Date: Mon, 9 Mar 2009 22:11:14 -0400
From: Dmitri Balrose <yimababwe@gmail.com>
Subject: Beretto

     BERETTO:;~;:=oh brett
     By Dmitri Balrose

     This is one of three stories of which I am going to
choose one to continue further and post onto this site
(nifty).  So if you're not too lazy then I would really
appreciate it if you would email me with your opinion on
which story you think I should continue with.  Please note
that to send your recommendation you will, of course, have
to have read all three of the stories (the other two will
most likely be in the fantasy section).  But on the other
hand if you simply feel like commenting on how you liked one
of my stories or if you want to tell me how bad it sucked,
then feel free to do so as well.

           All emails go to:  <yimababwe@gmail.com>

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

     Today was going to be a rough day.  I was supposed to
have checked an innumerable number of tests last night, but
that thought had been completely ignored.  I had spent the
entire evening and most of the night thinking about one of
my students.  I just couldn't get Brett Handerson out of my
head.  Handerson was a 17-year-old senior and probably the
most irresistible stud I would ever lay eyes on.  The boy
had the body of a god, a face that could seduce the devil,
and the alluring cocky swagger of a teenage superstar
athlete.  He had short, light brown hair, and the most
incredible blue eyes.  Every girl wanted him, and a number
of the boys did as well.  He was liked by all not only
because of his good looks and entrancing personality, but
also because he had a reputation of danger.  Rumor had it
that he was a porn star and had even been to prison.  Once,
when Brett had been the only one not to do an essay that was
due that day, one of his classmates had raised their hand
and tentatively informed me that "porn stars don't have to
do homework."  Naturally the class erupted with laughter and
my face grew red hot at having such a thing said in my
classroom.   But did it bother Brett?  Nope.  Instead, he
simply put his crossed legs up on his desk, leant back with
his hands on the back of his head, and said, "Yep Mr.
Peters, I was too busy screwing around at the playboy
mansion last night to do any homework."  The class's
laughter redoubled while I stood there feeling like a fool.
What could I possibly say to that?
     I'm here to tell you that if you had any doubts
whatsoever, there definitely is a God.  And he is a gracious
one indeed.  Two days ago, after the students in my class
had all turned in their tests for my class, the bell rang
and the usual rush of students proceeded.  I was turned
toward the chalkboard straightening up the pile of tests
when I heard the door to the classroom close shut, meaning
that the last of the students had left.  My next class was a
free period during which I planned to begin checking the
tests, but I was startled to hear a voice behind me.
     "Uh.hey, Mr. Peters, can I talk to you for a sec?"
     It was Brett.  He was standing a few feet behind me
with a notebook in the hand of the arm at his side.  I hated
talking to him alone-he was just too attractive.  I was a
grown man and yet I couldn't stop myself from staring at his
crotch when I talked to him.  I took a deep breath, and
turned around to look at him.
     "Yes, Brett, what is it?"
     He looked down at the floor suddenly and started
shuffling nervously from one foot to the other.  This was
something I'd never seen him do.  Brett was usually a
perfect image of self-confidence.
     "Well, sir, I was just.uh wondering if you would .you
know.tutor me.  After school, maybe?"
     I raised my eyebrow, suspecting something immediately.
     "Cause, you know, I really need help.  I don't really
understand your class at all.  I think I like flunked that
test we just took and stuff."
     Brett Handerson interested in doing better in school?
And in my class?  There was definitely something strange
about this.  He usually breezed through school without a
thought for his grades.  But still, I was a teacher.  It was
my job to help students learn, no matter how terrified I was
of trying to tutor Brett.  What I mean is that I wanted him
so badly that I was actually scared of what I would do if I
had him alone.
     "Well, if you think you really need the extra help then
I'm glad to oblige.  You said you wanted to be tutored after
school?"
     He lifted up his arm to scratch the back of his head.
Oh god.  I couldn't help but stare at the muscular arm as it
moved.  He always wore such tight shirts with such short
sleeves, and today was no exception.  I was pleading with
that gracious god I mentioned earlier to let that shirt just
slide back to reveal the rest of Brett's bicep and for him
to start flexing it like a body builder.  I noticed faintly
that he still looked rather nervous.  We apparently had not
reached the point in the conversation that was causing him
the most anxiety.
     "Yeah, about that, I actually need to have it.at your
house.sometime at night or something because I'm really busy
until around seven.  Then I need an hour or two to do my
homework and shit."
     So that was it.  He needed me to tutor him.  And at
night.  And at my house.  Things were not looking good for
me, but there was no way I could refuse.
     "Please watch your language Brett; we're still in
school after all.  You would be *ahem* (is it hot in here,
or is it just you?) most welcome to come to my house for
tutoring.at night."
     "Really?"  He asked, looking up at me with those
gorgeous blue eyes.
     "Yes, really."
     "Could I like.eat dinner at your house too?"
     What a bold thing to ask.  This was getting stranger by
the minute.
     "Um, well, yes, I suppose that would be fine too.  I
live alone though, you know, so the cooking might not be
very good."
     "Oh no that's fine," he said, flashing me a smile which
made me weak in the knees.
     "Then I'll see you tonight, I suppose?  Will you have a
ride?"
     "Yeah."
     "Do you need a pass for you next class?"
     "No thanks, Mr. Peters, I'm just goin' to gym."
     I watched his ass like a hawk as he walked out.  This
was going to be a very unusual night.

                    -         -         -

     After school, I spent the next few hours preparing a
delicious meal that would hopefully impress Brett.  Impress
Brett?  Why was I so desperate to do this?  He was a student
and I was his teacher, and he was coming over to get
tutored, nothing more.  Or was he?  This was such a strange
setup that I couldn't help but wonder-
     The doorbell rang.  I ran to open it, and welcomed my
young stud in.  For some reason I was surprised to see that
he had brought a backpack with him.  I led him to the living
room, where he flung himself down on the couch.  He put his
hands on the back of his head, a gesture put on this earth
to drive the lovers of men crazy.
     "I already ate by the way Mr. Peters, hope you don't
mind."
     "Oh.  No it's fine Brett.  Excuse me for a second."
     I went into the kitchen and put away the food that I
planned to serve.  When I returned a few minutes later,
Brett was now laying on the couch with his eyes closed and
his arms still up behind his head.
     "So shall we get to studying then?"  I asked.
     He opened his eyes and sat up.
     "Uh yeah I guess."
     I sat down next to him on the couch, waiting for him to
reach for the backpack he had brought.  He made no move to.
     "Uh, sir."
     ".Yes, what is it?"
     "Do you think we could maybe study in.your bedroom?"
     My mind went blank.  What the hell was going on here?
Brett wanted me to tutor him in my bedroom?!  I came
suddenly to the real possibility that this wasn't innocent
at all.  I could think of no logical explanation for why he
wanted to go to the bedroom.  I could see him asking to go
to the dining room-at least there was a bigger table there,
but the bedroom?  What was I supposed to do?  I was starting
to panic.  What if Brett asked me to have sex with him?  I
could lose my job, become the most hated man in town-a
pervert-people would come to my house in a mob-
     "I mean if you don't want to it's fine Mr. Peters,
really."
     "Ah.um no, no the bedroom is good, let's go, I'll show
you the way."
     So I took him to my bedroom.  He brought the backpack,
so I guess the innocence was still there, a fragile thing
that was about to break at any moment.  I stopped in the
doorway when we got there, but Brett moved passed me into
the room and sat down on the bed, his backpack falling to
the floor by his feet.  The bed was a large flat square that
was pretty low to the ground with a blue comforter on it.  I
sat next to him.
     "You have a nice place, Mr. Peters."
     "Th-Thank you Brett."
     He laid back on the bed, once again with his hands on
the back of his head.  The bottom halves of his legs were
hanging off of the side of the bed.
     "Should we begin?"  I asked tentatively.
     "I don't want to study."  Came his reply.  His voice
was deep and seductive.  "Why don't you give me a massage
instead?"
     The innocence had shattered but then somehow realigned
itself in some twisted form that no sane person would ever
believe.  He wanted a massage?  This was definitely against
the rules, but I wanted him so badly.
     "I'm so tired," he said, "why don't you take off my
clothes for me?"
     I sat still for a moment.  Was I really going to do
this?  I was a mature adult; a teacher.  He was my student.
He was only seventeen.  I could be sent to jail.
     Hands shaking violently, I reached over and undid his
belt.  He didn't move or open his eyes.  I slid it through
the loops, and let it fall to the floor with a thud, next
putting my hands on the sides of his jeans.  I pulled, and
he allowed me to remove them, lifting his pelvis and legs up
slightly to help me.  Brett's jeans fell to the floor.
     I was practically shivering with nervousness and
anticipation and desire.  His legs were muscular and tan and
covered in a moderate dusting of hair.  He was sexier than I
could ever have imagined.  I put my hand on his thigh and
let it rest there for a few seconds, testing to see what his
reaction would be.  He shifted slightly but didn't say
anything and kept his eyes closed.
     The boy's pants were already off, so I think the
innocence was definitely gone for good now.  I was really
doing this.  I started to run my hand up and down his firm
thigh, each time moving closer to the edge of his boxers.
Still he said nothing.  Was this an invitation to continue?
I decided I didn't care whether it was or not.  The next
time I ran my hand up, I kept it going until it slid up the
leg of boxers and up.up.farther.until finally my fingers
touched his balls.  I rubbed them with the side of my finger
at first, glanced up at Brett who made no move to stop me,
and then cupped them in my hand.  They were large, and warm,
and at ease, and soft.  So soft that I couldn't stop myself
from squeezing them gently as I cupped them.  I rolled them
around in my hand, feeling their shape.  I was cupping the
balls of a seventeen-year-old stud.  This was illegal.  And
yet it felt so right.  I gave his testicles one more squeeze
before I moved up and grasped his soft penis which had been
hanging in front of his balls.  He gasped when I grabbed it.
Hearing his masculine voice excited me, so I couldn't help
but start to stroke his male organ with more vigor.
     I let go of him and took my arm out of his boxers.
     "Take these off, Brett."  I said, referring to his
underwear.
     He lifted his pelvis, so I slipped them off myself.  I
then moved to take his shirt off, which he wordlessly
allowed me to do.  I let my eyes examine his body.
     He had muscled arms which were up and behind his head,
dark brown hair under his arms and above his penis, and a
few little hairs on his chest, nipples, and in a trail
running down from his belly button.  His beautiful penis was
lying down on his large soft balls, and his chest and abs
were like something chiseled by a master sculptor.  I think
I was drooling as I reached over and ran my hands over his
pecs, down his abs, and through his manly bush.  I licked
his nipples while my hands groped his male organs lewdly.
He moaned.
     At this encouragement I moved down and took his dick in
my mouth.  I ran my tongue all over it, leaving none of it
untouched.  My lips were up against his dark brown pubic
hair; I had taken him into my mouth completely.  He was
still soft, so it wasn't much trouble, though the head of
his penis was rather far back in my throat.  When I started
to masturbate him with my tongue, he tried to close his
legs.  I was driving him too far.  Instinctively I grabbed
his legs and thrust them apart again.  My tongue hadn't
stopped exploring his dick for a minute.
     With my one hand I began squeeze his balls while
continuing to suck on his lengthening penis, and I moved my
other hand lower.  I ran my fingers over his asshole,
teasing him.  He was breathing heavy and his penis was now
hard as rock inside my mouth.  I began moving my head back
and forth, blowing him.  Then I stuck my finger into his
asshole and moved it in and out pervertedly.  I swirled my
tongue wildly around his manhood in my mouth.  Finally the
pleasure drove him over the edge, and I tasted his pearly
white semen as it exploded out.  I swallowed a lot of it,
and continued to suck him off even after his orgasm had
ended.  He was spent, breathing heavily as I kept going.
After a few more minutes he cried for me to stop.  I did.
     He moved up and put his head on the pillow.  I laid
next to him, and scooted close.  I could feel the heat
radiating off of his body.  He was completely naked while I
remained fully clothed.
     "I love you Brett," I said.
     He only looked at me.
     "You still have a hard on Mr. Peters."
     "Are you willing to help with that?
     "What do you want me to do?"
     I thought about it for a second as I looked down at his
body.
     "Let me stick my penis in your ass."
     He just stared at me.
    I scooted off the bed, undressed completely, grabbed
some lube from the nightstand, and then returned to the bed,
dragging him onto the space in front of me.  Hands shaking
in anticipation, I rubbed some lube roughly on his asshole
and my penis.  And then lifting Brett's legs up, I fucked
him, grunting as I moved in and out again and again.  For
the length of the penetration I stared deeply into his blue
eyes which were filled with pain and sadness.  I was hurting
him, and I liked it.  The violation continued until I
finally released my load in a final great spasm.
Afterwards, I collapsed onto the bed next to him, and pulled
his body close to mine.  We slept.

                     -          -         -

     In the morning I awoke, fondled his ass a bit, and then
got up and called the school to tell them I was sick today.
I made a delicious breakfast for Brett, and then beckoned
for him to come to the table and eat.  To my disappointment
he was wearing his jeans when he came out of the bedroom.
At least he wasn't wearing a shirt, though.
     "So, do you actually want me to tutor you today,
Brett?"  I asked.  I meant it partly as a joke.  He gave me
a funny look.
     "Why bother now?"
     "Well I mean it really couldn't hurt for you to get a
better grade in my class, you know."
     He looked at me, confused.
     "What do you mean?"
     "Brett, your grades are barely passing sometimes."
     "Are you trying to say that you're not going to give me
a better grade in your class?"
     I didn't understand what he was getting at.  He sounded
a little bit annoyed.
     "Give you a better grade?  What are you talking about?"
     Brett's face was screwed up in anger and frustration.
     "I let you have sex with me and you're not even going
to help me pass your class?"
     I sat there, shocked, for a few seconds, before I
became filled with anger of my own.
     "You.you let me have sex with you?!  You were
practically begging for it!  What was that, some sort of
sick.payment so that you could get a better grade?!  Who do
you think you are!"
     "Well I thought I was the guy whose body you always
fantasize about in class, and whose ass you always stare at
as I walk down the hallway, but maybe I'm mistaken!"
     I was stunned.  He really had done this.  He had given
me a sexual favor in the hopes that I would cut him a break
in class, and I had accepted it.  What kind of person was I?
     "Look Brett, I think I love you, I think I really do,
but I cannot simply give you a better grade.  What if
someone finds out?"
     "You'll be screwed, that's what!  But you don't have a
choice anymore; don't you get it?  I let you suck my dick
and get me up the ass and you can't take that back!  Having
sex with a seventeen-year-old boy is against the fuckin'
law-it's rape-and if you don't give me an A in your class
then I'm gonna make sure everyone in this whole town knows
what a damn pervert you are! "
     I sat back in my chair, defeated.  He had blackmailed
me.
     "Rape?"  My voice was barely a whisper.  "Didn't you
enjoy what we did together, Brett?  Didn't you like it?"
     He stared at me wearily for a moment before giving me
his quiet response.
     "Shit, Mr. Peters; I'm straight.  You know that."
     And he was right.