Teacher's pet

chapter 2

Late that night I printed my essay and went to bed. I was pretty tired because it was after two. I had finished the essay and my other homework at around midnight, but I'd spent nearly two hours masturbating, my encounters with Mr. Beckham and my sexual fantasies creating more than enough content to get me off five times.

It had snowed last night. I hoped my car would start.

It did.

I drove to school and went to my locker. "Ethan, did you finish that essay for Mr. Beckham?" Harold, a guy in my class, asked me.

"Yeah, you?" I asked. Of course I finished the essay. I was Mr. Beckham's best student, after all.

"No." He laughed. "I'm just going to turn it in late."

"Oh." We didn't say anything else. I should have said something more than oh, but I struggled interacting with my peers. I think it was because I was such a serious person. I was the type to complete assignments on time, and even get a head start on things that weren't even due yet. "See you later," I called as he walked away. Awkward. I wouldn't say I had that many friends. People liked me; it was just that they weren't people I'd hang out with over the weekend.

In English class, everyone who had completed their essays turned them in. I hoped I could live up to his expectations of me. He had never told me I was his best student before. I smiled at the thought, at the way he said it--at how warm those words were.

I was very much lost in thought. I saw Mr. Beckham pushing all of his desk's contents to the floor before picking me up and laying me across it. We'd both fumble at my belt and the button on my uniform slacks, he'd laugh. Then he'd say something sexy like, I need that tight ass right now, Ethan.

"Ethan?" I jumped at hearing my name. The room was empty, aside from Mr. Beckham.

"Um, yes," I said as I sat up. I had been daydreaming. I thought I had been straddling the fence of reality and fantasy rather well, but I had completely lost myself to my lust.

"Class is over, time for lunch," Mr. Beckham said with a slight grin.

"Oh, thank you." I gathered my books and made my way to my locker, my dick hard and straining against my pants.

The lunch special today was a plate of nachos. I got a burger and a bag of chips. I saw Mr. Beckham with an extra large helping. Did the lunch ladies give him extra? I bet it was because they thought he was cute. I know I did. If I worked behind the lunch counter he could come back for seconds and thirds, free of charge.

"Hi, Mr. Beckham," I said as we once again turned to one another in the lunch line. He stood in front of me today. "We seem to be in sync." He laughed and I was getting hard again.

"Ethan, I read your essay before I came to get my lunch, and it was a wonderful read as always." I wanted him so badly. I needed to hurry up and graduate because I couldn't handle lusting after him like this anymore.

"Thanks. It means a lot," I said honestly. We were silent for a moment, waiting for our turns at the register. This short time with him meant so much to me, and I really didn't want it to end. I didn't really have anyone to sit with at lunch, maybe he didn't either. "Where do you eat your lunch?" I asked, realizing it was probably in the teacher's lounge. Was I getting too personal? I was, I just knew I was.

"My classroom," he said, pursing his fleshy lips slightly. "Would you care to join me?" he asked, looking down at me. Internally I screamed, somersaulted with joy.

"Uh, yeah, sure," I tried to say nonchalantly. We'd be alone in his classroom. I wasn't an idiot. I wasn't going to try anything, but the more time I spent with him, the more footage I had for late at night when I jacked off to thoughts of his thick frame and unintentionally sexy aura.

"That is, if your friends don't mind me taking you for the day." He could take me anywhere he wanted to.

"I don't really sit with anyone," I said as he paid the $3.50 for the nachos.

"No?" he said in a way that felt as if he already knew that. "Then you can always eat lunch with me." I smiled. "We can talk about books." He had said books over-enthusiastically.

"Okay." I paid for my food and we walked to his classroom. I couldn't believe my good fortune. I could actually eat lunch with him. Wouldn't it be something if he was gay? Wouldn't it be something if we could be together? I had turned eighteen last month, in November.

We walked and I watched his body as we navigated the hallways. His steps were heavy, and I could feel each time his foot hit the floor. He had the biggest thighs I'd ever seen and I couldn't help but glance at his butt shifting back and forth as he lumbered about. I wanted to bury my face in-between those meaty cheeks. I could feel myself salivating.

When we finally made it to his room I could already tell I was pre-cumming through my briefs. This man had an effect on me like no other. He was making me feel reckless. I could tell my teenage hormones were throwing my practical decision-making skills out the window. I sat next to him, like yesterday when we worked on my essay. I watched him eat his lunch as I munched on my burger half-heartedly. I was not hungry. I was horny.

I hadn't realized Mr. Beckham could eat so much. It was incredible. I could've never finished such a large portion of nachos. It was weird, but I really enjoyed watching him eat. I'd known that bigger guys were a facet of my sexuality, but this was new. I wanted Mr. Beckham bigger. I wanted him well fed. If Mr. Beckham ate so much, how was he not bigger than he was now? It was probably because he worked out. He had the muscles to prove it. I ate my chips and we talked. The bell rang, and it felt almost out of nowhere.

"I'll see you later, Ethan," Mr Beckham said as he stood up, his stomach bloated from his large lunch. He wore a navy sweater over a white dress shirt. I wanted to peel off the layers and get a better look. I wanted my hands all over his thick, fleshy body. "Today was fun." He gave me a slight wink and that alone would give me a powerful orgasm when I thought about it once I got home.

"I'll see you tomorrow," I said, smiling at him like a dope. I finished off the day on cloud nine. I didn't think anything could ruin it--until my car wouldn't start.