lanky black teenager from his English class. The boy was
carrying a disheveled blue notebook, crammed with rumpled papers. Aaron was
never on time with his assignments and the one that would be due tomorrow
was unlikely to be an exception. The young man stood awkwardly in
Mr. Carlton's doorway, too embarrassed to ask for permission to come in,
yet certain enough of his teacher's good nature to expect an invitation.

"Oh, Aaron, why don't you come in," Mr. Carlton said, stepping aside to
make way for the young man and silently cursing the day his students
Googled him and found out where he lived.

"Thank you Mr. Carlton," the boy said respectfully. He brushed past the
teacher and sank into a couch in the man's living room.

"What brings you here this hour?"

The boy eyed his disheveled notebook and looked back at his teacher. The
youth's shorts usually hung at mid-calf, as was common for most of his
friends because they sagged their pants well below their ass, but sitting
on Mr. Carlton's couch, Aaron's pant legs where hiked up to his knees. He
looked like a traditional school boy, vulnerable and awkward. He nervously
wagged his legs in and out, gently bumping his knees together, adding to
his awkwardness.

"Oh, I see," Mr. Carlton said, in answer to his own question, "You waited
until the last minute to work on your paper and now you are coming here for
help. Well, I shouldn't help you. I should have a life outside of school
too, you know. I should just let you suffer the consequences and take a low
grade. Maybe that will teach you not to procrastinate."

Aaron's eyes were wide and moist with genuine fear. "I'm sorry
Mr. Carlton. I didn't mean to put off doing your assignment. I guess I just
got too much goin' on..." The boy's voice trailed off.

Mr. Carlton wanted to be mad at the boy, but he really couldn't be. Aaron
was a nice boy. He was a bit of a prankster, and could be unpredictable at
times, but that was part of what endeared him to the teacher. Anyway,
Mr. Carlton knew that the boy was basically good at heart.

Mr. Carlton had enough experience with teenagers to know that they are
impulsive creatures who don't always think before they act, and who regret
the actions they've taken after it is too late. If there was one thing
Mr. Carlton had learned from working with teenagers it was that sometimes
you just have to "ride with it" and not get too angry or flustered.

"Okay, so whatever your reasons, you're in the situation that you're in and
we've got to try to find a way to get you out of it. You'll need a place to
write..."

Mr. Carlton looked around his living room and kitchen, but bills were
stacked up on the living table, and he didn't want to disturb them, and the
kitchen table was stacked with dishes he hadn't put away.

"Come on," he motioned to the teenager as he went into his bed room. There
was clear space on his writing desk. He motioned for the boy to have a seat
at the desk, but Aaron looked around the room, stared at the grown man's
unmade bed and smirked.

"Dayum, don't your mama ever tell you to make the bed when you get up? What
you be doin' in here anyways?" The boy glanced around the room as if he
were searching for something hidden, "You got some chick up in here
somewheres?"

Mr. Carlton felt a rush of discomfort as he realized that he was in a
highly compromised position. It dawned on him that he was in his apartment
bedroom with teenage boy. His student, no less. This was not the best move
for someone who values his career – or who wants to stay out of jail.

The boy seemed to think the whole thing was a joke. Mr. Carlton decided to
just ride with it, "Okay, smart aleck; you're the one who needs help with
his paper. Have a seat and stop making wise cracks."

Aaron sat down and plopped his folder on his teacher's desk. He shuffled
through the crumpled pages of his notebook until he found the assignment
that was due.

Mr. Carlton stood behind the boy, leaning over the teenager and impatiently
tapping his desk.

"What do you need help with, we don't have all night."

Aaron held up a copy of the assignment as if he were deciphering a secret
code, "Basically, I don't understand what you want from us. You say you
want our reaction to the story we read in class, but what kinda' reaction
you want?"

Mr. Carlton rolled his eyes and sighed. It was the kind of question he
frequently heard when he asked students to think for themselves. "I want
you to think about the story we read and I want you to show me what's
inside of you."

Aaron made an expression as if the man was crazy. He stared at his
paper. His face began to look as twisted and crumpled as the paper he was
holding. His expression was a study in frustration. He stared at his paper
for a long time, then he stared back at his teacher, then he stared at the
paper again.

"You want to know what's inside of me," the boy slowly repeated.

"Yes, I want to know what's inside of you."

The boy sat wordless, his lips moving but nothing was coming out. His hands
held the paper in tight fists. He was clearly frustrated.

Mr. Carlton felt sorry for the boy. He didn't want to see the young man
suffer. The boy's young, smooth face was pure anxiety. Mr. Carlton wished
there was something he could do to relieve his pain, but the student would
have to work his way through it.

"You want to know what's inside of," the boy said again, as if he were
trying to drive the thought deep into his mind so that it would produce
some kind of result. Mr. Carlton just stood behind the boy and nodded.

Aaron looked annoyed, "You're makin' me frustrated, man."

Mr. Carlton knew his student well enough to know that the boy probably
needed to blow off a little steam, so he just let it pass.

"Good; maybe you need to be frustrated. Maybe that's what it will take for
you to get your shit together in my class."

A goofy expression suddenly crossed the boy's face, "It aint that kinda
frustration, man. It aint that kind of frustration."

The boy slowly stood up and faced the man. He was almost as tall as his
teacher. The boy pushed his teacher backward, sending Mr. Carlton sprawling
across the bed.

"You wanna know what the fuck is inside of me? Muthafucka, Ima show you
what the fuck is inside of me – Ima put it inside of you."

Mr. Carlton's heart leapt for a brief moment.

Was this boy he trusted really about to harm him? He noticed a playful
gleam in the boy's eye. Aaron was now giggling. The boy pulled the belt off
his pants and held it in threatening loop over the man's head. "You want
some of this? You want me to spank your ass?"

He roughed up his teacher a bit but Mr. Carlton could see that at least the
boy wasn't really angry. He was probably just frustrated with the
assignment. Mr. Carlton had learned that a teenager's mood can swing on a
dime, almost always in extreme directions. Rather than getting alarmed
Mr. Carlton decided to just ride with it and play along with the boy.

The boy's presence was so commanding, Mr. Carlton found himself saying, "Oh
yes, daddy – spank me. That's what I want."

The boy seemed stunned for a moment. Then a wicked smile crept across the
boy's face. He saw that the older man was not afraid of him and was
enjoying the rough-housing.

The boy switched off the lights and pounced on top of the man. He tore his
teacher's shirt open, "Oops, my bad," the teenager giggled. Then, in a
deeper and more serious voice he added, "Looks like you about to get your
teacher-ass raped."

He started tugging at the older man's pants until they came down to the
man's ankles.

Mr. Carlton was torn; he knew that what the boy was doing was totally
inappropriate, but he also found himself uncontrollably aroused. Rather
than put up more than just token resistance, he decided to see what would
happen if he let himself go.

Having exposed most of his teacher's naked body Aaron started stripping off
his own clothes. His smooth black body, in front of the window, gleamed in
the moonlight of the dark room. Mr. Carlton could see that the boy was
lean, but muscular. Within seconds the naked boy plunged on top of the
older man and began humping between his teacher's thighs.

"Now I'm the one in control," the teenager said as he pinned his teacher's
arms against the mattress.

Mr. Carlton couldn't control himself. He cock rose like a stiff board. The
boy held the older man against his smooth, firm breasts and panted in the
man's face. Mr. Carlton could taste his student's hot breath. He could feel
the teenager's hard cock plunging against his body, stabbing just below his
testicles, searching for a hole to enter.

Being held so tightly by the horny teenager, and holding the boy's smooth
firm body in return, made the older man feel more comfortable and secure
than he had felt in a long time. He could have thrown the boy off if he
wanted to, but he clutched the boy's back instead, wrapped his arms more
firmly around the student's slender, naked trunk and allowed the teenager
to mount him.

Mr. Carlton heard a voice in his head saying, "Are you crazy? Way to lose
your child clearances and never see the inside of a classroom again." But
another voice entered his mind saying, "I'm just being a good teacher. This
is what the boy needs. He needs to have some confidence and this will give
it to him. Not everyone expresses themselves in words. Some people express
themselves through actions. Who am I to stop my student's self-expression?"

"Oh baby, you're so strong," Mr. Carlton gasped, ever playing the role of
the supportive teacher who wants to encourage his students. Aaron responded
to the encouragement by thrusting harder inside of the teacher's body and
gasping and groaning in the grown man's face. He breathlessly penetrated
his teacher and fucked the man is if he were a woman.

"You wanna know what's inside of me?" the boy gasped, "Well you about to
feel what's inside of me right now."

In the heat of the passion, with the warmth and firmness of his student's
smooth body on top of him, all Mr. Carlton could manage to say was, "That's
it Aaron – Express yourself."

Mr. Carlton allowed himself to grasp the smooth humping globes of the
youth's ass as the boy pushed deep inside of him. Mr. Carlton was struck by
the irony of what was happening; his teaching philosophy was that sometimes
– in working with teenagers – you just have to ride with it; now he
was riding on his student's hard teenage cock.

The boy's words had deteriorated into unintelligible grunts and groans. His
hot breath continued to envelope his teacher's face and the youth's sweat
covered the older man's body.

Mr. Carlton took in the sight in the moonlight. He looked beyond the
humping globes of the boy's ass, all the way to the teenager's smooth,
slender legs, pressed against the older man's white sheets. The lad's legs
looked almost dark blue as they reflected the moonlight.

Suddenly it occurred to Mr. Carlton that to teach teenage boys who have all
sorts of frustrations and problems that they are trying to work out, one
has to be a prostitute, making himself available for the teenager to use.

The bed squeaked as the boy humped his teacher relentlessly. Mr. Carlton
watched in the moonlight as his horny student worked through his
frustrations and found his confidence and his self-expression inside his
teacher's ass.

With one, final, hard thrust and a loud grunt – as if to punctuate a
point – the boy cried, "Take it," and shot a thick, warm sticky load
inside of the man. This was followed by repeated bursts of cum until both
teacher and student were exhausted.

The two naked bodies lay in the moonlight. Mr. Carlton was proud of the
obvious effort and energy his student had put into his lessons that night.

The next day in school Mr. Carlton saw Aaron with his buddies – the boy
looked sheepish and gave the older man a slight smile, but kept his
distance for fear that his friends might be able to detect something. When
the boy handed in his paper, however, it was a work of genius. Mr. Carlton
called the boy to his desk, "This is really a fine piece of writing. When
did you do it?"

"This morning," the boy answered shyly. "After I got over all that shit
that was blocking me I knew what you wanted and I gave it to you. I gave
you what was inside of me."

"You sure did," said Mr. Carlton, taking a deep whiff of the teenager's
body as the boy leaned over him.

"I think Ima need your help on another paper tonight," the boy quickly
added.

"Bet," the teacher answered, pounding fists with the boy.

The bell rang and the teacher watched as his student disappeared, with a
new sense of confidence, down the hallway.