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.