Timothy
Chapter 1

Copyright© 2009 by Quack

Humor Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Will Timothy survive school? Will he give a damn about the happenings in his world since the turn of the century, a world were the restless dead have decided its time to take a nap and bloodletting just isn't fun any more? Will any of the throwaway sentences turn out to be plot hooks? Will he get any? And will the author ever finish that bag of nachos? To find out the answers to some of these questions read the story. It'd probably be easier one you if you just didn't care.

Caution: This Humor Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/Fa   Consensual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Humor  

The long standing alliance between north and south had broken, the angels had fled, the Devil - after getting bored of tempting souls into sin - had left for less green pastures, God was still nowhere to be found and the restless dead had decided it was nap time. This meant that things got less interesting, rather then more. However, this did not bother Timothy, it did not matter to him much except in History Lessons when it was little more then a mild annoyance. No, he had other things to worry about, such as getting to school on time and whether to smoke in the toilets or behind the chariot shed. No one was entirely sure why the rich still used chariots. They weren't cost effective, it was hard to get horses to pull them, you would get stuck in traffic and pedestrians and carts had right of way before you. Also, you got fined if you didn't clean up the dung after your horses and you couldn't burn it otherwise environmentalists would moan about polluting the city atmosphere. What was really needed, the rich would admit when amongst themselves, was some sort of self-propelled chariot, one with some kind of internal-combustion engine. It would replace the horses and solve all their problems, especially if they could make it go very fast. They would try to persuade the wizards to work on it only with the turn of the century their magic had decided to leave along with everything else. Some people blamed it on the Devil, rather quietly of course. He wasn't around to grant people temptations anymore, so they saw no need to advertise him loudly. All in all, the times were quite boring now; and kids, unlike in the old days, had to make their own entertainment.

So there Timothy was, walking to school just after noon, surrounded by ladies of the day and ladies of the night, ladies of both and women who were ladies of neither, but were just women. He liked these the most, they were the ones who let him get closest. So close, in fact, that that closeness had been banned from public places in case it made prudes and middle-class grannies jealous. He got fairly close now, and even slipped his hand up the top of the one he addressed as Cecil, who thought that she might have lost her keys under there. After a thorough check it turned out she hadn't. Timothy would have got closer to her but he was already late for school. So he continued on his way.

The school gates were tall, dark, imposing things. They had, however, been removed from the school gate posts by some hooligans, so for now the foreboding wall that surrounded the school had a breach. A tiny bit of string tried to bridge the gap. It failed. It was through this massive empty space Timothy walked. He admired the sheer logistical intelligence of whoever had managed to steal the gates. When he and his mate Dorothy had tried to steal the gates, they had run into some serious problems. They hadn't been able to manage it in fact. And if the rumours were true, those gates had stood up to almost three years of attempts, which for Private School gates in these parts was quite impressive. You could tell which schools were Private because they had PRIVATE written above the doors in large letters. After a meandering while Timothy walked under the A and into the school proper. There he was confronted by an irate Mrs Rose.

"And what do you think you are doing coming in at this time?"

"I-"

"You are late! Very very late! Aren't you meant to be in a lesson now? Haven't I talked to you about this, haven't I told you this when you have been late before? Don't be late, or-"

"I-" said Timothy.

"Don't interrupt me while I'm rhetorically questioning you! You are late! You know when school starts and you know when you have to get here! This lateness is unpardonable. I've told you before not to keep me waiting. Now, what do you have to say for yourself."

"I," said Timothy, and moved closer. His hand slid up her shirt. He was far closer than was strictly allowed. They were far closer. Their lips, their tongues, under the letter of the rules weren't meant to be that close, and Timothy really, really shouldn't have unbuttoned Mrs Rose' shirt. However he had, and was now picking at her bra with his teeth. She smiled at nobody in particular. His hands were sliding up and down her thighs, caressing them. Her skirt quested after her bra. It found it on the floor. It was thrilled. It hoped it would find the Holy Grail, but that was kept in the Museum of Curiously Important Artefacts. After a while Mrs Rose decided that she really should have solid ground beneath her feet. Her next coherent thought suggested where that might best be found.

"We should go to my office, someone might see us here," she whispered into Timothy's ear. Then she went back to her subdued sighing and moaning. They shunted along the wall. Timothy waved at Mr Johnson the 2nd year Art teacher through the door. He was in class. That didn't stop him from waving back, however. A little further on they heard the clip-clopping that announced the Head was on her way. They ran to Mrs Rose' office. Well, Timothy ran, Mrs Rose just locked her surprisingly muscular (for a young teacher) legs around him. Timothy had to use his arms to hold her close to him, however, since her hands were otherwise occupied. They both enjoyed each bounce immensely.

Mrs Rose was still shuddering when he lay her down on her desk, to give his legs a rest. The clip-clopping was getting louder. Mrs Rose suddenly looked at him with urgency.

"My clothes," she gasped, "Get my clothes."

Timothy looked at her. She indicated her naked body. Understanding, he ran. He picked up the few esoteric bits of clothing that had trailed after them, then, hearing the clip-clopping grow loud, dived for the pile. He didn't make it in time, but the Head didn't notice the clothes.

"Mr Eckles," said the Head, in her usual imperious tones, "You dived too late, I have seen you."

Timothy stands.

The Head continues. "Should not you be in a lesson, young Mr Eckles, Closeness Education if I remember rightly." She smiled at that, revealing her gleaming teeth. Quite why she kept her teeth in such good condition nobody knew. She, if ever pressed, would have put it down to habit. She never was, people tended not to want to spend more time around a bodiless head then they had to. Even then, she never went anywhere without her bearers, and people who didn't find a bodiless head disturbing usually found two headless bodies far, far worse. It wasn't like they were human bodies, either.

"You know your punishment. But first, please tell me why your Prince Harry is standing to attention like that."

Timothy looks down. Sure enough, it still is. Mrs Rose' clothes are still behind him. If he doesn't do something, not only will he have to face whatever weird detention type the Head has thought up this week, but Mrs Rose' clothes will be noticed; and recognised. And he wouldn't want that to happen, not after she's been so understanding.

"I'm waiting," says the Head.

Timothy nods, moves closer. Before the Head's bearers can react he brings his hand around the back of her head and his lips meet hers. They kiss. He breaks away. The Head giggles. "Yes, um, well ... That explains it. Thankyou, I'm flattered. Really, I am." She giggles some more. "I shall be seeing you Mr Eckles." Timothy, wise sage that he is, doesn't throw up. "Onwards and on." The metal hooves of the bearers clip-clop away. Timothy sinks against the wall. "No left, I said left. The corridor turns left here, don't you know anything." The Head continues giving instruction to her bearers. They can't hear her. That's one of the advantages of having no ears.

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