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Horny Teachers

By: Coxswain



I was horny. No doubt about it. The day started with a look at a surveyor outside my apartment--working his transit out in the street. He was a big, muscular guy who looked like he'd stretch me happy around his big cock. Any man with broad shoulders like those and pecs that bulged his t-shirt had to be hung. Fuck, what a body. Perfect. 

My apartment was close to the high school, so I walked. Spotted a postman wearing shorts in the hot autumn weather. Carried a big leather bag. Probably had another one between his legs. Damn, I was horny. I could imagine that guy's postmark jolting me as his hips slammed into mine. 

It had been too long. My asshole ached to stretch out over a big cock, to feel a man's seed surging up inside me. My first teaching job, though, in 1959, was in a little town. Orange groves. Old farmhouses. Plenty of well-built farm laborers, but I hadn't spotted a single man who'd return "the look." Conservative place. I had to be careful--didn't want to get fired or beat up. Or both. 

But damn, I was horny. Every man looked good. Even the old man with a beard who stood raking the leaves. He was healthy, strong, and--I just knew it--hung. Fuck, I wanted to get laid! Will I have to drive all the way back to L.A. this weekend?

Once at the school I went to the office to fill out some reports. Banging away at the typewriter, I watched as the football team came in to sign bus rosters or whatever for the trip to the away game. Big kids, all of them. 

The biggest one, Tom Prandon, a linebacker, was a stud famous throughout the school. I had him in my last class of the day. The kid was a legend. Even as a teacher in this first month I'd heard of dozens of girls he had fucked. I got that feeling deep in my guts, like a guitar chord strummed through my balls. What would he be like, breeding those cheerleaders, stretching their cunts, getting their cherries, turning them into women! Damn hunky kid. I couldn't stop imagining him nude in the showers. Made me wish I had studied physical education. A coach could see him anytime he wanted. 

I daydreamed again. Tom Prandon's got a big one. Uncut. Thick. And long. When it stiffens up, his cockhead appears out of the foreskin, sticking out moist and slimy, and then I touch it with my tongue--No! I shook my head, regained control of myself, and typed away at my reports. 

But Prandon, the big 18-year-old senior, the big guy, came strutting by where I was working. Damn, he was a monster. Looked older than his age. What would it be like to be fucked by him? How would my asshole stretch around his big hose? I'd never seen it, of course, but as he walked by me, I could almost feel it! I'd heard girls whisper about it when they thought I couldn't hear, but something down deep in my balls guaranteed me that kid had a big cock!

My belly knotted up, and my own dick hardened. Fuck, I don't dare stand up. I bowed my head, anything to keep away from the magnet of that hunky looking kid. He was masculinity on wheels. Muscles. Curly black hair. Even had a 5 o'clock shadow at his age. Face like a movie star. A leather jacket. Tight jeans. I could almost smell his sperm. 

Something worse: he seemed to know the power he had. It was like waves radiated from him to me. Somehow I knew he wore briefs, not boxers. Tight things. High cut legs. Low waistband. A Speedo in white cotton. I caught my breath, trying to look at the typewriter keyboard. A huge bulge in front, a white pouch straining around a heavy package. That huge cock. Foreskin over his red cockhead like a hood. A drop of precum oozes out of it, and I catch it on my tongue--

--I caught myself breathing heavier, and I bit my lip, anything to stop the arousal. But I glanced to the side. He stood there, body toward me, his crotch at the level of my face. A big bulge. Huge. Like he stuffed a baseball in there. 

I felt the spiral starting up again, and I shook my head. No! I am not getting horny over this kid!! I risked a glance upward. He wasn't even looking at me. His body faced me, but his head was turned to look at the principal, who was telling them something about the bus ride to the football game. 

But the big bulge in his pants was right at my face. He knows. Somehow he knows what he does to me. I gulped, so horny I was literally on the verge of cumming in my pants.

But he did nothing. Just stood there, sex waves throbbing out of that big bulge, and I swear I could feel the heat from it on my face. I ached to reach out and cup that huge basket in my hand, but I forced myself to resist. 

I looked at the typewriter. I had typed the same word over and over. I was losing it, and I was in trouble. But finally, miraculously, the football team finished its business and trooped out of the office. I let out a sigh. I had beads of sweat on my face. That was a close one.

That's the way the day started out, even before classes began. Throughout the rest of the day, I had more horny experiences. Hunky kids scratching their balls as they sat in their desks. I taught senior English, so all my students were 18. Fully developed. Big bulges in tight jeans.

Even the faculty lounge wasn't safe. Coach Cadze seemed to know what to say to make me hot. "Never saw a kid like that Prandon," he chuckled. "Hung like a horse." Those words gave me an itch at my back door.

I tried to get away from him--couldn't stand to hear such stuff--but he followed me across the room with his coffee cup. Coach Cadze pushed all my buttons--almost as if he knew he was. "Kid's like a jet fighter, aggressive, powerful, well armed." He laughed. "You should see him when he's stiffened up. I feel sorry for those cheerleaders on the nights we win. Or even when we lose!" Yuk, yuk.

Still later in the day, another bit of stimulus: a couple of bullies yanked down Arnold Gilliam's pants. No big deal, really, just an embarrassment for the poor kid. He just needed a little reassurance, etc. The other boys ran off when they saw me, and I walked over to give Arnold a little arm-around-the-shoulder sympathy.

He, too, was a senior and 18 years old, but he was a wimp. The school nerd. Short for his age. Tousled, dirty-blond hair. Poor kid had pimples and crooked teeth. Wore glasses. He was facing away as I walked up, struggling to pick up his books and pull up his pants. When I stepped in front of him, damn! Little Arnold Gilliam was hung! I helped him pull his briefs up--God, what a cock! and helped him pull up his pants. 

I fought myself down! My hand craved to grope just once more over that big bulge--Little Gilliam! Who woulda thunk??--but I didn't. I sent him on his way with a hardon snaking down my pantleg again.

By then I couldn't think of anything but sex. Even Coach Cadze himself was a turn-on when later in the day, I passed him in the halls. Not a bad-looking guy, really. Square jaw. Shaved head. About six feet, maybe 225 pounds. I strained not to look, but the sight of the clearly defined bulge in those unusually tight sweatpants gave me a knot in my throat and a warmth in my guts. I knew he wore a jockstrap--all coaches do, don't they?--so a bulge that big, contained inside a mesh pouch, meant he had to have a cock like a firehose!

Damn, I'm horny. I tried to stop thinking about Cadze and steeled myself for the last class of the day--then I could go home, microwave a pizza, and beat the meat to a couple of porn videos. Maybe I will drive back to L.A. I've got to get laid!

But I had one more trial: the last class of the day was the one with Prandon in it. I was showing a documentary movie in my last class, and I had to get the projector. I went to fetch it from the storage room, which was down a dim hallway at the far end of the school. 

As I came around the corner, I spotted Prandon himself. He stood against the wall, his zipper pulled down and his cock out--and Jim Barkett, the quarterback, knelt in front of him sucking it! Freckled, red-headed, All-American Barkett blowing dark, hoodlum Prandon was like the Good Guys surrendering to the Dark Side. 

I was right! Prandon was hung! The big thing spread Barkett's jaws wide, and it was so long only a part of it sank into his mouth. Tom bobbed his head back and forth on it, jacking it with one hand and stroking his own cock with the other.

They didn't notice me at first, and by the time they did, I had been staring, entranced by the sight, for too long. I caught them, but they'd certainly caught me. Prandon looked at me with a smile. "Watch Barkett swallow my cum, Canfield, and then we'll go to class."

Outrageous! He expected me to permit such an act on school grounds. And he didn't call me "Mister Canfield." 

But I stood there watching. Jim Barkett never stopped sucking. Tom Prandon never stopped smiling. "Yeahhh, here it comes!" Barkett started gulping, and dribbles of white slime leaked from the sides of his mouth. Prandon's orgasm must've driven Barkett into his own--his cock spurted white pleasure out onto the floor.

Fuck, I was horny! I had a terrible craving to kneel down there and suck up some of that hot jizz, myself! But I forced myself not to. It was enough that I was standing there without stopping them. 

When Prandon finally pulled back his cock, damn, it was magnificent! A broad, flaring head like a giant mushroom, purple with satisfaction. And Prandon's foreskin slid back over it like Batman's cape swirling around him. I knew it! He's uncut! Damn, I wanted to suck that thing! I licked my lips. Automatically. And he saw me. And smiled. Shit.

"I, uh, have to get the projector." 

Barkett stood up, tucked his cock back into his pants and hurried away. Prandon, though, stood there. "I'll give you a hand."

"That's okay, I can handle it."

I unlocked the storage room and walked in. Prandon followed me.

"Damned hot in here," he muttered. I heard the sound of a zipper behind me, and I turned to look. Fuck! Prandon was facing away from me and had stripped off his pants and was in the process of pulling down his--Ohmigod!--tiny white briefs! As they hit the floor I could see the pouch in front was stretched and distended.

From the back, Prandon was masculine perfection! A muscular kid big for his age, his back view was more than I could take. His buttocks were two perfectly symmetrical globes of hard muscle. Big sinews in his back undulated as he pulled off the shirt. Shoulder muscles like iron straps. Legs like works of art--like on statues of Greek gods. And he had a bikini line--his body was healthy, outdoorsy tan, but his ass was stark white. 

Then he turned around. And there it was, the cock that hypnotized me a couple of minutes earlier. Hard again. Young guys can really reload! I got a good look at his testicles. Fuck, bigger than mine, and he's just a kid!

He looked at me with that knowing smile. "C'mon, Canfield, the kids in the class won't be expecting you for 10 or 20 minutes. We've got time."

I was stunned. 

His voice got a little edge to it. "Get over here, Canfield, and wet it down for me while you're pulling down your pants!"

I still stared like a dumb ox.

"Canfield, I'm going to fuck you. You know it, you know you want it, and I'm horned up for you now. Get over here and suck my cock!"

I don't know what was going through my head. The risk was tremendous. Prandon was not a minor, but I would certainly be fired, and there would probably be some legal problems. But I was so fucking horny I couldn't think straight. I dropped to my knees.

Fuck, what an experience! Magnificent cock! Like a stallion! Cockhead so broad I only barely got it into my mouth. I licked rapidly just under it, at his pleasure-spot. I'm a good cocksucker. I know what to do. It tasted of sweat. And cum. Familiar flavors. It had been so long, so fucking long!

I reached under to cup his balls while the other hand undid my pants. When I finally shoved them down off my ass, he backed away. "Okay, Canfield, stand up, we have to make this a quickie."

I stood up, and he shucked my pants and underwear down to my ankles, and I stepped out of them. He stood between my legs, spread my cheeks, and swiped my ass with something slimy! Then he dropped a small tube on the floor. K-Y. Damn, this kid packs his own lube? What a stud!

Then he surprised me. He reached down and grabbed one of my ankles and lifted my foot off the floor. That put him even more in control--I was off-balance. I had to reach back and hold onto his shoulders!

Then his cockhead found my eager hole--Oh, god, it's been so long, so fucking long! As he pushed it in, the pain took my breath away. God, he was big! He got me panting, breathing hard to absorb the pain. It hurt, but I was so hot I wanted it rammed in all the way.

And he sank it in to the balls. The huge stretch of my asshole around his giant girth set my ass on fire, but I was so hot for him, I didn't care if he tore me open.

My cock was iron-hard--this will be a motherfucker of an orgasm! The kid was a great fucker! When he started his lunges, he hit my prostate with every stroke, and the leg I was standing on grew weak. I held onto his shoulders more tightly-- and I tightened my asshole around his cock to give him more pleasure. When he grunted, I felt a glow of pride.

I kissed the side of his face, licking off the sweat, gasping encouragement to him: "Yeah--big fucker--ungh!--big cock--deep--inside--angh, god, yeah!--fuck me--harder!--deeper!"

He let out a deep, low groan, and I knew he'd made it. I love the warm, spreading fullness of a man ejaculating in me. Breeding me. Filling me with his swimmers. I clenched my ass-ring around him to increase his pleasure, and he grunted at each clench, which made me glow with pride, so proud and turned on, in fact, that I cummed, too. Without touching myself. Shot big spurts of teacher-jizz across the room to land in white globs on the floor.

When he finally stopped--and I felt a wet trickle down my leg--he released the leg, pulled out his cock, and I unwrapped my arm from his shoulders. "Yer a good fuck, Canfield. I think I'm gonna take ya regular from now on."

I smiled, feeling rather shy. "I'd like that." 

I clenched my ass tight to hold in his sperm--to keep it out of my underwear until I could make it to the men's room.

He stepped back, moved over to the pile of his clothes, and started getting dressed. I stepped into my pants, pulled everything up, grabbed the projector on its rolling stand, and hurried out the door. "Lock the door behind you," I called back.

Oh, man, did I feel good! Felt like singing. I checked my watch. My teenaged lover did me in only 10 minutes. Peppery balls at that age. God, I felt good! My ass was sore, but it was good sore. Like sore muscles after winning the game.

Struggling to keep my mind on what I was doing, I set up the projector and started it. "A Metro-News History of World War II" would hold their attention--plenty of diving Stukas, soldiers firing artillery pieces, and proud marches through Paris. Then they were supposed to write a theme on warfare over the weekend. I slipped out and hurried down to the faculty men's room. When I got there, damn, Prandon really packed a load. It was like a diarrhea of sperm in the toilet. 

I checked my shorts--wet in the crotch. I wiped them out as best I could and pulled up my pants. Check my butt in the mirror. Nothing wet or white showing through. Whew!

Back in class, I watched the end of the movie, shut off the projector, and rewound the film as the students filed out of the room. Prandon stayed behind. 

When we were alone: "You got a nice, tight ass, Canfield. I'm horned up again for you. You interested?"

"Maybe. When?"

"How 'bout right now?" He pulled open his pants, and there it was again. That magnificent cock. 

"N-no, I--I can't--not--not here!"

"It's late. Friday. Everybody's gone, even the teachers."

It was a terrible risk, and I tried to resist, but all I could think of was that big, hard cock. I couldn't help myself. I dropped to my knees and started sucking again. Fuck, that cock owned me. All I wanted to do was service it--any way I could. 

"Get naked, Canfield. I like my bitches bare-skinned. Still sucking him, I pulled off my tie, pulled open my shirt, then fought to shuck down my pants. 

He pushed me onto my back, and I raised my legs for him as he stood over me, but he surprised me again. He reached down, grabbed my ankles, then lifted up my legs until my whole body was off the floor, upside-down, feet straight up in the air, balanced on my neck and shoulders! I spread my arms out wide for balance.

He was in control. The masterful symbol of his masculinity, that giant cock, stretched me wide open again and claimed me as his once more as it sank in--downward--balls deep. I gasped and panted as his big balls pressed against my ass. Oh, I loved his size. Even the pain was a turn-on. 

Precum oozed from my own cockhead in a stream up my belly. I was on a high--a fuck high--and I released all control. "Oh, yeah, fuck me," I begged. The big teenager started moving, and even though I was uncomfortable, all my weight on my neck and shoulders, the kid was hitting places inside me I didn't know I had, and he soon got me moaning low and mindless. 

To get a better grip on me, he moved one hand from my ankle to my thigh, and limp and helpless, that leg sagged over at the knee. I was splayed out for him like a complete slut, one leg straight up, the other flopped over. I loved being his slut. Over and over he hit my prostate and my toes curled in ecstasy.

I also loved the complete don't-give-a-shit disdain he had for me. Standing up to fuck me, lifting me up like a side of beef, no regard whatsoever of my pleasure--the bliss I got from his fucking was pure coincidence as far as he was concerned. And being treated like a slut was a giant turn-on for me. I closed my eyes and squeezed my hole tighter for him because I knew I was supposed to. I was his hole.

He quickened his fuck-pace, but I couldn't do anything to express my lust for him--I couldn't lock my legs behind his hips, I couldn't kiss him, all I could do was hang there, upended, vertical, listening to the young, rutting bull as he snorted and groaned, ravishing my worshipful asshole.

He moved to short, jerking strokes, and I figured he was about to cum. Just at that moment, I heard a nightmare sound--the door opening!

I looked up, and Coach Cadze walked into the room! "Well, well, I never figured this of you, Canfield." My whole life passed before my eyes.

But Prandon growled, "Yer next, Coach, strip down fer me." Before my astounded eyes, Cadze began to strip off his sweatsuit! 

But Prandon took my attention again, suddenly raising himself up even higher and pummeling me, power-fucking my ass, driving me crazy as he pulled his cockhead almost totally out then sinking balls deep in me again. Finally he grunted back, "Unnngh, cummin'!"

When I heard that, I was a goner. Something like eight intense blasts of cum shot out of my cock, splatting all over my chin and face as I went into a motherfucker of an orgasm, writhing under him, my asshole clenching and convulsing around his mighty cock. The man had fucked me again into an orgasm. It was a weird feeling, really. Submitting myself to a kid 10 years younger--okay, at 18 he was a man--but I still couldn't think of him as anything but a kid, and getting my ass reamed by a kid! The eroticism, the fucking wrongness of it was a gigantic turn-on.

As I wriggled like a landed fish, Prandon dumped his load inside me. I know they say you can't feel it, but I swear each squirt was a boiling surge, a hot, full feeling inside me. I had another load of the big kid's swimmers in me.


Horny Teachers Ch. 02



The Mark of the Jockstrap

I was part of the Bohemian scene in Los Angeles in the '50s. My roommate turned me out: after discovering the great turn-on of his cock, I was eager to spread my legs for just about any horny friend. Didn't have much trouble finding guys to top me while I was a student.

My first teaching job, though, was at a small-town school, Thrushmore High, and for a long time I was in a sexual desert. Gays--back in those days we were just "queers" or "fags"--weren't easy to find in a small town in 1959. But finally I got laid by one of my students, and I'll be damned, the coach himself turned out to be queer. Once I located those "fellow travelers," though, I got hot action nearly every day. 

My big, football-stud student and the I'll-fuck-you-please-fuck-me coach were my first two "discoveries." Then I learned that Coach Cadze had created his own private stud--he'd noticed that the school nerd, Arnold Gilliam (of the pimples and thick glasses) had a surprisingly big cock. Since the coach preferred to be fucked, he was always looking for "toppers," so he convinced poor Arnold, another 18-year-old senior, that the kid was really a stud.

He seduced the kid by telling him how much the coach couldn't keep his eyes off him. Got him to pull down his gym shorts and "show me how big it is." He carried on about how he couldn't resist, then bent down and sucked off the astonished geek. With more praise, more encouragement, more horny talk, he got Arnold to mount him and fuck the coach as he lay back on the bench in the locker room. He turned timid, wimpy, shy Arnold Gilliam into a self-confident stud!

As a matter of fact, I let Arnold lay me, too. Hey, I've got nothing against building up a guy's ego, especially if he sticks that ego up my ass and makes me pant for him. Arnold wasn't handsome, to my taste--big ears, goggly glasses, crooked teeth--but damn, he did have a big cock (never can tell who's going to get one), and he was a quick learner. 

I let him think I was "under his power" late one afternoon in the empty locker room, and with an "Oh, Arnold, I just can't resist you, you big stud," I lay back on the bench between the gray lockers and spread for him. He grabbed my ankles and rolled me back--I helped by pulling back my thighs--and Oomph! he was in!

Damn, he was good! Knew all the rules: waited to let me adjust, started off slow, long-stroked me; the kid had me panting for him in the first 60 seconds! He was so good, in fact, I wondered where he got all that skill. He often hit me in the prostate, changing angles and thrust-pace, crushing my knees down to my chest, penetrating deeper. Whoosh, what a fucking!

And something else: he reached under and pulled at my balls when he saw me cumming, and--Damn!--what a feeling! A man's nuts cinch up close to his body just before he cums, so Arnold's slow pull at my scrotum stretched out the tightened ligaments and vesicles, and--Ohh, my god!--when a man's in orgasm, pleasure and pain are the same thing! His ball-stretch on me made my orgasm last so long, I thought I would pass out. 

As he lay on me, both of us spent, I slowly lowered my legs. Doesn't anybody around here fuck on a bed? My back is killing me from these hard benches! I looked up at him, still breathing hard. "Damn--Arnold--you--damned good!--(pant! pant!)--where--you learn that?"

The kid was panting, too. "Thought you--of all people--know about--reading books."

Damn, never underestimate a horny nerd! Nobody ever pulled my balls before. He read that in a book? Fuck, what a technique! But he was just too good. "Hey--Arnold--who else you--getting it on with?"

He lay quietly on me with a smile like a Cheshire cat while he caught his breath. Finally, "Couple of the guys. In the computer club. You saw me with Jim Barkett, the quarterback. He's a good cocksucker." Then he blew my mind. "And you know that new coach? The one who started this year with you?"

"Terry Hawthorn?? You get it on with Coach Hawthorn? That's hard to believe." He was the straightest arrow I'd ever met. He was married! Had two kids already! 

I met Hawthorn at the new-faculty orientation. First thing that hit me was his face--movie-star handsome. Square jaw, sharp nose, curl of black hair over his forehead--like Superman, the TV character! And he had a big build, too. I'm not exactly little, but beside him I looked mousy. I figured him to be about my age--thirty-something. 

When he shook my hand, the strength of his grip made me wonder if I'd ever play the piano again. He was certainly the enthusiastic type. "Hey, man, isn't this exciting? Our first teaching jobs!"

Bright and eager, he was like a chipmunk in a gorilla's body. We appeared to be the only newbies, so although he was just a little too chipper for me, we got to know each other better. Turned out he was a Mormon, spent two years in the Army as a draftee, graduated from BYU. Built up his physique with Uncle Sam, he said, and decided he wanted to get into physical education.

He was exactly the sort of All-American, perfect-smile, guy-on-the-Wheaties-box type who rubbed me the wrong way. As he went on and on about how he couldn't wait to share what he'd learned about health and sports with "the kids," I had a terrible urge to ask him how often he jerked off.

When he mentioned he was married and had two kids, I wrote him off as hopelessly straight, and when he ranted about his "beautiful little sweetheart," I fought down the urge to ask him if she swallowed his cum or spit it out.

The idea that the school nerd, Arnold Gilliam, was actually involved in homosexual activities with Terry Hawthorn was more than I could get my head around. Arnold's softening dick pulled out of my ass and he rose up off me and got to his feet. "I'm about to spring the trap on him today. You want to watch?"

"Hell, yes, I wouldn't miss it! Arnold, I'm having trouble comprehending this. You're seducing Terry Hawthorn? How in hell are you doing that?"

"Well, after I discovered how hot Coach Cadze was for me, I thought it would be a challenge to fuck Coach Hawthorn."

"Damn, Arnold, you've really come out of your shell!"

"Yeah, well, I got the idea from your psychology classes. Remember the lesson on Developing a Positive Attitude by Focusing on Positive Thoughts? I figured I could develop a horny attitude in Coach Canfield, so I started leaving little horny-thought notes where he couldn't miss them. Real simple stuff at first, 'You have always loved naked men,' 'You got into coaching so you could see naked men,' 'You will love my cock,' that sort of thing."

My mouth fell open. 

"And remember the lesson on Nonverbal Communication? How more of what we say comes across in things besides spoken words? I figured that to show him some skin might help him to another horny little thought. Whenever I was in the locker room or in his office, I made sure he saw me naked."

I smiled. "That would work on me. You're really hung, Arnold." I reached out and squeezed his big eight-incher.

"I got sneaky. Mailed some notes to him from a mailbox. Paid kids to stick them on his desk or under his door. 

"And your lesson on Fixation? How people attach motivations and stuff on icons, on everyday objects?" He looked at me with triumph. "A red jockstrap! I got him to fixate on a red jockstrap!"

"How'd you get him to focus on that?"

"I started off by adding little drawings of a red jockstrap to the horny-thought notes. Like it was my signature. After a while I made little jockstraps out of red paper and wrote the notes on them. It worked. Once I actually saw him hold one of the paper jockstraps to his face and sniff it."

"Damn! Arnold, you are a very devious deviant, you know that?" 

"Remember your lesson on Pavlov's dogs? Where he blew a whistle every time he gave them a treat? And finally they would drool just to the sound of the whistle even when there wasn't a treat? Well, I know a lot about electronics and wiring. It wasn't too hard to rewire the circuitry to the air conditioning in Coach Hawthorn's office. I would turn it off a couple hours before my class with him, then, just before I let him see me, I turned it on.

"After being sweaty and uncomfortable for hours, suddenly he was bathed in nice, refreshing air as he saw me naked with a hardon. When I went away, I turned the a/c off again, let him heat up and suffocate once more, then turned it on again as I walked into his office, again naked and hard, to ask him where the clean towels were.

"It worked. After about a week of that, I saw him sigh when he saw me in the locker room or the shower, and he felt good when he looked at me, even when there wasn't any air conditioning.

"Damn!"

"And with the combination of the horny-thought notes and the a/c training, I began to see him get a bulge in his pants whenever he saw me. I always made a point of letting him see me with a hardon. Jacked myself up just before I stepped out in front of him."

"Damn, you did that?"

"Yep, but all you have to do is put on an innocent face, and if he wants to get upset over a normal, natural hard dick, it's his problem." Arnold smiled. 

"By then the jockstrap-notes said things like, 'All your life you dreamed of holding a big cock in your hand,' and I could see he was upset. He looked nervous, searching every kid in his class.

"And when I walked by him naked, I caught him staring at my cock. He was getting interested. I saw him pass by every time I was in the showers. He called me into his office a lot. The last time, yesterday, he was really nervous. Asked me why I 'have an erection so often.' 

"'I don't know,' I said. 'It feels good.' I looked him in the eyes. 'Do you like it?'

"It was like I punched him in the gut. He looked all startled and real nervous, and he said, 'Y-yeah, it's a--a nice one.'" He looked like he didn't know what else to say. 

"I left his office and went back to the locker room. When I saw that he followed me, I let him see me putting on a red jockstrap before I pulled up my jeans."

"A red jockstrap? Where'd you get a red jockstrap?" There was no such thing in 1959 unless you were a dancer at the Moulin Rouge in Paris. All the jockstraps at Thrushmore High were the usual white Bikes.

"Took it home and dyed it red."

"Damn! What did he do?"

"Again, it was like he was punched in the gut. His mouth fell open, and he stared. I hurried out of the locker room before he could stop me." Arnold grinned. "I think he's about ripe. That was Thursday, yesterday. I've got him for gym today at 11:00, the last class before the lunch break, so I'm going to hang around so I'm the last one in the showers. You can hide in there and watch what happens."

As the 11:00 class ended, I meandered over to the locker room as if I were looking for somebody. I saw Arnold, and he gave me a wink. I loitered around until the last students left, and I saw Hawthorn hiding behind another locker, watching Arnold. Arnold had spotted him, too, and while Hawthorn watched, he pulled off his pants, s-l-o-w-l-y pulled down the red jockstrap, then got up and walked naked--no towel--toward the showers. 

I kept back in the shadows to watch. Amazing. Coach Hawthorn moved after Arnold like a bitch in heat. Arnold Gilliam had a good, big cock, but he didn't have the physique that would launch a thousand ships, skinny little runt. Hawthorn was attracted to him, though. Different strokes for different folks--or maybe he really was brainwashed by Arnold's schemes. 

Never thought Hawthorn would turn out to hanker after a big cock. He was a man's man. Was even a Mormon missionary, for hell's sake! Arnold's psychological warfare must've really got to him. He watched the pimply senior go into the shower, and--my mouth dropped open--Hawthorn pulled off his sweatsuit, jockstrap, and shoes, grabbed a towel, held it around his hips, and walked into the showers. "Hello, Arnold, I think I'll clean up, too."

Arnold turned to face him, spreading his legs as he approached. The school nerd had a full-on erection, but it bulged inside a red jockstrap!

Hawthorn stopped, frozen, staring. The towel came loose from his hand and fell to the floor. His own cock was rock hard and throbbing. The poor bastard was hypnotized. "Red jockstrap," he muttered.

Arnold, you clever boy, you palmed the jockstrap and put it on again in here! I blinked. Hawthorn's cock was every bit as big as Arnold's, so Hawthorn's fascination was from deeper psychological urges. Fighting to gain control of the situation, he gulped, "An, uh, e-erection again, Arnold? Y-you thinking about--about a date with your--girlfriend--tonight?" 

I'd never seen Hawthorn so nervous. It was incredible. The coach with the face of Superman was 6'2" or so and a good 250 pounds, even bigger than Cadze, the head coach. Gilliam was short, stringy, still not out of puberty.

"Naw, Coachie, I'm thinking about you."

Damn, is that Arnold Gilliam? The school wimp and nerd? His voice was firm, edgy--the voice of command. 

Hawthorn gulped. "You--wearing--red supporter--" Talked like a zombie. 

Arnold pulled down the pouch. "See how hard you've got me, Coachie. It's all for you. C'mon over and feel my cock. You know you want to."

There's the deal-breaker. Now Hawthorn leaves the room. Probably to report Gilliam.

As I stared with disbelieving eyes, Coach Hawthorn moved closer and reached down. He touched Arnold's thigh. "S'matter, Coachie, don't dare touch it? Go on, stroke it for me."

Mesmerized, Hawthorn rubbed his hand against the red jockstrap. "Red jockstrap," he muttered, "red jockstrap..."

Finally Arnold grabbed his hand and moved it to Arnold's hard dong, and I'll be damned if Hawthorn didn't stroke it slowly and sensually, still staring down at it. Then Arnold reached up to put his hands on the big man's shoulders. Pulling him down. "N-no!" Hawthorn gasped.

But Arnold kept pulling, and slowly, slowly Hawthorn bent his knees, and down he went. I could hardly breathe. Hawthorn was in the power of forces he couldn't control. The big man was breathing hard. "No! No, I won't!"

When his knees hit the floor, his face was still higher than Arnold's throbbing cock. The kid's voice sounded like a drill sergeant's. "Bend down and suck it!"

"N-n-no! I-I won't!"

"Yes you will! You've been dying to suck a cock all your life! You've been staring at mine for weeks. It's all you can think about!"

Hawthorn was silent.

"Isn't it!"

"Yes." Hawthorn's voice was so soft I barely heard him. "I should've known you're the one sending me the notes, the ones with the red jockstrap!" 

"Yeah, Coachie. I know the real you, don't I?"

Hawthorn's face was a mask of horror. "Yes." Again, his voice was so faint, it was like a prayer. "How did you know?"

"A cocksucker like you has it oozing out of his pores. Anybody with a big cock can tell."

Hawthorn gasped.

Arnold pulled the coach's hand away for a moment and slid the red jockstrap down and off. Then he put Hawthorn's hand back on his cock. "But you've always known it, haven't you? Down deep inside, you knew those big men could see you were a cocksucker. You wanted to suck their cocks, didn't you?"

Again that feeble "Yes."

"So suck my cock, cocksucker!"

"No! No, I won't!" 

Arnold pulled the red jockstrap over Hawthorn's head, upside-down, maneuvering the mesh pouch over his nose and mouth, the leg straps straight back over his forehead. Damn, what a sight! Most of Hawthorn's face was covered with the hot, sweaty pouch, branching out from the point between his eyes to the curve of the pouch as it went over his chin. Hawthorn was panting in terror, breathing hard, with every gasp inhaling the scent of Arnold's balls and his male pheromones.

Then Hawthorn was under the control of something much more powerful than his sense of decency. He bent over toward Gilliam's crotch, pulled the pouch away from his mouth, and spread his lips over the kid's big dong. His nose was still in the pouch.

Arnold was the man in charge. "You like that, Coachie?"

"Mm-hmm."

"You hot for me, Coachie?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Let's see." Arnold leaned over the man's heavily muscled back, reached between his ass-cheeks (Beautiful bubble-butt, by the way) and he stuck a finger up Hawthorn's ass. The coach lurched in surprise but kept sucking.

"You wanna swallow my cum, Coach?"

A pause. Then "Mm-hmm." 

"Naw, I've got a better place for it." Arnold pulled his cock back out of Hawthorn's mouth, and there was a sharp sucking sound. "Drop your hands to the floor."

"No, oh god, no! Not that!"

Arnold had a little plastic jar of Vaseline, and he dug out a gob of it. He swiped it up Hawthorn's ass-crack. 

"No, no, please! Don't do this! Okay, I'm--I'm a cocksucker, but not a--not--Please, no--you-you can't--"

I don't get it. Hawthorn outweighs Gilliam by 150 pounds. Why doesn't he just get up?

But instead the big man obeyed the command. Dropped over into the hands & knees position, waiting, trembling. Arnold moved the jockstrap pouch over his mouth and nose again.

Arnold commanded: "Jack yourself off. Beat your meat for me." Hawthorn's hand went to his crotch. Arnold didn't even look; he moved behind the humbled man and worked two fingers back into his asshole, finger-fucking him. Hawthorn shut his eyes. 

"This is what you want, isn't it, Coachie? You've got an asshole that wants to be fucked!"

"No! No, that's--that's not what--what I want!" His voice was muffled through the jockstrap.

"Then why's your cockhead leaking precum in a stream, and your ass-ring is clenching at my fingers?" Hawthorn moaned and helplessly arched his back. 

Arnold's cock stood up like a flagpole! The horny teenager took a deep breath, looked over at me, and smiled. Then he knelt between the coach's legs. "Yeah, big guy, I'm going to fuck you so deep you'll be a cunt for the rest of your life."

"No, no, please!" But Hawthorn lowered his shoulders and raised his ass, presenting himself to Arnold like a bitch in heat. The kid mounted him in the most dominant way--with his legs outside Hawthorn's, in control, almost sitting on the big man's ass. He pressed his cock against the winking rectum, shoved, and after a yelp from Hawthorn, Arnold's cockhead popped inside. Hawthorn was no longer a virgin.

He slowly pushed in as his fuckee stiffened in pain. Arnold gripped Hawthorn's hip with one hand and he grabbed a fistful of Superman's curly black hair with the other. He yanked Hawthorn's head back!--Shit, that's hot!--"The best part's coming up, Coachie. Once the pain fades away, you'll know what your asshole is really for." 

There was a long silence as Arnold let him get used to a cock in his ass, then he slowly began his thrusts. And after a dozen or so, I actually saw it happen. With a gasp and a long, low moan, Hawthorn started to enjoy Arnold's lunges, and I saw him surrender. The kid's big cock had stretched him open and claimed him as Arnold's property. The broken coach hissed, "Yeah, do it! Fuck me harder," and with that grunt, he was a made man. 

Lost his cherry with a red jockstrap over his face, listening to the schluck-schluck-schluck sound of his own vanished virginity. Arnold kept the pace for about five minutes, then he sank in to the balls, and I knew he was breeding the big coach. 

He released Hawthorn's head, bent over, and kissed the back of his victim's neck, and at that instant, Hawthorn's cock shot four big bursts of cum that splattered over the shower room floor. He collapsed onto his face. "God--fucking--amazing!" he gasped.

"I'll expect more from now on, bitch." Arnold pulled out his cock and slapped the coach on the ass. A white stream dribbled from the man's gaping hole. He rolled over onto his back on the wet tile floor, still masked with the red jockstrap. He made no effort to remove it. 




Horny Teachers Ch. 02



Arnold reached over and rubbed Hawthorn's hairy, wet chest. As he lay there in his afterglow, Hawthorn moaned, speaking from within the jock pouch: "What have I done, what have I done?"

"You just gave up your cherry, Coach. Your ass belongs to me."

He looked up. "You took advantage of me."

"Took advantage? You showed up so many times in the locker room when I was showering that you were either the most conscientious towel manager I ever heard of--or you wanted to look at my cock."

Hawthorn's voice was strained. "That cock--that big cock--you--overpowered me."

"Hey, I'm an 18-year-old kid. Did I knock you down onto this floor? Did I spread your legs?"

"YES! You're the devil! You hypnotized me! You forced me! Against my will!"

Arnold reached down and stroked himself, bringing him back to erection, and Hawthorn stared, horrified. "Get over here, Coachie, and suck me hard again." He paused, glaring at the big man. "Then if you want me to fuck that tired ass of yours, you can beg me for it."

Hawthorn sat up. "I can't--resist--that big cock!" He yanked aside the jock-pouch and glommed onto Arnold's cock like to save his life. Damn, he really is a natural-born cocksucker!

"Look up at me, man. Open your eyes." Hawthorn looked up. "You are a fucking cocksucker! Always have been. Haven't you?" Hawthorn closed his eyes in shame. Still sucking Arnold's cock, he nodded his head. "That's good enough, cocksucker. You want to get fucked again?"

"No!"

"What?"

"YES! Yes, I do! I can't fight you! That cock--that huge cock! I'm possessed with your devil!" He looked up at Gilliam. "Yes, Arnold, I want you to fuck me! Up my ass! Jam that thing all the way up my guts! Make me a bitch! Treat me like shit!!"

With such a polite invitation, what could he do? Arnold took the man again, that time face-to-face, Hawthorn's spread legs up in the air, soles of his feet at the ceiling--the posture of total male submission. As Arnold sank into his trained and loosened ass, Hawthorn actually pulled the jockstrap pouch back over his mouth and nose. He loved to smell his new master's cock and balls. 

When Arnold was finished, he pointed to the mess of jizz over the coach's belly. "You're such a slut, Coachie, you cum every time a man has his way with you."

Arnold got up, dried himself on Hawthorn's towel and threw it back at him. "This isn't the end, you know. I'm a senior, so I'm going away to college, but until then you're my cum-slut. I'll take that nice, tight asshole whenever I want it." 

Hawthorn sat up and held his head in his hands. "You're right, Satan. You broke me. I'm your bitch."

Arnold spoke more softly. "You want to give back my jockstrap?"

Hawthorn's voice was even softer. "No. Please. Let me keep it. I want to wear it--whenever I can. A symbol I belong to you."

I simply could not believe my own ears. A big bull-male had just surrendered his manhood to the school nerd. I was so horny I couldn't stop jacking off. My cock had come out of my pants long ago, and Hawthorn's final surrender brought me to the point of no return.

I noticed that when Hawthorn got dressed, he put on the red jockstrap. 

Coach Hawthorn to me, though, was just a horny story. He was Arnold's piece, and for me, Arnold was less of a turn-on than a sort of scary acquaintance. May I never be on that kid's bad side. When he wanted to fuck me, I let him, half out of enjoyment but half out of fear.

So in spite of the great relief from the sexual Sahara desert when I first got to Thrushmore, I was beginning to get a bit bored. I mean, I got sex. Plenty, really. But just two students, Prandon and Arnold, and one teacher, Cadze (when I could talk him into topping me or when Prandon made him join in the double-fuck of me). I was tired of hamburgers; I wanted a Big Mac (but those wouldn't be invented until 1968). I started planning a trip back to Los Angeles for a little "variety."

After school that day, I had an appointment with a parent. It didn't look good. Jim Barkett's father. Yep, the quarterback who had been sucking both Prandon's and Arnold Gwilliam's cocks. He got a C grade in my class, and apparently his old man was "displeased." I love it. The kid gets a bad English grade, and the parent stomps in: "I ain't understandin' why my son ain't doin' shit in yer goddamn English class!"

I pulled open the bottom drawer of my desk. Bottle of Jim Beam. No glass--I had to make concessions to secondary education (teachers were supposed to be one notch under angels)--I drank a good slug from the bottle.

A few minutes later I heard a knock at my classroom door. "Mr. Barkett, what can I do for you?" To cut short the handshake, invitation to sit, etc., he pulled his chair closer to my desk. "It's about my son Jim."

I nodded my head. Duh. What a surprise. Barkett's old man was a big guy. Face like a prize-fighter--pug nose, lantern jaw, heavy brows. His hair was thinning; I figured him about 55. He was dressed up in suit and tie, but I guessed him to be a construction worker, truck driver, something like that.

"Jim got a straight-A average everywhere 'cept in your class."

"Well, unfortunately, Mr. Barkett, his test scores don't rate an A."

His voice was low and slow. "He told me you saw him sucking Prandon's cock, and you didn't do nothing."

I blinked. "Whaaaat?" Damn, the Barkett household is pretty liberal if the kid talks about stuff like that!

In a flash, he stood up, reached out, and grabbed my arms. As I tried to stand, he twisted my arms, forcing me down, out of my chair, bending me over in front of him, and with a final yank, he forced me to my knees. I snarled, "What do you think you're doing??"

"It's what you think that I want to know!" He let go of my arms, and quickly undid his pants and dropped them to his ankles. I gulped. I was looking at a big bulge in--a jockstrap!

Jesus Christ, I'm haunted by jockstraps today!! At least it was white. Bike.

"Yeah, Mr. Canfield, you like my jockstrap? We know you like watchin' cocksucking. Maybe you wanna do it. I'm hung, Canfield. Take a look! You wanna suck my cock?"

He yanked down the jockstrap, and out sprang one motherfucker of a cock. Biggest one yet. Damn, this town is really turning into a cockfest. Had to be 10 inches long. Fuck! Thick as my wrist! The huge circumcised organ had a weird upper curve at the end. Reminded me of a crowbar. Son of a bitch, what a cock!

It grew harder and longer, and he stared down at me--proud, lustful, domineering. When his cock was fully hard and stuck out straight from his waist, I noticed beside him on the desk a stack of student essays. His cock was longer than the sheets of paper! Damn, those papers are 8½ x 11. His cock is over 11 inches long! Son of a fucking bitch!! 

He grabbed my head and brought the huge dong an inch from my lips. "There you go, Teach. Show me how much you wanna suck my cock." 

If he were on the verge of complaining about me to the school administration, I had to obey him--but on top of that, I was dying to suck that big monster. I opened my mouth. Wide. Then wider than I thought possible! My jaw hurt.

A deep-throat couldn't work--the strange up-curve at the end wouldn't shove down my throat, so I did my best to buzz-saw his cockhead with my tongue, filling the room with slurping sounds. I started to rub my own cock through my pants, but when he saw that he slapped me. "Pay attention, queer. Ain't ever'body gets to enjoy a cock like mine. After you swallow my first load, I'm gonna fuck that tight ass of yours, and then you can rub your little dick all you want."

What? He's going to fuck me?? Wow, this guy is solid gold!

He kept grunting, "When I'm finished with you, fag, you ain't never gonna think about a woman again! You'll belong to me! I'll turn you into the little queer you know you are." 

Hate to disappoint you, man, but you're about 25 years too late for that.

He pushed me away for a second and shucked the jockstrap down his legs and off. Then I glommed back onto that big cock and showed him what I could do: I jacked the big shaft with both hands while I hummed and tongued his cockhead. And after a couple of minutes of professional cocksucking, it worked: 

"Okay, queer--get ready--to swallow--big load!"

He'd been giving me short thrusts, but he stood still for a second, and the first blast filled my mouth. I gulped as he shot more and more. Damn, his semen was powerful stuff. Strong. Salty. Not watery but thick, like slimy toothpaste. Fuck, what a stud!

"Good boy," he murmured. "You'll come to know that taste. From now on you'll get a regular dose."

Wow, he wants to be a regular? This is perfect! 

He'd just cummed, but the big cock didn't get soft; I was impressed. As I knelt under his cock and licked and slurped at his big, hairy nuts, the big rod swayed and bounced against my cheeks and forehead. A big drop of jizz at the very tip smeared over my forehead. 

Then he did it: the Arnold Move! He pulled his jockstrap over my head, positioning the pouch over my mouth and nose! What is this, the town's official technique? Suddenly with every breath I took, I was inhaling the man's scent. His balls, his crotch, his sweat, his MALENESS!

He pushed me away and began taking off his shirt and kicking off his shoes, but I was too intoxicated to move. Breathing his sex-gas, I could do nothing but stare as he took off his pants. 

His belly was chiseled and lean, his legs hard and well developed. Wide shoulders. Big hairy chest. Second--naked--muscle-man today--hope he--fuck me. I couldn't even think straight!

"Okay, queer teacher, strip!"

I pulled loose my tie and opened my shirt. Pulled down my pants. Hope--nobody--in school. His big cock bobbed and swayed above me. I'm--lucky-- thought Thrushmore--boring--now he--fuck me. I could hardly breathe. Every time I inhaled I got suffocating fumes of man-crotch and just a little oxygen. I'd never been so fuck-drunk.

"You little fag, you got a hardon for me! You really like this shit! Hurry up, you little queer. I'll spread your pussy and make you my bitch. Get on your hands and knees!" 

I assumed the position--Yes--god--yes!--but suddenly the animal, survival part of my brain kicked in: cock--that size--crowbar hook--kill me. I yelped, "Lube! Bottom drawer!"

"Well, I'll be a son of a bitch! You queers really travel ready, don't you?" I heard the drawer open. I heard the Vaseline jar open.

His thumb touched my asshole and started to grease me. "You like that, do you, fag? Can't hide your lust, bitch? I'm gonna own that pussy." 

With my last flicker of conscious thought, I knew I had to stop breathing his testicle-scent. I yanked the jockstrap pouch away from my mouth and breathed deeply. Yes! I'm still human! 

But I was far, far along the arousal trail. I wanted to get to the main act. I crouched there, moaning, already his slave. Oh, you dumb fucker, you're preaching to the choir! You're trying to flip a pancake that got flipped a long time ago!

Finally his bottle-thick cock touched my ass. Yes! I dared to speak: "Yeah! Hurry! Shove it in!"

"Hungry for my big cock, are you, queer?" But he only teased my eager hole with light touches. Again and again, just nudges. He slapped my ass hard. "Tell me you want it. Say it!"

"Do it! Fuck me! I want every inch of that huge cock up my ass!"

He swatted my ass hard again. "It's not an ass, it's a pussy. Now say it right!"

"Okay, okay, it's my pussy! Please ram that big cock up my pussy!" Stupid bastard, you're playing vocabulary games? 

"That's a good little fag. You gonna to be a little cock-loving queer who needs my hard cock all day and all night."

You big, dumb bastard. You'ree playing exactly into my hands by sticking that big cock up my ass. And it's my ass, motherfucker!

Just then, with a Yipe!--damn, he is big! His cockhead pushed past my rectum. I have (ahem!) been fucked before, so most cocks give me just a little blip of pain, but Barkett's crowbar, that size and that weird hook, felt like I'd just sat on a cactus. Yeowch! He slid in a good length, about what I got from Cadze or Prandon, but I knew he had even more to go. God, what a find he is!

He paused, letting me adjust. He's not straight. He's done this before.

Damn, he was thick. My asshole was so stretched, I could feel the big dick throbbing. Soon the pain faded, and, god, it felt good. It did take the breath out of me, though. Fuck, what a cock! Gradually he sank it in as deep as it could go, and I was stuffed. 

After a minute he started stroking in and out, and it felt perfect. Fabulous. There's nothing like a big stud using my ass to please himself. The dumb fucker pleases me, too, whether he wants to or not.

Then he started fucking with a technique I'd never experienced--he pulled the monster all the way out on every stroke, blasting out through my asshole, then blasting in again. At first it hurt like hell, forcing me to ride over that big cockhead again and again, but gradually the pains blended into the pleasure until it was an incredible turn-on, and I went crazy!

Each stroke sank deep into my guts, giving me that wonderful full-feeling, then he pulled out, flaring my asshole open once coming out and again going back in. It felt so good. Damn, I was so delirious, I was his fuck-slave! I never wanted him to stop. Shit, he was right! I'm going to need that big cock all day and all night! I found myself wanting to please the man. He thrilled me as he held my hips tight, thrusting, lunging, overpowering me. I loved it.

And it dawned on me he was only on one knee. His other foot was flat on the floor beside me. Fuck, what a stud. Always ready for combat. Won't even kneel to fuck me.

And he wasn't through! He pulled his cock out and flipped me over onto my back. Then he got between my legs, lifted them, and mounted me again. He looked so horny, so masculine, so seductive, I raised my feet to the sky in surrender. 

I love to look at a man's face during intercourse. I can see the real animal, and I love to be his piece of meat as the huge cock thrusts inside me. He slid it in deep. Ohhh, yeahhh! It felt so good. 

With his cock sheathed in me, he smiled, and I felt like his lover. I hoped he was telling the truth about making me his bitch. He lowered himself onto me, my ankles over his shoulders. "Good--little bitch--wrap--arms around me-- gonna blow--another load--work your--pussy for me!"

He held my legs as he pumped deep into my ass, and The Feeling started. Oh, yes! I held him tighter, licking the sweat off his neck, sucking his Adam's apple. Then he noticed I'd pulled the jockstrap off my face, and he reached down and pulled it over my mouth and nose again. 

Breathing his scent again was too much! The slowly growing climax blasted into a motherfucker of an orgasm! Blinded by the sheer maleness of the bastard, I let out a loud, long, hoarse scream, completely, insanely, abso-fucking-lutely out of my mind! 

Never felt so great to be a slave, a pure fuck-tunnel for the magnificent man! My electrocuted asshole clenched around his cock in lightning grabs as I thrilled, shivering in ecstasy so fucking intense, the shots of cum from my dick, splattering over my belly and chest, were minor events! The fiery, atomic bomb blast or pleasure came from my ass--No, he's right!--from my man-pussy!

I went insane! Panting through the jockstrap, I saw crazy visions! Fiery jockstraps crisscrossed my mind--I didn't know what was real and what wasn't--a red jockstrap in the shape of a cock thrust up my ass--the biggest, most mind-blowing fuck of my life! 

I submitted everything about me to him. Opened my legs wider. His slave. Anything he wanted to do to me! And, god, he hasn't even cummed yet! He gloated above me. "Oh, yeah--bitch--like my cock--makes you cum!"

I clamped my asshole tight around his cock, and he groaned, and after about 10 or 20 more strokes his cock jerked, and hot juice filled my ass. Yes! He's breeding me! YES!! He shook me violently and squeezed me hard until finally the jerking in his cock subsided and he quit pushing so deep.

His cock felt so, SO good inside me. God, I loved the feeling of being full, used, his servant. As he pulled out, I felt lost. Empty--although cum poured out of my ass. He looked down at my own cum on my belly and smiled at his handiwork. He scooped up my cum, and I licked my cold sperm off his fingers. I would do anything he wanted because anything he wanted was always pleasure for me.

"And Jim gets an A, right?"

"Yeah! Fuck, yeah. Change it tomorrow. He gets an A."

Mr. Barkett put on his clothes and left my classroom. So that's how kids get grades around here. Jim Barkett got an A for the long, motherfucking afterglow his father gave me.

Thrushmore is turning out to be the horniest place I've ever been. Fuck!

--to be continued.



Horny Teachers



When his climax finally faded, he pulled that wonderful cock back out then let go of me and let me slump back to the floor, panting and sweating, feeling his sperm leaking out of my ass.

"Want to take a turn at him?" I looked up. He was talking to Cadze. I'd forgotten about him. He was completely naked. God! The tight sweatsuits he wore disguised a ripped body. Muscle definition everywhere. Not an ounce of fat. Took my breath away. Bald head but light brown hair over his broad pecs. Swirls of hair around his pointed nipples--he was playing with them, teasing them hard--hairy treasure trail over a washboard belly. Powerful arms. Fuck, he was hot! 

Nice cock, too. He was fully hard. Circumcised. Bare cockhead. Not as hung as Prandon, but a nice one. I felt myself getting hard again, even though I was still in a nice afterglow.

But want to take a turn at me? 

He walked over. "Roll over, Canfield." At first I was pissed, but then, hell, he just watched me get fucked, and he's naked himself. And he's nice meat.

I rolled over and rose up onto hands and knees. Cadze mounted me, and loose and cum-slick from my adventure with Prandon, he slid into me in one stroke, just a happy little lurch of surprise-pain, then that luscious full feeling of a cock inside me!

Cadze squatted over me, almost like sitting on my ass, his big poker skewered into me--taking me back up that wonderful mountain--a man fucking me! God, I love this! I loved Cadze's cock up inside me, but the real cockmaster in the room was Prandon. Even Cadze obeyed him, fucking me at the master's command.

While Cadze lunged away, Prandon stood in front of me. "We're going to make that tight ass of yours a little looser, Canfield."

Wow, he's not finished with me! My cock twitched as I heard that, and not from Cadze banging against my prostate--he wasn't as good at it as Prandon. My--I had to admit it--master reached down and scratched his balls and that magnificent cock, and damn, it started to swell. "You make me horny, Tom," I hissed.

"That's Mister Prandon to you."

"Mister Prandon."

Gradually his cock swelled up to poke out like a sword, and there, again, I was looking at the reason I was naked, on hands and knees, being fucked by another man. Prandon's cock was my real master.

Damn, he looked hot. I found myself admiring him with what was almost worship. His solid body glowed, light flickered from the coating of sweat. I stared open-mouthed as he scratched his low-hanging balls. Big balls. Breeding balls.

Finally he gave an order: "Cadze, roll over on your back and take him with you!"

Huh?

The coach leaned off to the side, keeping his cock in me and rolling me with him. With strong arms and legs, he rolled me up onto his chest until I lay back on him, still skewered on his cock.

Prandon moved quickly to stand between Cadze's and my outstretched legs. Picking up mine, he raised them, rolling me up on Cadze's body, pushing my thighs back until--Ohmigod, NO!

I felt the nudging pressure of Prandon's huge cock against my already-stuffed asshole, and God, he's determined to get in!!

I let out a scream as my tortured, stretched-past-reason rectum spread still further to accept the master's cock! I had two men in me at once! I was in agony!

But at the back of my mind, past the reach of pain, I was in such a terrible, raging lust, I was going crazy. Two hard cocks are in me! Four big balls pumping jizz! My head sagged back limply beside Cadze's. God, I AM FUCKED!

"Ya--one--motherfuckin' cockslut--Canfield--" Prandon's voice was like the taste of his sweat--salty, bitter, but a tremendous male stimulation. "--coulda stopped me--(grunt! grunt!)--but ya didn't--ya wanted--me to breed ya--"

I looked up at him. He looked back, gloating. The Alfa male.

Just to prove it, he yanked his cock back out of me--and for a moment I felt cool air in my way-stretched asshole--and he grabbed Cadze's legs, lifted them up outside the spread of mine, rolling us both up higher, and when the coach let out a bellow, I knew Prandon had just skewered him.

"Look at ya bastards! Cadze's cock's throbbin' hard in Canfield's ass, and Canfield's cock's so damn hard it points at his belly button!"

I lurched on Cadze's belly, enjoying his big cock in me, as Prandon gave him some violent lunges, but I heard myself begging. "Fuck me again, Prandon!--double-fuck me!--I love--two--big cocks!"

I let my head fall back beside Cadze's again. "--you--like--get fucked, too?--thought you--top--" 

"--Yeah!--fuck, yeah!--mostly--bottom!--"

Then Prandon pulled out to return to my double-fuck. With another yipe! from me he jammed back into his slot, and--I'll be a son of a bitch--I'd grown used to the stretch. Once he was in, I slipped my legs under his arms and wrapped them around his sweaty back, down over his plunging buttocks. "Fuck me--you--big bastard--show me--who's boss!--"

He really took over, forcing a moan from me, and my head snapped back up to watch the master as he performed. I was helpless. Totally submitted to the men in me, and I moaned again as I gave them all control. "Yeah--you bastards--fuck me--I'm--your bitch--fuck me to death!"

I rubbed the sweaty arms of both men, squeezing them, trying to show how turned on and grateful I was to be fucked. And with both men humping, sweat soon covered all three of us. 

I don't know how long we fucked. A long, wonderful time. My asshole ached--I would have trouble sitting for a couple of days--but the god-awful ecstasy of being fucked by two big males was almost an orgasm in itself! I floated along as they thrust away, skipping all their physical effort, skipping over their sweaty, panting movements like a stone thrown across a creek. 

Sweat ran into my eyes as I submitted to the big stallions. God, it's great to be their mare. I loved being their hole. My hand slid back and forth in the slimy sweat on their hairy arms, moaning and grunting, smelling their underarms and the powerful smell of sex, a testicles, sperm, rutting-bull odor that was a sex pheromone--a woman in a room full of that smell soon gets a wet and ready cunt, a man can't stop a full-on erection if he gets so much as a whiff of it.

I was on the edge of a full orgasm. "--Cumming--almost there--fuck me--FUCK ME, YOU BASTARDS!"

The schluck-schluck-schluck sounds gradually overwhelmed me, and gasping for air, I found myself again shooting cum from my cock, coating my belly and Pandon's, too. Never thought I could do it with the incredible stretch of my asshole, but I felt myself clinching around their cocks as I shot off, and that seemed to be some sort of trigger.

Prandon raised himself off me as he dug deep, and as he placed both hands on my shoulders, I felt him dumping into me. "Yahhh, God!" Cadze bellowed, and I felt more sperm forced up my ass. 

Slowly we collapsed into a sweaty mass of hot, panting, male flesh, wallowing over each other as we wriggled through the last moments of our afterglows. I opened my eyes and looked into Prandon's face. Total satisfaction. I had been conquered. Defeated. Captured. Enslaved.

Beads of sweat dripped from his nose, and I rose up to lick them away. I licked over his chin, and his cheeks. He slowly pushed up from me and settled back on his haunches, pulling out his cock, squatting to look at his two slaves. 

Still connected to Cadze, I instinctively kept my hole tight--or as tight as I could, newly stretched as I was--to keep him inside me. But finally his softening cock slipped out, and immediately large gobs of white cum drooled out of my asshole, which still felt like it gaped like the diameter of a golf ball.

Prandon pulled his clothes back on while Cadze and I lay there naked, still purring, watching the master preparing to leave. We were both fucked out. Prandon grinned down at me. "You and Coach Cadze are a real pair."

Then he sauntered out of the room.

The Coach and I lay there for a couple more minutes, finally rolling toward each other. I looked at him. He looked at me. We kissed.

"TGIF," he said.

"Yeah. This has been a long week."

Cadze invited me to his office. "I've got a six-pack in a cooler in a locker." Why not. We shared something--we were Prandon's bitches. While we tossed back a couple, he told me about himself. "Couple of guys fucked me when I was in the Army. Big guys. Tied me down in an empty barracks and took turns on me." He smiled. "Remember how much it hurt the first time? Thought I was dying."

We looked into each other's eyes, and we spoke at the same time: "But then it feels good." We laughed.

"Never saw those guys again. I shipped out the next day. But they left me horny. Next company I was in, I tried sticking it to a couple of guys--catch 'em alone in the showers, that sort of thing. More gays in the Army than I figured."

He leaned over and kissed me. "But we've got a problem, don't we? I realized it's much hotter to get it in the ass, and when you cum while a guy's lunging in you, it takes the top of your head off, doesn't it?"

I nodded.

"I can fuck when I have to--"

--"I can vouch for that."

"But the real fuck-session is spreading your legs for a hot guy."

Again, I nodded.

"So what can we do with each other? Two bottoms? We're like two keyholes without a key."

"Maybe Prandon will do us on Monday."

"Who wants to wait that long?" He looked at his watch. "One of my projects should be showing up here pretty soon."

I heard a knock at the door, then Arnold Gilliam opened it and peeked in. "C'mon in, Arnold." Cadze turned to me. "I'm giving Arnold, here, some lessons in self-defense. Hang around, Bill, you might be interested."

It wasn't all that interesting. I've seen Karate lessons before--I was in the Army for three years, myself--got laid there, too. I couldn't get over what I knew was lurking inside Gilliam's pants. After about a half-hour of blocks and counterpunches, I heard the magic words, "Go hit the showers."

It was uncommon for the coach to shower with the students, but, "It's the end of the day, Arnold, and I'm all sweaty. I'm going to join you." The three of us walked into the locker room, where Arnold took off his clothes and put them in a locker. The coach stripped beside him, leaving his sweatsuit, jockstrap, and whistle on the bench.

Damn, two big cocks. I was horny again. "I think I'll take a shower, too. It's been a long day." For the third time that day I stepped out of my loafers, pulled down my pants, and took off my shirt and tie. I couldn't help myself--I got a hardon almost the second I got naked. Arnold stared at it. 

"Nice cock, Mr. Canfield." Cadze chuckled. "Don't worry about it, Arnold, it's normal for a man to get an erection when he gets naked. Why, look at you. That's a whopping big cock, Arnold!"

Sure enough, young Gilliam's cock was swelling up into a very nice piece of meat. So was Coach Cadze's.

To my surprise, and certainly to Arnold's, Coach Cadze murmured, "My god, Arnold, your cock! It's more than I can take," and he sank to his knees and started sucking it!

Arnold looked down at him, first in horror, then in arousal as Cadze's talented mouth showed the poor nerd what a blowjob was. Then Arnold looked over at me, expecting, I suppose, some sort of denunciation, but instead I moved over to him, dropped my hand to his crotch, and under Cadze's sucking mouth, I cupped Arnold's balls. Then, what the hell, I bent over and kissed him on the mouth.

When he felt my tongue stabbing at his, Arnold went over the falls. I heard a choking cough from Cadze, then a groan, and I knew Arnold was ejaculating down the coach's throat. After a minute or so, Cadze backed off. "Man, you pack a load, Arnold. What a stud."

I stopped the kiss and stood back. The poor kid was blushing. The coach got to his feet, and he bent over to kiss Arnold, too. That time Arnold got a taste of his own sperm. And I'll be damned. When he realized what it was, his cock started to harden again! Young guys! So fast on the reload!

Cadze stopped the kiss and looked down. He grasped Arnold's hardening cock, and he murmured, "Arnold, you big, fucking stud. Your cock drives me crazy." He kissed him again, then, "God, you make me hot, Arnold. My ass is aching for you. You gotta fuck me!"

With that, Cadze lay back on the locker room bench, spread his legs, and lifted his feet up high. "Come on, Arnold, fuck me with that big cock!"

Arnold looked at me, again apparently for approval, and I reached down, grabbed his cock, and pulled him by it over to where the coach lay waiting. I placed it at the coach's puckered asshole. It was slick. Cadze lubed himself up already! This was all planned! "There you go, Arnold, fuck him."

Breathing hard, no doubt amazed out of his mind, Arnold pushed, and his cockhead popped inside. Coach let out a loud groan. "Ohh, fuck, yeah! Arnold, your cock is so huge! You're such a fucking stud! Fuck me!"

And he did. He sank his hefty tool into Cadze's guts, down to his balls in a single stroke. Then he started his lunges. I jacked myself as I watched. It was a horny sight. And with the hair-trigger of youth, Arnold cummed after only about ten strokes. Lunged in to the max, he froze, trembling, groaning, and then he collapsed on Cadze's chest. 

The coach murmured in his ear. "Arnold, you big fucker, you got me. Never been fucked the way you did me. I'm your slave, man. Anytime you want me, my ass is yours. I'll spread my legs for you anytime, anywhere."

Arnold's softening cock slipped out of Cadze's ass, and the kid crawled off, and Cadze lowered his legs to the floor and sat up.

"You--you really liked me to--to fuck you?" Arnold's words were uncertain, but his voice didn't have the usual timid whine.

"Arnold, with a cock like that, you're the man! You've fucked me. My ass belongs to you. Anytime you want me, I'm yours." He smiled. "We can forget about the showers. All I wanted was to get you naked and let you fuck me." Cadze began to pull on his sweatsuit.

"All right, then, Cadze. Get down on your hands and knees and let me fuck you like a dog!" 

Wow. Arnold's voice had the ring of authority! I'd never heard him speak like that before. And he was hard again!

And Coach did it. Yanked his sweatpants down and off, and dropped to the locker room floor. Arnold knelt between his legs, spread Cadze's butt-cheeks, ported himself at Cadze's asshole, and thrust in! "Oh, yeah! God, yeah! Fuck me, Arnold, ram that big thing up me!"

His second performance lasted longer. Arnold fucked Coach Cadze on the locker room floor for a good 10 or 15 minutes. I loved the greasy, sucking sounds, and both men were breathing heavily. Again, I was odd man out, jacking off as I watched. But it was a horny sight!

When he finally backed out and stood up, Arnold was a new man. "You've got a hot ass, Coach."

"You're a real stud, Arnold."

Arnold smiled as he pulled on his clothes. "You want to do this, like, every day after school?"

"Anytime you want me, stud."

When Arnold had gone, Cadze got up and sat on the bench. He looked over at me. "Those are the hardest ones to do. Most guys think of the coach as fucking the students, and yeah, some of them are hot for it. I got a lot of guys. Still do, every once in a while."

He bent over and sucked my cock for a few moments. Then he backed off. "But you know what they say, once you take it in the ass, you can never go back." He kissed my cock. "Way back in the Army, those guys who gangbanged me hurt me like hell, but they were at it so long, the pain faded, and they got me to cum. And once they showed me what an atom bomb is waiting inside my asshole, all I wanted from then on was to get fucked."

He made a wry face. "It's not so hard to turn a guy into a bottom. You just fuck him whether he wants it or not. And if you get him past the pain part, he's yours from then on. But a top? You have to get the guy to fuck you, and that's harder to do. I've been working with Arnold, there, for months. Poor little nerd. He would've been a pushover to make into a cocksucking bottom, but One, I need somebody besides Prandon to fuck me, and Two, Arnold could use a little self-confidence."

It worked. The next time I went down that dark hallway to the supply room, I saw the quarterback, Jim Barkett, on his knees again. But he was sucking Arnold Gilliam's cock. I winked at Arnold as I walked by.

(to be continued)

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