How it Was Chapter 4
This is a follow up to "How it Was" Ch.1, 2, and 3 so it might make a bit more sense if you read those ones first, as it makes references to characters and situations in the earlier chapters, although I think it also stands alone well enough.
This is a work of fiction that is not based on any real persons or events. If you are not legal age to read erotic fiction, please leave now and do not continue reading. For everyone else, I hope that you enjoy it and have fun. Feedback is always welcome.
All materials presented herein copyright the author.
It was risky, and I knew it, but I followed him into the locker room anyway. It was the middle of the last week of school and the place was practically deserted. I knew Coach Barnes had already left for his fishing holiday so the gym was empty and dark as Wayne made his way into the last row of steel cubbies and low benches. We arrived at the back corner and he turned to me, his pink face in shadow, his broad shouldered bulk looming over me. I shivered as I stepped closer and looked up at him, feeling the heat coming off him, the smell of his nervous sweat filling my nostrils.
I had been surprised when he approached me as I left my Biology final. We weren't really in the same circles even though we were both athletes. He played football and hockey and ran with the popular crowd, people like Craig Morrison. The two of them had been whispering to each other in the hall before the exam and they both eyed me up as I entered Mr. Walters' classroom for the test. The sight of Craig's lean, muscled body in his tight t-shirt and jeans made my breath catch.
Since I'd literally run into Craig coming out of Mr. Robinson's office earlier in the week, he had been the object of more than one stroke fantasy. Now, seeing him standing next to the larger boy, glancing at me and murmuring back and forth, I was on edge. Were they talking about me? I had a strong feeling Craig knew why I had been going into the vice principal's office, and that he had been there for similar reasons. Did Wayne know too? Did he also go for "detention" and spend it sucking the vice principal's cock and bending over the desk?
The thought seemed outlandish. Wayne was well known as a hard partying tough guy, a goon on the ice and on the football field. He had been suspended last season for a brutal fight at the beginning of the play offs, and he had had a string of short relationships with some of the hottest girls in school. The idea of him being one of Mr. Robinson's conquests seemed out of place, but then, I was almost positive that Craig was involved in the vice principal's extra-curricular games, so maybe his buddy was too.
Wayne left the exam about half way into the allotted time, and I felt a bit sorry for him that the test was probably beyond his ability. However much of a star he was in sports, he had never been even at my mediocre level as a student. I finished closer to the end and walked up to Mr. Walters' desk to hand in the test.
He glanced up and our eyes met, he smiled warmly and his tongue ran slowly over his lips. My cock surged in my jeans and I bit my lower lip in response. The memories of what we had done in Mr. Robinson's office were burned into my mind and I had been in a fever dream of lust anticipating our next meeting.
"I guess I'll see you on Friday, Billy," he said in his rich baritone. I tried to speak but the words caught in my throat. I nodded and quickly turned, using my books to cover the rock hard erection that was now tenting my pants. I exited the classroom and Wayne fell in beside me from where he had been slouched against the wall outside the door. His bulk dwarfed me as we walked down the hall, and I could feel the power in his strides, the tension in his arm as he brushed up against me.
I headed to my locker to clean it out and Wayne stopped with me, eyes darting around, still silent, but stepping closer. I looked up at him, not knowing what was going on, but my cock was still hard from my short conversation with Mr. Walters, and I was now drinking in the squared contours of his body. He stared intently at me, his small eyes pale chips of ice in his flat face. Perspiration beaded on his broad forehead and his upper lip. His flat, pink tongue emerged and slowly licked his lips. It seemed like a clumsy echo of Mr. Walters' seductive gesture, and so unexpected from Wayne that it took a second to register what he was suggesting.
I'd been having sex with guys for less than a full week, but I was eighteen, horny as hell, and I had to admit to myself that his body and even his short, flat, nose and slight jowl was doing something for me. If I was being even more honest, any guy at all could have had me. Cock was all I thought about and any body attached to one was good enough for me. I had nodded slightly and turned making his way toward the gym.
And now we stood together in the dim room, silent except for our shallow breathing. He leaned back against the locker and I moved to him, my hands roaming over his thick torso through his plaid cowboy shirt. He stood immobile as I pulled open the snaps one by one and ran my fingers through the light hair on his stomach, playfully rubbing his tiny, hard nipples. I kissed his chest, the deep cleft between his pecs, up to his shoulders and neck. He turned his face away from me and his large hands pushed hard on my shoulders until I was on my knees between his legs.
Not much into foreplay, I thought as I unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans. There was a small wet spot forming on the crotch of his white briefs and I flicked it with my tongue, feeling the head of his cock. I molded my lips around it, drawing it into my mouth through the cotton fabric of his briefs and cupped his balls, rolling them between my fingers. He grunted and mashed my face with his crotch, his hands still gripping my shoulders.
I hooked my thumbs into his waistband and yanked his underwear down, his jeans still hitched up around his waist, his cock protruding straight out of a tangled thatch of blonde hair. The shaft was short and fat, the head coming to a narrow point without much flare, but oozing steadily, his fuzzy balls scrunched up under his stubby dick like a beanbag chair. It was adorable and I took him completely into my mouth in one fluid movement.
He gasped at the feeling of my wet tongue swirling around his dick and he began to rock his hips convulsively, his pubic bone battering my nose, his powerful hands now clenching in my hair. If he had been longer I would have been choking on each frantic thrust. The vertebrae in my neck rattled with the force of his pumping. I tried to slow him down, my hands gripping his hips, pushing him away from me. But he was too strong and rammed into me even more urgently, his high pitched moan-cough filling the empty locker room. I tried to relax into it, willing myself to passively receive his desperate, thrashing cock.
He sensed my acquiescence and grunted, hands tighter in my hair, forcing my head back and forth on his cock faster and faster. I no longer had any control as he fucked my face. I was only aware of the friction against my lips, the tight grip on my skull, the pounding of his pelvis against my nose and cheeks, the jerking rhythm of my neck and shoulders as he used me.
Even though this was far from the pleasant fullness I felt when sucking Mr. Robinson or Mr. Walters, it had its own erotic appeal. Wayne's harsh, insistent ramming in my mouth, the saliva trailing down my chin, his balls slapping me, the tip of his cock tickling the top of my throat, his peculiar squeaking as he approached his peak, made me feel dirty, and I liked it. My own cock was straining against my jeans as I knelt on the polished cement floor, and I realized my own moans were mixing with his.
Then he was spurting, my mouth filled with his jizz and he crushed me against his hips as he emptied his balls, panting hoarsely. His cock was still at the back of my throat, slowly deflating. My nostrils were full of his pubic hair and it was getting harder to breath. I could feel that my face was a mess of saliva and sweat and cum dripping down my chin as I tried to gasp for air, but he still held my head against him, if anything his grip was tighter than ever.
