Part 99: Hot For Teacher

Day 72: Tuesday, November 26

Chapter 1

Alan hurried to his first-period physics class and made it through the door just as the bell rang. As he sat down, he complimented himself that he'd gotten away with yet more outrageous behavior on the school grounds, and no one was the wiser.

But the instant he sat in his seat, a sense of horror ran through him that something was dreadfully wrong. He could feel wetness on the backs of his upper thighs where they touched the seat, and his forearms on the desk were soaking in something both wet and sticky.

Oh shit! Wet paint! He looked around. Everyone else was settling down and seemed to be doing fine. Whatever had happened had happened just to him.

He froze in place for a few moments. The combination seat and desk he sat in was painted a dull brown. He realized that if he stood up, he would be a laughingstock. But if he remained sitting and perfectly still, perhaps he could get through this hour of class and then somehow get mercy from the teacher before students came in for the next class. Luckily, the teacher of this class, Mr. Tompkins, was a pretty cool guy. Alan felt confident that he would be able to help.

But then Alan realized to his dismay that he couldn't even so much as raise either arm to ask a question or scratch his nose, since they were sticking to his desk. He experimentally tried to pull one of his arms up an inch or so. It took some effort to free the arm from the paint, and then he saw that the entire underside of his arm was coated in brown.

He dropped his arm back down and frantically looked around the room to see if anyone else had noticed. Luckily, everyone was focused on what Mr. Tompkins was saying, except some burly guys in the back of the room who were pointing and snickering. He instantly knew that they must have been involved. He felt certain that they'd spread word of his predicament, so that the whole class would know within minutes.

Then he saw Christine get up and walk to the front of the class. That was very strange, because she hadn't been called on. She handed Mr. Tompkins a note and walked back to her seat.

Mr. Tompkins read the note and put it aside. Then, he said, "By the way, class, I have good news. You all did so well with your surprise exam on Friday, and it's such a nice day, that we're going to have today's class out on the lawn! How do you like that?"

The class was very surprised and excited, and there was a lot of clapping and cheering.

Mr. Tompkins continued, "Meet me outside on the grassy knoll in a few minutes. Alan, can you stay behind for a second? I have something I need you to do."

Alan had been freaking out, but he let out a huge sigh of relief. Suddenly it all became clear. Christine, sitting kitty corner and behind him, had seen his predicament. She'd quickly written a note to get help from the teacher. Either she or the teacher had thought of evacuating the room immediately, before Alan was exposed.

Thank God for good friends! Alan thought to himself, even as he remained as still as a statue in his chair. Wonder Woman to the rescue! He thought that, because Christine happened to be wearing her fabulous Wonder Woman T-shirt that day.

As the other students filed out, Christine tried to linger. She had a concerned look on her face, but the teacher had said nothing about her staying behind as well, so she reluctantly continued out the door.

Alan gave her the most grateful expression he could conjure, mouthing a silent "Thank you." He saw a smile appear on her face just as she passed out of view.

Mr. Tompkins closed the door behind Christine and immediately rushed to Alan. "My God, kid, what happened to you?"

Alan raised his arm all the way, exposing the underside of brown to his teacher. "A prank, Mr. Tompkins. Some of the football players are out to get me. I could see a couple of guys in the back snickering, so I'll bet at least one of them had something to do with it."

"Well you certainly are calm about it."

"I may look calm on the outside, but I'm actually freaking out. I thought I was in trouble for sure!"

"You still may be, unfortunately. I can't just leave you like this, but I can't leave my class lingering around outside for more than a minute or two, either. Don't even move, or you're going to make a huge mess. I thought about leaving Christine to help you, but I didn't want her role in this to be so obvious. What should I do? Call your parents? Call the principal? In all my years of teaching, I've never seen anything like this."

A solution popped into Alan's brain and he spoke his mind immediately. "Get Ms. Rhymer! She has study hall first period, and she's a good friend. I'll bet she can get me out of this!"

"Good idea. I'm out of here. Good luck!"

Mr. Tompkins literally ran out the door and down the hall.

Alan remained frozen in place. The desk had obviously been freshly painted immediately before the class. Now some of the paint was starting to drip and run in places. He realized with chagrin that this must have been set up at the same time that he'd been having fun with Heather and Simone.

Well, at least that pretty much rules out Heather as a suspect, he concluded while he waited. Anyways, I saw the looks on those guys' faces. I just wish I could have looked more than a second or two so I could have figured out exactly which ones were mocking me. Thank God I have the reputation for being a good guy and a teacher's pet, or I don't think Mr. Tompkins would have been so nice.

Suddenly, Glory burst in. She looked deeply concerned. "Young man! What happened to you?"

Alan explained quickly, and as she listened her obvious concern became mixed with amusement.

Glory looked over the other desks, then concluded, "Hmmm. It appears that just the desktop, backrest, and seat were painted. I'd better go get some supplies. That backrest is dripping something awful. Don't move!" She ran off.

As Alan sat and waited yet again, he thought, Fuck. Someone, or more likely more than one, of those guys really have it in for me. Whatever Heather did over the weekend to try to appease them clearly wasn't enough. I might have escaped being completely humiliated and embarrassed, thanks to the sharp eyes of one of my few remaining friends, but it's not like they're going to stop. They're going to keep coming at me again and again. And they're bigger and stronger than me, and outnumber me badly. I need real help!

Glory came back with her arms full of janitorial supplies. She locked the door behind her, then set about cleaning up the mess. First she wiped up the paint that had dripped on the floor. Then she had Alan rock the desk-chair to lift up each corner, one at a time, so she could put a big plastic tarp underneath the entire area.

"You're damned lucky I happen to have this period free, young man," she said as she finished placing the tarp.

"I'm damned lucky period! I mean, what if this classroom were on the ground floor and not the second? I'd bet my tormentors would find a way to peek in and take a photograph or something." Then he briefly told the story about what had happened and how Christine and Mr. Tompkins had rescued him.

"Quick," Glory said, cutting off the end of his story. "Stand up and strip! We have to get you out of those clothes."

Alan stood, making sure to remain over the tarp-covered area. "Oh, fuck! Look at me. Look at this! This sucks! Shit. These clothes are ruined. Oh, FUCK! Where the hell am I going to get some other clothes to wear before this period is over? And of course I didn't wear any underwear today. That's probably a bad habit. I'm screwed!"

He rapidly shucked off his T-shirt and shorts as he said this. His hands had been on his desk, so they were covered with paint, too, so he got a lot more brown paint on his clothes as he took them off. They were clearly ruined. The only items not completely ruined were his shoes and socks, which he still wore.

Glory looked at Alan standing naked in the middle of a strange classroom, and cursed him. "Damn you, Alan Plummer! Why do you have to get a fucking hard-on at a time like this?! Young man, you're simply insatiable, and incorrigible!" She pretended anger, but really she was both frustrated and amused.

"I'm sorry," he said sheepishly. "I wasn't aroused even slightly until just now. But you're far too sexy in that fancy outfit. You always dress so nice. And then seeing you bend over all around me, wiping the floor ... I mean, I'm only human! It's your fault for being too dang sexy all the time!" He didn't add what had brought his cock to full mast: as she'd been down on all fours putting the tarp into place, he'd a good angle to notice that she was going commando, without panties.

Glory laughed. "All right. All right. But we've resolved to have a purely platonic relationship from now on. This sure is some kind of awkward start to that! Jesus H. Christ! Make it stop bouncing around like that, dammit!"

"I can't!"

She sighed. "Let's get you cleaned up as fast as possible, then. I brought some gloves and a scrub brush and all kinds of things. But if you see one drop get on my clothes, tell me."

"A drop of what?" he asked in as innocent a voice as he could manage.

She knew what he was implying: a drop of paint, or a drop of cum? Her pussy throbbed as she thought about deep throating him so thoroughly that not a drop would escape her lips. But she gained control of her lust and said, "You know what I mean. I don't want these ruined."

He was feeling a lot better by that point. He had a good feeling that he'd get out of this jam. So he teased further, "You could just take them off like mine, you know."

"Wouldn't you like that? I'm sure you'd insist on taking off my bra and panties too, just to be on the safe side."

"Of course. One can't be too careful, especially with the expensive, pure white undies that you like to wear." He found it interesting that she was pretending she was still wearing panties. He strongly suspected that in fact she wasn't wearing a bra, either.

"Young man! What am I going to do with you?" She scrubbed his hands and forearms as she spoke.

"I could think of some fun things."

She laughed, but said, "Arrgh! Platonic, remember?" She ignored the great itching need that she was feeling in her crotch.

"I know. I'm sorry. It's just that I'm all freaked out and worked up, and some humor is helping calm me down. I'll stop."

"Thanks. I know what you mean because I feel the same. Larry - that's Mr. Tompkins to you - was in such a rush that he didn't have time to explain and merely told me that you were alone in this classroom and needed my help right away. I nearly died of worry before I got here! Just exactly who did this to you anyway, and what's it all about?"

He explained all about his feud with the football team while she finished cleaning him off. There wasn't much paint on him. It was mostly just on the lower side of his forearms and hands where he'd touched the desk, plus a thin stripe on the back of his lower thighs where his flesh had made contact with the seat. The rest had been covered by his now-ruined clothes.

Glory, however, seemed to take her time, doing an extremely thorough job of getting all the paint off his skin. In fact, she continued to work on the back of his thighs long after all the paint had gone, although Alan didn't know that. She was intoxicated by being so near his naked ass, and it was a constant struggle for her to keep enough focus on his words to understand his predicament. She reminded herself that this was probably the last time she'd be able to see and touch a naked Alan, though deep down she strongly suspected that that might not be true.

She also had a nearly irresistible urge to grab his erection, which continued to stick straight out, bobbing lightly as she worked on him. She thought, I know every single vein and bump on that penis, and my tongue and lips know it even better than my eyes do. I just can't believe I'm never going to even hold it again ... Can't I pet and stroke it just a bit, for old time's sake. Can't I do that? It's not like he would mind...

Chapter 2

But his story about the football players gave her something else to focus on. As his tale came to an end, she blurted out, "I blame Heather."

"Heather? Why her?"

"First off, if she hadn't been such a slut and slept with half the team, or more, then they wouldn't be so bent out of shape by the fact that now you're sleeping with her. Then, once that happened, she should have cleaned up her own mess and taken care of them, and she's clearly failed to do that. You're just an innocent victim of her twisted personality and her wanton, immoral behavior."

"Hey. Just a minute. I'll admit that Heather's no saint."

"Ha! Understatement of the year!"

"True. But she's just a part of this whole mess. The main thing is, they consider themselves the top dogs in the school. They always get the best girls, especially the star players. But then I come out of nowhere, a nerd, no less, and suddenly I've got Amy for my girlfriend, and rumors swirl that I'm fucking the rest of the cheerleading squad and then some - minus my sister, of course."

"Oh, of course," Glory said sarcastically, knowing full well that wasn't the case.

"So naturally they're jealous. I've upset the social order, and as you know since you study the gossip, the social order in a high school is everything. And can I really blame them for being jealous? Talking about wanton, immoral behavior, if they only knew half of what I'm actually doing, they and the rest of the school would probably lynch me on the spot. Take you, for starters. Do you know how many guys in this school have crushes on you? If someone were to snap a picture right now of you cleaning my thighs yet again - aren't they clean already? If they were to take a picture right now, with your hands and long tongue wrapped around my cock, alternately jacking it off and deep throating it, I'd be lucky to make it off the campus alive and in one piece!"

"Hey, I'm not deep throating you yet. What are you talking about?" She came around from behind him and stared at his erection from mere inches away, as if confirming that she wasn't already there. She backed up in surprise as it very nearly bounced off her nose. Then she groaned with frustration when she realized he was playing a verbal trick on her.

He laughed. "Just kidding. A guy can dream, can't he? It's only been ten minutes since class started, but it feels like hours have passed, and I'm getting a little bit freaked thinking about someone finding us here."

As Alan talked, Glory mentally calculated the number of inches between the tip of Alan's stiff pole and her lips. The number seemed to be rapidly shrinking and would soon need to be measured in fractions of inches. Even as she promised herself restraint, she licked her lips in anticipation. Her pussy was wet and dripping.

She was thinking, It's really not fair to leave him like this. How is he going to make it through his next classes with a painful hard-on like that? It's my fault, having him stand naked in the middle of the class and then fondling his ass, er, I mean, rubbing the paint off his ass, for so long. Just one little blowjob wouldn't be like we're getting back together or anything. Right? I mean, if I deep throat him and swallow every last drop of his delicious cum, I'd just be doing him a favor, and the fact that I'd be feeling unimaginably great pleasures has nothing to do with it. He's probably noticed that I somehow forgot to wear my panties, so it really is my fault and my-

But then he interrupted her thoughts by saying, "I don't feel nearly as safe right now as when I'm in your room. For one thing, I wouldn't be at all surprised if Mr. Tompkins gets away from his class for a little while to see how we're doing."

"OH FUCK!" She jumped up in panic and backed away, as if Mr. Tompkins had just walked into the room. Then she calmed herself a bit. As much as I'd love to suck him off, I mean, help him out, we can't. Not here, not now. What if someone comes in? This is crazy!

She sat back, making sure to do so in a way that her pussy could no longer be seen. "Phew! Good point. You see? This is why our affair has to stop. I can't take the constant fear that we'll be discovered. Never let me forget that! Let's find you some clothes. Now that I think about it, I have some shorts and a T-shirt that should fit you back in my classroom."

"You do? What luck."

"It's not luck. I've thought a lot about all the different things that could go wrong with our affair. In addition to packing spare clothes for me in my closet, I have some meant for you, in case you got in an embarrassingly cummy mess during one of our lunchtime escapades."

He grinned, impressed. "You're too good for me. You're so clever."

Clever, maybe, but unwise, she thought to herself. If he hadn't reminded me about the almost certain chance of Larry coming back to his own classroom at any time, I'd probably have given in and I'd be deep throating him right now! He knew it and I knew it. I was soooo close. I even said "yet." Damn! I have to resist! I'm so stupid! True, I thought of the clothes, which helped speed things up, but if he hadn't been the one to remember about the teacher, my goose would be cooked for sure! We're hanging on by the skin of our teeth! And I thought I'd put all this behind me yesterday, but I can't get free.

She returned with the clothes minutes later, and soon he was dressed. The two of them finished cleaning up, including wiping all the wet paint from his desk until it was useable for the next period's class.

Once they were done, Glory thought, Now, this is awkward. He still has that hard-on. And it still would be mean of me to just leave him like that. But I can't just ask him to unzip his pants so I can run my tongue up and down his beautiful shaft, slathering it and loving it as I take it deeper and deeper. I have my dignity! We're supposed to be moving past that. Besides, what if Mr. Tompkins comes back? He will soon, I know it. What if he sees me on my knees, with my handsome student shoving all eight magnificent inches between my hungry lips? Would I just sit there and suck and lick and tease until he blows his huge wad of tasty cum all over my tonsils while another teacher watches?

Good Lord!

She stood up and began pacing about. She kept busy cleaning the rest of the room, even though that had nothing to do with the painting incident. She just wanted an excuse to look anywhere but at Alan.

He didn't realize it, but she was close to the breaking point. If he had so much as touched her on the shoulder, she would have turned around and melted in his arms, eager to do anything and everything he wanted to do.

But ever so slowly, she managed to calm herself. They started talking about school gossip, which was safe territory. Eventually, Glory noticed that Alan's erection had subsided and that took away her excuse to "help" him. Her pussy finally stopped throbbing with need.

By the time Mr. Tompkins came back in to check on them, everything had been taken care of. They sat next to each other, making idle chatter, looking as innocent as two angels.

But deep down, both Alan and Glory were very distraught, though for different reasons. Alan knew he'd dodged a bullet. A public humiliation would be worse than actually getting beaten up, because one got a lot of sympathy with the latter, but practically none with the former. He considered this painting incident to be a declaration of war, though he didn't even know exactly who his enemies were. He was already plotting his own moves, and the first step was to solidify the status of his own friends and allies. With an S-Club meeting planned for the afternoon and a dinner date already scheduled with Christine this evening, the timing seemed just right. Again, he marveled at his great luck.

Glory, on the other hand, was deeply disturbed by just how aroused she'd been. She cursed her rotten luck and wondered at the odds that a bizarre series of events would result in Alan standing before her completely naked and fully erect just minutes after school began. She both loved it and hated it.

She could hardly understand herself anymore. For instance, she had no good explanation why she consciously chose not to wear any underwear as she dressed for school that morning. She told herself that it was an accident, but she didn't really believe that, as she'd never made that kind of mistake before in her life. Some tiny, naughty voice in the back of her head told her that Alan had commanded her to do that the week before, and since he hadn't said anything contrary since, she continued to obey. She knew that was the most pathetic excuse imaginable.

What she couldn't deny however was that being naked under her clothes was inescapably arousing to her. Deep down inside, she secretly knew that she just wanted to be naughty for her young lover. She knew that in her bed tonight, she'd be fantasizing endlessly about all the things that could have happened between them in Mr. Tompkins' classroom if she'd had just a tiny bit less self-control.

Chapter 3

Alan thought he was out of the woods by the time first period came to an end, but he was wrong.

The football players who had played the chair painting trick on him didn't just fade away. Naturally, they were curious about what had happened to him and how he'd managed to avoid embarrassment. They were even madder at him than before for having escaped their trap, and were hardly about to let things go at that.

So when he came out of Mr. Tompkins' physics class, they were waiting for him. At first they kept their distance, lost behind him in the hallway crowd, waiting to see who he might be with. But when it appeared he was alone and heading to his next class, they made their plans and followed him.

Alan's first-period class was on the second floor while his second-period class was on the ground floor. The route from one class to another was filled with other students, so the football players knew they couldn't do anything too overt to him, especially given the suspensions that had been given out the week before. As a result, they struck in the most logical place along Alan's limited route: the stairs.

Alan was unaware that a small group of burly guys were following him, so he was taken by surprise when one of them caught up to him at the top of the stairs and stuck a foot out in front of him just as he began to step down the first stair.

The result was predictable: Alan went tumbling down the stairs, completely out of control. He most likely would have been severely hurt except for the fact that the stairway was filled with other students. So, rather than falling all the way down unimpeded, he crashed into some other students. More than one of them fell too, but none of them had the momentum he did, so only he kept going all the way to the flat area halfway down where the stairs turned.

The football players eagerly followed him down, and one of the biggest of them was right there to lend a helping hand when Alan tried to stand up. Or, at least, Alan initially thought it was a helping hand, as he didn't stop to look up at the face first. But as he stood up, he realized the hand wasn't letting go. In fact, the strong grip was practically crushing his hand.

Alan looked into the face of the boy who'd helped him up and realized he didn't know the person's name. But from the boy's appearance - he looked like a young Marine, complete with blond buzz cut - his grip, and his crowing and malicious smile, Alan could tell he wasn't amongst friends. That feeling grew stronger as the other football players came down the stairs and surrounded him.

"Nasty fall," the football player squeezing Alan's hand said to him. "You should be more careful. Good thing you weren't hurt, but then again, you do seem to be quite lucky today, don't you?"

Alan could guess from this comment that this guy had been somehow involved in the first-period chair-painting prank, although he wasn't in that class or any of Alan's other classes. Needless to say, this bully was only pretending friendliness, like a cat playing with its prey before killing it.

Alan looked around frantically.

Other students were crowding around, wondering what was happening, peering into the tight circle of athletes.

He felt a bit safer because of all of the attention from the other people, but at the same time he didn't recognize any friends in the crowd, much less any authority figures. Worse, people were already starting to drift away as the sight of two guys shaking hands was hardly interesting. They didn't realize Alan's hand was being crushed by a much stronger vise-grip hand.

Alan was strong and muscular, though lanky, but he was no match for this monstrously oversized high schooler opposing him and he knew there was no way he could free his hand on his own. So he said in a very loud voice, "Owww! Let go of my hand. You're hurting me!" He hoped to keep bystanders watching, and he was partly successful with that.

"Oooh, poor baby," the tall and very muscular athlete still squeezing Alan's hand replied sarcastically, applying even more pressure as he said this. From his huge build, he was likely a lineman. He taunted, "What are you going to do now that you don't have any of your teachers to help you? What did you do to Mr. Tompkins to get him to protect you like that, anyways? How many times did you kiss his ass? Or suck his cock?"

Alan was recovering his wits, and went on a verbal offensive, though it didn't seem that way at first. He said in a proud and loud voice, "Yes. I am gay. I'm a flaming homosexual. Here, let me suck your cock, too. Why don't you whip it out?" He reached for the boy's groin with his free hand.

Alan guessed correctly that his attacker was as sexually immature, insecure, and homophobic as the typical dumb jock stereotype, and luckily he was right.

The football player immediately let go of Alan's hand as if Alan had contagious homosexual "cooties" and backed away a few steps, pushing a couple of his flunkies aside in his hasty retreat.

Alan laughed with derision, pretending much more confidence than he actually felt. He knew from previous experience with bullies that the key thing was to not show any weakness, as most bullies only preyed on the weak. He considered making some kind of homosexual taunt, but decided he shouldn't push his luck. Instead, he said in a seemingly sincere voice, "Thanks for the help getting up," and then hurried down the stairs.

He heard one cry of "Fag!" but otherwise the football players didn't say anything or pursue him. While strong, none of them were particularly bright, and Alan's unexpected approach had left them confused. They were only slowly figuring out that Alan's "I'm a flaming homosexual" comment was a form of subtle sarcasm that would more or less render him immune to further homosexual taunts, their preferred insult of choice.

One hour later, Alan entered Glory's classroom with a scraped knee, scraped elbow, and a very sore hand. Needless to say, he was very much preoccupied by his setbacks and hardly paid any attention to Glory or what was happening in her class. He knew that while in one sense he may have foiled his attackers, in another sense his "victory" was actually a defeat because he'd only succeeded in making his enemies madder at him. The only good news was that no one had followed him between second and third periods. He figured they were probably regrouping and trying to figure out how to best get back at him.

Glory however, was confused. She'd spent most of the two previous class periods anticipating the moment when she'd be able to see Alan in the flesh again, only to find him quite disinterested in her. It wasn't that he was consciously trying to avoid her; he simply didn't seem to have her on his mind in any special way because he was so worried about the football players.

She thought, That's odd. And it's doubly odd given that Heather was acting in a very similar way the period before. Instead of glaring at me, as usual, Heather didn't seem to hear a word I was saying, as if she was simply spaced out and in her own world. Just like how Alan's acting right now. I wonder if he's going to be like this the whole class.

But Glory couldn't think about it for long, as she had a class to teach. However, her thoughts kept returning to thinking about Alan and Heather with every free moment she had, especially since Alan seemed to continue to ignore her, though he eventually did appear to focus on the class material a bit.