Date: Sat, 5 Mar 2011 21:58:42 +0000
From: Some Chap <just_some_chap@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: Straight-Lads: Jamie

This story deals with (highly) adult themes, and is really not at all
appropriate for children. Copyright me.

This story is the story of a secondary school teacher who takes advantage
of an annoyingly self-confident, straight, sixteen year old. The difference
between this happening in a story and this happening in real life is that
in this story, nobody gets hurt. Whether it's a teacher, a priest, or a
scout leader; when an adult in authority takes advantage of a minor,
regardless of the circumstances or context, it always destroys lives.
Reading this and jacking off is one thing; but anyone wishing to practice
this in the real world has serious moral and mental problems that they
genuinely need to resolve.

I have read nifty for a very long time, and about six months ago, decided
to give writing a go. Some of you may know me from my first story, 'New
Direction for One Direction', a story of several parts available on Nifty
under gay/celeb/new-direction-for-one-direction/. this is my second effort,
which covers largely similar themes, lol. I envisage several parts to this,
with each part existing as a stand alone story in which the protagonist
takes advantage of a particular macho archetype; so in this chapter its a
schoolboy called Jamie, for instance. However, I will only be able to add
irregularly, as I have a busy job which requires me to do a lot of writing.

That being said, I would absolutely love to know what you think :-D As an
internet writer, I'm never really sure if anyone is actually enjoying what
I'm writing - the only way writers can learn people enjoy their work, is if
people tell them :-) My email is Just_Some_Chap@hotmail.co.uk. I always
respond, and will take on board criticism, ideas or suggestions for future
parts.

I have also recently established a website at
http://www.asstr.org/~Just_Some_Chap/, however it currently only lists my
'One Direction' story.

So with all that out the way...enjoy the story!

(M/t, authoritarian, oral, anal, highschool)


Straight Lads: Jamie, the School Lad

I don't know why more teachers don't fuck their students. Particularly Year
11 boys; in my experience, the only time the little bastards shut up is
when their fragile girl-centric minds are trying to rationalise why they're
enjoying a cock up their arse.

But, as usual, I'm getting ahead of myself. I am a teacher in a secondary
school. Why am I teacher in a secondary school? Is it because I love to
teach, or because teenage children light up my life? No, its because I
graduated university a few years ago with a degree in History, and couldn't
get a job for love-nor-money. So, quite naturally, I took a pot of free
money off the government, and trained to be a teacher. Yes, I essentially
sold my soul to the devil. I'm now 27 years old and teaching at a fairly
large secondary-modern in Birmingham, England, which hugs the bottom of the
national league tables. The only good thing is that my fellow teachers are
so gormless that within a couple of years, I'll hopefully be a Head of
Department and not have to teach anymore. Seems unrealistic? Well I'm
deputy-head of Department already, and whilst this only entitles me to a
cupboard of an office and an extra 50p per hour, I am at least getting
closer to my dream of being a teacher who doesn't teach.

But, there are perks to being on the frontline. Perks which really only
make themselves apparent should you happen to be a teacher who really
couldn't give a flying fuck as to the quality of the education your pupils
receive -- like me. An attitude which stands me in good sted with the
kids, of course; if you're a teacher, the LAST thing you want to do is
imply that you actually care about the kids in your classroom; Generation
X'ers don't respect that sort of thing at all. No, appear completely
apathetic, like you really don't care whether they leave with 15 A*'s at
GCSE or 1 GCSE at grade D, and suddenly you'll realise that you and the
kids have something in common.

But, now I'm getting sidetracked. Perks. The sexy perks are the ones your
interested in, yes? Ok, I'll get straight to the point. 15-16 year old boys
these days are very full of themselves (and very full of something else,
I've come to realise), think they're entitled to the world and everything
in it, and don't take any shit from anyone. However, they are also, like
teenagers from every generation, emotionally wrought and, generally,
incapable of making rational decisions. This is where a pervert teacher
such as myself comes in. You see, it might seem impossible to rape such a
pupil in the modern world -- we're not talking about cherubic altar-boys
from the 1940s, after all. We're talking about boys who lost their
virginity at age 14; kids who certainly know a lot more about sex then I
do. But it's actually possible, provided you play on one key aspect: the
shame of it all. That's the key. Shame will ensure they won't tell a police
officer anything, let alone their friends.

Case in point: young, dumb Jamie, in my Year 11 bottom-set History. The
bottom set are basically the little-to-no hopers; the paper they sit at the
end of year is piss-easy, but even if they get 100%, the highest grade they
can get is a D -- and you need A-C's to get in to University. So,
basically, they make absolutely no effort. Which is fair enough; if I were
in their place, I wouldn't bother, either.

Jamie is in the bottom half of the bottom set; quite an achievement, in a
perverse sense. What he does have going for him though are his looks. I
could see him being a rent boy in a couple of years; although he reckons
he's going to be a superstar footballer, of course. He has curly blond hair
cut short, which he leaves natural when its short, and when its longer,
sweeps forward with gel, in the usual style of jack-the-lads. He has
smoky-grey eyes, and his skin is blemish free, and seems to have a natural
tan, giving him a slightly golden hue, and whilst he has a square, hard
face, he usually wears the cheeky grin of a sixteen year old, making him
appear more pleasant than he is. I presume his smile is the reason all the
girls swoon over him.

That and something else, of course.

The uniform of white shirt, blue and green tie, black blazer and black
trousers show off very little of his body -- everything is seemingly
mandatorily baggy. Thankfully, we have a sports field where we pervs can
ogle the more sporty boys in their natural habitat. I've spent many a free
period watching Year 11 PE, or more specifically, watching an energetic and
sweaty Jamie jog from one end of the field to the other, usually in a game
of football or rugby. It's win-win for me; when he's running, I can observe
his hearty-looking family jewels jiggling around in his shorts, and when
he's stationary, I can observe the fine definition of muscle running along
his arms, the way his baggy T-shirt, damp with sweat, clings to the sloping
mounds of his pecs, and the way his shorts hug his round bottom.

I notice that in sports, Jamie is very attentive. Very eager. The most
attentive he ever gets in my lesson is when he's slouching in the plastic
foam chair, long legs spread and stretched out as though he needs room for
his dick and balls to breath, wearing white socks and trainers in direct
contravention of both school regulations and fashion regulations. Drawing
pictures of tits in his exercise book. I know what pictures he draws,
because I have to mark his book once every four weeks. Like I say, that's
his MOST attentive; usually, he's a lot more rambunctious and disruptive,
serving as a lightning rod for the entire class to act out.

Perhaps I can quieten him down by introducing him to another physical
activity?

Of course, the most difficult part of the operation -- the bit which
requires the upmost consideration and thought -- is the hook. The hook is
the thing that turns an unapologetically disinterested lad into a perky,
engaging chap who wants something from me. Hooks tend to fall into two
broad categories: girls, and consumer products. Being as the former is a
little expensive for me to provide, I usually base my hooks on the latter.

I'd planned it for one of the many detentions Jamie and I spent
together. 3pm on a Friday (school finishes early on a Friday, at 2.45pm),
and he was the only pupil in the classroom. He was `reading' -- by which
I mean, sitting with a book open on the desk, and his head resting on the
desk, seemingly dozing. This pissed me off, but it allowed me a good
fifteen minutes of staring at the lad's developed thighs beneath the table,
and whilst I was again cursing the looseness of his black trousers, I got a
tiny, pathetic little thrill when he absentmindedly reached down and
scratched himself, his fingers burrowing behind his balls and pushing his
whole package to the fore for an instant.

I then casually reached into my bag, and extracted my own reading material
-- Official Playstation 3 Magazine. It was like he *heard* it; his ears
pricked up like a curious rabbit, and he looked up at me with his cold
eyes. I felt my stomach flutter. He asked inquisitively, with his broad,
working-class accent, "you got a PS3?"

I kept it cool. "Yep. You?"

He returned to a sitting position, leaning back in his chair in mock
nonchalance, unknowing advertising his body to me with his legs stretched
out beneath the table and his haggard white shirt now taunt across his
powerful shoulders and pecs. He looked around the room as he spoke, as if
it was the first time he'd noticed stuff on the walls. "Nah. Got an X-Box."
I cautiously nodded in response, causing him to add almost defensively,
"it's one of the new ones, though."

I smiled, as though I approved of his addendum. "Yeah. The ones with the
250gb hard-drives? I've got one of those, too. They're not that new,
though; came out last July."

He shrugged. "Yeah. Well, I dunno when it came out; got it for Christmas."

"It's a good machine."

"Yeah. Me girlfriend don't fink so; spend more time with the X-Box then I
do with her" he replied, chuckling as he thought about his girlfriend,
causing him to once again absentmindedly reach down and rearrange his bits
and pieces. He continued, "I'd like a PS3, though. What games you got for
it?"

We proceeded to idly chat about the various games currently available on,
formerly available on, and up-and-coming on, the Playstation 3. So much so,
that we exceeded his detention time by 15 minutes. As we were leaving the
classroom, I `suddenly remembered' that I had Fifa 11 in my office,
unopened, sent as a birthday present by my (non-existent) girlfriend; as I
had the PS3 version, maybe he'd like to borrow it? Or even, perhaps, buy it
off me? He expressed an interest in borrowing it, no doubt with the
intention of just keeping it. Fine by me. I intended to rob him of
something much more valuable.

As the two of us stalked the empty corridors, I asked him a somewhat
unusual question. Not the weirdest question I would ask him that day,
however, but at stage, odd. "Ever in the Scouts, Jamie?"

He frowned. "Eh? Wot'dya mean, the Scouts? Course I fuckin wasn't."

I looked at him sternly. "Err, sorry, Sir. But no, it...wasn't really my
fing, if you know what I mean," he said with a grin.

"I don't think I do?"

"Well, you know...only puffs do Scouts, don't they?"

"Well, I don't know about that, Jamie...I mean, *I* was in the Scouts."

Even though that assertion seemingly proved his claim that only puffs did
Scouts, he wasn't in possession of all the facts, and did not know
that. "Oh, sorry, Sir."

"And you know, Jamie, you learn a lot of useful things in Scouts -- more
then you learn in school, at least! Practical things, which you can take
with you into the real world."

He said dismissively, "oh yeah? Like what?"

I pretended to think for a moment, implying that I hadn't preplanned this
entire conversation beforehand. "Well, maybe not a LOT of things," he
laughed at that, "but...well, something you learn is knots. I can tie a
knot which no-one will be able to escape from. Well, a grownup, maybe; but
not kids like you, at least."

This, he took oh-so-predictable umbridge with.

"What-dya mean, `kids like you'?! I'm not a kid! I'm fitter then you bloody
are, Sir! I could totally break out of some fucking puff-knot from Scouts."

I chuckled, shaking my head as I did so. "I really don't think so,
Jamie. It's not criticism of you; I know you think you're invulnerable, but
you are, what, sixteen? That's still very young, and boys like you just
don't have the upper body strength necessary to break out of the knots. And
there's a certain degree of mental dexterity necessary, too, of course."

Now, he was seeing red. "Let me see one of these fucking knots."

We reached my office, in the now deserted administration block at the far
end of the school. The room was opposite the secretaries' open-plan office,
which was now quiet, the lights and computers darkened and switched off. I
unlocked the door to my office, swung the door open, and stood to one side,
allowing Jamie to enter before me. Once in, I closed the door hard. There
was still some light coming in through the window, which overlooked the
large sports field behind the school, but as there were no windows onto the
lit corridor we'd just come from, the room was pretty dark. I flicked the
light switch, with Jamie now standing in front of my desk, which was
festooned with exercise books. His hunky, well-developed six foot frame
would do nicely for what I had planned. As I walked passed him to reach my
desk, I breathed in deeply, ostensibly to squeeze past, but getting a hit
of the lynx deodorant he wore, as well as the scent of something more
primal which the deodorant was attempting in vain to mask. Something I'll
investigate in greater detail very soon.

I got the game, and put it on the desk; his eyes lit up seeing
it. "Great. Cheers. I'll bring it back next week." Like fuck will you, I
thought to myself. Before he could pick it up, I took out a piece of thin,
strong rope from the same desk. "Oh, that's convinent", he said with a
smile. Yeah, I thought. Almost like I'd planned it. "What, your not sure
now its a proper piece of rope, and not some string out of a kids magic
set?"

He shook his head, knowing that I was now intentionally trying to rile him
up. But, I could tell it still got to him. "Just do the knot, so I can undo
it."

I made the knot. Or rather, I made *a* knot. One particularly easy to undo
through the application of brute force, making it ideally suited for
someone as brawny and simple-minded as Jamie. He looked at it, and I smiled
inwardly as the creases of a frown on his forehead indicated the degree of
thought he was putting in it. He looked at it closely, from different
angles, before doing anything. `Come on, little donkey', I thought. A flash
of panic suddenly ran through me; my plan would be well and truly scuppered
if he was too dumb to undo even this knot. What would I do then? Give him
the fucking game, and send him on his way? Thankfully, just as soon as I
thought that, I saw him yank one of the loops free, and undo the entire
knot. He handed me the rope, beaming a broad smile. "Piece of piss," he
said confidently.

I looked unimpressed. "Well, yeah. Of course you can undo it; anyone can
undo it, when its not tying your own wrists. The whole point -- the thing
I was on about -- is that you can't undo it, when its tying YOU
up. But...yeah. Well done, I guess. Although an 11 year old probably
could've done it better," I said before looking up, as though I'd
accidently said something terrible. I continued, "look, I didn't mean to
imply that-"

He immediately put his wrists together. "I could undo that no matter where
you bloody tied it. Tie my wrists together; you'll see."

"Well, that's a bold claim, Jamie..."

"A TRUE claim, mate. Just do it."

"Well, how about if we make it more interesting. You say you could undo it
no matter where you were tied; I'll tie your wrists together, but not from
the front, and you'll feel uncomfortable until you break out of it. If I
win, you do your bloody work in class, quietly, and do your homework on
time; if you win, I'll give you Fifa 11, and you can borrow my PS3 for a
week. How about it?"

The Jamie of an hour ago would immediately remind me that such a wager was
a direct violation of the rules dictating relations between pupils and
teachers; the little bastards know the rules better then we do these days,
and love to take every opportunity to remind us of that fact. But the new
Jamie, since the introduction of the hook? "You're on!" And the lumbering
fool stood there in the centre of my office, voluntarily keeping his wrists
behind his back. As I moved behind him, I took one thick wrist in my
hand. The first time I'd touched him; what felt like an electric current
ran through my arm at the touch. I looped the rope around his wrist, taking
a few minutes to tie it properly. This was a different knot; this was knot
he will not escape from. Unknown to him, directly above the boy, on the
ceiling, was a thick, brass loop, presumably left over from when the room
really was a broom cupboard. In the past I had looked at it often,
considering the ways in which I was utilise it. This was one potential I
had previously considered, and my hardon was pitching out my trousers like
a rod of iron at the thought that I was now actually doing it. With one
wrist secured, I quickly yanked the rope up, ooped it through the loop, and
began tying his other wrist. "Hey, hold on, mate! That fucking hurts!"

"If you want to give up, then just say..."

"What? I ain't...fine, fuck it, just do it. No big deal."

I smiled, and continued tying his second wrist, looking down at his supple
arse as I did so. Soon, he was immobile, and I sat down in my chair to
coolly watch him try in vain to break out, with his arms reaching up to the
ceiling, twisting this way and that in an effort to gain the purchase which
I knew wasn't there. The ceiling was infact higher then I had estimated; he
was standing on tiptoes in his white Reebok classics, his thighs straining
against his black trousers as he continued to exert himself. He was
ignoring me, looking up at his wrists as he tried to get free, allowing me
to stare at him. He still wore his jacket, tie and shirt, although the tie
was high up close to his neck, and his shirt had escaped from his trousers;
either accidentally as a result of his current predicament, or
intentionally, as part of some misplaced sense of schoolboy style. After
five minutes of straining, during which time his delightful, robust scent
filled the room thanks to his efforts, I moved to phase 2.

With him still looking up at the complex collection of knots he still
seemingly believed he could escape from, he remained unaware of me walking
up to him until I was right in front of him, at which point, without a
single word of explanation, my right hand reached out and planted itself
firmly on his right pec, feeling his heart beat once, at which point my
nimble fingers began undoing the buttons on his shirt. "Sir, what...what
the fuck? Sir, stop!"

I continued my actions, looking at his face as I did so, but ignoring his
pleas.

"Ok...yeah, ok. I made the gay joke earlier...alright, Sir, I get it; ha
ha. Now...now, just stop it, ok? Just...JUST STOP IT!"

3.30pm. The building would be empty now. Caretaker would be in his flat,
doing dinner for his own kid. Cleaners didn't turn up til 7. Jamie could
scream all he wanted.

By this time, I'd reached the bottom of his shirt, and I gripped either
side of his shirtcollar, and yanked it back as far as it would go.

His position and the black blazer limited the extent to which I could
reveal his chest, but I was happy with what was revealed anyway, and took a
picture on my phone in honour of this, taking in the smooth contors of his
sloping pecs, each adorned with a soft little brown nubbin, leading down
to...a three pack, maybe a four pack, on the boy's tum-tum. Not a six pack,
but even so, my hand reached out and ran along the softly defined ridges of
his tummy, delighting in how they flexed and hardened in annoyance of my
touch, and in an ever vigorous attempt to break free and kick my face in.

It should be noted that he continued to scream and holler as I did all
this. "Fucking queer", "can't believe this is happening", "your dead when I
get out", etc. I find with teenage boys, as with dogs, that they tend to
quieten down and become more obedient if you pay them absolutely no
attention whatsoever, so I continued to ignore his pleas. Indeed, to really
make clear how futile his cries were, I calmly brushed the shirt and jacket
on his right aside, revealing the entirety of his defined pectoral muscle,
and latched my teeth on his nipple. "AARRGGGGH GET OFF GET OFF GET OFF" he
screamed in response, which I continued to ignore, quietly feasting on his
teat like a baby with a bottle, alternately biting his nip with my teeth
and skimming it with my tongue, occasionally encircling it with my tongue
and giving it a good, hearty suck. The rhythmic thumping of his heart
indicated how keyed up he was by this turn of events. After a couple of
minutes, I withdrew from his erect tit, and did the same with the other
until it too was standing proud like his twin-brother. I took a few steps
back and took another pic of the trussed up stud; this time with my spit
drying on his pecs, and tears welling up in his eyes, doing his best to
maintain a macho attitude even as I was molesting him.

I returned to stand infront of him, and got on my knees. Ever the little
straighty, even this gave him cause for concern, with him shouting
"no...get UP...NO!" as I slowly scooted forward on my knees until my face
was directly before his black trousers. I slowly leant forward, until my
face was just grazing his groin, and took in a deep breath; I then began to
gradually mash my face into the lad's crotch, continuing to hyperventilate
as I did. "Sick...you're FUCKING SICK" he shouted. The smell was a scent I
never grew tired of: sexy teenage boy. Jamie had PE in the morning, and is
always the case with the boys who's PE is directly before break, opted to
get an extra 15 minutes of break rather then shower. His body had been
marinating in his juices all daylong in the rest of his classes, and after
his most recent workout trying to get out, he was now he was one tasty
treat. After a minute or two of breathing him in, I unlooped his belt, and
began lowering his zip. It was now his turn to hyperventilate. I maintained
my stony-faced impassivity as I finally reached for the warm metallic clasp
at his waist, taking care not to rip the button from the cheap
polyester-cotton mix of his trousers. His loose, baggy trousers, which had
up to this point in my relationship with the lad been a con, suddenly
turned into a pro, as they cascaded down his legs and pooled around his
still tip-toeing trainers. He was now standing, stretched out to his
maximum extent from floor to ceiling. His dark blond hair, short as it was,
was now matted and stuck his forehead and scalp. His face was hard,
uncompromising and angry, but with the occasional sniffle giving him a
trace of boyish vulnerability which made me want to lean up and lick it. I
didn't, though. His arms, strong as they were, served him no use now, and
were obscured from my lecherous gaze by his black school blazer, which,
with his shirt, also covered his hard flanks, but revealed the muscles he
was no doubt so proud of, which maintained the gentle definition of a boy
on the cusp of manhood. His chest, hairless as it was, was now slick with a
thin film of sweat, and spit. His legs were a real charm, however,
straining every sinew to maintain his position and relieve the pressure in
his arms, and worked on religiously every week in PE and with regular games
of football. And I'm sure they got a little extra work in the gym; after
all, girls on the sports field go to see the bits of him out in the open,
not the bits of him covered by jersey's. The size 11 reeboks, white socks
and trousers were still at his feet, but my eyes were quite naturally drawn
to the tight black Lonsdale boxer-briefs that displayed his still soft
teenage charms quite magnificently, with the agreeably fat hump of his
shaft distending the thin cotton, and disappearing into a bulging mass of
flesh where his balls hung.

Still on my knees, I wrapped my arms around his lean legs, running my hands
up, over the fine, prickly hairs on the backs of his fit thighs and over
his encased adolescent rump, planting my hands firmly on his warm backside,
to keep him from twisting too and fro to escape my lecherous gaze. I gently
moved forward, my tongue snaking out and making long, broad sweeps over the
inner thighs I'd admired so often on the football pitch. My tongue running
over the fine, peachfuzzy hair that peppered his long, fit legs, I was now
able to play with him in any I so wished; my big boy toy. After licking his
leg and every now and again gently biting the thick muscles residing there,
I moved on, or rather, up. My tongue trailed over his leg and onto the
warm, gently spiced cotton of his boxers, continuing p until my lips
carefully locked on to either side of his clothed shaft, like a tasty
hotdog surrounded by a bun, with my wily tongue licked over his own sweaty
sausage, like a cat lapping at a bowl of cream. With cream central in my
mind, my burrowing face decended, from the thickening trunk to the packed
jewels beneath; his legs reflexively speading slightly to provide himself
surer footing allowed my mouth to maul his hanging charms for a second,
before sucking one plump ball into my wet mouth, sucking the sweat off the
boy, directly through the well-seasoned boxers he'd been wearing in lessons
all day. Before long, his cock had thickened appreciably, with the hot
length resting heavily on my left cheek, and now becoming constrained by
his restrictive underwear. As the lad's bollocks continued to dance on my
tongue, my hands happily dug into the endless muscle of his ass, allowing
my inquisitive index fingers to dig the clammy cotton back into the
enigmatic crevice of his crack. The heavy breathing and gurgling sounds he
had been making since my tongue began pleasuring him were replaced with a
more urgent "n...get...aWAY!" as my fingers zeroed in on his straight hole,
playfully poking at it through the cotton. Despite his hollering, with my
hands planted on one end and my face locked on the other, he was immobile
and unable to escape my investigations of either his hefty nuts or his dank
arsehole. After a couple of minutes of alternating between rhythmically
sucking one ball and then the other, whilst my right index finger poked and
scratched at his portal through what must be irritatingly itchy cotton,
only occasionally just sticking the tip of my finger nail up his insides, I
perceived a little of the fight go out of him -- right about the time his
cock became painfully erect, infact, now hovering just above my cheek and
weeping for its plight. And I can see why; he'd basically surrendered
himself to getting a nice, sloppy blowjob from teach -- and hey, I might
be a guy, but here I was dutifully sucking on his nuts for him; something
his girlfriend probably wouldn't do; and sure, my finger was teasing his
ass, but it wasn't any more then that, and besides, what straight guy, in
his quieter, more reflective moments, hasn't wondered what a finger up
there feels like? Yeah, he was coming out on top of this deal. He thought.

With my face still pressed firmly against his laddishly fragrant crotch and
slick with sweat and saliva, I slowly withdrew my fingers from his behind,
and only removed my face long enough to grip the waistband with `LONSDALE'
printed along it in large, block capitals (so the simple-minded oafs their
products were aimed at could understand what it said, I suppose), and
quickly yanked down his pants, causing his torpedo-shaped, pleasingly thick
six and a half inch fuck-stick to make a loud `THWACK' as it bounced off
his defined stomach, spraying a few pellets of pre-jizz into the ether as
it did so. Jamie had a thick, moist thatch of curly dark-blond/light brown
hairs above his prick, which I yearned to smash my face into. But, I had
work to do! I worked equally quickly to extract his trousers and wet boxers
from his legs, awkwardly removing them from the left foot, with him
silently cocking up his second leg to make it easier for me to extract his
trousers from his other large flipper of a foot, like a docile little
puppy. No doubt done to make it easier for me to get back to his cock, I
took the opportunity to slide his firm leg up and hook it around my right
shoulder, forcing him to balance like a ballerina on one sneakered foot,
with his other leg cocked up and out of the way, my right hand lovingly
running up and down it, from his waist to his knee so as to keep his
appendage locked there, with his other white reebok weighing down his slack
lolling foot on my upper back. Whilst it was annoying not to have the beefy
girl-chasing strumpet totally naked, I got a thrill from looking up and
seeing him in his black blazer, white shirt and striped tie, reminding me
of the boy's status as full-time schoolboy. The positioning of his leg, of
course -- indeed, the reason I did it -- granted me unfettered access
to his sweet, dank boy pussy, which I gazed upon lovingly. I thought of all
the times this cocky kid had been the centre of attention in my class for
all the wrong reasons, stirring up trouble or taking the piss out of me,
and now here he was, trussed up with his big, sweetly defined frame
available for my perusal and delectation. He saw what I was staring at, and
realised what he had now put within my grasp; "no...look, just, just keep
sucking me, and when I cum, we'll call it quits, ok? Deal?" A moment of
silence passed, as the spindly fingers of my left hand with which he was
already acquainted closed the distance between the two of us, quietly
hefting the distended nut sack I had previously been sucking on, running my
hand over the smooth skin; cupping him at times, to feel the weight of his
cum-sacs, as though considering the heaviness of a cricket ball when at the
crease, and giving him a slow, satisfying scratch at other times, like a
rewarding scratch on a faithful dogs furry tummy. And his reaction was much
like the dogs. "Ahh..." he hissed, satisfied in that I'd returned to
soothing his heavy balls for him (I know because the fleshy scimitar they
were attached too jumped and flexed in appreciation, surrendering some
sticky prejizz for me in the hopes of soon fucking something), but I also
knew, straight lad that was, he worried that I intended to sooth another
scratch he was no doubt feeling. He continued babbling, "look, mate...just,
ok, just finish me off, yeah, and, like, we can do it again, ya' know?
It...it doesn't have to end here, yeah? You...you can suck me off, or wank
me, whatever, whenever you want, ok? Just...just let me know when, ok mate?
Sir?" I kept my face impassive, but was laughing on the inside. That would
be a good deal for him. And, an hour ago, I guess I would've considered it
a good deal for me, too. But I had certain...frustrations I needed to
excise.

With that in mind, I released him from my grip, sliding my fingers along
the dank, sweaty crease of his taint, before wedging my middle finger, now
slick with his ball and ass sweat, firmly within the trench of his ass and
with my finger pad pressing firmly -- but not too firmly -- against his
puckered opening. My other hand gripped his sweltering cock firmly, causing
it to flex once again as the lad moaned his appreciation, with my hand
slowly pulling down and revealing the sight and boyish smell of his slick
cockhead to the small confines of my school office. My sloppy wet tongue
extended from my mouth, which was now less then an inch from his cock, and
lazily swept across the newly revealed red head of his cock, taking in the
gamey taste of his usually covered organ, and sucking up the sweet juice he
had most recently produced. In the flash of a second, my head descended
along the flavoursome teen-stalk which had been sweating and festering in
his black school trousers all day for me. As my suctioning mouth decended
ever closer to his pubes, keeping his simple brain occupied and allowing my
thick digit, gently rubbing up and down his button, to suddenly press its
advantage and worm its way into his insides. And once I was in, I was like
a ferret up a drainpipe. I could tell by his bulging eyes, open mouth and
the way every muscle in his young bod suddenly tensed and strained that he
was unsure how to react to my inquisitive finger, but he was rapidly coming
to the conclusion he didn't like it. "GEDITOUTGEDITOUTGEDITOUT! FUCKER!
STOPSTOP! FUCK! FUCKFUCKFUCK STOP IT!"

As you might imagine, I didn't stop it, although I agreed with his
assessment that I was rapidly on my way to becoming the fucker in this
relationship. By the time my mouth was settled at the base of his prick, my
nose breathing in the stale scent from his still sticky pubic hair, I had
another finger wriggling its way up his rectum; he was so tight and fit
that his clenched ass muscles nearly cut off the blood supply to my finger,
but I put up with it knowing how doing that merely meant he could feel me
up him all the better, and slowly began to saw in and out of him. I felt
the right leg that was wrapped around me flex and strain against my
shoulder in an effort to escape my finger and thrust forward, at first
quite gently, but getting increasingly fast as my finger increased its
tempo - unintentionally pushing his damp pubes and delish cock further into
me -- which I was more than ok with!

"Ugh...Ugh...Ugh..." he melodically intoned, as my tongue danced along his
granite-hard shaft. I timed the ascent and decent of my lips to work in
time with his thrusts; he seemingly didn't notice when I altered the tempo
of my finger fucking slightly, so that rather then pushing himself forward
when my finger was pushing forward, he was pushing himself back when my
finger was firmly rooted up his ass. Whether he realised it or not, he
certainly approved, yelping and whining as I nipped and gently licked at
the wide glassy dome of his knob. After a good fifteen minutes of sucking,
biting and licking his fat red knob and thick pink pipe whilst using the
delicate dangling overloaded cum factory as a scratching post for my finger
nails, I could tell he was getting close; but wanting to still teach him a
lesson, I slowed my sucking to a crawl, slowly withdrawing my fingers and
then, horror-of-horrors, withdrawing my vacuuming mouth, too. "P-please,
sir..." he whined.

"I unhooked his leg, and stood, walking around him to take in his majesty,
standing behind him; he, still dressed in his school uniform from the waist
up, me still dressed completely in the trousers, shirt and tie I'd been
teaching in all day. For the first time since I'd touched his chest, I
spoke. "What's the problem, Jamie?" I next spoke to him like he were a
baby, "would Jamie like to cum? Is he feeling all tingly downstairs?" I
waited whilst he just looked at the floor, not saying anything. I leaned
in, close enough to his ear so I could lick it when I wasn't speaking to
him. "You have to tell me what you want, Jamie. You have to say it."

"I...I...just do it, please. Wank me off or something."

"You'd like me to wank you off? But I thought you liked girls, Jamie?"

"I-I do! I just...wanna cum."

"Oh, ok. You just want to cum. I get ya...well, how about this, Jamie. I'll
make you cum, but it'll cost you. So what are you willing to do for it?"

"What...like, be quiet in lessons and stuff?"

I chuckled, reaching around to wrap my hand around his sticky, stiff cock,
and start jacking him - ever so slowly. "Do whatever you fucking like in
lessons, Jamie. Infact, I'd rather you just be yourself." With my other
hand, I silently reached down, and unzipped myself, extracting my achingly
hard cock. "Be your annoying, over-confident self, always trying to disrupt
my lesson-plans, show off to your adoring mates, chat up the pretty girls
whose panties get wet just from talking to you -- do all that, Jamie," at
which point, my six inch cock slid between the roasting cheeks of the lad
-- he lurched forward, but my hand on his cock restricted his
movements. The fingers of my unoccupied hand -- the one which five
minutes ago had been up his guts -- I waved before his face. He knew what
I wanted, and turned his face away. "Suck them, or it goes in raw." He so
very reluctantly stuck out his tongue, initially gently licking my fingers,
but sucking them more forcefully when I shoved two of them in his
mouth. After a minute, I withdrew, and stuck the two fingers into his ass,
causing him to grunt appreciatively. I continued speaking where I'd left
off, inserting and withdrawing my fingers as I spoke, "Yeah, do whatever
you like, mate, because after the lesson, or whenever I want, for that
matter, we're going to get you somewhere nice and quiet, lower your
trousers, and relieve you of the stresses and tensions that have built up
in your balls over the course of the school day. Yeah, we'll do that
together, kiddo; make sure you leave school nice and happy, and not all
bunged up with testosterone and jizz, eh?"

He didn't respond directly, but rather he emitted a long, whining yelp, as
I replaced my fingers with my cock, and began fucking him in earnest. With
my hand now free to reach around and take his sweaty balls in hand, I
continued, "you'll like that, won't? A helpful teacher like me taking
charge of your always-bursting bollocks for you?" I squeezed and yanked on
his balls for effect when I said that, causing his knees to buckle
ever-so-slightly. After a minute, I'd located and made a point of nudging
his little love nut with each inward thrust; that combined with the
satisfying corkscrewing of his cock causes him to spasm;
"AH...AH....AHHHRGGHHHH...ARRR...AGH....AH..."he roared as he began firing
thick streams of pure-white, viscous teen paste all over the place - like
an angry fountain, coating my table for three shots, the carpet for four,
and my hand for the final three. Pressing my index finger forcefully
against the cum tube running along the base of his cock, I forced out the
final, satisfying globule and, without stopping my fucking, brought my hand
to my face and begun the agreeable task of licking his piping hot fresh
produce from my hand, enjoying the salty masculinity of the beefy school
lad I was fucking. His arms still hanging above him, he was now completely
slack, and only reacted when I returned my wet hand to his cock, and began
insistently jacking him off once again; he didn't like that -- not one
bit -- hunching over and whining like a bitch. But, needy horndog that he
was, he started to get hard again. "Your a horny fucker, aren't you Jamie?
Girlfriend not taking proper care of you?" Slamming my hips into his arse
as hard as I could, I could feel -- either as a result of my hand, the
sex talk, or both -- that he was inflating at a fair old rate now,
grunting as the rough pad of my thumb grazed over his sensitive
bell-end. "Bet she thinks you only need to spunk once every couple of days,
huh...shows what she knows, right Jamie? Strapping sixteen year olds like
you need it at least twice a day, just to clear the sex mist from your
brain and focus on your schoolwork, am I right? Yeah, I'm right; you don't
have to say - we're both blokes; we both know how it is. Don't worry,
mate. Your days of flogging yourself off because your too proud of getting
someone else to do it are over -- that's what I'm here for, now. I'll
keep you on a good, regular schedule, and if you have to put up with my
dick up your ass, hands running through your hair when it doesn't have that
fucking stupid gel crap in it, maybe even exchanging the odd little kiss
-- well, it doen't mean anything, right pal? I mean, your still
straight. Not like your enjoying it! Although I guess this cocks hard for a
reason..." I left that sentence hanging in the air to focus on fucking him,
taking full advantage of the muscular arse he'd worked on to impress girls
with, cumming up into his guts with my own roar, that I tried but failed to
stifle. With the sensation of my load coating his rectum, he lost it again,
letting lose with a drawn out, animalistic growl as I quietly intoned into
his ear, "there we go...good boy...better out then in...that feels better,
now, doesn't it?" His still-thick load once again coated my hand, which was
already sticky with dick sweat, ball sweat, and the excesses of his first
load. I offered him my hand, stating simply, "my hand's dirty." He turned
away. With my softening dick still up his sporty butt, I continued "now,
come on. It's YOUR sperm, YOUR fault, mate...fair's fair..." He didn't
speak. "Fine," I said, and reached up into his hair, wiping my hand on his
scalp till it was dry, albeit still sticky. "There we go. You look like you
do in class when you put gel in it, mate."

He didn't speak, allowing me to extract my cock. Wiping myself with the
tail of his shirt, I tucked myself back in. I then extracted a pocket knife
from my pocket, causing him to look apprehensive. "Oh, this? Don't worry,
kiddo; another thing I picked up in the Scouts. You don't need to worry
about it." I reached up and sliced cleanly through the rope, causing him to
collapse to the floor.

I leant down. "Now, the blood'll return to your arms and legs soon enough,
kiddo. So, whilst your lying there immobile, allow me to explain how I see
things. Basically, you can accept the agreement I put to you earlier --
when I was fucking you-" he looked at the floor again in shame, "and you'll
get a decent mark in a subject you'll otherwise fail, and whilst you'll
never admit it, you'll have a fucking great sex life thanks to the fact I'm
better than that blonde bimbo your seeing. Oh, and of course, it means
no-one has to find out about how you offered your body to me in exchange
for a good mark."

He frowned in confusion, bless him. "Yeah. Ya' see, that's what I'll say if
you tell anyone, Jamie. And I hate to say this, I really do -- but your
such a brainless fucking trouble maker, mate, that the powers-that-be will
believe me. And because they'll believe me from the get-go, their
investigation will discover exactly that. Lose my job? Yep. I will have to
get another job. But I ain't going to prison, kiddo. And meanwhile, all
your friends will think your a puff. So...we'll keep this to ourselves, ok?
And in that way, in the end, everyone's a winner."

A shaky, stunned Jamie left my classroom that day a changed man -- minus
his boxers, which I'd kept as a keepsake. If I kept his underwear from all
of our encounters over the remainder of that, his final year at school, of
course, he wouldn't have any left; yes, I had lots of fun and games with
Jamie. A real favourite of mine was when I paid for the two of us to go to
the cinema to see the new Harry Potter film -- as my treat; although I
think he probably had to go again with his mates, because I kept him
distracted for pretty much the entire movie by calmly frigging the knob of
his cock, which was trapped by his boxers down the right leg of his
trackies. He was worried we'd be seen, because the theatre was over half
packed; but we were fine in the shadows, provided he scooted down in his
chair, and kept his toned legs spread nice and wide. His seventeenth
birthday was a real humdinger, too; fucking him in the bogs of the pub,
holding his own legs up against his chest, allowing me to admire the new
trainers he'd bought with his birthday money whilst his mates and
girlfriend at the bar were wondering why he hadn't turned up yet.

Yeah, what me and Jamie had was a good thing. Not the only good thing,
though.