Chapter 2: Chad By Trixie Adara
I wake up in my bed. My former bed. I look around my old bedroom. Rachel's bedroom now. It's been a week since she made me sleep in my office. Two weeks ago I got divorce papers and was thrown out. A week ago, Rachel saw reason that I couldn't pay for the house and a new apartment on a teacher's salary. A think her lawyer convinced her that it would look reasonable, but she let me move back into my office to sleep.
But not her bed.
I try to remember the night before. I remember Kiara. I remember her cock. I remember getting the hell out of there. Did I come home and sleep with Rachel? I don't know. I had so much to drink. I was freaked out by Kiara. And her necklace ...
I look around for any signs of sexy times the night before. No condom. No lingerie. No scattered clothes. No Rachel. But the smell of cum is still in the air. More than likely I masturbated to sleep, a new nightly ritual since the separation. But then, why am I in her bed?
I get up and head downstairs, looking for answers. I smell bacon and coffee from the kitchen and smile. I'm ravenous.
In the kitchen, Rachel is standing in front of the stove, cooking. She's wearing an apron over her crisp skirt suit. Rachel is a platinum blonde with her hair in a tight bun behind her head. She's in fantastic shape. She was a cheerleader in high school and college. I was a bit of a nerd, but that seemed to fascinate her. In high school, I did a lot of her homework, but in college, she actually wanted to know more about literature and poetry. I guess I fascinated her. But girls like her and guys like me don't work together for long, and we haven't.
"That smells good," I say as I run my hand through my hair.
"It is good," she says without looking up from the stove.
I walk past her and grab a mug to get some coffee.
"You can make your own in a minute," she said coldly. "I'll be leaving shortly."
"Oh, come on," I sigh. "You made more than enough."
"An accident," she says. She puts her eggs and bacon onto her plate and turns away from the stove, turning it off as she does. "It won't happen again."
"Should I clean out the pan before using the bacon grease?" I ask.
"Any amount of cleaning from you would be appreciated."
I start to say something, but stop. She'll be gone in five minutes. I'll drink the coffee anyways. The more I talk, the more I'll have to listen to her. I just want some food in my stomach before I take a shower. It keeps growling.
"Enjoy the bed last night?" asks Rachel.
"I meant to ask you about that."
"You don't remember?"
"Not at all."
"Alcoholism doesn't look good on you, Robert."
"I don't think I drank that much," I say.
"How would you know? You don't remember."
"Because I don't drink that much," I snap.
Rachel says nothing for a long minute. She eats the rest of her plate, then says, "whatever the reason, don't let it happen again."
"I won't."
"I'm serious. I'll call my father or the police before I sleep on the couch again."
That answers that question. Nothing interesting happened at all last night.
"Fine," I mutter.
"What?" she snaps as she stands. "Jesus, Robert. Don't be a child. No one understands you when you mutter."
"Fine," I snap.
Rachel puts her dishes into the sink, without washing them, and then takes the coffee pot off the warmer and dumps the coffee into the sink.
"What the fuck?"
"Make your own," she says calmly. "Your own coffee. Your own bed. Understand?"
"Yes, dear," I say with venom. "Crystal clear."
Rachel takes off her apron and storms out of the room, her heels clicking as she goes. I wait until I hear the front door close before I move. My fists clench. My hands shake. I want to take the coffee pot and smash it. But I don't. I wait. I breathe.
I need a shower. I need to go to work.
I go to the fridge and take out eggs and bacon and cheese. I start to cook them, but while I wait, my stomach roars again. I eat some of the cheese cold while I wait for my eggs and bacon to cook. I make myself a pot of coffee. I eat four eggs and seven pieces of bacon. I'm still hungry, but I don't have time. I shower and get dressed for work.
On the way to work, I go to a drive thru for more breakfast. It's not delicious, but it calms my stomach down a bit. I wonder if I did drink too much last night, or maybe something else is wrong with me. Dehydration? Something. I dump my coffee out halfway through the cup, just in case.
I work at a private school on the outskirt of town, near the suburbs. I teach senior English, mostly working with spoiled brats that hope to go onto Ivy League schools or inherit their parents' business. The boys believe they will own the world one day. Even at eighteen, the girls are shopping for future husbands. It's a miserable fucking job. But it beats working in a public school, or going back to school in order to teach college.
In class, we've been working on "Howl" by Allen Ginsberg. It's a strange poem. He's a beatnik and an activist and a drug addict. Teenagers don't immediately flock to the delicate craftsmanship of his style. We are working on separating what we thought was literal versus symbolic when Chad Barnhart raises his hand.
Chad Barnhart is one of the aforementioned spoiled brats. He's eighteen, well built, with dark skin and black hair. His hair is filled with gel and product so it can be spiked and stylized. Mostly, he parts it to the side. He typically wears polos with the collar partly popped, brightly colored khaki shorts, and boating shoes.
Fucking boating shoes.
Today, he's in a pale blue polo with bright red shorts. His shoulders swell under the shirt as he raises his hand.
"Yes, Chad?" I ask in the middle of a point about connotation versus denotation.
"Can I use the bathroom?"
"Do you have a bathroom pass?"
Chad looks around at his friends. Another moron, Prentice, hands him a small slip of paper granting Chad permission to leave class to use the bathroom.
"Right here, Mr. H."
"Fine," I sigh. Honestly, class is better with him gone.
Chad gets up, hands me the slip of paper, grabs the hall pass, and slips out of the room. I continue teaching. The class isn't fruitful. A few of the girls understand what Ginsberg is trying to do, but most of them think he's whining. Also, everyone is caught on some of the references to homosexuality in the poem. Most of them are eighteen, but they still act like children.
I check my watch as the students finish their writing reflection. I'm eager for lunch. I was already hungry and getting ready to leave campus for some more junk. Class will be over in fifteen minutes. And Chad has been gone for almost half an hour. I roll my eyes. If he thinks he can use a bathroom pass to skip, it won't be long before half the students in the class start doing it.
I go across the hall and ask Ms. Wurthers, the math teacher currently in her planning period, if she can watch my class for a minute. She nods, and I head off down the hallway to look for Chad.
My first guess, which has been right most of the time in the past, is that he's in the bathroom. Many students just sit in there on their phones while waiting for the class they hate to end. A few smoke pot in there. I secretly hope it's pot, so he can get expelled. He isn't in the first three bathrooms I check, but there is one more on the far corner of the room. It makes sense that he'd be smart enough to hide there. If he's not there, I'll just go to the main office and use the intercom to summon him to the discipline office. Then, I'll call his mother.
In the last bathroom, there is no sign of life. I don't see any feet in the stalls. No one is washing their hands. The only sound is something muffled from one of the stalls. But no feet. Interesting ...
I go to the stall. It's not locked or latched, but it is closed. Peeking through the crack, I can see Chad sitting on the toilet. His feet are in the air, braced against the side of the stall. He's staring at his phone with rapt attention.
I smile. I've got him. I push open the door and savor his shocked expression as he flinches and stares up at me in awe and terror.
"Constipated?" I ask.
"W-what?" he stammers.
"You've been gone a long while. I assume you're having some issues." I look down at his phone and point, "watching anything good?"
I see his screen now that he's flinched in terror. On it, a woman hungrily sucks a disembodied cock. The phone gives another muffled moan. Chad pulls his hand away, uncovering the speakers, and a thick slurping sound fills the stall.
"Jesus," I mutter. "Have you no shame?"
Chad blushes and locks the phone screen. He slides the phone into his pocket, and I see the bulge in his pants.
Bulge.
"S-s-sorry," mutters Chad. "Please don't tell my parents," he builds momentum with desperation. "You can write me up. You can take my phone, but please don't tell them what you found me doing."
Bulge.
Chad keeps talking. He reaches back into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He offers it to me. I see he's moving. I hear that he's talking. But it's all muffled. Everything is underwater. My stomach rumbles. I'm hungry. I'm so hungry. If I'm quick, I can get to food soon. I can stop all the aching soon.
Bulge.
He's hard. Of course, he's hard. He's been watching porn. He's been watching a woman suck cock. Cock. Hard cock. He's been watching cock. No. He's not watching the cock. He's watching the woman.
I'm watching the cock.
He wants to be the man.
I want to be the woman.
Bulge.
Chad stands, but his pants are still tented. Jesus, how big is he? He tries to move past me, but I stop him. He offers his phone again. I don't take it. I turn without thinking and close the stall. I latch the door.
"Need help with that?" I say with someone else's voice. Someone else moves my mouth. Someone else takes my hand and points to Chad's cock. His ...
Bulge.
"W-w-what?" asks Chad. He looks around as though someone else is there that can confirm what I said.
"I won't tell anyone," says the stranger's voice in my mouth. "It will be our little secret." The stranger in my body steps forward and reaches out for Chad's ...
Bulge.
Chad shivers at the stranger's touch. My touch. He looks afraid. "Just let me help you out with this." The stranger gives Chad's
Bulge
A tender squeeze and then lightly lets my fingers dance up and down the shaft.
"You want to ..." he whispers. His eyes wide.
The stranger bites my lip and nods my head.
I watch Chad transform. His indecision and fear fade. His eyes are hooded with lust. He's not looking at his teacher. He's looking at his phone, at the screen. He's imagining the woman's mouth around his cock. Any mouth will do.
My mouth will do.
Chad nods his head. The stranger guides puts my hands on Chad's shoulder. It guides Chad back to the toilet and sits him down. It takes Chad's phone from his hand, and starts the porn.
"This will help," says the stranger's voice.
Chad nods and spreads his legs. He unzips his pants and lets them fall to the floor around his ankles. He pulls down his boxers slightly, and his hard cock flops out.
My mind snaps. I remember in a flash my dream from last night. The beautiful woman with the perfect cock. The cum that tasted of heaven. The freedom. Her permission. Worshipping her. Worshipping her cock. It was a terrible dream. Some stranger's dream.
That same stranger takes over my body now.
Chad is well endowed. He must be seven inches now, but the stranger can make him harder. The stranger brings me to my knees. Above my head, Chad places the screen of his phone. When he looks down, he'll see the woman sucking a cock, his cock. He won't see me, his English teacher, forced to his knees by a stranger hijacking his body. Below my head is Chad's cock. He's uncircumcised, and the stranger takes my soft hands to pull down the foreskin. The head swells with precum.
The stranger licks my lips.
Above me, I hear the moans of the whore with a cock in her throat.
Below me, the stranger lowers my head to lick the precum from Chad's cock.
Above me, the woman pulls back her head to moan and encourage the man to fuck her face.
Below me, the stranger lowers my lips further, around the head of Chad's cock.
Above me, the man calls her a whore.
Below me, the stranger takes more of Chad's cock into my mouth.
Above me, Chad and the man moan together.
Below me, the stranger sees how far my mouth can take Chad's cock.
Not far enough.
Not yet.
Chad lets the phone fall from his hand to the floor. He runs his hands through my hair. He's young. He won't last long, not like my dream woman. The stranger bobs my head, over and over. I don't go deep. The stranger gives quick and shallow strokes with my tongue. Chad helps the stranger, guiding my mouth.
Inside me, my mind is numb and panicking. It can't stop it. It can't control my body. The stranger has control. New flavors and sensations run through me. I smell the stench of a high school bathroom. I taste the salty and savory flavor of teenage cock. I feel my face closer and closer to a toilet. I know this is wrong. This is disgusting. But the stranger loves it. The woman in my dream loves it.
And he almost tastes like her. Maybe if I help the stranger. Maybe if I make Chad cum, I can taste my dream woman again.
The stranger and Chad bob my head more and more, faster and faster. While Chad's cock is in my mouth, I swirl my tongue over the tip and along the shaft. A dribble of precum covers my lips. I get flashes of Kiara, her panties, her cock, her necklace.
"I'm gunna cum," says Chad, his jaw clenched and tight.
The stranger pulls away. "Good," it says. Chad starts to pump his cock coated in my spit furiously, but the stranger reaches out a hand to stop him. "I'm hungry," it says.
And I am hungry too. All morning. So hungry. My stomach rumbles. Chad smiles. The stranger lowers my mouth. I swallow his cock. I smile. The stranger opens my mouth wide. I lick the tip. Chad grunts. The stranger uses my hand to pump the shaft. Chad quivers. The stranger smiles. Chad moans.
His cum shoots up and hits the roof of my mouth. I jerk my head back in surprise, letting some cum spurt on my lips, but quickly, the stranger lowers my mouth and locks it around Chad's cock. Chad's thighs shiver and clench. His hips thrust as another spurt hits the back of my throat. I want to gag, but the stranger doesn't let me. The stranger spreads my lips into a smile. It summons a moan of delight from me.
The stranger doesn't taste the sickly and salty taste of cum. The stranger doesn't feel the cum dripping down my lips. The stranger isn't worried about how dry my mouth is, how thirsty it is. The stranger isn't worried about diseases.
The stranger forces me to swallow.
My body shivers with aching delight, as I feel my own cock, still limp, spurt out small bursts of semen. I cum in my pants, and the stranger delights in being used. The stranger knows I deserve a ruined orgasm. The stranger wants my cock limp and pathetic.
I am not the stranger.
Chad pulls his cock out of my mouth, slowly. He looks down at me, confused. His phone is no longer in his hand. Beside us, on the floor, his phone still plays the scene of the woman, her face now covered in cum, on her knees before a massive cock.
I stare at Chad's cock. It's not as big as the video, but it's larger than I'd expect. It's bigger than mine, for sure, and bigger than when I first saw it flop out of his
Bulge.
Chad tucks his cock back into his pants. I stare up at him, the spell of his beautiful cock breaking. Chad's orgasm brings clarity to his mind. Lust recedes from his eyes, and he slowly realizes what just happened. His eyes spread in panic, embarrassment, and disgust. Mine do the same.
"What the fuck?" he asks.
I shrug. I truly don't know. I rise to my feet and dust off my knees. They're still clean, but a small stain is visible by my crotch.
"Jesus, did you fucking cum?" he hisses.
I shrug again. The less I say, the better. Chad stands, pulls up his pants, and buckles them. He reaches back down and grabs his phone, silencing his porn.
"I need to go," he says and tries to bolt past me. I reach out a hand and block his way.
"This is our secret," I say, pointing to his phone. "Right?"
"Right. Sure," he mutters. I move my arm, and he scampers out of the stall and the bathroom.
I follow him slowly, still partially in a daze. I wash my hands. I wash my mouth and face. I rinse my mouth out with water several times. I look at myself in the mirror. A stranger looks back at me. I should be more disgusted. I should be outraged. I should be panicked.
But I'm not. I'm bizarrely calm. He had a beautiful
Bulge
And I got to take care of it. It's simple I guess. It was as natural as eating when you're hungry.
My hand goes to my stomach. It isn't rumbling anymore. I realize for the first time today, I'm not hungry. I'm satisfied, feeling like I just ate a large meal. I splash water on my face and dry off. I go back to work.
The rest of the day goes on without incident. I arrive late to the next class, but after that, there are no more surprises. I see Chad in the hallway, but he doesn't make eye contact with me. Hopefully his shame and embarrassment will keep him quiet.
Not wanting to go home and deal with Rachel on top of all of this, I go to the gym after work. I wonder if I can sweat this out of my system, whatever this is. I run for almost half an hour, a new record for me, and do my best at lifting. It's embarrassing, but after two hours of attempting to do everything and generally failing, I call it quits. I consider showering at the gym, but the fear of seeing more men naked and what I may do keeps me away. I head home, run through a drive-thru and get some food. Lord knows Rachel won't be cooking anything for me tonight.
"Jesus, what is that smell?" shouts Rachel when I come into the living room.
"Nice to see you, too."
"Robert, you're drenched in sweat and you smell like a teenage boy."
"Thanks for the update," I say as I head upstairs.
"Are you showering? You better shower."
"Yes, I'm showering."
"Don't you dare touch anything up there covered in sweat. Go straight to the -"
I slam the door to my office. It's my office. I'll touch anything in here I want. I peel off my sticky clothes and head into the shower. I turn the water on hot and decide I'll let it be nice and long. She wants the house? She can pay the damn water bill.
Despite my eerie calm, I try to run through the past twenty-four hours. Where was I last night? Who is this woman in my dream? And what the hell happened with Chad?
I'm not gay. I know that. I don't know what came over me. I don't know what happened. But I didn't go through the gym today checking out men or wanting to have sex with them. I'm not suddenly attracted to men. I don't want to take them out to dinner or have long chats with them. They're men. It's not like women at all.
And I'm not interested in Chad or any other student for that matter. I shouldn't have gone into that stall. I shouldn't have opened the door and mocked him. I should have called him out, embarrassed him, and got him back to class. I wanted to put him in his place, and my pride blinded me.
And that woman? I don't know. I came home last night. I slept in Rachel's bed. She's not real. She can't be real. Some bizarre dream must of triggered some even more bizarre curiosity or lust in me. It's fine. Everything's fine.
Who hasn't experimented, right? That's what it was, experimentation. Almost everyone's sucked a cock before. This was just my first one. That's all. A tiny experiment.
The hot water trickles down my back. I find my soapy hands roaming over my body, finding my crotch. I rub my cock until it stiffened, stuck on a word.
First?
First cock?
Will there be more?
My cock jerks at the thought.
I quickly turn off the shower. No. One is enough. I can't keep sucking cock. I can't let word get out that I'm a cocksucker. That will ruin my chances in coming out fairly in the divorce. It will probably get me fired, even if Chad doesn't tell other people about what I did. I need to stop.
I get dressed and jump into bed. The workout wore me out, and I'm already so tired. I need to sleep. I'm hard, frustrated, and starving, but eventually I pass out.
I don't remember what I dream about.
I get to work early the next day. I didn't want to deal with Rachel, and I woke up hard and ravenous. I went for a run to try and sweat through my cravings again. I showered, got dressed, and got out of the house as soon as I could. I picked up something on the way to work. Well, I picked up a lot of things. But nothing helps. I'm still hungry.
My classroom is empty. There's still thirty minutes before school starts, but I sit on my desk as though students will pour in through the door any moment. I put a textbook on every desk, along with the handout for today's lesson. I'm ready. There's nothing left to do but wait.
Unfortunately, waiting lets my mind wander. I'll see Chad later today. What will he say? How will he act in front of the class? Will he still be embarrassed? Or will he be emboldened? Will he be comfortable asking for something in exchange for his silence? Will he understand that I'm the one under his power, not the other way around?
More importantly, what will he be wearing?
My stomach rumbles and my cock twitches. Jesus, I need to get this under control. I need to call out sick or something. I can't do this. I can't be trusted to do this when I want to -
There's a knock at the door.
I jump and hop off my desk. I don't think my erection is entirely visible, but I decide to just lean out my head and partially open the door, just in case.
Chad stands in the hallway.
He's wearing a white polo with navy blue pants and the same shoes from yesterday. His hair is gelled with a stylized comb-over. He looks like a model for Ralph Lauren.
My eyes start to wander to his crotch, but I get them under control and lock eyes with him.
"Chad," I say, trying to have no inflection.
"Mr. Contreras," he says. His voice is confident, and he maintains eye contact.
"How can I help you?"
"Can I come in?" he asks.
"School doesn't start for another thirty minutes."
"You and I both know I'm not here about school." He smiles, and I look down the hall, making sure no one else is around.
"Does anyone else know you're here?" I ask.
"No."
"Why are you here so early?"
"Everyone knows you come early."
"Not this early."
"Well," he shrugs and smiles. It's almost ... cute. "Lucky me."
I roll my eyes and open the door wide. He steps in. I step into the hallway, make sure the door is locked and the hallway is empty, and close the door behind me.
"What do you want?" I hiss.
Chad is pacing around the desks, keeping his distance from me. He must not be too confident.
"We need to talk," he says.
"We said it was a secret."
"I'm not sure why it needs to be a secret," he mutters.
I stop, frozen. "What?" I ask.
"I'm not sure it needs to be a secret."
"You'd rather everyone knew?" My cock twitches at the thought.
"No. I'm not saying that." He puts his hands in his pocket and kicks his feet. "I'm saying that I understand why you want it to be a secret. But what do I get out of making it a secret?"
"You were skipping class to watch porn," I say and step towards him. I'm angry now. I don't need this on top of everything else.
"You caught me and asked to suck my dick." He steps towards me. My stomach rumbles and my cock twitches.
"You agreed to let me do it," I say.
"You liked it."
"So did you."
"You came from sucking cock," he taunts.
"You came in my mouth," I say. My cock twitches. We're inches from each other, both heated.
"You think my parents are going to care about that? You're going to be seen as a predator." He sneers, and I want to punch him in the face. He thinks he's going to get something out of me? He's going to blackmail me?
"Who is going to believe you?" I ask.
"It doesn't matter. It's sex. It's gay. It's a teacher and a student. You think you'll have a chance?" I step closer. I want to hit him. I want to punch his perfect smile and his model face.
He flinches and steps back, like he's burned.
"Jesus!" he hisses. "Are you hard?"
I step away and try to cover my crotch, try to hide it, but he's right. I am hard.
And hungry.
"You need to leave," I say. "And you don't want this getting out. You don't want every woman for the rest of your life questioning whether or not you like grown men sucking your cock in bathroom stalls. Because if I go down, there will be news. Everyone in the school will know. It will follow you, forever."
I let my threat hover in the air, but Chad smiles and shrugs. He reaches down and pushes down his pants in one smooth motion. He's hard.
"I'll show you mine," he says. "Now you show me yours."
I stop, staring. He shrugs and pulls off his shirt, kicks off his pants and shoes. He's standing, naked and
Hard.
I step toward him, a man possessed by the sight of it, a thirsty man in the desert, a man starving ...
He holds out a hand. "Fair is fair," he says.
I nod. Fair is fair. I peel off my pants and my show him my
Hard
Cock and hairy body. I'm flabby compared to him. I'm nothing like him. He's young and chiselled. He's taut and full of energy.
"Not bad," he says. "A little small, but not bad."
"You've ... done this before?" I whisper.
"No. Before yesterday, I've never thought of it. But don't worry, I'm not going to touch you, am I?"
I shook my head. No. He wasn't going to touch me. My eyes don't leave his
Hard
Cock.
"I just wanted to see how hard you were." He waves a hand at me dismissively. "Put your clothes back on, Robert. You'll embarrass yourself."
My cock twitches, and I obey, leaving my fly down and my hard cock protruding from the crotch of my pants.
"I was thinking," he says, marching toward me. "If I could get my girlfriend to suck cock as well as you, I'd be a lucky man." My cock twitches. "Then I thought, I don't need to get her to improve. Why not have both?" My stomach rumbles. "I mean, it's not like you can help yourself, can you?" Precum builds at the tip of my cock. "After all, you asked to suck it. You asked for my permission. Right?"
I nod. I feel his heat. I can reach out and touch his
Hard
Cock.
"You want it, don't you?" he asks.
I nod.
"Then ask, Robert."
"May I suck your cock?" I whisper.
"Get on your knees," he orders without answering.
I fall to my knees, his
Hard
Cock hovers right in front of my face. I lick my lips. I don't look up. I can't take my eyes away. He's so
Hard.
And I'm so
Hard.
And all I want is his
Hard
Cock inside my mouth.
I'm so hungry. I've tried not to think about it all night, but I can't escape it. I want it. I can't get it off my mind. I need it. I'm hungrier than I've ever been.
"What do you want, Robert?" asks Chad.
I don't pull my eyes away from his cock. "I want to suck your cock."
"Ask."
"Can I suck your cock?"
"I don't know," he teases, "can you?"
"May I suck your cock?" I ask.
"Beg."
"Please, Chad. Please. Let me suck your cock, please."
"Better."
Silence falls over us. What is his answer? Is he nodding? I can't pull my eyes away. I can't look away from his
Hard
Cock. I need to keep it in my line of vision. I need to watch it, wait for it, until I have permission to suck it.
"Yes, Robert Contreras. You may suck your student's cock."
My cock twitches at the sound of my full name. I lick my lips, waiting for the stranger to take over, for the stranger to put Chad's cock inside my mouth, for the stranger to use me like he used me yesterday.
But the stranger doesn't come.
When my head moves forward, it's my head. When my mouth opens wide, it's my mouth that does it. When my tongue glides along the shaft of Chad's cock, it is with my permission. When the first bubble of precum drips from Chad's cock, it is my tongue that licks it up. I retain control of my body.
It isn't a stranger that sucks Chad's cock.
Robert Contreras sucks Chad's cock.
And it isn't a stranger that likes sucking Chad's cock.
Robert Contreras likes sucking Chad's cock.
I smile despite myself with his cock in my mouth. I wonder what kind of sight I must be. What would Rachel think if she saw me? The thought sends fear coursing through my body. And pleasure. And adrenaline. My cock twitches again. A small and constant drip of precum puddles on the floor by my cock.
"Fuck," sighs Chad as he leans into my mouth. "You like that, don't you?"
"Mmmhmmm," I moan through his thick cock.
"You could start each school day off like this, couldn't you?" he asks.
"Mmmmhmmm," I moan.
"Beg for it."
I whimper as he pulls his cock out of my mouth. "Please, Chad."
"Please what?"
"Please let me suck your cock each morning?"
"Before school?"
"Yes, before school."
"Before your students get here?" he asks.
"Yes," I whine. "Yes, please. Every day. I'll suck your cock each day before the students get here."
I don't know what I'm saying anymore. At this point, I'll say anything to get his cock back into my mouth. I want to keep sucking, to keep tasting him. I want to feel it sliding deeper and deeper towards the back of my throat. I want him to fuck my face, and I want his cum.
My stomach roars. I'm so hungry. God, I need his cum.
"Good," says Chad, as he slides it back in. "You want my cum?"
I nod.
"Beg."
"Please, Chad," I say with his cock still in my mouth. It's muffled. "Please cum in my mouth."
I'm so hungry.
Chad pulls his cock back out. "I can't understand you. Louder."
"Please cum in my mouth," I whimper.
I'm so hungry.
"Loosen up your jaw. No teeth."
I let my jaws go lose. I use my tongue to protect the shaft from my teeth. Chad does the rest. He pumps in and out. He fucks my face. I put one hand around the base of his cock, letting him pump at the speed he feels comfortable.
"I'm close," he grunts. "You ready?"
I nod and whimper as a response. I don't want him to stop. Not yet. He's close.
I'm so hungry.
I feel him lock up. He's about to cum. But he pulls his cock back and out my mouth. I forget to stop him with my hand. I open my eyes to see what's wrong when thick ropes of white cum shoot from his cock onto my face. I close my eyes reflexively as the warm cum lands on my forehead, my hair, my eyelids, my nose, and my lips. Chad keeps pumping as tiny spurts dribble onto my lips.
When I feel he's done, I lick my lips eagerly. My body shivers. I feel my precum fountain turn to a small flow of cum as I limply orgasm. I swallow what I can and use my fingers to get the rest off my face. I get my eyelids first, and scoop the cum into my mouth and swallow. I open my eyes carefully and look up.
Above me, Chad is holding his phone over me.
"Smile for the camera, Mr. Contreras," he says, smiling.
"What?" I ask.
"I wanted something for proof. You said so yourself, no one would believe me."
Cold floods through me. What have I done? Jesus.
"You missed a spot," he says, pointing to my hairline.
My hand darts out and scoops up that cum. I slide it into my mouth and swallow it, instantly calming down.
"That was hot," he says and puts his phone down. "Just keep cleaning yourself off while I get dressed."
He steps away from me, and I eagerly roam over my face with careful fingers to find more precious cum. Each drop calms me. Each drop fills me. The more I swallow, the less hungry I am. Everything is okay. It's going to be okay.
I'm not gay. I'm not attracted to Chad. It was natural. It was only my second cock. That's no big deal. It doesn't mean anything.
Chad comes back over to me, fully dressed. "Jesus," he says, looking at the puddle on the floor around me. "You made a mess."
I flush with embarrassment and stand to clean it. Before I do, Chad takes a picture of it with his phone. He looks up at me and smiles. "Now Mr. Contreras, I want to talk about my grade in your class and what you can do for me to improve it."
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