A Unique and Torn Romance

I hate history, mainly because of the bitch of a teacher. She always complains about the class being too loud, even when no one is whispering or moving at all. Apparently, we breathe too loud.

I feel sorry for her husband. If she even has one. If she ever did, she probably killed him in his sleep for breathing too loud.
I bet she snores.

Because of this, I find it amazing that Mrs. Bitch actually allowed me to go take a piss in the middle of class.

Well, not in the middle of class. She gave me a hall-pass so I could go to the bathroom, but hey, if she hadn’t, I might just have whipped my dick out in the middle of the classroom and let my morning glass of juice go it’s natural way out of me.

But I got a hall-pass, and I’m abusing it to no end. Well, I have to be back within 10 minutes, but I definitely won’t walk through the door until 9 minutes and 58 seconds have passed.
I bet she’s timing me.
Fucking bitch.

As I slowly stroll down the empty hallway, my footsteps echoing, I’m suddenly pulled into a room. Someone spins me around, pushes me up against a wall and places a hand on my neck, all before I even have a chance to see who it is or where I am.

And when all is finally still – no movements being made – I’m reluctant to open my eyes. Out of fear, I keep them closed for a few seconds, begging mystery Mr. Pull not to beat me up, all until I realize that the hand on my neck is barely holding on to me. And when that same hand starts stroking my skin softly, I slowly flutter open my eyes.

The butt-ugly, baby-blue/ green color makes it easy for me to decide where I am, but I only see it out the corners of my eyes, since I realize that Bob is Mr. Pull.
I smile.

“Hi,” he says before he returns my smile tenfold. I smile wider.
But why am I here?

“What’re we doing here?” It’s only then I notice that Bob is fully geared up in his football outfit – wide shoulders and seductively tight pants.

“Well, I hate to sound demanding, but I think you owe me for last night,” he whispers in a low tone of voice. He smirks at me.
“I promise not to kick you in the crown-jewels.” I snort a laugh, then blush when I realize how ugly that sounded. Bob only giggles.
“You’re so cute,” he whispers as he strokes my cheek softly. Then, suddenly, he pulls away, grabs my hand and pulls me after him through the maze of lockers and benches.

“Where’re we going?” I ask, but Bob doesn’t answer and just pulls me into a bathroom stall, locking the door behind us. He then presses me against that same blue door, takes my other hand as well and places our four joined hands above my head.
He leans in and nibbles at my neck briefly.

“Please?” he whispers, forcing a cold gush of wind to blow against the wet spot he’s just made on my neck. I shiver.
Without a single thought going through my head, my hands automatically snakes out of his hold and reach down to his pants.
But of course, on these type of pants, there’s no belt, button or zipper.

“I have no idea how to open these,” I say frustrated and am about to let my hands drop, when I move my hands down and feel something hard.
We both gasp.

Swiftly, Bob pulls away from hovering over my neck and starts tugging, pulling and tearing at the string of his tight, oddly-shaped pants. I can feel myself hardening at the thought of Bob’s hardening cock, and I try not to revel too much in the feeling, seeing as I got some last night and Bob didn’t.

All my memories of last night completely disappear when Bob pulls down his pants and boxers to reveal his already hard cock. My own twitches, but I ignore it – as much as I can.
I look up at Bob’s eyes again, but all I see is a blur before his lips meet mine. I moan at the sudden contact, but quickly kiss back with the same amount of heated lust.

I’m about to reach for his exposed cock, when I stop. I keep kissing him, but my hand stays frozen between our bodies. Even though I’ve jacked off too many times to count, it’s so different to do to another guy. I’ve never actually touched another guy’s dick. Well, I accidentally touched Gerard’s once when we were kids, but that’s completely different. His was limp and the size of a peanut. Bob’s cock is very hard and bulging.

It’s kinda creepy that I remember so much from when I touched my own brother’s cocktail weenie, and it’s especially creepy that I’m thinking about it right now, but I’m kinda freaking out a little bit. I mean, I know what I find pleasurable, but how do I know what Bob likes? Does he like running a thumb over his slit too, or would he rather that I focused on his base? Does he like it fast and rough or slow and soft?

Before I can ask any more questions about a simple, fucking handjob, Bob moves closer to me – probably impatient – and my hand brushes against his cock without having ever moved. But when Bob groans at the contact, it does.

I suddenly wrap my hand around him and squeeze once, which he seems to like by the moan that enters my mouth. I gasp back and slowly start to move my hand. It’s kinda awkward and a little tough at this angle. I twist my wrist in order to make it easier to move, and just that simple move makes Bob thrust his hips, pull away from our kiss and moan loudly.

“What if someone hears us?” I whisper quickly as the thought suddenly hits me. He was obviously just taking a 5-minute bathroom break like I was when he suddenly decided to pull me in here, and even though it hasn’t been long, I’m sure it’s been more than 5 minutes. Someone might come looking for us. Or at least for him. Mrs. Bitch might just enjoy my absence – a pair of lungs less to listen to.

“Don’t worry. I’ll hear it if they come,” he answer – moaning a few times, since my sudden distracting thought didn’t stop my hand from moving. Or enjoying touching Bob.
Bob moans when I – on a whim – run my thumb over his slit, and a relieved smirk plants itself on my lips.

I suddenly, as if on impulse, pick up in speed and hold Bob a little firmer. By the moans and whimpers that escapes his mouth, I’m guessing I’m actually okay at this.

“Fu-“ Bob exhales shortly. I want to giggle at him, but a throb in my own cock makes it hard to focus on the joy of being good at something so simple.

I reach down and briefly touch myself to make my cock stop screaming. When I do, I automatically grab Bob tighter.
He moans loudly and thrusts his hips up. His hands slam against the sides of the tiny stall and his nails try to dig into the blue paint as his eyes squeeze shut so tightly that I think I see a tear in the corner of his right.

“Clo-“ he exhales shortly. His breathing is so quick and shallow that he can’t even get a full word out, but he doesn’t have to.
I quickly reach down, tear a piece of toilet paper off the roll and hold it in the shooting line. I then move to stand beside him in order not to get squirted on, press my body against him to ease the pressure in my pants and plant my lips on his neck.

“Cum for me,” I whisper – half hoping he won’t hear me, half hoping he will. I feel kinda stupid for saying it, but at the same time, a rush of adrenalin goes through me as I await to see if he obeys or not.

“Fuck!” he screams, before he stiffens his hips, throws his head back and cums all over my hand. His cum shoots higher than I expected and most of it ends up on my hand, while some falls onto the floor. A bit even makes it to the door.

“Damn,” I whisper, both impressed and a little annoyed. I step back from Bob’s quivering body and begin to wipe his cum off my hand. The thought of tasting him crosses my mind, but I don’t. If it tastes horrible and I make a face, I’ll just insult him and then he might dump me or something. It would be a stupid reason, but it’s not like I’ve never done anything radical for a stupid reason.
I wipe the bit of cum off the door, before I throw the toilet paper into the toilet and flush.

“Thank you,” Bob gasps and continues to breathe heavily. I look up at him to see him smile happily and lazily down at me. I grin back at him.
His eyes quickly shoot a glance down to my pants, before he giggles softly and leans in to peck my cheek.
“I better get back to practice,” he says close to my skin. I turn my head to catch his lips, but he bends down before I can. He pulls up his pants and start tying them up.

“What about me?” I ask, trying not to sound too pathetic and needy. Bob grins down at his hands.

“You can either take care of yourself,” he says and looks up at me, “or I can kick you in the balls.” I scrounge up my face.
“Your choice,” he says quickly, before he leans in and places his lips on mine. I moan against his lips, but before I can kiss back, he pulls away.
“Wanna come over to my house after school?” It’s kinda odd when he says ‘my house’. Usually when kids our age say that, they mean the house they share with at least one of their parents. But Bob, he actually owns a house of his very own.
And it fucking rocks! No parents. No siblings. Absolutely no interruptions.

“Yeah,” I whisper and open my eyes, just as Bob unlocks the stall. He steps out and turns around.

“See you outside.” He winks at me, smirks and then walks away. I swear he’s swaying his hips more than usual as he goes, but no matter what, it makes my cock throb with excitement. It demands attention, so as soon as the door to the field slams shut, I close the door to the stall and rip my pants down.