"Oh... yeah...
ahhh!
"
By now I'd done this often enough to be able to tell from Leander's moans how close he was to shooting his load. He gripped the back of my head — that meant he was very close, and that he wanted me to swallow. I wasn't going to refuse him, but I struggled a bit anyway, tried to pull back. You know, just for show.
It worked like a charm; Leander let out a choked moan half a second before I felt his warm come shoot down my throat. His hand clamped around my neck, pushing down so my face got buried deep in his lap. For about half a minute Leander went through the motions of his orgasm while I waited patiently, careful to swallow every drop.
Leander shoved my shoulder, none too gently. My cue to get up. My spine screamed in protest — I loved these little dates of ours, but have you ever tried sucking someone off from the passenger seat of a car? It takes a toll on the body, I tell you.
"Damn." Leander zipped up his pants. He sounded out of breath. "Maybe I should take you along to football practice. The guys can pass you around in the locker room afterwards."
"Promises, promises."
He gave me
a look
, same as he always did when I said something like that. I couldn't figure it out. It seemed to me like a mixture of curiosity and excitement, but also disdain. I was used to that last one, anyway. That's how he always looked at me at school, and sometimes when I was sucking his dick. Which I found kinda hot.
Leander cleared his throat, glaring at me.
"Oh! Right." I fumbled with the car door handle and got out. I'd barely stepped outside and closed the door before Leander sped off, and I had to suppress the ridiculous urge to yell "See you at school!"
Well. Better start walking. At least it was spring now. When our little car-dates had started, in winter, walking a couple of blocks to school had been even less pleasant. I'd been surprised when Leander's car had pulled up at my bus stop, about a week after my "experience" with him in the locker room. He didn't say anything, just opened the passenger side door and gave me a look. I got in. Of course I got in. He drove us somewhere secluded and, still without saying anything, unzipped and sat back, his cock pointing at the car's ceiling. How could I resist?
I did enjoy the weekly blowjobs. I enjoyed how Leander gradually got less shy and more dominant with me; grabbing, pushing and calling me his little bitch. And yet... even though I knew it was idiotic of me, I had hoped for more. I'd wished it would at least have made us friends, or something. Shoulda known that was unlikely — but then, if you'd have told me Leander would pick me up on the sly every week to shove his dick down my throat, I'd have said that was pretty unlikely too.
At least the bullying had abated. A bit. Somewhat. Not all that much, really, now that I thought about it.
Actually, it might have gotten worse.
Dammit.
Well. At least I was getting the D. I had that going for me, and it almost made up for the bullying.
Almost.
***
I got to school just in time for first-period Biology. As usual, my eyes scanned the room for Leander and Robin. I couldn't help it. Even though they both treated me like trash, my thirsty ass couldn't stop ogling them. There was a practical reason, too; at least I'd know which direction to expect attacks from.
Leander wasn't here. Weird. He should have arrived at school well before me. Robin was here, though, and he was giving me a supremely nasty look. In a sense, that was even weirder. Usually Robin only noticed my existence when Leander was busy hurling verbal abuse at me.
I ignored Robin and took my seat. Just as I sat down there was a knock, and one of the school staff members poked his head in. It was Mr Blandwin, whom we
affectionately
called the Headmaster's Henchman — besides monitoring study hall and a bunch of other petty supervisory tasks, Blandwin's job seemed to mainly consist of running errands for the Headmaster. Blandwin cleared his throat. "Jonas needs to come with me for a moment."
Shit. That didn't sound very good.
Everyone stared as I got up and went with Blandwin, the same as they had done when Latrou, the school counsellor, had come to get me. I sincerely hoped the staff members wouldn't make a habit of pulling me out of class. I might not survive high school if they did.
We walked the hallways in silence; a student simply did not question the Henchman, and Blandwin didn't volunteer any information. When we neared the teacher's lounge, I grew worried. When we went past it, I nearly shit myself; the only room past the teacher's lounge was the Headmaster's office.
Look, you need to understand something: the Headmaster at my high school was a terrifying man. Tall, dour and skeletal, an actual ordained catholic priest who gave mass in our school's chapel around Christmas and Easter. I'd heard some stories. When he was younger, when our school used to be a boarding school, the Headmaster used to roam the sleeping hall after lights-out to check for guys playing with themselves under the sheets. He'd perform these inspections with a ruler at the ready, in order to punish the offending hand. Or the offending cock, as some of the guys telling the story insisted.
The heavy door to the Headmaster's office swung open, and to my dismay, Leander marched out. He didn't so much as glance at me as he shoved past. Didn't even have a murmured insult to spare, for once. My insides felt like they were turning liquid. In my panicked imagination, I could see Leander confess everything to the Headmaster: the blowjobs in the locker room, the blowjobs in his car, the blowjob behind the school bike shed that one time. I already imagined the Headmaster digging up his trusty ruler and ordering me to bend over his desk — until I remembered I could probably sue for that, in this day and age. And then I didn't have any time left for panic; Blandwin ushered me through the door and closed it behind me, leaving me alone with the Headmaster.
"Jonas. Please be seated." His voice was deceptively soft.
"Yes, sir, thank you, sir." I mumbled, afraid to meet the Headmaster's eyes. I stared down at the massive oaken desk instead, as I lowered myself in one of the hard wooden chairs set up for visitors and those students unlucky enough to get summoned here. Everything about the room looked positively medieval. I wondered where he kept the torture instruments.
"Jonas," he said again. He steepled his fingers under his chin and fixed his pale grey eyes on me, peering over his horn-rimmed glasses. "I suspect you know why you're here?"
"No, sir."
The Headmaster frowned. His eyes pierced. "No?"
I furiously shook my head and stared down at my hands. If he thought I would admit to my fellatious acts that easily, he had another thing coming.
He sighed. "You must think we're all very stupid, the teachers and I." His voice sounded pained.
The silence grew around us. I still wouldn't look at him, for fear he'd be able to read my sins on my face. All catholic priests could do that, I was pretty sure.
After some time, he went on. "I think you must be very disappointed in us. We really should have noticed something sooner..."
Wait, what?
"I understand it's difficult, truly I do. But you should have told someone. That way, I —
we
could have done something sooner." The Headmaster was oblivious to my confusion, too wrapped up in his own discomfort. "Bullying will not be tolerated at this institution."
The tension went out of me, just like that. I slumped in the chair — and then quickly corrected my position, since the chair was deeply uncomfortable and not at all designed for slumping.
