Teacher's Assistant
This story contains sexual themes between two consenting adult men. If this is not what you're looking for, or if it is against the law in your area to view such a story, please leave. The characters depicted in this story are fictional, and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is coincidental. Thanks for reading. Direct any comments, questions or concerns to Louisgorget@gmail.com
At the beginning of the school year, each teacher is assigned a TA to help them out around the classroom. Due to a scheduling error, I was signed up for an AP English poetry course, which I wholeheartedly did not want to be in. I stuck it out for a few days, but eventually dropped it and so I was put into the pool to become a TA. All the spots were filled, however, which placed me as a general assistant for whoever needed one, which was an easy enough job. Since I wasn't needed most days, I could just sit around and doodle for an hour, or catch up on homework. Occasionally, I would move some heavy things for one of the older teachers, but mostly I could just sit around and relax, which was a godsend for an 18-year-old, Senioritis ridden guy like myself, who would much rather goof off for an hour a day than do actual work.
Mr. Bockner's usual TA broke both his legs jumping off the bed of a moving pickup truck (drunk, of course) and was holed up in the hospital for at least two weeks with talks of surgery. Needless to say, he wasn't going to be in school for quite some time. He was the history teacher for the freshmen through seniors, and my personal favorite teacher. As the bell rang to switch periods to the last hour of the day, I walked down to his room. His door was ajar, and no students sat at the desks. He didn't have any classes scheduled for final period so he could finish grading and go home earlier than the other teachers. I could see him sitting at his desk, staring down at his laptop, illuminated by the sunlight coming through his window. He wore a pale blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his dark tie loosened a bit. If memory served, he had turned 40 at the end of last year, and it showed in his black hair, which was specked with a wily grey strand every now and again, and in his beard (when he grew it out at least) which was touched with grey around the corners of his mouth. He usually shaved, and right now his face was stubble, somewhere between 5 o'clock shadow and an actual beard. I knocked on the doorframe, catching his attention, he looked up while leaning back in his chair, scratched his stomach, and motioned for me to come in.
"Hey, buddy" he said in his gruff baritone voice "I've got some papers here I need you to grade, if you don't mind"
"Of course not" I replied "That's what I'm here for." He handed me a stack of worksheets and an answer key, and I sat down at one of the desks. They were from the Sophomore class, who were infamous for their low grades and bad handwriting. It took me a bit to decipher some of the scribbles, but I got the hang of it in no time. I graded while he kept typing away, taking a drink of his coffee every now and again.
Twenty or so minutes passed, working silently with only the tik-tak-sip of Mr. Bockner's working and the scrawling of my red pen to be heard. I only had a small handful of papers left, but my hand was cramping fast and I was losing hope for the underclassmen even faster. I sighed, and stretched in the desk, cracking my back against the low seat. Turning to Mr. Bockner, I said
"I have to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back." He looked up, muttered a quick OK, and then looked back down at his computer. He was lucky, his room was positioned right next to the bathrooms, and so it was by no means a long walk out the door and to my destination. The door squeaked as I entered the blue-tiled lavatory, the harsh smell of cleaner and lingering urine that seemed characteristic of men's rooms hitting my nose. This was my favorite bathroom in the school, mostly because it had two urinals, right next to each other, with no partitions in between. This meant it was really easy to catch a glimpse of cock if you were sneaky enough. I pulled up to the one on the right, the polished white porcelain set into the floor. I unzipped, and heard the door squeak again.
"Ugh, that coffee really gets to me" came Mr. Bockner's gravelly voice "As soon as you mentioned the bathroom, I realized how many cups I had!" I could feel my heart quicken as he came to the urinal next to mine. Standing at six feet, he was a few inches shorter than me, and, though he was probably trim in his youth, Mr. Bockner's physique was now more of a dad-bod than anything else. I was prone to getting gun shy, so I was thankful I had started my stream before he had entered. He never obeyed the fundamental rules of the urinal etiquette (but really, who was I to talk), and so started some small talk with his eyes planted firmly downward. He asked me generic questions about how my other classes were going, which colleges I had applied to, etcetera etcetera, and my answers were as sparsely worded as possible accompanied by nervous laughter. I took my chance, and my eyes ventured sideways. I was careful not to move my head, as it might give me away. No luck. He was angled just right, or his hand was placed weird, and so I couldn't see anything. I tried a couple more times, but to no avail. I finished, shook off, and left the bathroom. I was already back to grading papers by the time he returned. I finished them in no time, and put them in a neat pile next to his printer as per his direction.
"Thanks, buddy" he said, drawing out the first word. He picked up the papers, looked them over, the asked "If it's not too much trouble, could you help me out with this thank you card?" I agreed, and he told me that he just needed a simple, neat card to give to some presenters that came in for one of his classes with some revolutionary war items. I could really ham up my handwriting if I had the time, and so I set out to slowly form each letter to calligraphic perfection. Mr. Bockner started up more small talk.
"So, do ya have a girl you're sweet on?"
"Nah, not really" I said with an exhale
"What about that Susan girl? She's always hanging around you" he suggested, his tone heavy with implication
"She's not really my type. Besides, she's really desperate."
"Ah, I see." He said, clicking his tongue "you're batting for a different team." I immediately blushed, and tried stammering out a reply. "No, it's okay, don't turn red!" he teased, laughing a bit "There's nothing wrong with that." It was hard to tell if he was joking or not.
"I'm not gay" I finally got out, but it was probably the most unconvincing thing I had ever uttered.
"Oh, please" he scoffed "Four years, you've been at this school, and I ain't never seen you with a girlfriend. Besides, I've seen the way you look at me. Or, should I say, the way you look at certain parts of me." My ears were positively on fire. I was somewhere between a stammer and a laugh, and couldn't form words
"I...wh-ah-don..." nothing was coming out.
"I get it, you're a teenager with raging hormones, just trying to find yourself" he smiled, dramatizing his words with a silly voice.
"Look..." I started, putting down my pen. He held up a hand to stop me, leaning back in his chair.
"No need to apologize. To tell you the truth..." his voice lowered, a smirk painting his face "It's kinda flattering." He pushed out from his desk, the back of his chair clicking on the chalkboard "It's nice to know that I still got it at 40." He flexed mock muscles "I mean, I'm sure you've heard about the woes of married life. My wife doesn't so much as look at me anymore." he looked off into space, sighing. I figured, if I was this far in, I might as well go all the way
"Well, I could help with that, too." I suggested, trying my best to smile calmly and wink.
"I'm not so sure that's gonna happen." he chuckled "All I said was that it was flattering." I cursed myself for going too far. My mind was a tornado of thoughts. Now he's gonna be weirded out by me. He's gonna tell my parents, or the principal, or the school board, and I'll be kicked out and labelled a freak that tried getting it on with his teacher. My face burned and I started to panic.
"Although" he said, and my heart nearly exploded. "It has been a while." I looked at him, and he looked at me with smiling eyes. He swiveled his chair toward me and spread his legs. I took this as the signal to get down on my knees in front of him. Looking up into his brown eyes, he nodded slightly in affirmation. I put my hand on the front of his pants, and he gently grabbed my wrist. Did I do something wrong? Had I misred the situation, was he joking about all this?
"Gotta lock the door first" he said, and stood, quickly turning the lock on the doorknob and getting seated again. I put my hand back where it was, like a magnet. My whole body shaking. I didn't really know what to do. I hadn't thought I would get this far. I just rubbed on the smooth khaki fabric of his trousers, and he let out a breath. Unsure of myself, I unbuttoned the top, and brought the zipper down. He raised himself as I tugged his pants to his ankles. Nervously, he checked the door, and quickly looked back down to me. He started to unbutton his shirt, his black chest hair poking out of his wife beater underneath. I rubbed him through his undies, feeling the contours of his half-chub. I brought my face to the blue fabric of his boxer-briefs, and whiffed in his scent. He smelled musty and manly, and I could feel my erection straining at my own pants. He stood up, and I inched backward to allow him the room. He threw his shirt on his desk, and hooked a thumb underneath his waistband
"You having any doubts?" he asked, putting his other hand on the top of my head
"Of course not" I said, putting a hand on each of his thick thighs, tugging down his underwear to his feet. Surrounded by thick black hair, Mr. Bockner's dick was reaching full mast. He was circumcised, about 6 or so inches long. The shaft was a bit wrinkled and several shades darker than his pale inner thighs. His sack was recently shaved, the hair just growing back prickly and short. I took a minute to just look at it: I finally had in front of my face what I had wanted there for at least three years now. I gently ran my fingers from the head down to his salt-and-pepper pubes before cupping his pink sack. The other hand I wrapped around his member, stroking it up and down a few times until a bead of pre-cum welled to the tip.
"Go ahead" he said, his hand on my shoulder. I leaned in, and stuck the rosy head into my mouth. He let out a groan, and the sound sent a wave through my own cock. It was warmer than I expected, and I loved the way I could feel his heartbeat through the subtle pulses of his meatus. I placed my hand around his ballsack, and tugged lightly. The only things I knew about blow jobs were from the Cosmo articles in my mom's magazines that I mastrubated to endlessly when I was 11, before any real porn was to be had. I reached up, and pressed lightly on his chest, intending for him to sit back down. He read what I wanted, and descended back into his rolling chair. I took his shaft as far into my mouth as I could get it, held it there, and then released. I held his wet cock in front of my face, the glistening head bobbing up and down. Next, I lapped at his sack a few times, even though it felt kind of weird to do so. Then again, I was the one sucking my teacher's cock.
He was breathing heavier, letting out the occasional moan so I began to corkscrew my hand up and down his shaft.That seemed to illicit a good response, because his toes curled in his shoes and he tensed a little each time. I put just the head in my mouth, and continued with the twisting motion up and down the shaft. I had no idea what to do with my other hand, and so I held his balls once more, and awkwardly mulled them in my palm like dice.
"H-hey, buddy" he stammered "I'm gonna...ooh, keep that up and I'm gonna..." I popped his cock out of my mouth, but kept twisting down the head and to the base with both hands"
"Go ahead" I whispered, too enamored to speak much. I started sucking again, and he placed both of his big hands on my shoulders.
"Oh, fuck" he moaned, and I felt his cock-head swell. I looked up to watch his face contort, his eyes kept tightly shut and he shuddered in orgasm. Blasts of cum erupted onto my tongue, filling my mouth with a bitter-ish, salty flavor, and I instinctively swallowed. I kept him in my mouth for a little while, before slowly sliding out his softening dick. A bit of semen drizzled down my chin, and he wiped it off with his thumb, looking down at me starry-eyed.
"Wow" he said shortly, his breath coming in great heaves.
"Wow" I repeated, starting to stand. My jeans were tented, and it hurt to have that much strain in my pants.
"Let me return the favor" Mr. Bockner grabbed me by the hips, using me to stand. He unbuttoned my pants, and let them drop before he shoved me into his still-warm chair. He pulled my briefs out from under me, securing his rough hand around the base of my dick, and smiled. I was also average length, at least I thought so. But, unlike Mr. Bockner, I was uncut. He waggled my hard cock a couple of times, and rolled my foreskin once or twice. I was drooling precum like a champ, and the back of his hand already had a snail trail running down it.
"You're intact!" he said in mock surprise "You don't see these around much anymore." We both laughed, a bit less nervous now. I knew I wouldn't last long as he licked up my shaft, paying special attention to my frenulum. I wasn't sure if it was my inexperience in the matter, or if Mr. Bockner had done this before, but he was really good at sucking dick. It wasn't long before I felt a building sensation, a deep pressure in my groin much more intense than mastrubation brought about. I looked down and saw him looking up at me, gauging his skills. His beautiful brown eyes pushed me over the edge. An involuntary groan was the only warning I could give as I came in his mouth, spurting a little onto his cheek, but he seemed to ignore it while he sucked the last bit out of me and swallowed. He laughed again, wiping my cum off of his face and onto his undershirt. I sat in disbelief, staring at his soft penis while he pulled his trousers back on. He patted me on the top of the head, and I brought my pants back up and stood in one fluid motion, fumbling to find the fly.
"We should do this more often. I need a TA for at least the rest of the week." Chuckling, he patted me on the backside. The bell rang, and I grabbed my backpack from beside his desk. He hoisted himself up, and drew me in for a kiss, his tongue prodding at my lips.
"I'll be late for the bus" I said, pulling away.
"See you tomorrow" he winked, punctuating with another slap to the ass. I closed the door as I left, straightening my backpack and joining the milling crowd of students.
END