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Half an hour later, when Chris, Billy, and Scott returned, I was only half-way finished with the papers. They were all grinning and their clothes looked a lot more wrinkled and dirty than before they had left. I knew that hadn’t cleaned any up at all. They had probably just finished having a fuckin threesome in the locker room or some place. “We’re finished, coach,” Chris said. He looked at me, flashing one of his taunting, cocky grins. “Can we go now?”
“Yes,” Mr. Wilson said. “All of you can go.” Mr. Wilson turned to me. “Except for you, Newman.”
“Why do I gotta stay?” I asked.
“Because I fuckin said so,” Mr. Wilson said sharply. Scott and Billy quietly left the classroom. Chris remained behind for two seconds, giving me this “too bad for you” look and left as well.
As soon as Chris left the classroom, Mr. Wilson walked over to me, his crotch a few inches away from my face and asked, “Why aren’t you fuckin finished with those papers yet?”
“`Cause there’s like a thousand of them. There’s no way in hell that I’m gonna be able to finish all of these papers in ten minutes.”
“Well,” Mr. Wilson said moving in a little bit closer to me, “guess you’re gonna have to stay a little bit longer.” I looked over at his crotch, because by that time it was obvious that he wanted me to, and saw his cock growing within his pants. My own dick started to grow within my jeans.
“I’m supposed to be meeting somebody at four o’ clock,” I told Mr.Wilson. “I can’t stay that much longer.”
Mr. Wilson’s dick continued to harden inside his slacks. It snacked down his left thigh and swelled to its fullest degree, which appeared to be at least a good ten inches. So I guess my whole football player/coach-big dick theory was proving to be accurate. Mr. Wilson gave his cock a few squeezes though his pants. My dick was rock hard now, poking against the denim of my jeans. A good part of me wanted to see what Mr. Wilson’s dick looked like, and even how it would taste like going in my mouth. But then there was another part that felt bad and guilty about suckin off a teacher. “I’ve been hearin some things about you, Newman,” Mr. Wilson said to me.
My heart skipped. “Things like what?”
Mr. Wilson unbuckled his belt slowly and unbuttoned his slacks. “I’ve heard that you been doin things with my Quarterback.”
I swallowed. My dick was still pulsating. “I don’t know what you’re talkin about.”
Chuckling, Mr. Wilson lowered his zipper down a little bit, just enough for me to see that he was not wearing any underwear. He had shiny brown pubes. “Oh, I think you know what I’m talkin about, Newman.”
“Actually I don’t. And I don’t think it’s really appropriate for you to be doin’ that in front of me.”
“Appropriate?” Mr. Wilson asked with a smirk. “What do you know about appropriate, Newman? You’ve been caught fuckin in Ms. Navarro’s classroom, the boy’s bathroom--and I know about what’s been goin on in the gym and the football field--now is that what you call ‘appropriate’?” Mr. Wilson put one hand into the hole in his zipper and massaged his dick inside of his pants. “I guess the two of you aren’t even tryin to keep it a secret.”
I glared at him. “What do you want?”
Mr. Wilson gave me a coy look that I read as: “You know what I want.” I thought he was going to whip out his dick and try to stick it into my mouth, but instead he rose his zipper and fastened the button to his pants, “Not today. This will have to wait for another time. You can go now, Newman,” Mr. Wilson said.
I waited until my boner deflated a little and then I responded, “But what about these papers you wanted me to grade?”
“Toss `em in the trash. They’re just a bunch of old papers from last year.” Mr. Wilson smiled at me, a very taunting and cruel smile.
That was just another reason for me to hate his fucking guts. I grabbed the pile of papers and dumped them in the recycling bin. Mr. Wilson sat behind his desk and began to write something on a piece of paper. As I was ready to exit the classroom, Mr. Wilson asked me, without looking up from his paper, “You’re not gonna tell anybody about this are you?”
It was basically the same exact question Ms. Navarro had asked me only a week earlier. When she had asked, I didn’t have an answer, but I had one now: “No. But maybe you should be careful. I’m sure you wouldn’t want anyone telling your wife.” Mr. Wilson lifted his head from his paper and gave me a look of surprise, as if he hadn’t expected me to say that. Smiling to myself, I stepped out of the classroom and into the empty hallway.
The library would be closing in under twenty-five minutes. I jogged halfway across campus, hoping that Jason hadn’t left yet. Entering the library doors, I saw that the place was mostly empty. The librarian typed away on his computer at his desk, and when he saw me, he said, “We’re closing in fifteen minutes.”
I checked the computer area, and Jason wasn’t there; I checked the study area, he wasn’t there either, I checked the book stacks, and I still didn’t see him. I went down one narrow book aisle and called out his name. “Jason? Are you still here?”
From the opposite side of the bookshelf, I heard a deep voice say, “No, but I am.” I removed one of the books from the shelf to see Chris’ handsome, grinning face on the other side. “So he let you outta detention huh? I thought you woulda been in there for a least a half hour longer, gettin the ‘special treatment’.” Chris walked around the shelf and joined me in the narrow aisle.
“So I guess the special treatment involves jackin off right in front of my face?”
Chris’ eyebrows arched and he chuckled. “Wilson pulled out his dick? Did he make you jack him off? Suck him off?”
“No!” I pushed my way past him and walked out of the library. Chris followed behind me.
“He left ten minutes ago,” Chris said.
I turned around. “Who?”
“That pretty boy you was chattin up with yesterday. Think he said his name was Jason.”
It felt like my heart had plummeted down to my feet. “Jason? You didn’t talk to him did you?”
Chris shrugged. “For a quick second.”
“Did you say anything about me?”
“You came up a few times.”
I got really nervous. “What did you tell him, Chris?”
Chris had this amused look on his face. “Nothin too bad. Don’t get all stressed B. Your forehead is all wrinkled.”
“You never get tired of fuckin around with me.” I stuffed the piece of paper into my pocket and walked away.
I heard Chris say from behind me, “I was just tryin to help you out.”
“I don’t need your help.”
Chris followed me as I made my way back across campus toward the main gates. He caught up with me. “B, wait up. Let me take you home.”
“That’s okay, I’ll take the bus.” Seizing me by the hand, Chris dragged me off into the direction of his truck. I tried struggling with him, but either he was stronger than I expected him to be, or I just wasn’t in the mood to really struggle with him. As I calmed down, Chris loosened his grip on me, but he didn’t let go of my hand until we reached his truck.
“Get in,” he said as he unlocked the door. I stepped into the truck reluctantly. Chris turned on the engine and we were cruising down the street in seconds.
I asked “How long are we gonna do this?”
“What?” Chris questioned.
“You know what I’m talkin about. We go to detention, and then we fuck, and then we go to school the next day and pretend like we don’t like each other, like we don’t even know who each other are. It’s gettin kinda boring now. When is it gonna stop?”
“Who said anything about me wantin to fuck you today?” Chris asked. “I’m just takin you home. Besides, you’re probably gonna go and fuck that dude Jason, or whatever the fuck his name is.”
“Who said anything about me fuckin anybody?” I questioned back. “And speakin of fucking, what were you and Billy and that other freshman boy--Scott--or whatever his name is doin’?
“It’s not what you think,” Chris said. He took one hand off the steering wheel and used the other hand to tug at his crotch. “I didn’t fuck either one of them.”
“Yeah right.”
“B, of all people, you should know that it takes longer than twenty minutes for me to get off. It woulda took me a hour and a half at least to bone them. And like I told you yesterday, the only person I’m fuckin is you. Probably can’t say the same thing bout you though.”
“What are you talkin about? You the only one I’m...” I stopped talking before I ended the sentence. “I haven’t done anything with Jason Coleman yet--”
“Did you just hear yourself, B?” Chris took his hand off his dick, which I assumed was hard now, and placed it back on the steering wheel. “You said you haven’t done anything with him ‘yet’.”
“I don’t plan on doin anything with him.” That part wasn’t necessarily true. “I don’t even know him all that much yet.”
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