The following fictional story deals with sex among males. If you are offended by such material, are too young, or reside in an area where it is not allowed, depart. Though not always observed in this story, care enough about yourself and humankind to practice safe sex.
The author retains all rights. No reproductions or links to other sites are allowed without the author's consent.
EBradley33@Excite.com
Chapter 8
Premonitions and Attacks
The second my head arose from the pillow, I felt it. Something wasn't right. After glancing about the bedroom, I realized my premonition owed to nothing physical in my space; it was just that the day didn't feel right.
I immediately tipped to the fact that since the first ambush, I had been picking up on more stimuli in the deeper levels of the domains in which I moved. I was hearing subtle rhythms in favorite music, rhythms that I had never tracked before. In the classroom I was detecting that Susan was looking at me even though my back was turned toward her, that Rosalie needed some kind of answer from me about the sanctity of marriage that didn't violate her hopes. The dynamics of ritual and domination in the Pride had leapt to the surface of my thinking unbidden.
Ouch! That sexy but menacing shadowy male from my nightmare flashed across my perceptual screen. I had dismissed him as some arcane machination of my subconscious intended to work off a fear, but now I wondered again if I had picked up on something that registered so deeply that I could sense it but not examine it.
As I arose, I contemplated this change that Robert and Kenny had effected in me. Oh, I wasn't complaining-I was much more alive, aware, integrated, turned-on. But this heightened awareness chastened me, reminding me of the price I had paid for isolating myself. By cutting myself off so much, I had diminished the extent to which I had been attuned to my surroundings and other people.
As I stumbled to the kitchen to start the coffee-maker, I wondered how soon it would be before I was given an opportunity to see Kenny's last sketch of me. I glanced out the kitchen windows, looking out over the back yard. The sky was a sickly greenish-gray. I stepped out in the sunroom and opened the back door. The hot, clammy air washed over and around me, making my boxers limp. A layer of visible water vapor hung just above the lawn while a heavy dew covered the grass. "If one went wading out in that grass, his feet would be soaked above the ankles," I thought. "Good grief!" It wasn't supposed to be so warm at this point in our autumn. More weird stuff with the weather. More harbingers of a dreadful day.
After I'd parked my car at school and was walking up to the entrance off the north parking lot, Jarod Paine walked rapidly by me. "Hey, Jarod," I greeted him. He kept moving on with his head ducked, an obvious snub.
"Whoa," I thought. "Something has gone wrong for him. Probably not much learning is going to occur for him today." I suspected it probably had to do with Valerie; I hoped it wasn't a break-up or anything permanent.
Although I always arrived early at school, the halls seemed even more deserted, not just of students but also teachers. Clearly, people were going to have to drag themselves to school and then drag themselves through the day. "Humans who valued life better stand clear of the doors when the final bell sounds this afternoon because students would shoot outside to get away," I chuckled to myself.
When I was in high school, a blind chorus teacher had claimed that he always knew when a low pressure weather system was approaching because kids were bouncing off the walls. As I walked to my room, I was pondering how much our environment influences us in any given moment. "Our arrogance that we are free of biological and environmental laws probably owes to our cherished ideal of independence. Given such ideals, determinism is not a welcome concept!" I thought. "We prefer our illusions."
Finding my classroom warm and stuffy, I began opening the windows. It was not going to be pleasant to be shut in these rooms all day. Even worse, I had to start a major writing assignment today in my first hour because we had to complete it before the end of the quarter. Like all my assignments, it fit into a larger assignment capping the quarter, which, in turn, capped the semester and then an annual capstone assignment. I wished I had the opportunity to delay, to do something more suited to the tenor of the day. We just didn't have that luxury. I would have to see what I could do to jolly up the class so that they would be more receptive to the challenge. Maybe Jeremy Wilder would come through for us. "Evan!" I heard that interior voice exclaim: "You're going to put responsibility on Jeremy's shoulders for making today work?"
"Of course not," I retorted in my head. "And you know better." Damn, I was already arguing with myself without even reaching the first class period.
Students began oozing into the room, not eager to be there. No smiles, no laughter, no excitement. Troy moped in without Susan. "Gee," I thought, "I hope Troy's being alone isn't indicative of difficulties between him and Susan." Two minutes later, Susan walked through the door, clearly avoiding looking in Troy's direction. He was looking hopefully at her. Years of watching students told me all was not going well with them. Troy caught me checking them both out, shooting me a murderous look. "Whoa, what's that about?" I wondered. I didn't move my eyes away; he continued to stare at me even more poisonously. "I haven't even talked to Susan recently," my mind silently remonstrated to Troy.
I had looked over at Kenny several times, but his head was ducked down, and he was keeping it that way. He wasn't even doodling on his writing pad. I was hoping for one of his warm smiles. What an antidote against this gloomy day that smile would be! I wasn't going to get one. I wondered what was going on with him.
I decided to make a quick trip to the bathroom before I started class. I powered down the hall to the door of the men's room. Before I reached it, I heard muffled noises from inside. "I guess Jim Belton [the janitor in our wing] is running a little behind in cleaning the bathrooms," I thought. I opened the door to see Jarod Paine and another junior named Cody Saxon, a jock friend of Troy's, scuffling on the floor. "Hey, guys. Cut it out. You want to get caught fighting?" Not only did my admonition make no sense, for I had just caught them fighting in the school, which was cause for suspension, but my words had no effect. I grabbed for Jarod since he was on top, struggling to pull him away from Cody. After about 30 seconds of struggling to separate them and trying to communicate in broken sentences about knocking it off, I managed to pull Jarod back and keep him back. Cody arose, ready to fly into Jarod again.
"What's caused all this?" I managed to huff out as I attempted to regain my breath and composure.
"That bastard is trying to move in on Valerie," Jarod answered.
"I haven't heard that she's attached to you," Cody shot back. "Besides, Valerie agreed to go out with me when I asked her."
"You know damn well that WE'VE been hanging together!"
"Still doesn't mean that she belongs to you. She's interested in me."
"Okay, okay," I puffed. "You guys aren't going to settle this now. Cody, you go to your first-hour class. Go on. "
"What about him," Cody challenged, pointing at Jarod.
"He's in my first-hour class," I replied, "and that's where he's going. You two stay separated the rest of the day."
Cody punched the door outward, departing.
I turned and looked at Jarod. "So this is why you are so unhappy today," I remarked. He refused to look at me. "Do you and Valerie have an understanding about dating?"
"I didn't think we needed one. We seemed solid. She seemed happy. The next thing I know, I call her home and her mom tells me that she and Cody have gone out for coffee."
It took all my control to keep from smiling. I suspected that Valerie was using the "coffee with Cody" ploy to induce Jarod to commit to their relationship more. I was certain of it because "Mom" had shared all that news with Jarod. Not like careful moms even when potential boyfriends were involved--unless they had been coached by their daughters to divulge the information. And they were women, after all--nothing makes females happier than to see a free-range male moving toward being hog-tied! Of course, Jarod hadn't a clue that he was being managed. Talk about domination!
"I think a conversation with Valerie about dating is in order, Friend."
"You're not my friend!" he stated vehemently as he shoved me out of the way of the door so that he could leave. But in moving me out of his way, he propelled me against the wall, making my head bang against the cold grey tiles. "Ow!" I exclaimed. Damn! I was seeing a few stars. I placed my hands around my head as though that would restore my senses and keep me from swaying so much. I must have stood there for a minute. I was going to have a headache. Mentally, I was checking out my attache to remember if I had some Tylenol with me. I splashed water on my face, tucked my shirt tail in, straightened my clothes, and headed for my classroom.
It was eerily quiet as I took roll, looking up at those faces. They too were feeling the ill omens of the day. No Jarod. "Now where did he take off to," I wondered, hoping he had left the campus if he was still in a heated frame of mind. I especially hoped that he hadn't gone looking for Cody. I was feeling down, too. I had imagined that Jarod and I had built a bridge between us. That seemed rather a futile notion, given the morning's events. The burden of the day was weighing down more.
I started to the lesson. We had read an essay, two poems, and a short story whose themes encompassed ambition and drive, focus, vision supported by love, and a personal struggle in maintaining hope against assaults from circumstances and people. I had posed a question, students had adopted a stance they wished to argue in response to the question, and they had submitted potential thesis sentences, which I had critiqued and returned to them. Now we were ready to engage in more structured thinking about the approaching essay. I started teaching them an old rhetorical process called the "quaestio," in which, for every major factor supporting their argument, they were going to determine the argument that an opponent would make against their point of view. I had written an example of a "pro" and "contra" that could be posed for the question, and I had just begun to lead them through some pro-contra points that some of them might adopt in their essays. Paul Hartford had thrown out a point about love, and I was asking someone to come up with an opposing view when my eyes fell on Jeremy Wilder.
"Ah," I thought. "Perhaps we can pick up our mood a bit."
"Jeremy, you frequently have a unique point of view on matters of the heart. What would you argue against this stance?"
He just sat there. No smile, looking at me coldly.
"Ooops," I thought, "you should have checked Jeremy out to see if he was ready for this. I hope I haven't set him up in front of the class."
"Who CARES?" he shouted back. I froze. So did everyone else. It was so quiet you could have heard an electron move.
"I'm just trying to help you all move into this assignment so that when you leave class today you will already have made a major beginning on completing it," I explained.
"Why do you have us doing all this shit? I'm never going to use it. It's a waste of my time. Maybe for these guys going to college it's a big deal, but it isn't going to help me at all. You don't need this working in a radiator repair shop."
Blushing, I responded quietly, "If I knew enough about radiators, I could give you an application of this kind of thinking." I brightened: "Hey, here's an application for you. A mechanic can use what I am teaching you to lead a reluctant customer into spending more money to effect a better repair than a cheap, fix-it-now remedy that will hold up less than three months. It would particularly help a mechanic because when that customer's cheap repair breaks down, he's going to be back in that shop complaining about shoddy workmanship when the root of the problem is the customer's stinginess. Of course, the customer will be out there complaining to all his friends about how bad the mechanic's work is if the mechanic fails to persuade the customer to choose the most cost-effective decision."
"NO," he spoke loudly. "You're just being cute, just showing us how smart little Evan Halsey is." Jeremy was being so loud that I saw Kathleen Burge peek around the corner of my classroom door to check us out.
Crap! This was evidence for what I knew Kathleen believed: I was far too permissive with my students, was unable to keep us on task. Even more, Jeremy had been her student last year in sophomore English. The mother in her had caused her to take a protective stance toward him. I imagined that she knew things about Jeremy's life that I didn't. "If you weren't so intent on isolating yourself, you might know some of this too," that snotty interior voice opined. I suddenly realized that Kathleen probably resented Jeremy's being assigned to my class. We were not allowed to recruit students to our courses, but I was now certain that it seemed a cosmic mistake to her for Jeremy to be assigned to my section of junior English. I needed to have to have a chat with Kathleen to discover what I could about Jeremy's difficulties.
"Most of these kids are too afraid of you to tell you how sorry they are to be stuck in your class. They hate this shit you make them do. And they hate you too."
The words stung. They validated my deepest fears. They came from Jeremy. They left me with my mouth literally hanging open. Talk about blushing. I could feel my face flaming with the heat of the blood that had shot to the surface. I couldn't just stand there stunned. I knew this attack could not be allowed to pass without comment from me. I had made a good faith effort; he had rejected it. Now my leadership stood in question.
"Those students for whom you claim to speak don't need you as a spokesman. We are quite open in this classroom in what we say, as you have just demonstrated both now and any number of times in the past. Anytime they wish, they can make that point. And if they don't wish to TURN the classroom into a FORUM for attacks, they can see me privately during the day. So if you need propping up in your attack against me, don't use them. Here is a good chance for you to use just what we are studying. But allow me to make one other point. You are decent and good at heart. You are recognized in this class for those wonderful character traits." I saw tears spring into his eyes.
"I have always respected you," I continued, "and I have celebrated your good heart. Please don't give the lie to these traits by showing such disrespect for me now. I deserve better and you know it. Let's just chalk this up to a bad day." I was hoping that my response had left us both footing in the class and between the two of us on which to rebuild in the future. I still cared for Jeremy, but it suddenly struck me that the feeling wasn't mutual. That hurt.
I moved on to Greg to provide the contra for which I was looking, but the damage had been done. I didn't want to send the students off to complete the assignment under the burden of this exchange between Jeremy and me. As a fall-back, we moved further into creating the pro-contra stances than I had planned so that we needed a part of the next class period to complete it. I announced that intention at the end of the period, dismissing the class. I walked over to the windows and stared out as students filed out of the room. I was still reeling from that bruising encounter with Jeremy. And I was struggling with a growing sense of unease. More of that business of something just not feeling right. "Damn! I should have taken a clue this morning when I awakened, taken a personal day, and just stayed home!"
At lunch time, I thought I should walk the halls to see if I could patch up some of the day's damage. Maybe I would run across Jarod, Susan, Troy, Jeremy or Cody. Even though Cody was not a student of mine, perhaps I could appeal to his better inclinations so that he and Jarod wouldn't tie into it again. I stood a better chance with Cody than Jarod.
I sat on one of the benches in the foyer by the building's main doors to see who might come by. Troy came sauntering by with about five of his jock buddies, Cody among them. Troy stole a glance at me but nothing more. Cody just looked at me coldly. I didn't interrupt their animated conversation because I didn't want to talk to Troy in the presence of others. I started people-watching, noticing a colleague, Tim Minor, talking to Wendy Fielding. They hadn't noticed me, so I checked Tim out.
As a chemistry teacher, Tim's lab was in another wing of the building. Since I didn't prowl the building, I saw him only at faculty meetings, which were seldom held. Even on those rare occasions, there were so many of us teachers that I caught only a glimpse of him, if that. He had been at the school only a year, so we had never really talked or served on committees together.
I loved looking at Tim. He must have been six-five. He wasn't movie star handsome, but he was attractive with high cheekbones, a broad forehead, long slim nose just perfect for his face, and a mouth slightly on the smaller side. What was surprising was that he was bald on top, but it only made him sexier to me. Black hair ringed his bald pate. If one went through the mental exercise of imagining hair restored to the bald part, he could tell that Tim was looker when he had more hair. Personally, I didn't think he suffered any diminishment without the hair. His shoulders were impossibly broad, leaving me wondering just what a tape measure would reveal about Tim's shoulder-span. He wasn't bulky; he was svelte. He had a slim waist, a great ass. His arms were heavily haired, testifying to a mat on his chest (I'd seen it peeking above his tee shirt one time) and probably elsewhere. "Watch it, Evan, you're going to bone up if you aren't careful," I thought. At that moment he caught me checking him out; actually, I was starting to mentally undress him, wondering what kind of a cock he sported. I looked away.
No Jarod. No Jeremy. No Susan. Susan was probably with her cool coterie of girl friends. Those junior women who collected around Susan were so sharp and so sophisticated that they could intimidate some of the senior women.
Wendy Fielding started to walk away from Tim.
Tim walked over to me. "Hey, Evan, how are you?"
"Escaping a stuffy classroom. Beast of a day," I answered, smiling.
Just then Robert and Kenny walked by, checking us out, followed not long after by Susan and her ladies in waiting, who also checked us out. Susan was paying particular attention to my reaction--to Tim, I supposed.
Tim waited until they moved on down the hall. "Oh, yeah, it's a BEAST of a day," he shot back, smirking. He was mocking me! My brow wrinkled in puzzlement over his response. What's with this attitude? Whatever it was, I didn't need it and I didn't need Tim Minor. I had exceeded my tolerance level for nasty surprises for the day. I stood and walked away.
"Hey, come back. I want to talk to you."
I just kept on walking. Suddenly he was beside me. Those long legs of his, I guess.
"You know you want to talk to me, Evan. I saw you cruising me all the time I was talking to Wendy. And when you walked away, your little faggy ass was switching away more than usual."
I stopped and looked at him with a pained expression on my face.
"I should count myself lucky," he continued. "Icy little Evan Halsey finally deigns to come out of his privileged isolation to mix with the less blessed. And he stopped to check me out!"
"Tim, I don't know what you're on, but I have to get back to my classroom. And don't call my ass faggy!"
As I walked back to my classroom, my forehead was wrinkled in thought. Tim and I had taught in this school with nothing but the most politely casual and trivial exchanges, but today, of all days, he calls my ass faggy. He clearly intended to challenge me. Why? No adult in this school would ordinarily do that without a good reason.
Had he learned something that hinted of my being gay? Was he homophobic? Jealous? Of whom? I was fairly certain no one knew about Robert, Kenny and Me. Ah-oh! I remembered Susan's catching my glance at Kenny during the discussion of marriage. But that glance at Kenny certainly didn't disclose anything about the ambushes. However, I didn't think Susan would say anything even if she guessed my feelings for Kenny. Unless she knew something else . . . . I still didn't think she would think ill of me. But what if she mentioned her suspicion to Troy? He was a jock, likely a homophobe. That might explain the strained feelings between them and Troy's lethal looks at me. She had thought him more tolerant, rejecting him when he revealed his dislike for gays in general and me in particular. Gosh. I hoped that hadn't happened. I didn't want Susan's feelings for me to cause her difficulties, and I didn't want Troy disliking me.
Back to Tim. I had never treated Tim in an unfriendly manner. But he had to know something that he felt protected him in his verbal attack of me. How was I going to keep this situation from growing so that it did me in. "The times are truly out of joint," I concluded. "I hope the screws holding the universe together don't weaken any more!"
I made it through the rest of my classes with no improvement in the day at all. The tempo didn't pick up until we all sensed, with the arrival of the final hour of classes, that we were about to be sprung from our imprisonment, which was fortunate because the skies had turned from green to a leaden grey. If anything the air was even heavier, unmoving, suffocating if one were inside.
With the last bell, I just sat at my desk, pondering the events of the strange day. I now had time to wonder what Tim Minor's agenda was. Our visit had felt anything but friendly. In fact, it felt like a confrontation. Had I fooled no one but me? Did many suspect me of being gay? Surely they couldn't know about the Pride.
Perhaps I was getting some signals that it was time to move on from my present position and school. Major internal groan. The thought of searching for a new position, going through interviews, selling my home, and moving somewhere else didn't appeal. But being outed in the school didn't either. It would most surely end my teaching career. What would I do then? For what other work was I prepared? Downer!
Suddenly Tim's image appeared in my mind's eye. I walked up to him, looking up into his brown eyes. He was so tall that it felt as though the back of my head was resting on my shoulder blades. His height had to be an exaggeration of my mind due to my liking men taller than I. A slight shift of my eyes down brought his package into view. Nice bulge! His hands cupped themselves under my jaw as he gently lifted my head and he leaned way down to brush his lips over mine. He backed his head off a little, looking deeply into my eyes, smiling at what he saw there, then touching his lips back to mine. "I could see the hunger in your eyes, little Evan."
Slowly, he inserted his tongue in my mouth, sliding it millimeter by millimeter over mine as I reciprocated with my tongue. He stood up, putting an arm around my back and the other under my legs so that he could lift and carry me to a bed that was suddenly nearby. "You can't escape me now, little Evan."
He lay me down upon the bed, whispering, "Welcome to my lair. You're mine now. I own that waggy ass, and I'm going to claim it." Then he kissed me so passionately that I lost my breath. I might as well have been punched in the gut.
Forsaking further preliminaries, he undid my belt, unfastened my slacks, and slid them and my briefs down my legs. "I couldn't wait," he said, lightly running his fingernails down my inner thighs. He rose and unbuttoned his shirt, dropping it out of sight, opened his belt and zipper and slid his slacks and boxers down his legs. Oh, man, those legs were long and hairy. His crotch was a forest of black hair. And that cock-seven inches long, I bet, not thick but not slender either. It featured a big head with a wide flair. "I wonder how that feels inside, how that flair feels moving over my first muscular ring." I felt my breath shortening again.
His chest was just as I had imagined--a mat of sexy black hair. But the hair on the outer side of his pecs joined with the hair in his pits. What a turn on! I ran my hands up his chest, feeling the hair sort itself out among my fingers. I moved them into his pits, feeling the hot, moist hair. I put my fingertips under my nose, smelling his spicy musk. I couldn't forestall the shudder that seized me. Observing it, he grinned wickedly. He pulled away, removing his socks and shoes and then mine. He unbuttoned my shirt, commanding me to rise up so that he could pull it off.
He climbed on the bed with his hands on either side of my shoulders and his knees on either side of my calves. He just stared down at me with a smirk on his face. His male odor made my nostrils flair involuntarily. "What is with that damned smirk?" I thought. He bent down as though to kiss me, and I rose to meet his lips. But a feint took him to the flesh just at the bottom of my neck where it joined my shoulder. He bit--not softly. He even shook his head in little micro movements as though he were a wolf preying on me. A moan escaped my lips. Then he started licking up my neck and down my shoulders in long swipes of his tongue as an animal might. Every now and then, he would lower his body on mine, rubbing his hairy chest over mine, rubbing his cock and balls over my thighs and then up over my cock and balls. By the third time, I could feel his precum coating the surfaces his cock visited.
I reached up to pull his head down to mine, but he arose, returning with pieces of rope which he used to tie my hands--gently--to the bedposts. This was clearly going to be his show. He leaned down to whisper in my ears, "I said you were mine. I'm in control. Don't forget it." He licked my ears, gently tugging on my lobes. Then he moved over to my pits, first smelling and then licking the hair there. Down to my nipples. He put his head down and then suddenly looked up at me, that gleam in his eyes again. "Tell me you want me to bite your nipples. Tell me you want me to lick your nipples. Tell me you want me to suck on your nipples." While saying this, he had moved a finger into my ass crack with tantalizing slowness, gently brushing my pucker. Several times he reached up to the head of his dick, collecting precum on his finger and returning it to my pucker, running it slowly around through the hair and around the ring. "Tell me, Evan. I want to hear you say it. No delights for you until you do my bidding."
"Oh, yes," I gasped.
"No, my little prey, you have to say it," he said as he nudged his finger against my hole.
"Please lick my nipples. Suck my nipples. Bite my nipples."
"Why should I?" he challenged. "Give me a good reason."
This man intended to own me by keeping me off balance. What could I say in reply? "Because you are a predator. You need to hear me acknowledge your superiority, my need for you. Without it, I'm just a handy fuck but no more. With my entreaties, you are empowered, and I admit that I am your prey. Your perception of yourself is validated. And you forced me to change my perception of you. Victory!" Another smirk, another wolfish gleam in his eyes.
But I was going to have the last word. "You are bored with your cold, cool test tubes and spotless lab. You want some excitement. When you realized that little Evan Halsey was cruising big, tall Tim Minor, it warmed your blood. When I turned my back on you, it started your blood coursing through your veins like it hasn't in a long time because I challenged you to prove your power. When you THOUGHT you saw my ass wagging as I walked away, your blood boiled and your dick hardened because you wanted to bend me to your will, you wanted me panting for you. That's what puts the bone in your dick. But in wanting that, you wanted me too. The one missing ingredient is caring for me, maybe even loving me someday. Until that occurs, you will never really own me, and I'll not have surrendered myself to you!" No smirk this time. He was panting with passion. He was as turned on as I was! And I was correct about my take on him! I was still in flow because of what I was picking up through my heightened senses.
He bent down and licked just the tips of my nipples, going from one to the other. As he would raise his head, his hot breath would blow upon the wet skin, setting off goose bumps and tingles. Then he took little nibbles around my nipples but never touched the nubs. This man knew sweet torture! He had my cock straining to such hardness that it was becoming painful. Suddenly, he clamped down with his teeth, lifting the nipple away from my chest. I moaned sharply, my back arching so much off the bed that my cock and balls grazed his stomach. He laughed softly. Then he started sucking on my nipples, sometimes gently, sometimes fiercely. In many ways, it felt like a glorious attack.
"I want to touch you. I need to touch you. Let me do something for you," I pleaded. It was painful, my need to clasp my legs around his and my arms around that broad back. I needed to kiss him, to caress him.
"Does that mean you are finally surrendering to me?"
"No, you have to earn that."
He smiled rakishly, and started nibbling down my stomach while sliding his finger into me. He immediately found my prostate, brushing his finger lightly over it. I started rolling from side to side, but he used his legs to hold me still. It felt as though I were in an iron vise. He just kept smiling down at me with that wolfish gleam in his eyes. "How is this for earning your surrender?" I refused to answer.
He moved his knees inside my legs, lifting them up to give him more access to my ass. Then he bathed my balls in those long, wet swipes. His tongue was raspy as he dragged it over my scrotum. His tongue worked so powerfully that I was certain no wrinkles would remain in the skin. He passed on to my cock, finally digging into my slit when he reached the top. With every change in how or what he was licking, he changed the way his finger was fucking my ass. I was alternately moaning or uttering protestations: "Oh no! Uh-h-h-h-h-h-h! Oh, take me! This is torment! Don't stop!" He would occasionally chuckle as he changed his attack. "How long would I have to do this to earn your surrender?"
"It isn't just technique, hot Tim," I spoke breathlessly. "It's what of yourself you surrender to me first."
Next he bathed my perineum and ass in those same long swipes of his tongue. I looked down and saw him slick precum all over his cock. Then he nudged it against my hole, robbing me again of breath. I was anticipating feeling the wide flair of Tim's cock head as it passed my outer muscle. I knew it would blow my mind.
"Tell me you want my dick, little prey. Tell me you want my fuck. Tell me you want my cum." That smirk returned.
I opened my mouth--maybe to beg . . .
"You still not ready to call it a day?"
"Huh," I jerked in surprise. There was Jim Belton, looking into my classroom. Instead of his usual smile and joking, he was scowling. I guess the day had taken its toll on him too. He walked over to the windows, beginning to close them.
"The building has almost emptied out. I guess everyone wanted to get out of here more than you although the gossip I've heard today would make me think you'd be the first to get out of here. You may want to think about calling it a day. It's really dark out. All hell's going to break loose soon. I wouldn't want to be running to my car in the downpour that's coming--or even driving in it for that matter." He sauntered off without a farewell. Not like him.
"Oh, sure. Thanks for the warning, Jim. I'll just collect my stuff and leave," I spoke to his retreating back. Actually, I was waiting for him to leave, for I had a colossal boner that couldn't be hidden. I wasn't happy to hear that what had transpired in my classroom was already out there on the grapevine. Or had someone overheard my exchange with Tim? Or was that gossip about something else? My earlier headache was returning.
I kept listening for Jim's retreating footsteps, but I heard nothing. "He must be wearing soft-sole shoes," I decided.
I stuffed some books and papers into my attache and grabbed my lunch sack. Boy, did that attache case weigh heavily on my shoulder (I was using the shoulder strap because I usually have my hands full of books and the like).
I rose slowly, frustrated that my sexual reverie had been aborted. "Oh well," I thought, "I have a hot jack-off fantasy for tonight."
I shut out my lights, noticing how much darker it seemed than on those nights when I left late. Of course, the lights outside in the parking lots were not on because it was still afternoon, but the approaching storm made it as dark as night. "I guess the automatic timer on our outdoor lights doesn't respond to extreme darkness," I reasoned.
I turned the corner of my short hall, trying to make out landmarks down the long hall. Silence ruled. As I traversed the long hall, I couldn't help reliving the delightful moments of the ambushes that had occurred here in the recent past. I reached the end of the hall and turned the corner, approaching the long staircase that would take me to the ground floor. As I reached the first step down, hands hit my back hard, pushing me forward and forcing the breath loudly out of me. I flew out into the air. The heavy attache case pulled my shoulder down so that my body started rolling. The roll allowed me to glimpse a tall shadowy form that had been behind me. I continued to fly down through the air. Did I see another shadow just back in the gloom? Then my body hit the edges of the stairs. Total darkness. Silence.
(To be continued.)