Date: Wed, 26 Mar 2008 16:53:33 -0700 (PDT)
From: Chase Kain <chase.kain@yahoo.com>
Subject: Hot For Teacher Part 1 [Update]

Author's Notes: Hey there. Chase here. I have been a fan of Nifty for years
now. I recently have gotten into writing my own experiences down and have
decided to send it in for others to read and possibly get something
from--that of course, being a rise. I do hope you enjoy the many
experiences I will share with you. I do need to warn you, that this
particular story does contain sexual relations between an older man and a
teenage boy. If this offends you or is not legal where you live, please do
not read or proceed at your own risk. And I love to talk to people, so if
you'd like to chat or just comment on this experience, feel free to email
me at chase.kain@yahoo.com. Without further ado, I give you...


Hot For Teacher


I have always loved older men. Even as a young boy I'd been attracted to
several teachers and adults that I looked up to. Sadly, nothing ever came
of those for the longest time, that is until I was sixteen.

I've always looked older than I really am, and so I was hit on a lot from
sixteen onward. I have to admit, I liked (and still like) the attention.

I have many stories that I will share with you about my sexcapades (what
else would you call them?) if you would like--this, being the first of
many--but before that, allow me to tell you a bit about myself.

My name is Chase Alexander Kain. I am twenty years old. I have sandy blond
hair and dark blue eyes. I am 5'11" and I am of a slender build. I have a
light complexion due to my German heritage, but everyone says it suits
me. A light dust of freckles crosses from cheek to cheek, over the bridge
of my nose. I suppose you would say my dress is a bit prep, as I like to
wear button up shirts and turtleneck sweaters from Old Navy and
Abercrombie, but a majority of my clothes really don't fit a style type. If
it works together, I'll wear it. My cock is 5.5 inches, uncut. My pubes are
shaved. My ass is round and hairless, as is my crack. I am a complete
bottom, and have only topped once. I hated it. Writhing beneath or riding
another is where I belong. I've been told I am cute and very fuckable, but
I've always been a bit of a nerd. One thing if for certain. I love sex and
I live for it. With that, I will now tell you the story of my very first
sexual experience.


It was the end of the school year my sophomore year. I had just turned 16
in November and was finally accustomed to the school. I loved my classes,
and most of my teachers, but like any high school student, one teacher
stood out among the rest.

Mr. York. Thomas York. Final period English teacher and my own personal
Adonis. 5'11" to my 5'8". Thirty years old. Tanned, brunet, and
gorgeous. His dark brown eyes sparked with fun and familiarity. His body
was lightly muscled as one could see through the oxford shirts that he
loved to wear. His ass was firm--I had just known it would be. He'd bent
over quite a few times to pick up some papers or a book that had fallen to
the floor and I'd gotten quite a good look at it. I also knew that he was
just bound to have as gorgeous a package as he had a bod.  The best thing,
however, was that my gaydar went in full effect whenever I got near him. I
also had a feeling that the older man knew that I looked and enjoyed it. At
least, I had hope, in any case. Still yet a virgin at 16, I wanted Mr. York
bad. I wanted to feel what my best friend--promiscuous Alan Reid--talked
about.

One day in March, I walked into last period moody and quiet. Some asshole
in the class before had decided that poking me and calling me a fag would
cure his boredom, and the fact that the class was my least
favorite--Algebra--and the teacher was my sworn enemy--Mrs. Bean--I had
already been in a sour mood. I had never wanted to punch someone as much as
I'd wanted to hit Tyler Kirk that hour (I did take revenge by slapping his
hand hard with a ruler, but it hadn't been very sweet). Mr. York must have
sensed my bad mood, as he came to my front row desk, leaned against it and
turned his head to look at me. He opened his mouth to speak, but at that
moment the class know-it-all rose her hand and began to wave it
frantically. God, she was so annoying. I gave Mr. York an apologetic look
and he returned with an easy grin.

"Stay after class, Chase," he mouthed. "We'll talk." Then he walked over to
the human windmill and proceeded to help her out until the bell rang. The
class went by in a haze as I took to fantasizing about Mr. York and myself
or Mr. York and several of the other males in the class. It was safe to say
that by the time class had ended--and I had remarkably finished this
classes homework for all the hot daydreaming--I was very aroused, and my
cock--5.3 inches back then--was straining against my tight black jeans. I
was very pleased that I had a reason to stay behind as the bell rang and
the other students raced to pack up their backpacks and ditch the
class. Little Miss Know-it-All seemed on the verge of raising her hand to
ask another ten minute question about a topic that we would not cover for
months that would require a twenty minute explanation at the very least
but--

"Whitney, I need to talk to Chase for while. Your question can wait until
tomorrow. If you'd like, I will be here early in the morning, so feel free
to come for help before first period. Have a good day."

Whitney glared at me before stuffing her books haughtily into her book bag,
slinging it onto one shoulder as she stood, and then rushing from the room
and shutting the door a little roughly behind her. I watched as Mr. York
walked over to the door and flipped the lock shut. After, he leaned against
it, focusing his dark eyes upon me with an easy smile.

"I always lock the door after last period. Anyone who might wish to speak
to me thinks I am gone, and so I can finish up my daily work in peace."

He made his way back to his desk, leaning upon it as he crossed his arms.

"Now, Chase, tell me what happened that put you in such a mood."

I sighed and shrugged. His bringing up that incident was doing nothing for
my erection. I just wanted to get home so that I could drop my backpack in
the entryway, rush to my bedroom and lock my door, crawl into bed and
proceed to touch myself while fantasizing about those big hands doing the
touching instead. "It's nothing, Mr. York." I kept my gaze from his and
picked at the warped corner on my desk.

Without warning, a large hand moved into my vision and I was forced to look
up as Mr. York gripped my chin. His dark eyes were steady as they looked
into my own and I found I could not look away. What was more, my arousal
was returning fast. I swallowed hard. He asked again.

"It was... just some guy in fifth hour, Mr. York. Nothing big." I shrugged
again. It was quickly becoming my signature move. His mouth became a thin
line and his grip strengthened just a bit.

"He called you derogatory names, didn't he?"

I blinked and then decided to play stupid. You didn't tattle tale on
another guy in high school unless you had a death wish. Especially where
Tyler Kirk was concerned.

"Tyler. Tyler Kirk. No, don't shake your head, I know. He called you a
faggot, didn't he?"

I just stared. The older man groaned and released me. "I really don't get
boys today. If someone is abusing you, you do not let him or her walk all
over you. Still, it's obvious you aren't going to talk, so I can't help you
I'm afraid. Just know, Chase, I am here if you need to talk. No matter
what. Just ask. Understood?"

I nodded and watched as he walked back to his desk. He looked up a minute
later, a confused expression on his face.

"Chase? What are you still doing here?"

I bit my lip hard. I couldn't move. If I did Mr. York would see and it
would be the end of me. Just by that simple touch, I was tight in my jeans.

His brows quirked as he watched me and slowly a knowing smile flitted onto
his face. I blushed profusely and looked down. I was taken by surprise more
than I'd ever been when the older man fell to his knees beside me,
grinning.

"No need to be embarrassed, Chase," he said, and placed a hand on my
knee. I looked at him, our eyes meeting and locking. His dark eyes now
sparked with fun and something that looked suspiciously like lust. I had to
be dreaming. "This isn't the first time a younger male has had the hots for
me, I assure you."

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Minutes passed of Mr. York and I
just staring at one another. At long last, I found my voice, but the thing
I least expected to ever say to Mr. York escaped my mouth in a needy and
wanton whisper.

"Touch me, Mr. York."

And he did last thing I ever expected the older man to do. He complied.

I gasped as his fingers brushed over the lump at the front of my jeans. I
outright moaned as he pressed his palm firmly against it and squeezed
lightly. Then he quickly unzipped my jeans and with my help, pulled both
the jeans and my black silk boxers down to bunch around my ankles. A large
hand closed around me and he slowly began to pump, his free hand making
small work of the buttons on my shirt before evil fingers pinched and
pulled at my taut buds. Before long I had slid down slightly in my seat and
my legs had spread as wide as they could go. My eyes were lidded and my
hips bucked into my teacher's grasp.

"Ah, fuck," I moaned, my voice now reduced to a guttural rasp. His pace was
much faster now and my moans were becoming louder. I found Mr. York's mouth
against mine just as my cock spasmed and I came violently, my seed shot
over the desk and into Mr. York's hand. He continued to stroke me as we
kissed.

Too soon, he released me and pulled away from me. He said nothing as he
strode to the classroom sink and washed his hands. I suddenly felt very
exposed and didn't know what to say and so I just sat there.

"You should go, Chase," he said at long last, clearing his throat. "Please,
don't tell anyone about this... and I... I'm sorry."

I opened my mouth but he raised a hand and interrupted me.

"No... don't speak, just go."

I quickly pulled up my pants and underwear, slinging my bag over my
shoulder and ran from the room. I made my way to my car and got in. My mind
replayed the entire scene over and over. By the time I'd made it home I was
rock hard once more. I quickly rushed into the house, discarding my
backpack and fleeing to my room. Locking the door, I undressed and crawled
into bed. Slowly, I touched myself as I recalled the feel of my teacher's
hands upon me, effectively forgetting the part where he'd kicked me out of
the classroom. It wasn't long before I was thrusting into my fist, gasping
and moaning. For the second time in an hour I came, only this time I called
out his name.


To be continued.