Chapter 5

"Hey, Mangolin, get your ass over here!"

Charlie froze, quickly glancing over his shoulder. His eyes widened when he saw the three large boys coming his way. As if someone had turned on a faucet, sweat began dripping into his eyes, the salty liquid stinging them. His heart beat faster and adrenaline pumped his legs as he ran.

"Hey, twerp, get over here!" the muscular boy shouted. He bolted, leaving his friends behind and quickly catching up to Charlie.

Never the athlete, the mighty shove threw Charlie off balance and the front of his right foot slammed into his left heel. With arms and legs flaying like a drunken octopus, he crashed face first onto the school floor, his chin smashing into the hard surface, his cheek dragging on the dirty linoleum as his momentum propelled him forward. Scrambling to his hands and knees, a strong hand clutched the back of his collar and immobilized him. A loud ripping noise was heard when the other boy pulled hard, and the collar of Charlie's tee-shirt dug into his Adam's apple. Letting out a yelp, Charlie was yanked to his feet by his hair. His eyes darted to the other two members of the football team who had trotted over to join their friend, and then he saw a bright light followed by dizziness. It took a moment for Charlie's brain to register the punch, but then his knees buckled and he dropped to the floor, crumbling onto his side. Rubbing his jaw, Charlie stared up at the school's quarterback through watery eyes.

"I told you to stop!" the bully hollered. "Who do you think you are? I heard what you did with Tara. She's my girl, you fuckin' twerp. You're gonna pay for that!"

The foot slamming into Charlie's belly forced a whoosh of air from his mouth as his lungs emptied. Charlie doubled over in pain, clutching his midsection. The next powerful kick contacted his hip, rolling him onto his back with his knees up and his hands still holding his belly, gasping for air. As if in slow motion, Charlie saw the foot move back as the boy's knee bent. Thankfully, Charlie's subconscious mind was quicker than his conscious one and acted on impulse -- unadulterated fear actually. The bully's foot dropped harmlessly to the floor.

"Hey, Brent, what ya waiting for? Kick the motherfucker's ass," one of the others said.

The quarterback's foot twitched, but didn't provide the blow he desired. Charlie rapidly sucked in large amounts of air. Scooting backwards, his butt left a clean path on the floor until he was sitting against the wall. His still watery eyes darted to his left, catching sight of one of the football players lunging his way. A smirk appeared on Charlie's face when Brent tackled his friend, dragging him to the ground.

The third boy cried out, "What the fuck are you doing?!" as he saw his friends wrestling.

He moved to break up the fight, but soon was kicking both struggling boys. They stopped fighting each other, trying to fend off the vicious kicks. Leaping to their feet, the two tackled their friend and soon punches were thrown. It didn't matter who they hit. The three boys swung freely, making contact with whoever they could.

Charlie slowly got to his feet and limped away, rubbing his side and jaw. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the scuffle increase in intensity, already bloodying the three faces.

"You jerk," Charlie chastised himself in the empty hall. "Why did you run? You could have stopped it before it began."

He felt hatred towards the boys that he had never felt before. Stopping suddenly, he spun around. The three boys were on the dirty floor, punching and kicking each other. They immediately stopped. With the same smirk Satan had, Charlie watched the boys jump to their feet and rip their clothes off as if it was burning their skin. One naked boy picked up a pair of jeans out of the pile of discarded clothes and shoved his hand into the pocket. Dropping his jeans on top of the pile, he flipped open the cigarette lighter and flicked it, watching the flame shoot up. Then he tossed the lit lighter onto the clothing which began to simmer and then burst into flames. Standing naked, the three jocks stared dumbly at their clothing being incinerated, and then one threw a sucker punch, sending another to the floor. The third boy kicked the standing one, and soon all three were once again fighting, except now they were completely naked. Charlie grinned, turned, and walked away whistling.

The halls were eerily quiet. Like all students, Charlie usually bolted from the school as soon as the last bell sounded, but today he felt a pang of guilt about what he had done to Cathy. He despised the "brown nosing" snitch, but to him he in effect raped the girl -- took her virginity. Not with his own cock, but nonetheless he did it. He wondered why someone as nice as him would do such a thing. So after his last class, Charlie went in search of what happened to Cathy after she fled the classroom. He came up empty-handed, and was leaving when Tara's boyfriend and his pals jumped him.

Now walking quietly through the halls, the sound of voices caught Charlie's attention and he followed it. Standing outside the ajar door of the teacher's lounge, he listened from out of sight for any conversation relating to the fate of Cathy, but it all seemed to be idle chatter. Most teachers were complaining about one student or another. They should hear what we say about them, Charlie thought with a chuckle.

A mischievous thought filled Charlie's mind. The teacher's lounge was off-limits to students, and entering the sacred room was forbidden. But Charlie was no longer an ordinary student. A sense of power filled his being as he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He moved to the door and pushed it; the hinges squeaked. As the door swung open, the room fell silent and all eyes locked on Charlie. He sent each teacher a telepathic message that they didn't see him.

"That's strange," one teacher said. "What do you think caused the door to open?"

No one answered her, but another teacher who was standing nearby took a few steps and flicked the door shut. Soon all the teachers were either busy chatting or reading.

Charlie surveyed the room like a child going through his parents' drawers when they weren't home. A table sat along the far wall with the typical coffee pot and supplies. Two couches faced each other in the middle of the room with a table between them. And a few chairs were scattered about, some grouped for conversation and others for solitary reading.

Mrs. Flent was sitting on the edge of one couch, leaning over the table. Papers were spread out and she was scribbling on one. She wasn't what Charlie would call attractive, being around 45 with short, dark, graying hair, but Mrs. Flent had huge tits, and in her current bent over position her 40-Ds were hanging down. Bent at the waist with his hands on his knees, Charlie stared inside the sagging sweater.

Mr. Hathaway sat next to Mrs. Flent. He wasn't actually sitting. Slouched down on the couch with outstretched legs, his feet were propped on the table. The 36-year-old's wavy brown hair dangled over his closed eyes and his chin was pressed to his chest.

Sitting on two chairs in the corner were Miss Holland and Mr. Riggler. Mr. Riggler was the PE teacher and looked the part with his muscles bulging and his massive chest stretching his tight black tee-shirt. Charlie noticed Mr. Riggler's eyes roaming up and down Miss Holland's body as she chatted non-stop. Charlie didn't blame the PE teacher though. Miss Holland was gorgeous at 28 years old with long blonde hair and a figure to die for. Her dress was probably too short for a teacher, but no one complained, and Mr. Riggler's eyes more than once landed on her bare thighs.

Standing next to the table by the far wall, Mrs. Wilson held her coffee cup in both hands as she blew the steaming liquid. Although 35 years old, she could have passed for a student. Her diminutive 5 foot slim body was almost boyish, especially because her tits couldn't be more than 32As. Her thick lips and kinky dark hair defined her race, but the light cocoa color of her skin and bright blue eyes pointed to at least one white man bedding her slave ancestors.

Mrs. Flent turned to her side. Mr. Hathaway's light snoring was disturbing her test grading and she glared at the sleeping figure. Charlie thought he'd have some fun. Mrs. Flent's mouth opened wide when her younger coworker's hand went to his crotch and scratched his groin. Her head shot up and scanned the room, but no one paid them any mind -- Mrs. Wilson had sat down with her book again and the other two teachers were busily conversing. Mrs. Flent's eyes returned to Mr. Hathaway's lap. Ohmigod, he's not scratching himself. He's rubbing his penis. Her eyes rose to his face and his closed eyes. He must be having a dream ... an erotic dream. Holy shit, he's rubbing it more and ... ohmigod, it's growing.

Charlie moved to the side of the couch. Glancing around, he felt a surge of invincibility. This was better than a suit of armor. His attention was drawn back to Mrs. Flent when he heard her thoughts.

It looks so big, she told herself in what she thought was the privacy of her mind. I can't remember the last time Jack had an erection. A puzzled expression crossed Charlie's face and he telepathically asked the teacher a question. Her mind answered, My husband, and then she looked around the room as if searching for someone. But her mind wandered back to Mr. Hathaway. Jack just doesn't seem interested anymore. He never wants sex. And, ohmigod, he never looked that big. I wonder how big it is. I wonder what it feels like.

Charlie was surprised when he saw Mrs. Flent's hand move towards her colleague's crotch. She looked into Mr. Hathaway's face and then around the room, and then back to his face. Stretching her arm, the older married woman extended her forefinger and sort of poked the bulge in Mr. Hathaway's trousers. Immediately, her hand jerked back and her eyes darted to the man's face. His eyes remained closed.

Mrs. Flent's hand returned to his lap and she traced his hard cock with her fingertips, all the while staring at Mr. Hathaway's face. His hand dropped to his side, the movement causing her to jerk her hand away. But when he didn't open his eyes she looked down and saw that she now had free access. Covering his cock with her palm, Mrs. Flent partially curled her fingers around it and squeezed. Mr. Hathaway's hips humped, but his eyes remained closed.

Mrs. Flent's free hand slipped under her skirt and it was obvious she was rubbing her pussy. Charlie quickly scooted in front of her and dropped to his knees, peering between her parted knees. Her panties were pushed aside and her finger was inside her pussy, sliding in and out. Looking up, Charlie saw that her other hand was now stroking Mr. Hathaway's cock.

God, it's so big! Mrs. Flent thought. I wish I could see it. It's a lot bigger than Jack's ... and, ohmigod, it's harder than his has been in years if ever.

Flabbergasted, Charlie thought, Holy shit, old Mrs. Flent is a slut. She's married and everything. Jeez, I wonder how far she'd go. With a mischievous smirk, the boy looked around the room. Hmm, if I could just...

Mrs. Flent's eyes darted from Mr. Hathaway's lap to his face, then over his shoulder to the others in the room, then back to his face, and finally back to her fingers squeezing and stroking his hard cock. Her eyes made the journey several times, all the while her other hand was busy under her skirt. But then she froze. Mr. Hathaway's eyes were wide open, staring at her.

"Oh my god!" she muttered, quickly bringing both hands to her lap and folding them.

"Don't stop," Mr. Hathaway whispered, not knowing why since he never cheated on his wife and didn't find his older colleague attractive.

Mrs. Flent's eyes rose slowly. She was flushed from embarrassment and arousal. Without speaking, she stared into Mr. Hathaway's face. His nod was the encouragement she needed.

With her eyes locked on his, Mrs. Flent's unsteady hand slowly slid across the couch cushion, coming to rest against Mr. Hathaway's leg. Maintaining the contact, she continued staring at his face, into his eyes, ready to jerk her hand away. But he didn't object, and when her hand slid onto the top of his thigh, Mr. Hathaway nodded again. This time she didn't pause and soon her hand was resting on the huge bulge in his pants.

After once again glancing around the room, her lust-filled eyes bored into Mr. Hathaway's as her fingers curled around his cock. She squeezed it, but then quickly jerked her hand back when she felt Mr. Hathaway's hand. Staring at his lap, she gasped when he slowly lowered his zipper. When his hand dropped back to the couch, Mrs. Flent's immediately returned to his lap and snaked into the opening.

Although Mr. Hathaway seemed to be encouraging her, Mrs. Flent saw a strange look on his face and in his eyes. He seemed confused. But her hand was gripping his hard cock now, only the thin cotton of his underwear separating the two. She could better feel the shape and size now, as well as the heat. She measured it as best she could, but desired to see it.