Teach Me

After my first experience as "just a hole" I got more experimental with being dominated. I let some guys have their way with my mouth and one hook-up fingered me like there was no tomorrow. I haven't been properly fucked yet, though. Whilst casually dating, I haven't met a guy that I trusted enough to let him go to town on my ass. I would soon enough find exactly who I needed for this.

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It's December and I'm visiting my family for the holidays. It feels like years, not months, since I moved out and my childhood room feels too small for me. Nobody would ever think the room I rent in the city looks particularly mature, but my old bedroom right here, with posters of my teenage heroes and trophies from sport matches, make me feel like I'm peeking through a portal into my past.

It's very cold, but I decide to have a walk before dinner. It becomes a trip down memory lane. That house right there is where my best friend used to live. There is the bench I tried my first cigarette. Without thinking I wander to my old high school. It's mostly empty at this time of the day. The door opens and I see my old math teacher, Mr. Morrison comes outside and lights a cigarette. With his first inhale, he notices me and smiles.

"Ben! What brings you here?!"

"Hello Mr. Morrison. I'm back for the holidays. I was bored so went out for a walk. I didn't know you smoke."

"Call me Brad, please. I don't smoke. Officially. Tonight is going to be a long night and I need something to get me trough it. I have parent-teacher meetings until 9:30. How's student life?"

"It's really nice. I love being on my own."

Wait, did I just see his eyes gliding down my body? I know the look guys can give.. I wouldn't mind,though, just never thought about him like that. Make no mistake, I've always thought Mr. Morrison was an attractive man. He is tall, has a full head of brown hair and is built like a rugby player: all shoulders and legs. He must be around 50 now. The perfect daddy.

"I can imagine that. I would love to hear all about it. Are you here for long?"

"Not really. Tomorrow we have diner with the whole family and I leave the day after."

"Ah that's too bad. Well maybe next time." He stubs out his cigarette on the wall and throws it in the garbage can.

I hesitate, but than decide to go for it.

"Mr. Morris.. eh, I mean Brad. I could swing by after your meetings?"

Mr. Morrison tilts his head and smiles smugly. "Yeah, sure. I'll be right here. You know what classroom."

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At home I take a long shower and go down for dinner. I can't get myself to eat. I'm too nervous. I have no idea what to talk about with Mr. Morrison. I wasn't the most motivated student back in high-school. I had my head in the clouds as a teenager and I didn't really fit in with most of the other kids. During most breaks I would walk through the halls and sometimes Mr. Morrison would invite me to his classroom and he would just listen to me complain. When I felt really down, he was the one I would go to to cheer me up.

At 9:35 I can't postpone it any longer. I tell my parents I'm going out to see some friends. They tell me to have fun without looking up from the television.

I walk through the school and it feels very strange. The smell is exactly the same. The artworks on the bulletin boards have changed, but somehow are also the same. I wait in front of classroom b405. I hear shuffling on the other side of the door. Hesitantly I knock on the door. In his formal voice Mr. Morrison says: "Come in!"

When he sees me in the door opening he puts on a big smile.

"It's you! I was afraid some parents came back for some more of their stupid questions. Shit! I didn't say that. Come, come. Sit down."

He sits behind his desk and points at the chair in front of it. He pours some tea in a paper cup and hands it to me.

"Ugh, that's cold."

"Right, sorry. It's been here all night. I also have something stronger." He laughs: "I'm not your teacher anymore.

"Yes. Please!" I say a bit to eagerly.

He takes a small bottle of whiskey out of his backpack. I eagerly chug the rest of the cold tea and offer him my cup. That will calm me down a bit.

The conversation after that flows easily. I talk him about my studies. What I like about it. What's difficult. How it is to live in a big city. He asks a lot of questions and tells some about his own life. He lived in the same city and is happy he moved back, but misses the life there sometimes. He pours a third drink for both of us. He suddenly looks up cheekily and quickly asks:

"And what about the boys?"

"The boys?"

"Yeah, I knew it all along, Ben. It takes one to know one."

"You also like, ehm, boys?"

"You could say that."

Where is this going?

"Well it's fine. I am pretty new to all of.. it. But I have fun."

"I bet you do."

He stands up and moves around his desk. He grabs my cup and fills it again. He leans against his desk. I'm not sure if he does this on purpose, but his crotch is right in front of me. And it looks meaty.

"What do you like to do with guys?"

It's a strange idea that my old teacher asks me these personal questions. Something about him still is as inviting as back when I was a student here. I always feel he is really listening to me.

"Well, I've been experimenting mostly. It's a weird scene in the city, but I meet nice guys that teach me a thing or two. And it turns out, I..."

Should I really tell him all this?

"You can tell me."

"... I like it rough, I guess. I enjoy being dominated."

"You're blushing! There is no need to be ashamed. A lot of guys like to be dominated. Or, you know, dominate."

Is he telling me something? I don't know where to look between his questioning eyes and big bulge. I look at my feet.

He grabs my chin and forces me to look at him. The vibe changes. He looks sternly at me, but still exudes undertanding and calmness. It suddenly feels like this classroom is the only place that still exists in the whole world.

"Want to have some fun?"

"Well, ehm.. Brad, well, yes."

"It's Mr. Morrison to you."

"Yes, Mr. Morrison."

"Come here."

I get up from my chair and get on my knees before him. He let's go of my chin and rests his hand on the back of my head. I push my nose against his chino's and feel the hard flesh behind it. His hips grind against my face. With my mouth I follow the outlines of his cock. Where his cockhead is caught between the cotton and his leg, I linger and kiss the bulge. A wet patch forms around it in the fabric. Mr. Morrison groans, grabs my hair and pushes me in his crotch. I can barely breathe. His power is self-evident. He is much stronger than me, but I have no intention of not letting him have his way.

When he releases me, I gasp for air.

"Open my pants." He demands

I open his belt and zip his fly down. His checked boxers tent up in front of me. Mr. Morrison is a big guy in every way. I slide the elastic band down and grab his dick. It must be a solid 7 inches. I've seen bigger, but I'm very impressed by the girth. His cock gets thicker towards the base. I'm not able to fit my hand around it there. My friend Adam in the city once told me that's the perfect shape for fucking. It goes in easy but stretches you out the deeper he goes.

The weirdness of the situation hits me: I'm holding my teacher's dick in his classroom. The head is glistening with precum. Mr. Morrison looks down on me with that absent look men get when they are turned on. It's not that they're not there, it's just that they have only one thing on their minds. He pulls me closer and I take him into my mouth. He smells amazing. I lick his head and bop up and down. With my hand I massage his balls. I feel his hands pushing down on the back of my head.

"Deeper. Come on."

He knows what he wants. I go as far down as possible, stopping just one or two inches from his groin.

"Impressive. You can take it."

I go back up for air. When I go down his hand pushes extra hard. I feel him sliding in my throat, now further than it was before. My nose is soon buried in his curly pubic hair.

"There you go. Now we're talking."

That voice. That voice that for years explained algebra, trigonometry and other things I don't use anymore. The voice that motivated me when I didn't want to go back to classes and that gave advice when I struggled with other students.

That voice is now telling me to take his dick as far in my throat as I can.

I'm loving this.

Mr. Morrison starts thrusting in my mouth. I want to be as obedient as possible and try to relax my throat while stimulating his shaft with every other muscle in my mouth. He goes deeper and harder. I gag sometimes, but it just makes him laugh. Soon he is fucking my throat like a pro.

Then he suddenly pulls back. I would give anything to have his dick buried in my face again. Mr. Morrison grabs my chin again, forcing me to look up.

"Ah look at you with your teary eyes. Is it more than you bargained for?"

"I'm doing my best, Mr. Morrison."

"Can I fuck you?"

"Yes, please."

From his desk drawer he grabs a condom and a bottle of lube. He sits in front of me. Huge thighs spread in front of me. His dick jolts impatiently while he opens the packaging and checks which side is up. He looks so concentrated.Itt reminds me of when I observed him grading papers. He sets the condom over his dickhead and while he rolls it over his shaft he sees me staring at him. He grins and says:

"You're going to get it now."

The confidence makes me shiver. The promise makes me gasp for air. He grabs a fistful of hair and pull me up to put his mouth on mine. He forces his tongue forces in my mouth and he kisses me hard. I hear whimpering. It takes a beat before I realize it's me making the sound.

"Undress."

As in a trance I start taking my shoes, clothes and underwear off. I'm totally hard and Mr. Morrison looks pleased to see that. He takes of his shirt. His hairy torso is impressive. His shoulders are huge and his pecs are round and hairy. He has a bit of a belly, but cumgutters are peeking through the flesh. He turns me around and pushes me against the desk. I feel his warm skin against mine. The little air that is between us, feels like it's charged with electricity. I feel goosebumps rising on my lower back. He jams his dick between my legs. It pushes my balls to the side and pops up under my dick. It's an incredible idea that this unit will have to go inside me.

He pushes me over his desk and pulls my knee on the desktop. I'm fully open for my teacher now. He puts lube on my hole and his hand and starts rubbing up and down my crack. His finger soon finds my hole and he gently puts the tip in. He bends over me and I feel his hairy belly and chest on top of me. I feel safe. I feel like i'm being taken care of. I feel like I would do anything for him. I relax and he soon has his whole finger in. Without much pause, he inserts the second. Slowly he moves in and out of me. He spreads his fingers to stretch me open. It doesn't feel like he opens me much, but Mr. Morrison apparently thinks it's enough and starts to finger me. I focus on relaxing and it seems to work. Both the cheeks of my face and ass are glowing and my hole feels like it's on fire. Soon his two fingers are sliding in and out of me fast. I groan and ask him to put in another finger.

"I think you can take a bit more."

His fingers leave my hole but I soon feel his cockhead against my opening. Mr. Morrison puts his arm around my neck to keep me in place. With a subtle trust the tip of his dickhead slides in a little bit. He waits until I relax more and slides the rest of of the head in. His arm tightens around my neck and another inch slides inside me. I feel a bit overwhelmed, but do my best to accommodate him. He slides just a bit more of himself in. Adam was right, with this shape the tip isn't to bad, but it stretches me out the more he puts in. I pant and ask if he can hold on for a moment. "Sure," he whispers. I take some deep breaths. Before I'm fully ready, he is pushing his dick in again. It's not that I don't want him to continue, but it feels like he always two steps ahead of me. Every time I think I have some time to adjust, he pushes me a bit furhter. It's him taking control of me. I can only do my best. He slides even more of his dick in me. How much more is there to go? As if he hears my question, he says: "Take it." And drives the last inch inside me. I feel his hips against my ass and his pubic hair tickles my ass cheeks. He doesn't move much. In impaled by my teacher's penis and with his strong arm tightly around my neck, I feel sheltered.

He grinds into me and kisses my neck.

"Good boy. Good boy."

He pushes himself up. Two massive hands on each side of my head. He pushes in a bit deeper before he starts on his way out. My legs start to tremble. When only his head is still left inside me, he waits.

"Do it, Mr. Morrison. Take me." I mumble.

"I give the orders here."

Seconds go by without him moving. My hole is yearning to be filled again. When I just want to look around, he starts thrusting his dick back into me. When he is fully back inside me, I panic if I can take it, but when he pulls out, I miss how full he makes me feel. He goes in and out a couple of times. Then I feel him gearing up. He pounds his cock forcefully in me in one go. I can't help but let out a high-pitched scream. He chuckles and pulls out half of his dick again., only to pound it back in right away.. He repeats that a few times before he starts picking up a pace. Long strokes with full force. He grabs my hips to pull him against him with every thrust.

After what feels like hours, but probably is minutes, I notice I'm getting in a rhythm. Every thrust is accompanied by the slapping sound of skin hitting skin and my hips bouncing against the desk. The classroom is so silent aside from that. Mr. Morrison is only breathing a bit heavier than normal. He must have a lot of stamina. I'm silent apart from some small moans of pleasure. It is getting very warm. I feel my former math teacher's sweat dripping on my back.

He grabs my neck with his big hands and pulls me upright. Against his chest, he stops fucking me and turns my head over my shoulder. He kisses me in an beastly way. Like he wants to devour me. His stubble scratches my skin. His moves back to look at my face. His hand around my neck tightens when he says: "Look at those rosy cheeks."

With his dick still inside me, he guides me to his desk chair. He picks me up and I feel genuinely sad when his dick slips out of me. He lays me on the seat and gets on his knees. He puts my legs on his shoulders and grabs the armrests to roll me towards him. His cock aligns up perfectly with my hole and he rolls me all the way over him. What an ingenious idea to fuck with this chair. He only has to roll me me away and back to him to fuck me. My ass is feeling better and better. It still hurts, but in a very good way. On this chair I feel like an object to gratify this man's needs. He furiously rolls the chair back and forth. I love it, but I see some frustration in his brows. This isn't going hard enough for him. He tilts forward and tries to keep the chair in place. He starts pounding like he did on the desk, but goes so hard that he pushes the chair from under me.

I fall to the ground, but instead of stopping to see if I'm alright, he shifts his wait on top of me and starts fucking like a beast. He looks me straight in the eye, but I see nothing of the sympathetic teacher I used to know. His sweaty body moves above me, I try to kiss him, but he pushes my face to the side. He grabs my ankle and with a swift movement turns me around so I'm on my belly. He lays on top of me. One of his arms across my back so I can't move. I feel his heaviness pining me down. He puts his other hand on my cheek and pushes me roughly in the carpet.

I didn't think it was possible but he starts fucking me even harder. Covered by his hands and body, i feel anonymous. The only part of me that matters is my ass. He pounds and pounds. I try arching my back a bit, to give him even better access and to encourage him. He doesn't need it, slamming his meat in and out of me. Now he is breathing very heavily. I am soaked in my own sweat and his. He changes his thrusts. Now, with every pound, he keeps his dick in me at the deepest point and tries to go just a bit deeper. As if he wants to reach new spaces within me.

"I'm going to cum," He mumbles.

I can't wait until I feel him orgasm on top of me. Filling his condom in me while his muscles relax and he collapses on me. Mr. Morrison has a different idea. He pulls out of me, gets up and pulls me on my knees by my hair. He slides off the condom and points at his dick.

"Finish it, slut."

I grab his dick and stick it in my mouth. I go as deep as I can, but I feel him trying to push a bit further.

"Stroke it at the same time. Come on."

I stroke the part of his dick that I can't fit in my mouth. His dick is slick from the fucking, my saliva and who knows what else. With every stroke I hit my own lips. It hurts, but all I care is making him cum. It's the most important thing in the world right now.

I feel his dick twitch. He folds over and he grabs my head with both hands. He presses himself into me, I choke and feel his dick hit the back of my throat. He groans and I feel thick ropes of cum squirting in my throat and mouth. Soon it's flowing over my lips and onto my chest. He keeps me right in place until the last shiver. He releases me and looks down at me proudly.

"Look what you did. You're a complete mess." With his dick he smears the cum and saliva all over my face. He puts two fingers in my mouth and investigates my used mouth and throat. When he wants to take them out, I close my mouth and suck. I grab my dick and start jerking.

"Ok, alright then."

He is towering over me while I suck on his fingers and jerk off. I fight the urge to close my eyes, wanting to look him right in the eyes when I cum. When I do, I feel his fingers sliding a bit deeper. Ropes of cum blast on the carpet.

"Good boy."

He bends over, grabs my chin and kisses me hard, but less aggressive than before. The old Mr. Morrison is coming back. I get up and wrap my arms around him. We kiss and hug for a couple of minutes while his dick softens against my belly.

When we start to gather our clothes, there is a new awkwardness surrounding us. Little by little I realize what happened. I've been brutally fucked by my former teacher in his classroom in my old high school. Somebody could have seen us. The windows on the right side of the room weren't even closed. They look out onto the sports field and nobody is there at this time of the night, but who knows for sure?

Before I start really start panicking, I feel Mr. Morrison's warm body against me again.

"This was amazing. I'm glad we reconnected." I calm down again.

"Me too, Mr. Morrison."

"Please, call me Brad."