Cousin Waseem
- 1 year ago
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The First Time I Realised I Was Going To Be Troubl free porn video
Pondering where to begin, I thought a suitable point was to go back to the first time that my increasing libido landed me in trouble!
Growing up my life was cliché after cliché. Educationally over achieving, not exactly a teacher’s pet but definitely in a very close relationship with the library! At the same time I was trying desperately to fit in with my peers – a tough balancing act.
Anyway, while a few of my friends were starting to get giggly over the tall, handsome P.E teacher or the suave, softly spoken head of English…I was completely oblivious! My attention was caught by the unimaginably hairy Mr. C (I spent many an hour dreaming about licking every inch of him), or the rather short, strangely high pitched Mr. H who had the most curious bulge in his cords all the time!
But top of my list was Mr M. An institution, having taught a good few generations before me and whispers always followed about his love of the ladies and some nefarious going’s on in his past. I can’t explain why I came to like him so much, I firmly believe I was the only one who felt that way.
Mr. M was about 6’3” tall, thin, grey hair, and absurdly long fingers. That’s what most people would notice, but I noticed other things…the hint of a hairy chest lurking under a white shirt, the fact that his tongue seemed too big for his mouth and most of all those times when he stood behind his desk, pushed the chair in with his thighs and leaned back. The chair pressing his trousers tight to his legs and the the faint outline of what could well have been a sizeable snake seeming to run down his inner thigh. I guess you’d call him my weird crush, but for me he was simply the cause of many uncomfortable bus journeys home, terrified that when I stood up the seat would be left with a big damp patch!
After attempts to accidentally get in his way, leaning back just at the moment he passed behind me, constantly dropping my pen (I must have seemed to be the clumsiest person he’d ever seen), staying after class to ask unnecessary questions…I began to realise that it would always be a fantasy of course.
Eventually I must have become brave and began drawing the heart with an arrow (another cliché) with my initials and his. Next came very detailed illustrations of a penis, after the 4th or 5th variation I was confronted about the graffiti, which I blamed on friends of mine and seemed to get away with it. What happened next was, at the time, somewhat of a blur.
I woke one night in a massive panic from a dream where it seemed I had written an explicit, detailed description of what I wanted to to do Mr. M in the back of my notebook. Surely I wouldn’t have been so foolish, would i? Surely I wouldn’t have been so stupid as to not only write it, but to seemingly forget that I had and hand my book in at the end of the day and go home?
Two days later I sat in his class, head bowed in shame. This followed on from two days of sheer panic, of forming ridiculous plans in my mind of how I could undo what I thought I’d done. Fifty minutes into the lesson he calmly strolled around the tables, dropping books in front of their owners, til it seemed that only mine was left in his hand. By this time I was wondering how fast I could get the window open and jump out! My notebook thudded onto the table in front of me, I shut my eyes but he strolled away and continued talking. When the bell rang I honestly don’t think Usain Bolt could have caught up with me as I ran all the way to the bus. Sat down, braced myself and opened the book to the back page. It was gone, crudely torn out and in that instant my heart sank at exactly the same moment that I realised I was literally soaking in the best possible way.
For two months I couldn’t look him in the eye, I struggled to sit for two hours a week without running out. All that time I still couldn’t recall what I’d done, or even if I’d done it or was it all some strange dream that I’d woken up from in a cold sweat that night.
Just at the time I was starting to feel more calm, in what was one of the last classes I would have with Mr. M, I sat quietly as books were dropped on desks as usual. I gathered mine to put in my bag and noticed something loose in the middle pages, I opened it up and there folded in the middle was a torn out page with my writing, staring back at me. A parting gift from Mr. M simply letting me know that he’d read my writings.
Was it so terrible? Had I really embarrassed myself as much as I thought? Or had it been a dream?
Dear Mr. M,
First off I owe you an apology. A few months ago someone stole your good pen, then you found it. And remember the same thing happened with the spare tie you keep in your bottom drawer. Well it was me, I borrowed them.
What I really want is your cock and your fingers. I sit in your class staring at your crotch hour after hour and all I want is to push you down in your chair, kneel between your legs and rub my face in your crotch. I want to unzip you and take off your trousers. I want to hold your big cock and I want to suck it. I want to bury my face between your legs and lick your balls. I want to make you feel good.
But most of all I want you to bend me over your desk, push me down and fuck me hard. I want to know what you feel like. I want to feel your hands grabbing me and I want you to fuck me more. I want you to fuck me again and again and again. I also want you to fuck me in your car, somewhere quiet one night. I want you to send me home with the smell and feel of your cum on my body and the taste of your cock in my mouth.
I fucked myself with your pen. Your tie smelt of you, I got a little excited and I’m sorry if It’s now stained. If you want to give me something better to play with I won’t steal anything else.
Mr. M Please at least let me suck your cock.
Now, I must admit, having read it back now I’m all grown up it does have a hint of stalkerish about it! It seems fairly tame, but it sure didn’t feel like it at the time!
There is a moral to this story, and it’s one that I tend to live my life by these days. Six years after I wrote that, and put myself through what felt like hell at the time – I got the chance to wrap my lips around Mr M.’s lovely lengthy and generously creamy cock.
So the moral is……if I set my sights on something – I am going to fuck it eventually!!
Growing up my life was cliché after cliché. Educationally over achieving, not exactly a teacher’s pet but definitely in a very close relationship with the library! At the same time I was trying desperately to fit in with my peers – a tough balancing act.
Anyway, while a few of my friends were starting to get giggly over the tall, handsome P.E teacher or the suave, softly spoken head of English…I was completely oblivious! My attention was caught by the unimaginably hairy Mr. C (I spent many an hour dreaming about licking every inch of him), or the rather short, strangely high pitched Mr. H who had the most curious bulge in his cords all the time!
But top of my list was Mr M. An institution, having taught a good few generations before me and whispers always followed about his love of the ladies and some nefarious going’s on in his past. I can’t explain why I came to like him so much, I firmly believe I was the only one who felt that way.
Mr. M was about 6’3” tall, thin, grey hair, and absurdly long fingers. That’s what most people would notice, but I noticed other things…the hint of a hairy chest lurking under a white shirt, the fact that his tongue seemed too big for his mouth and most of all those times when he stood behind his desk, pushed the chair in with his thighs and leaned back. The chair pressing his trousers tight to his legs and the the faint outline of what could well have been a sizeable snake seeming to run down his inner thigh. I guess you’d call him my weird crush, but for me he was simply the cause of many uncomfortable bus journeys home, terrified that when I stood up the seat would be left with a big damp patch!
After attempts to accidentally get in his way, leaning back just at the moment he passed behind me, constantly dropping my pen (I must have seemed to be the clumsiest person he’d ever seen), staying after class to ask unnecessary questions…I began to realise that it would always be a fantasy of course.
Eventually I must have become brave and began drawing the heart with an arrow (another cliché) with my initials and his. Next came very detailed illustrations of a penis, after the 4th or 5th variation I was confronted about the graffiti, which I blamed on friends of mine and seemed to get away with it. What happened next was, at the time, somewhat of a blur.
I woke one night in a massive panic from a dream where it seemed I had written an explicit, detailed description of what I wanted to to do Mr. M in the back of my notebook. Surely I wouldn’t have been so foolish, would i? Surely I wouldn’t have been so stupid as to not only write it, but to seemingly forget that I had and hand my book in at the end of the day and go home?
Two days later I sat in his class, head bowed in shame. This followed on from two days of sheer panic, of forming ridiculous plans in my mind of how I could undo what I thought I’d done. Fifty minutes into the lesson he calmly strolled around the tables, dropping books in front of their owners, til it seemed that only mine was left in his hand. By this time I was wondering how fast I could get the window open and jump out! My notebook thudded onto the table in front of me, I shut my eyes but he strolled away and continued talking. When the bell rang I honestly don’t think Usain Bolt could have caught up with me as I ran all the way to the bus. Sat down, braced myself and opened the book to the back page. It was gone, crudely torn out and in that instant my heart sank at exactly the same moment that I realised I was literally soaking in the best possible way.
For two months I couldn’t look him in the eye, I struggled to sit for two hours a week without running out. All that time I still couldn’t recall what I’d done, or even if I’d done it or was it all some strange dream that I’d woken up from in a cold sweat that night.
Just at the time I was starting to feel more calm, in what was one of the last classes I would have with Mr. M, I sat quietly as books were dropped on desks as usual. I gathered mine to put in my bag and noticed something loose in the middle pages, I opened it up and there folded in the middle was a torn out page with my writing, staring back at me. A parting gift from Mr. M simply letting me know that he’d read my writings.
Was it so terrible? Had I really embarrassed myself as much as I thought? Or had it been a dream?
Dear Mr. M,
First off I owe you an apology. A few months ago someone stole your good pen, then you found it. And remember the same thing happened with the spare tie you keep in your bottom drawer. Well it was me, I borrowed them.
What I really want is your cock and your fingers. I sit in your class staring at your crotch hour after hour and all I want is to push you down in your chair, kneel between your legs and rub my face in your crotch. I want to unzip you and take off your trousers. I want to hold your big cock and I want to suck it. I want to bury my face between your legs and lick your balls. I want to make you feel good.
But most of all I want you to bend me over your desk, push me down and fuck me hard. I want to know what you feel like. I want to feel your hands grabbing me and I want you to fuck me more. I want you to fuck me again and again and again. I also want you to fuck me in your car, somewhere quiet one night. I want you to send me home with the smell and feel of your cum on my body and the taste of your cock in my mouth.
I fucked myself with your pen. Your tie smelt of you, I got a little excited and I’m sorry if It’s now stained. If you want to give me something better to play with I won’t steal anything else.
Mr. M Please at least let me suck your cock.
Now, I must admit, having read it back now I’m all grown up it does have a hint of stalkerish about it! It seems fairly tame, but it sure didn’t feel like it at the time!
There is a moral to this story, and it’s one that I tend to live my life by these days. Six years after I wrote that, and put myself through what felt like hell at the time – I got the chance to wrap my lips around Mr M.’s lovely lengthy and generously creamy cock.
So the moral is……if I set my sights on something – I am going to fuck it eventually!!
Brandy
- 31.01.2022
- 5
- 0
