‘Mr Johnson has a big thick cock.’ I wrote it out slowly, taking my time when it came to the final word. I finished the line by drawing a simple outline of a long, hard dick and large, hairy balls. I crossed my legs under my desk, squeezing my bare thighs tightly together, and moved onto the next line of my notebook.
‘Mr Johnson has a big, thick cock.’ I wrote it out again. I could feel my little clit stirring with illicit excitement as I glanced around the classroom. Either side of me, my classmates were scribbling away, heads down, trying to keep up with today’s lecture. Mr Johnson was pacing the front of the room, in the middle of telling us about the metaphorical allusions in King Lear–or was it Richard III?–but I was lost in my own thoughts. God, he was so hot.
‘Mr Johnson has a big, thick, HARD cock.’ Adding that extra emphasis made me tingle all over. I’d never had a crush on a teacher before. But Mr Johnson was different. When I was in his class, I found I couldn’t concentrate on anything, what he was saying, what I was meant to be doing. He made me feel things I’d never felt before. I knew it was very common for any normal 18yo girl to crush after a teacher, but I wasn’t a normal 18yo girl.
‘Mr Johnson has big, thick, hard, HOT cock.’ He’d started walking down the rows of desks and I quickly covered my “notes” as he passed. I could afford to not pay attention and let my mind wander. We’d recently moved towns again late in the school year and the plan was to use the last few weeks before break to settle in at a new school then repeat the year when I came back after summer. I’d had a difficult year, my studies and my home life disrupted by several intertwined factors: moving town three times, my parents’ separation, and my growing understanding that I needed to be a girl, not a boy.
I continued writing my litany of lust for Mr Johnson until the page was full. There’s always a certain degree of anxiety when you start a new school. Will you make new friends? Will the teachers be nice? But the scariest part for me was that this was my first time attending school as a girl. I wasn’t undergoing any hormone treatment to transition just yet, but I had made the decision–with my loving mother’s support–to present full-time as a girl. Which is why I was sitting in Mr Johnson’s literature class wearing the uniform of green and blue tartan pleated skirt, short-sleeved white blouse and classic black Mary Janes with white socks. Underneath, I wore a conservative white padded sports bra and matching white cotton panties in a boyshort cut with my little clit modestly tucked away.
“Amy, would you care to answer that one?”
Startled, I looked up. Mr Johnson was waiting expectantly. The whole class had turned to see my now blushing cheeks.
“Sorry! Um… what was the question?” I said, lamely.
“It seems to me that someone has decided to use my class as an opportunity to daydream.”
“Sorry…”
“And yet to the untrained eye you appeared to be a model of attention, diligently filling an entire page of notes.”
I could hear giggles from around the class. My face flushed even hotter.
“Perhaps you would care to read from your notes?” Mr Johnson continued. “Maybe you’ll come upon the answer while you’re there?”
“Um… I’m sorry… I’ll pay attention now.” I swear I heard him pause ever-so-slightly before saying “come” just then. Mr Johnson paused and looked at me, his head tilted as if contemplating something. I silently prayed that he’d decide to leave it at that. I was wrong.
He approached my desk and picked up my notebook, despite my clumsy efforts to hide it under another book. He stood at my desk, his 6-foot-plus frame looming large over me, and read the page in silence. My heart was in my throat. I was mortified. Hushed whispers rippled around the room, and I would have noticed several classmates pointing and quietly laughing at me if my entire world hadn’t just been reduced to the A4-sized sheet of paper in Mr Johnson’s hand.
Without a word, he walked back and stood in front of the class, the notebook still in his hand. He looked at me.
“Stand up, Amy.” I did so with difficulty. My legs were visibly shaking. “Shall I read to everyone what you’ve written during this class?”
“No… please,” I whimpered. “Please… don’t.”
“No, I won’t,” he said, to my immense relief. “I think you shall read them instead. Aloud, so everyone can hear.”
I nearly fainted. Was he serious? He couldn’t expect me to do that. But somehow, perhaps in a state of shock, I found myself not protesting but instead walking slowly to the front of the class and accepting back the notebook he was holding. It was like I was on auto-pilot. I didn’t even think I took a breath. Something in my brain had just been flicked off.
“Go on,” Mr Johnson said, as I stood there, mouth hanging open in a daze.
I looked around the room. Dozens of sets of eyes stared straight back at me. Some of the girls were smiling, almost sadistically, while others looked on in wide-eyed horror. Most of the boys were smirking, as if they were getting a kick out of Mr Johnson’s power game. No one was looking anywhere else.
I looked down at the top page of the notebook, at the little sketches in the margin, at the repetition of the word “cock” down the full length of the page. I could feel tears welling in my eyes. My throat was dry.
“Amy, we’re all waiting.”
I wanted to tear the page out and throw the notebook at him. I wanted to run out of the room and away from this school and never come back. I wanted to get out of here and never have to see any of these people again. But I didn’t. Something stopped me. I felt my little clit throb from its hiding place in my panties. A tear ran down my cheek.
“Mr… Johnson…” I found myself whispering. “… has… a… big…” I swallowed. “… thick… cock.”
I heard laughter.
“And what else does it say?”
“Mr Johnson… has a big… thick…hard… cock.”
There was more laughter and few whistles. “That’s enough, everyone,” Mr Johnson said to the class. I looked up at him, pleadingly, wordlessly begging him to end my suffering.
“Thank you, Amy,” he said, gesturing that I should remain standing at his side. “It’s true, of course. I do have a big, thick cock, as many of you can attest.” At this, I hear a few sniggers around the room. “Though, sadly, it’s not HARD at this moment.”
Had I misheard him? Did Mr Johnson really just admit that many of my classmates–his students–had seen his cock? Or at the very least, knew it by reputation? My mind raced. What was going on?
“Still, just because something is true, does not mean it is appropriate for the classroom. Especially when one is meant to be thinking about Shakespeare. So… Amy… your indiscretion needs to be disciplined and we must find a punishment that fits the crime.”
“Put her over your knee, sir!” shouted one boy, to everyone’s amusement.
“Strip!” yelled another.
“I’ll spank her,” offered a girl in the front row, before losing it in a fit of giggling.
“Give her some dick!” urged a boy up the back.
“Is that a punishment… or a reward?” countered the girl next to him.
“Quiet! Please!” Mr Johnson commanded. The room was silent in an instant. “Amy, your punishment starts now. Get on your knees.” He nodded towards the floor at his feet. “Now. Do as I say.”
I was probably too stunned to resist. I sank to my knees. Sitting on the heels of my Mary Janes, my eyes were level with the very obvious bulge in the front of his sharply-tailored pants. He unzipped his fly and reached inside.
“Now, Amy, you’re going to suck Mr Johnson’s big, thick, hard cock in front of the entire class.”
Suddenly it was all I wanted. I wrapped my hands around the thick shaft and took the head into my mouth. I started sucking Mr Johnson’s dick like I’d never wanted anything so badly in my life. I looked up at him and hoped what he saw matched how I felt–a pretty little schoolgirl on her knees before him, her pink lips wrapped around his cock, devouring him with hunger.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see movement. The other students, boys and girls alike, were leaving their seats and moving closer, forming a ring around Mr Johnson and me. Some of them had their phones out and were obviously taking photos and recording video. Over the noise of my desperate moans and the wet slap of Mr Johnson’s cock moving in and out of my saliva-filled mouth, I could hear voices all around: “Wow, she’s loving it… What a slut… God that’s so hot… She’s just begging for cock…” My little clit was soaking my panties, straining against the cotton between my thighs. I had never felt this turned on.
Mr Johnson grabbed my hair and pulled my head away from his cock. With the other hand he made a fist around his cock and pumped it half a dozen times before shooting a huge load all over my face. Thick ropes of cum hit my hair, my cheeks, my nose, my lips and dripped off my chin. I opened my eager mouth and he deposited a second load of sweet, salty cream, covering my tongue and oozing down the back of my throat. There were gasps and even a cheer or two from the captivated crowd of students.
“Now, I will leave the second part of your punishment to your fellow classmates,” Mr Johnson said, tucking his big, thick cock back into his pants and zipping up his fly. “Boys, you are free to use any of her holes for the remainder of the day. Girls, you may join in if you wish, but otherwise I expect you to film everything and deliver all footage to me before you leave.”
With that, Mr Johnson left the classroom. I had stayed on my knees, Mr Johnson’s cum still running down my face. The boys didn’t hesitate. They stepped forward to encircle me and in a flash there were nine cocks, all rock hard, within inches of my mouth. Between each boy was a girl’s arm holding a phone, pointing it straight at me. I reached out and grabbed a cock in each hand, and a third in my mouth.
Right now, cock was all I could think about. But a nagging thought started pushing its way through from the back of my mind: What was going to happen when they found out I only had two holes, and not three like a normal girl?