Diary of a Teenage Hunk 7 (mm)
by Peterbilt
Detention
Brandon stood at the exit watching the rain sheet down on the window panes in the door. It was coming down in buckets. Of all times for his truck to be in the garage. He looked over at the busses loading under the canopy; everybody was keeping dry. It was a twenty-yard dash to the industrial arts building; he was going to get soaked. Maybe he would just go get on the bus and skip detention. But that would probably just get him another detention. Fuck it. A little rain wouldn't hurt him. He tucked his books inside his jacket, shoved the door open and made a hard dash down the sidewalk to the other building. He was soaked before he got half way there. He bounded through the door, water running down his face. The wind blew the door shut behind him with a loud slam. Mr. Anderson appeared around the corner of the equipment cage.
"Brandon, what're you doing out in this downpour?"
"I've got a detention. They said I had to serve it over here," he said, swiping the water from his face.
"It could've waited till tomorrow."
"I thought about it. But I figured if you didn't turn in a slip saying I was here, Mrs. Applegate would tack on another detention."
"Well, she probably would have, but I could've pleaded your case," Mr. Anderson said.
"Did you ever plead a case successfully to Mrs. Applegate?" Brandon scoffed.
"No," the man said, laughing. "Well, you're here, let me get you a towel." He turned to go to his office.
Brandon followed him. "A towel's not going to do much good, I'm soaked to the skin," he said. "Even my notebook got soaked. I don't remember when its rained this hard."
But Mr. Anderson was already in his office getting a towel out of his locker. Brandon followed him in, and laid his notebook aside and shed his jacket.
"Yes, and it's a cold rain, you shouldn't be out in it," Mr. Anderson said.
Brandon took the towel and wiped off his notebook then dried his hair.
Mr. Anderson took out a manual on electrical wiring. "Well, since you are here, this will be a good time to get the jump on the rest of the shop class," he said, laying the book on the arm of a desk chair. "We'll start using this manual next week."
When Brandon sat down his clothes made a squishing sound.
"Brandon, you shouldn't be sitting here for an hour soaked to the skin, and you can't leave, it's still pouring down rain. You really should get out of those clothes," Mr. Anderson said as he got up and went to his locker. "I've got a change of old clothes in my locker. They might be a tight fit, but it's better than being wet and chilly."
Brandon didn't argue the point. He was soaked and he was getting chilly. "Thanks," he said. He took off his shoes and socks then stood up and peeled off his shirt. Mr. Anderson handed him the towel back and he dried off his upper body. Then he undid his jeans and had to literally peel them off where they clung to his skin. He peeled his shorts down and was naked. It should've been awkward, in front of Mr. Anderson, who wasn't a coach, but it wasn't. He finished drying his body and slipped on the yellow T-shirt that the teacher gave him. Mr. Anderson was smaller and he was barely able to tug the shirt down over his muscular torso. The sleeves stretched tightly around his arms, and he pulled it down as far as he could but there was still a slab of a couple of inches of his stomach showing.
"Sorry, I don't have a change of shorts here," Mr. Anderson said.
The jeans barely fit around the waist. They were tight in the legs and Brandon's bubble butt caused them to fit tight around the hips and he had to struggle to get them buttoned. When he did, the fly pulled apart at each button and when he sat down there was a very prominent and very tight bulge in front. But at least he was dry.
He opened the electrical manual and started to read, but the jeans cut into his crotch and the crack of his ass, and no matter how he squirmed around, he couldn't get comfortable and he couldn't concentrate. Still, he didn't want to blow the opportunity to get a head start on the rest of the class so he tried to ignore the discomfort and study. He skimmed over a couple of parts that he didn't fully understand, and finished the short chapter, then went back to read those parts again.
Finally, he cleared his throat and said, "Mr. Anderson."
"Yes, Brandon."
"I get most of this first chapter, except this one part. I've read the caption under the diagram, but it doesn't seem to agree with how they explained how they actually wired the box."
"Bring it up here," Mr. Anderson said.
Brandon stood up and pulled the T-shirt down but it left a strip of his stomach exposed. He tugged the jeans down to keep them from binding but they wouldn't give. He walked up and stood beside Mr. Anderson and laid the manual in front of him. "Here's what it says, but right here......" He pointed to the diagram. "Am I missing something."
"Yes, you are. It is confusing, though." He explained the diagram in great detail, using his pen as a pointer to follow the path of the wiring. "Does that explain it?" he asked, looking up at Brandon.
"Yeah, thanks."
Mr. Anderson looked Brandon up and down. "I'm really sorry I don't have any clothes to fit you," he said.
"I'm okay."
"You're busting out of that T-shirt."
"Actually it's the jeans that are cutting me in two," Brandon said.
"Well, when the rain stops we'll consider your detention served, and you can go on home."
"Doesn't look like it's going to stop any time soon." He tugged down on the jeans as he walked back to his desk chair. He sat back down, trying to wriggle into a comfortable position, and went back to reading.
After a few minutes, Mr. Anderson said, "Brandon, why don't you undo the buttons so you can be more comfortable. And take off the T-shirt if you want to. It's just you and me."
"I'm okay," Brandon said. He would've stripped in a flash, but he was afraid he would get a hardon, cause being naked usually did that to him, and he didn't want that to happen in front of Mr. Anderson.
When Brandon didn't move, Mr. Anderson got up and left his office. Brandon heard the door bolt sliding shut, and heard the man's boots coming back. When he came back in his office he walked up to Brandon's desk and motioned for him to stand up. Brandon looked at him, bewildered. When he stood, Mr. Anderson took hold of his T-shirt and pulled it up. Brandon lifted his arms for him to take it off of him, then took it from him. Then Mr. Anderson reached down and began unbuttoning the jeans.
"It's ridiculous for you to be so uncomfortable, with my jeans cutting you in half," he said.
Brandon was stunned to see the man unbuttoning the jeans, and feel his hands against his bare skin down inside the waistband.
"There. Leave 'em open, or take them off if you want. I locked the door," he said. Then he went back to his desk.
Brandon was a lot more comfortable, especially without the tight T-shirt, but he could feel right away that his cock was going to cause him trouble. He splayed his legs out and reached down inside the jeans to move things into a more comfortable position, then brought his thighs together again. He glanced up to see Mr. Anderson looking at him. Their eyes met for a split second and Mr. Anderson smiled as Brandon withdrew his hand.
Brandon's cock started coming alive. It was laying in a position that when it started to grow, it started to grow right down his right thigh, but the jeans were too tight and there wasn't room for expansion. He reached inside again to rearrange things but to no avail. The jeans were so tight they hurt his expanding cock. Finally, he stood up and shoved the jeans down.
"You said I could take these off," he muttered. He had to wriggle out of them and practically peel them off his thick thighs. He folded them and laid them on the next desk and sat down naked. He put one hand down between his legs to press his cock down, as it was fluffing up. Soon it got hard as hell, and it was all he could do to keep from wrapping his fist around it and jacking it a little.
"Hell, let it go free, there's no use trying to fight it," Mr. Anderson said in a low tone.
Brandon glanced up at the man and moved his hand and his cock sprung up at a sharp angle, throbbing and quivering violently.
"It does this when I get naked," Brandon said, embarrassed.
"That must make for some interesting times in the locker room," Mr. Anderson said, laughing.
"I'm not getting much studying done here," Brandon said.
"Yes, I can see how it would be hard to concentrate with that distraction," the teacher said with a tight smile.
But Brandon tried. He read the second chapter all the way through three times, till he was stuck on only one point. He wanted to go up and ask Mr. Anderson to explain it to him, but he couldn't walk up to his desk with his cock sticking out like a club. Twice when he glanced up at the desk, Mr. Anderson saw him.
"Do you have another question, Brandon?"
"Yes, sir, I do, but...well, I can't come up there like this."
Mr. Anderson laughed softly. "No need to be embarrassed, Brandon, I've got one of those myself. Not as big as that."
"Yeah, but is yours hard?" Brandon blurted out. He was immediately embarrassed for saying it.
"Bring your question up to me," Mr. Anderson said with a wave of his hand.
Brandon stood up. His cock stood up too, at a sharp angle from his loins, almost straight up, quivering and throbbing. Fuck, there was even precum oozing out! He instinctively, quickly made a swipe with his fingers and wiped the slick juice on the side of his butt. His cock swung back and forth like a battering ram as he walked up to the desk. He walked around beside the teacher but stood a little farther away from him than before. His cock kept on throbbing, sticking out over the desk, and he dropped his right arm to sort of hide it. He voiced his question and tried to concentrate on Mr. Anderson's explanation, but he wasn't grasping any of it. He was just too excited and embarrassed.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Anderson, this just isn't working. I'm not used to being naked in front of a teacher, except the coach, especially in this condition. If it's all right with you, I think I'll put my wet clothes back on and head on home. It won't matter if I get wetter."
Mr. Anderson closed the manual and shoved it aside. "Brandon, can I trust you?" he asked, looking around at him.
"Trust me with what?" he asked with a confused look.
"With a secret?"
"Sure, I guess so. What secret?"
"Well, you asked me if mine was hard......." He pushed his chair back from the desk. "This secret," he said.
Brandon stood gaping down at the teacher's cock sticking up out of his opened jeans. "Geezuss, Mr. Anderson!"
"It's been this way since you stripped off your wet clothes. The rest of my secret is this." He reached out and took hold of Brandon's cock.
"Geezz, Mr. Anderson, I had no idea," Brandon said.
"You've got a beautiful cock to go with that gorgeous body," the man said as he slowly stroked Brandon's big cock. "Have you done anything like this before, with another man?"
"Yes," he replied in a croaking voice.
"Good, then you're not totally taken by surprise."
"Well, I am surprised, or I was, but not now that I know what you're gonna do."
"Do you like having your cock sucked?"
"Oh, yess!"
"Move around here, in front of me," Mr. Anderson said as he rolled his chair back from the desk.
Brandon stepped in front of him, facing him, but the teacher took him by the hips and turned him around.
"Bend over the desk."
Brandon bent over and Mr. Anderson urged his feet wide apart. Then he felt the man's hot breath on his butt, then his tongue lapping along the inside of his butt.
"Damn, this is a fine ass," the teacher murmured. "You don't know how I've drooled over your butt."
"I wish I'd known," Brandon said.
"Well, now you do. So I hope this isn't the only time."
"It won't be if you don't want it to be," Brandon said. "Ohhhh...Ohhh, Mr. Anderson, sir, that feels so good!" He was pulling his hole open, flicking his tongue all around it. "AAAwwhhh! Godd!" he cried out when Mr. Anderson's tongue forced up inside him. "Ohhhhh...ohhh, that feels good!"
"Do you fuck?" the older man asked.
Brandon didn't know if he was asking if he liked to fuck, or be fucked and he didn't answer him at first. He thought of the firemen. He didn't know if he wanted to do that again. A tiny, secret part of him did but he didn't want to admit it. Finally he answered, simply, "Yeah." Mr. Anderson could take it either way.
He thought he knew which way he was taking it when Mr. Anderson began fingering his ass. "No, I meant....." But then he moaned loudly again when he felt the man's fingers touch and massage his prostate.
"I think I found your love nut," he said.
"You sure...f-found...something!" Brandon exclaimed. Within minutes, he was unable to stand still.
"What were you about to say?" Mr. Anderson asked.
"N-nothing...I'm fine with this...what you're doing," he stammered. He was shoving back against Mr. Anderson's hand and twisting his hips around, grinding his ass around his probing finger; and moaning. "You can fuck me, Mr. Anderson!" he blurted out.
His own voice startled him. He had not intended to say it. He was thinking it more and more, but he hadn't intended to let the words come out of his mouth.
"Oh, Godd, are you serous?" Mr. Anderson gasped hoarsely.
Brandon didn't say he was or wasn't. It was already said and he couldn't take it back so he guessed he must be serious. He stayed bent over the desk, enjoying the teacher's probing fingers. He heard Mr. Anderson's chair being shoved back as he stood up.
"I can't believe you're letting me do this," he said.
Brandon heard a zipper, then Mr. Anderson spitting, and he felt the warm spit drool into the crack of his ass. Mr. Anderson worked it inside him then he heard him spit again and Brandon knew he was lubing up his cock. He wanted to look around to see the teacher's cock he didn't know how big or small he was but he didn't. He would just find out. He felt the heat of the man's cock against his hole, then the pressure. Mr. Anderson clasped his hands around Brandon's hips and shoved, hard. He penetrated him with that one shove.
"Oohhh!" Brandon gasped, tossing his head back. The man was thick, that much he knew for certain, now. He dropped his head in agony and gripped the edge of the desk till his knuckles were white.
"Have you done this before?" Mr. Anderson asked.
"Only once," Brandon muttered.
"I wish I could've been your first," he said as he shoved deeper, all the way in.
"It feels like you are!" Brandon groaned.
"Ohh, this is so sweet," Mr. Anderson moaned as he began fucking him.
Yeah, it sure was, Brandon thought; really sweet. He didn't like the fact that he liked being fucked, but there was no denying the truth of it. He liked the physical action. He had tried to forget the time with the fireman and get back on the straight track, but every time he thought he had it buried something like this came up, or he might simply see a firefighter and it all came back. He had managed to squelch the nagging thoughts of going back to the fire station, but now, with what Mr. Anderson was doing to him, it was raising it's ugly head again.
He humped back and forth, meeting the shop teacher's thrusts, and when he shoved back he squirmed and twisted his butt around; he liked how the man's cock lobbed around inside him.
"Ahh, you like it that way," Mr. Anderson said as he pressed his loins against the teenager's hard butt and twisted his own hips around in wide circles.
"Ohhhhh...Awwwhh, Yeah, man, I love it when you cork-screw your cock in me like that."
Mr. Anderson fucked him hard, and Brandon found himself thinking ahead, sort of day dreaming of how and when they might do this again. The man had a nice, thick cock, and he knew how to use it.
"Your other time, was it with a teacher?" Mr. Anderson asked.
"No. I wouldn't tell if it was," Brandon said.
"That's good. Then I can trust you."
"Hell, yeah, you can trust me. You think I'm going to go around blabbing that I got my ass fucked?"
"I want to come in you," Mr. Anderson said.
"Yeah...okay...." Brandon reached down for his own cock. He wanted to try to get off with him.
"Here, I'll do that for you," Mr. Anderson said, brushing Brandon's hand aside to reach for his cock himself. "Damn, that's a real handful. I thought when I asked if you like to fuck, you would say you wanted to fuck me."
"I do," Brandon said. "But you got me so hot with your tongue, and then your fingers in my ass I just blurted it out that I wanted you to fuck me. I didn't intend to say it, really. It just came out."
"Do you want me to stop?"
"No! Fuck, no! I want you to get us both off."
"Let's see if we can do that. You let me know when you're getting close and I'll tell you when I'm getting close."
Sweat poured off of Mr. Anderson's face and dripped on the boy's butt, while Brandon dripped sweat on the desk. The rain sheeted fiercely against the windows and there was thunder and every once in a while a bright streak of lightning. Brandon thought, what if there was somebody out there in the rain, they could see right in. He thought it but the intense pleasure he was feeling made him not give a fuck. He was distracted, but suddenly he felt a hot sensation inside him, spreading through his insides like liquid heat.
"Ohhhh...Ohhhh, fuck!...Awww, Mr. Anderson, I can feel it! I can feel your cum shooting inside me! Awwww, Godd, it feels so good!"
Mr. Anderson jacked the boy's cock harder and reached around his other hip with his other hand to grab his balls and squeeze them.
"Oh, Geezuss! I'm cumming!" Brandon announced in a softly whispered gasp. "Oh, Godd...Ohhh...Ohhhh, fuck me! Fuck me harder, Mr. Anderson. I'm gonna cum!"
He let it fly under the desk, and he could hear it hitting the inside of the modesty shield at the front of the desk. He slammed his butt back hard onto the man's belching cock and fucked himself crazy. It was so intense, the blood pounded in his head so hard it hurt. His prostate ached from being brutalized so incessantly. He didn't realize it but he had clamped his mouth over his forearm to keep from screaming. He realized it only when it hurt, and he looked down to see if he had drawn blood.
Suddenly the rain stopped, as if someone had turned off the faucet, and all was quiet outside. Inside could be heard the two sweaty males heavy, ragged breathing.
"My Godd!" Mr. Anderson said, finally.
"Yeah," Brandon agreed, weakly.
"I've never had sex that good," the man said
Brandon didn't say anything. What did he want him to say, that it was the best he'd ever had too? He couldn't say that, and he was surprised to hear Mr. Anderson say it because he was married. Brandon hadn't really made comparisons and he would be hard pressed to make one now. But way in the back of his head, it was the firemen that stood out right at that moment.
Brandon squeezed his asshole tightly as the thick cock was pulled out, but he knew his hole didn't close up. He felt cum draining out and running down the inside of his thigh. "You got a shop rag?" he asked as he straightened up, standing with his legs apart.
Mr. Anderson grabbed a handful of shop rags out of a drawer and handed Brandon one and stuffed the other one into the crack of his ass to stop the flow of cum draining out. Then he knelt down to wipe the cum off the boy's leg.
"I got it all over the inside of the front of your desk," Brandon said as he was wiping his cock off.
"Don't worry about it. It'll dry."
"You don't want me to clean it off?" he asked.
"No, I like the idea of it being there."
"It might eat the paint off," Brandon said.
"Nobody will see except me."
Brandon got dressed, cringing as he struggled to pull on his soaked clothes.
"Sorry I don't have anything that will fit you better," Mr. Anderson said.
"That's okay. Thanks anyway. But I couldn't go out wearing your jeans and shirt."
"Not without being arrested for indecency," Mr. Anderson joked.
Brandon picked up his books and tugged the wet clothes away from his skin as he moved toward the door. "Well...thanks...it was great," he said.
"I would like to do this again," the man said. "And have you fuck me next time," he added.
"Yeah, next time we have the chance," Brandon said.
"I can stay late any day you want."
"Okay. Thanks."
Brandon left Mr. Anderson walked him to the door and let him out and headed for home. He would be glad to get out of the wet clothes and under a warm shower. His mind was amuck with thoughts of what he'd just done. It hadn't started out that way in his mind; the getting fucked part. When he realized that Mr. Anderson was hinting about sex, he figured he would get a good blowjob, or if he was lucky, maybe the guy liked being fucked.
"I'm turning into a slut," he murmured. But his body argued with him. It told him he was just a highly-sexed teenage guy who liked his sex in any form, any way and any place he could get it. His still-tingling ass agreed. He would hang his hat on that.