Dear Stepdaddy,
I'm in eighth grade and now I got a problem. It was all fine until last summer when Mom married Roy, my new stepdad. No, it ain't what you think, Roy's not fucking me. Though I know my age's not bothering him, since he is screwing my friend Tabby. He doesn't know I know, but her and I tell each other everything.
The problem with Roy is that he makes me get good grades. Mom never cared much, but Bob says if I don't get good grades, he's gonna make me go to summer school this year! Really, he probably don't care about my grades, he just wants me out of the house all summer so he can fuck Tabby while Mom's at work and I'm at school. Roy is a fireman so he has weird shifts and all, so that'll leave him lots of days when that little whore can worship the bastard's cock every which way. She's so stupid, she thinks she's in love with him. Don't get me wrong, Tabby's my BFF and all.
Stepdaddy, my problem is that Mr. Renfrew, my social studies teacher, is fucking me like every day after school. I mean, that's not exactly the problem, since I came on to him, though not 'cause I'm into him (he's not that bad though), but because I'm getting like a 'D' in his class. That first time I tried to be sly about it, to get him to make an offer of some kind, but he played dumb until I basically stripped and climbed up on his desk. Then he knew what to do, and has like every afternoon since. Mr. Renfrew fucks me pretty good, and he always cums inside me, without protection. That's not my problem, either (although when I asked him if he was scared I might get pregnant, he told me that was my problem, not his). It's not my problem because my stepdad pays for my birth control pills. Not that he knows that…he thinks he's buying the Pill for Tabby, but she already gets the Pill 'cause her mom is cool. So she gets Roy to buy them, then she gives them to me. That was her idea - she's pretty smart, she gets 'Cs' and 'Bs' like all the time.
No. My problem is that my quarterly report card came out, and Mr. Renfrew gave me another "D"! Maybe it's kinda my fault, since I never really mentioned when I started fucking him that I was doing it for a better grade. Anyway, after the report card, I tried to bring it up to him, but Mr. Renfrew told me to quit whining, then he pushed me down to my knees and pushed his cock into my mouth, saying "I'll show you what that hole is for." Anytime I try to talk around that big thing of his, he just jams it in further. That's how I learned to deep throat.
So now what? How do I get Mr. Renfrew to fix my grade and not have to go to summer school? I know he doesn't think I'm smart enough for better grades, 'cause he always calls me….
Young, Dumb and Full of Cum
Dear Young Fun,
I don't think better grades lie in your future. In fact, I don't think grades are going to figure prominently in the path your life takes, regardless. But I do actually have two valuable pieces of advice for you, young lady.
First, I think you should get yourself an enema kit from the drug store and use it before dropping by Mr. Renfrew's class from now on. The reason I suggest this is that you sound very much like the other side of the tale I heard from another correspondent, someone who sounds very much like your Mr. Renfrew (is that in fact your real name, "Gloating in Galveston"?). He is a an eighth grade social studies teacher who has asked me how to add some spice and variety to his daily debauching of, as he put it, "his ditzy little fucktoy." Based on my advice to him, I strongly suspect that a great deal of "ass-to-mouth" lies ahead for you.
As for your grades, you can forget about that. Whether your teacher is in fact "Gloating in Galveston" or simply another pedagogue blessed with good luck, he is unlikely to broach his professional ethics and alter your grade -- at least not now that he has no incentive to do so. You should count on his cum leaking out of all three of your holes from now until June, and plan on seeing a "D" as your final grade.
However, don't lose heart! Even though you are never going to be a scholar, I think you are a wonderful person. I would go so far as to say that you are, and will continue to be, a true blessing to mankind.
From reading your letter, it is clear to me that your real objective is to avoid summer school, not to get a better grade for its own sake. Happily, I have solid advice for you on that front. At your next opportunity, simply offer yourself up to your stepfather, Roy, in the same manner you originally did to Mr. Renfrew. I'm sure his dick will be inside you in short order.
Now here's the important part, can you try to remember this? Roy is going to be thinking that he will need to keep his playtime with you separated from his playtime with Tabby. That means by fucking him, you'll be actually increasing the likelihood that he'll send you to summer school! BUT, if you look him in the eyes that first time, while he's long-stroking your middle school muffin and before he cums, and ask "Roy, do you think you could help me learn to be bisexual with Tabby?", you'll be fine. With that on the table, there is no chance you'd even be allowed to attend summer school.
-SD