Copyright 2006 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without the author's permission.
Please note: this story depicts oral, anal, sado-masochistic and group sex between males. If any of these offend you or are illegal to publish in your jurisdiction, or you are under the age of 18, read no further.
The characters, locations and incidents in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
As an author, I welcome feedback on my writing. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.
Part Two - A New Name
Friday, I could hardly keep my mind on Shakespeare. I somehow got through my lecture and with ten minutes to go dismissed the class early. However, one young blond coed insisted on asking me a series of questions about her term paper topic. As much as I tried, I couldn't seem to shake her. Finally I broke free, and could once again get my mind on English 101 for Jocks. I made a pit stop where I locked myself in a stall and jacked myself to orgasm. I pulled myself together again, splashed some water on my face, and began heading downstairs. I glanced at my watch. Shit, it was already time for the the class to start. But I remembered that no one was on time Wednesday.
I opened the door to B11. I'm not sure who was more surprised at seeing the other there, myself or my students. This time all ten were there.
"Hey, Teach is back!"
"Yoo owe me fifty, Carl."
"Like Hell."
"This is the famous cocksucker?" asked one of the two new faces.
"Yup, Reggie, this is Mr. Kent."
"Mr. Cunt, yoo mean." And suddenly the room exploded in hysterics. Obviously, these boys were right. No way was I in charge of this situation.
"Hey, Teach, write yoor name on the board for Reggie here." Wearily, I picked up a marker and printed in large bold letters, M r . K e n t. "Hey, Teach! That ain't right. Don't yoo's know how to spell?" This young man came up, grabbed the marker from my hand, rubbed the e out with his fist, and replaced it with a u. Mr. Kunt. "There yoo go," handing the marker back to me. "Ain't that right? That's yoor name, ain't it, Teach."
I couldn't help myself. Years of proofreading and editing forced my hand. I rubbed out the K and wrote a big capital C. Mr. Cunt. "That's how to spell it, boys." Again, the class erupted in shouts, high fives and ass slaps. I slunk into my chair.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Cunt." It was the lanky basketballer. "A piece of shit like yoo don't deserve to sit in this chair." He grabbed the chair and tipped me out of it on to the floor. "Don't yoo remember? Who's in charge here?"
"You are."
"That's right, now on yoor knees, cumbucket." He dropped his pants and his classmates did too. Once again, I proceeded to suck all the jock cocks, the two new boys included. And once again I relished the many mouthfuls of delicious boyjuice.
The feast was over, yet no one left the room. One of the studs told me to stand at the board and begin writing, "Mr. Cunt sucks dick." Over and over again. "Mr. Cunt sucks dick." "Mr. Cunt sucks dick." "Mr. Cunt sucks dick." The same sort of abusive punishment he must have been given repeatedly in his school years. Those teacher-eyes I have in the back of my head knew what these boys were doing as I wrote. They were jacking. I filled the board. When I turned back, I saw that all ten cocks were once more hard, stiff and oozing precum.
"Time for round two, Teach." I knelt again and once more my hungry mouth served ten throbbing cocks. The boys got dressed and began to file out.
"See yoo on Monday, Mr. Cunt."
"Shit yoo will, he won't show up again."
"Fuck too. He loves sucking us off. Yoo love it, don't yoo, Mr. Cunt?"
"Uh huh," I heard myself murmuring.
"See?"
"Well, twenty says he doesn't show."
"Yoo're on."
Once more I slowly got my wits about me. I got up, shut off the light, and went out the door. Halfway across campus, I realized I hadn't erased the board. That awful message was still there. I almost went back but then thought "What the Hell!" I doubted that anyone, even the custodian, ever set foot in that room. And so what if someone did see it! Kids are always writing junk like that on classroom boards. And actually I sort of smiled to myself thinking, it's true. Mr. Cunt, that's me, really does suck dick.
That evening, like every Friday evening, I was scheduled to put in five hours at the shop. There I was surrounded by rubber dildos, sexy lacewear, leather harnesses, and skin mags, with a porn flick continually playing on the DVD in the corner. I helped the customers find the products they sought. I always sell a ton of condoms on Friday. But all evening, I kept reliving the scene from English 101. If I wet my tongue I could actually taste once again their delicious spunk.
When my shift was over, I ran back to my apartment and took a long slow bath. I chuckled to myself at the irony of the situation, me servicing a circle of jocks. I had always been a wuss. All through the years, the gym teachers called me a spaz. I had no interest in organized sports, and until recently none in physical fitness, either. But too much sitting at the computer writing had left me so out of shape that even I was disgusted with my appearance. When the semester started, I had determined to lose some of the belly fat by jogging three times a week, that I didn't have classes. So far I hadn't broken the resolution.
Replaying those two days of cocksucking in my mind was making me horny as hell. How was I going to be able to get through the weekend? How could I tell my ravenous mouth it had to wait until Monday afternoon to get that next meal of boyjuice? I decided I had to devote myself to something else, I made plans to spend Saturday doing research for my novel and getting to work on the next chapter, anything to get my mind off those wonderful muscular abusive jock cocks.
I dried myself off and stared at that pathetic face in the mirror. "Good Night, Mr. Cunt," I whispered and headed for bed.