After School Project

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The classroom was empty except for one kid sitting in the front row. The kid, technically at 18 a man, was me, and while the school buses had left I had remained. Whether or not I was going to be joined by my science teacher, Mr. Arthur, remained to be seen.

I had given Mr. Arthur a note on my way out of class earlier that day, the last day of school, and although I know he must have read it, I didn’t know what his reaction would be. Would he take it seriously?

Probably, because while I was a goofy kid like most everybody in school, I was always intense and sincere in his class. I hung on his every word and always did my best, eager to impress him and always hoping for his approval.

I had a crush on Mr. Arthur, and while I know students often had crushes on their teachers, I doubted whether Mr. Arthur had many students in love with him, especially guys. This was 1971 and that sort of thing was not accepted then any more than it is now, although it seems to become public more these days.

Mr. Arthur wasn’t very handsome, and in fact he looked a little like Fred Gwynne, the actor that played Herman Munster on that TV show, without the make-up of course.

Mr. Arthur was tall, probably about 6’5″ or so, and as skinny as a rail, and he had a deep voice that sent shivers down my spine. He had enormous hands, with long bony fingers that had a lot of hair on them around the knuckles. He had hairy arms too, I had noticed during those rare times when he took of his suit jacket on hot days.

Those hands. Sometimes in class when we were working on projects he would come around and look over our shoulders. For some reason he would put his hand on my shoulder while making a comment about what I was doing, squeezing with just enough pressure to make me wince.

And make me hard as well. When he would do that my dick would come to life, and I think that if he ever stood there long enough holding me like that I could cum without touching myself. That’s how much he excited me.

He had always caught my eye, even before I had him as a teacher in my senior year. In my very limited experiences with guys I had developed a taste for older, dominant men, and that fit Mr. Arthur to a T, but it wasn’t until that time in the bathroom after the last class of the day that I had really fallen for him.

Not a very romantic place, the toilet of a boys room, but I had a habit of hanging out there sometimes, sneaking peeks at guys while trying not to let them a glimpse at my meager member. It was then that I saw Mr. Arthur – really saw him.

Teachers didn’t usually use the students boys room, except to check to see if they could catch kids smoking, so I was shocked when I saw that the person who had just entered the room and had positioned themselves at the other end of the trough-style urinal was wearing a suit, grey in color.

My eyes went up from the shiny black shoes to the cuffed pants and further up, and when the man undid his fly and reached into his trousers I tried my best to hide my interest, but that attempt failed when I saw what emerged.

The hairy hand pulled out the most incredible cock I had even seen, and then the hand that had pulled out the incredibly long cock moved up to his hip, letting the snake hang there by itself as the yellow stream flowed out of it and into the vessel below.

I had seen a lot of dicks up to them, but none were as long as this man’s thing, expect maybe those natives in the National Geographic I had found, and when my eyes went up to see who belonged to this incredible dick I was shocked to see that it was attached to Mr. Arthur.

Even more shocking was the fact that Mr. Arthur didn’t notice that I was staring at his face at first because his eyes were elsewhere, namely down at my dick.

I’m not sure why. Maybe he was wondering why I was standing there with my dick in my hand and not peeing, or maybe he was stunned illegal bahis at how little my dick was, but I suspect that what got his attention was that I was hard, so hard that if I did start to pee I would have hosed down the wall.

“Tim,” Mr. Arthur said calmly, nodding at me like nothing was wrong, his booming voice echoing in the room.

I grunted a greeting while trying to cram my boner into my pants, unable to keep from looking as Mr. Arthur’s pee stream stopped and he wiggled his trouser snake dry. Almost running to the sink, I sprayed water on my hands and grabbed a paper towel before hurrying out the door.

Scurrying out the door, I headed for home, walking through the woods that separated my neighborhood from the school grounds, and when I saw that the woods were deserted I went off the path and into the brush.

Thirty seconds. That’s how long it took me to drop my pants and stroke my dick a few times before spurting all over the ground while I closed my eyes and replayed in my mind what I had just seen back in the bathroom.

How many times over the course of the year had I jerked off with that image of Mr. Arthur in my mind. The sight of that light beige flaccid cock, easily over 6″, with the tip of the head peeking out from under his foreskin, was burned into my brain.

After that day even when he was just walking around the classroom I fantasized about his cock, picturing it flopping around in those baggy trousers. He probably wore boxers, I assumed, and I guessed that his balls were as over-sized as his cock was.

I had dreams about us being together, even though I knew that there was no way a man like that would be interested in somebody like me, a pudgy kid with a puny dick. Besides, Mr. Arthur was probably married, judging by the gold band that stood out brightly on his hairy finger.

That didn’t stop my fantasizing, and I had become so obsessed with Mr. Arthur that it led me to write him that note on the final day. I wondered what his reaction was when he read it, with me telling him what a great teacher he was and how much I respected him and had learned so much in his class. He might have gotten a lot of those kinds of note because he was a great teacher.

How the language of the note ended, that was different, I’m sure. The part about my loving him was bad enough, but when he got to the part where I told him that I was going to be in his classroom at the end of the day and wanted to show him how much I cared for him and what I wanted to do to him?

At least I spelled fellatio correctly, and as I sat in that empty classroom I wondered what he thought about that? Would he come back to his classroom, and if he did, would he come back alone? Maybe he would bring the principal, or the cops. Could I get suspended for that note? School was out, but maybe I could be barred from the graduation ceremony. What would Mom think about that?

“Sorry Mrs. Wells,” I imagined old Principal Couse saying to my Mom as she explained what I had done. “We can’t have students offering to suck teacher’s cocks.”

I sat there in my seat, looking at Mr. Arthur’s suit jacket hanging on the back of his chair. The place was deserted, since no kid in their right mind would hang around school on the last day. The hall outside the room was quiet, and out through the blinds the sun was shining, while I sat and watched the big hand of the big black and white clock above the door slowly jump each minute.

Then, softly at first, I heard footsteps coming down the hall. Slowly. Painfully slowly. About 15 minutes ago there had been other footsteps, but they had belonged to a janitor. The steps got a little louder and closer, and then the doorway was filled with a very tall thin form. Mr. Arthur.

He stood there in the doorway for a minute, looking at me hyperventilating in my chair, and then he entered the room, his long legs covering a lot of ground even illegal bahis siteleri if he was walking slowly.

“Tim,” Mr. Arthur said, nodding at me like he had that day at the urinal, and as he walked behind his desk and went to the window he mentioned what a beautiful afternoon it was.

“Yes,” I croaked while watching Mr. Arthur look through the blinds, his hairy forearms sparkling in the light, and then he reached up and closed the blinds, making the room darker.

After he went to the back of the room and closed the other blinds I heard his footsteps coming down along the wall toward the door, while I sat there frozen. Mr. Arthur got to the doorway, and after peeking out into the hall, closed the door gently, and when I heard the latch click the sound made me jump.

There was a piece of thick paper that was used to block the little square of glass to keep goofy passersby from peeking in during class, and when Mr. Arthur put it over the window and turned toward me I was afraid I was going to faint. My shirt, a light blue short-sleeved one, was much like Mr. Arthur’s except his wasn’t drenched with sweat like mine.

“I read your note, Tim,” Mr. Arthur said as he approached me, and when he reached my side he added, “You realize that I could lose my job over something like that.”

“Sorry,” I croaked.

“I destroyed the note, of course,” he said, his hand coming down on my shoulder, and when he squeezed he turned me to face him.

There I was, eye level to the fly of his trousers, and when I looked up at him all I got was him looking down at him. That was where were stayed, with me sitting in front of him. What was I supposed to do? Did he want me to…

My hand was shaking as I reached up, and then Mr. Arthur shuffled a bit closer to me. The tab of his zipper slipped out of my grasp a couple of times before I got hold of it and pulled it down, the separating teeth making a sound so loud I was sure that it could be heard all over the building.

After the zipper went all the way down I looked up at Mr. Arthur, who moved his hand from my shoulder and up to my scalp, where his fingers ran lightly through my hair.

My hand reached into the fly of his trousers, finding boxer shorts in my way. I worked my hand into them, causing the snap of them to pop open. I wanted to drop his trousers but didn’t know whether he wanted me to or not, since that would leave him with him standing in front of a student with his pants around his ankles, not that the way we were positioned looked much less incriminating.

His pubic hair was crinkly, and what I could see was silver and brown as I reached down and took hold of his cock, which was limp and very soft. It wasn’t as thick as I had remembered it looking, but as I pulled the rubbery hose out into the open it certainly looked every bit as long as I recalled it being.

I would have given anything for a drink of water, but there was no time for a trip out to the fountain as I lifted the flaccid hose to my lips, the slight funk that filled my nostrils reflecting the end of a long work day.

Beneath the foreskin, the mushroom head of his cock looked pink, as opposed to the beige hue of his organ, and I felt the hood slide back a bit as my lips moved down. Just like in class, I was determined to do my best to make Mr. Arthur proud of me, and as my lips started to go further down his manhood the sounds he was making along with the stiffening of his prong made me feel like I was doing okay.

I felt Mr. Arthur’s hand leave my hair, but only to undo his belt, and after he undid the clasp his baggy trousers dropped right to the ground, followed by his boxers. His pale legs had just a dusting of hair on them, but his genitals were surrounded by a wild jungle of hair.

As for his balls, they were just like I had pictured them, long and slender, with the left egg hanging way lower than the other. canlı bahis siteleri My hand went around the base of his cock, and if I was to have used his member like a bat my two hands would only cover about half of his cock, which was now fully engorged as my lips went back down on it.

Mr. Arthur’s hands were now both in my hair, cradling my head as my lips – wet now because I was probably drooling over Mr. Arthur – slid down as far as I could manage, which was only about halfway down what seemed like a foot long of man, even though that was probably just my imagination.

His nuts were slapping my throat, so I grabbed the elongated sack and rolled his balls in my right palm while my left fist squeezed his shaft. My own dick was so hard that I was afraid to move for fear I would cum, and it felt like I was leaking pre-cum by the quart down there as well.

Above me, I heard Mr. Arthur grunting steadily, like he was about to orgasm. I didn’t want this to end so I slowed down but it was too late. Mr. Arthur moaned, sounding much like a cow as his knees bent a little, and then I felt him cumming, his seed seeming to pour out of his cock and down my throat while I tried not to gag.

I kept sucking after he stopped cumming, continuing to move my mouth up and down his gooey cock even after he went limp, and he almost had to pull himself out of my jaws to get me to stop.

Calmly, Mr. Arthur pulled up his boxers and trousers, pausing only to use his handkerchief to clean up his privates before getting his pants and belt back together.

“Stand up Tim,” Mr. Arthur said, and I did, even though I was a mess.

My shirt was so drenched with sweat that you could see my pudgy body underneath it, and while I didn’t pee my pants, judging by the massive stain that covered my front, it sure looked like it.

“Thank you, Tim,” Mr. Arthur said as he kissed my forehead, and then he told me how happy he was to have had me in his class.

I nodded, savoring the malty taste of his cum as I prepared to leave the room, but Mr. Arthur’s hand stopped me, and as he sat in the chair behind him, he pulled me close to him by the belt and started to undo my pants.

I think I might have tried to stop him, probably because I was so embarrassed by the sorry condition of my pants as much as what was under them, but before I knew it my khakis were down, followed by my soggy tight-white underwear.

Mr. Arthur didn’t even blink at the sorry sight of my sticky little dick pointing at him, but simply leaned forward and took me into his mouth, inhaling the almost five inches like the thumb it resembled.

I might have lasted a minute, which was good for me. My knees were shaking as I looked down at Mr. Arthur’s mouth sucking on my dick like he was trying to swallow it while I felt the five o’clock shadow of his chin against my balls, and when I came hard I was holding his head so I didn’t fall down from the force of my orgasm.

Then it was over. Mr. Arthur even cleaned my limp dick with his handkerchief like he had his own, although my sad mushroom took a lot less time, and he even helped me get my pants back up.

“I’ve got a sweatshirt in my locker – I can wrap it around me,” I said, explaining how I could hide the huge stain in my pants, and he nodded, telling me that I was resourceful.

“Good luck in college, Tim,” Mr. Arthur said as he escorted me to the door, and then I was out in the hall.

I was hoping that he would tell me he was in love with me too and wanted to take me home with him. I would have gone anywhere and done anything – and I do mean anything, but that was the end of it and us.

It was over, and while I was a bit sad, I came to realize that I had gotten more that I could have possibly hoped for. Maybe it was the thrill of doing something so wrong that had made Mr. Arthur do something so recklessly out of character, and maybe that very same thing made it special for me too.

I did visit Mr. Arthur a few times on school vacations over the following years, hoping he would close the blinds and lock the door again, but it never happened.

Too bad.

****

thank you for reading.

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