How to Create a Fuckboy

Monday, May 21, was a bright sunny Spring day. As I drove home from work, I was in my wifebeater and felt the warm sun on my arm. The birds were singing. The geraniums in front of the apartment house were in full bloom. I felt on top of the world. I knew I could count on the slave coming right over and attending to my poor needy cock. I felt it firming up in my pants in anticipation.

I opened the apartment door and it was like all Hell had broken loose! The slave was crying and kept saying. "I'm sorry, Momma."

Vera was all red-faced, looking at me and pounding the table because she wouldn't dare lay a finger on me. "It's all your fault, you son of a bitch!!" she screamed.

"Now shut up, the two of you." I pointed to Vera, "Now you, tell me real soft and quiet what the fuck is going on."

Her decibel level lowered slightly, but it was hardly quiet, and by no means soft. "I got a call from Mr. Harrison today."

I turned to the slave and asked quietly, "Who the Hell is Mr. Harrison?"

"H-h-he's my teacher." Oh, yeah, I remembered the report card. I turned back to Vera.

"Tom's grades have fallen terribly and it all started when you moved in, you fuckin son of a bitch. Mr. Harrison said he'll probably have to repeat third grade. I hope you're damn proud of the mess you made."

"No, Momma, you're wrong. It ain't Uncle's fault, Momma. It's mine. I was bad."

I picked the boy up in my arms and dried his eyes with a painty rag. "Thank you, slave, you're correct. Momma was wrong..." I looked at her, "...again." I looked at his long face, so fuckably sad. "But, slave, it isn't your fault, either. You are a good boy, slave, a smart boy, and that teacher is too fuckin stupid to know it. I had lots of teachers like that."

Vera kept on harping. "I'll have to go down to the school tomorrow and see if he can take summer school or something to get his grades back up."

"You won't go anywhere near that school, Vera. You'll just screw things up. You think it's my fault, anyway, so I'll go to the school and fix it." I looked at my cocksucking nephew. "Don't worry, slave, you and me are going to enjoy the whole summer, with no fuckin school." It wasn't exactly a smile on his face, but his mouth did twitch slightly. "Hey, guess who missed you all day!"

"Your cock, Sir?"

"That's right, slave. Come on, show my cock you missed it also!"

Vera walked over to the kitchenette. "That's all you ever fuckin think about, your damn cock!"

Before we went to bed, I gathered some intelligence about this Mr. Harrison. Fuck, somewhere I had heard that name before?

On Tuesday I had no work. Good thing. If the Boss had called, I would have left the job early anyway. I had some important shit to straighten out. I wondered what kind of a dude this Harrison turd was. Maybe some old codger who was never able to advance to principal, and takes his frustration out by threatening little kids with getting left back. Should have retired ten years ago. Or maybe some fresh kid out of college who can't decide whether to be Mr. Nice Guy or Tough Hombre, and his mixed messages have the class all screwed up. But this day he would meet someone whose message is perfectly clear. Someone who learned a few interesting details from one of his pupils. I knew I once knew a Harrison, just couldn't remember when.

I pulled into the school just as the buses were leaving. The slave looked out the bus window at me. I gave him a thumbs up. Nobody was going to screw around with my boy. I went inside, bypassed the office, and headed on down the hall past all the quiet classrooms. Wilson, Kleinberg, Mitchum, Weiner-Hertz,--shit, I know some women like hyphenated names these days, but come on, that one's just asking for trouble,--Henderson, Chang, Harrison. OK, here it is. I stepped through the door.

"Shit, it's you!" It was little Petey Harrison, from High School, all growed up now, well sort of.

"Sir!" He replied, so startled he responded with the title I required from all my teen subbies back then. He looked like he was wracking his brain trying to remember my name.

"So, little Petey, with the little Peter, our paths cross again."

"Yes, Sir. Uh, why are you here, Sir?"

"Well, Faggot, it's like this, you see. My boy is in your class unfortunately." He looked at his register. He couldn't recall any student who bore even the faintest resemblance to his former Dom Daddy. "Little Thomas Thorndike, you moron. Tommy is mine!"

"Yes, Sir, I didn't know, Sir." He slipped visibly lower behind his desk.

"No, you didn't, little Petey. There's a Hell of a lot of stuff you don't know. That's why I'm here, to enlighten you."

"Yes, Sir."

"Number 1 - You didn't know it, but you are going to give Tommy boy straight A's again on his next report card. We both know that's what he deserves, right?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Number 2 - You didn't know it, but little Tommy boy is going on to fourth grade next fall. He's not going to spend another year having to worry about your dirty conniving pedo schemes."

"But..."

"Shut up, you pervert. I know all about the way you sit next to the little boys pretending to help them do their arithmetic but really getting your jollies by rubbing up against their tender thighs."

"No, I really do help them, Sir."

"Yeah, yeah, and I know how you take their ball at recess and they chase you down and you let them wrestle you to the ground. You think they're too young but they know you get a hardon every time."

"They do? I mean, no it's just playing, Sir."

"Well, maybe on my way home to my sweet innocent Tommy, I'll just stop by the board of education office. How about that?"

"Uh, I'd rather you didn't, Sir. Tommy will definitely get all A's on his card and go on to the next grade. Yes, Sir."

"Yes, he will. Now there's one more thing you don't know, little Petey. I noticed a room up the hall that's labeled Men's Faculty."

"Y-y-yes, Sir." He was shaking now.

"The door can be locked, right?"

"Yes, Sir. Uh, but you said there's something else I need to know, Sir."

"Until now, you didn't know that you and me are going to walk down to that little room and relive the fun times we had in High School together. Now, come along, little Petey. Don't keep me waiting."

"No, Sir."

As we walked the few steps to the john, it was Peter Harrison who seemed to be in a hurry. Nervously looking over his shoulder, he just wanted to get out of the hallway before anyone else saw.

In the little windowless one-stall one-urinal Men's Faculty Room, he got down on his knees, just the way he did over a dozen years before. Without my saying a word, he opened my pants and pulled out my manmeat. He caressed it like an old friend, worshipped it like a half-forgotten deity, and sucked on it like a long-neglected teat. He would have gladly swallowed every drop I had to give, but I stopped him. I told him to strip. His clothes flew off faster than one of those maps in his classroom that suddenly decides to wrap itself up when he taps it with his pointer, setting all the kids laughing. Then I ordered him to bend over face down in the urinal. I spit on his mancunt and he braced his legs. He knew the schlong he'd been sucking on so intently was about to penetrate his skinny little ass. I pounded away at him harder than I'd ever fucked anyone, including little 17-year old Petey Harrison. He was going to remember that no one, but no one, screws around with my boy!

After I zipped up, I wished him a pleasant afternoon, hoped we'd never have to meet again, and left him naked bent over the urinal, his guts filled with my jizz. He probably stayed in there a long time, since I took his pants and boxers with me.

When I got home and told the slave his school problems were over, he actually gave me a hug. He saw there were definite advantages in belonging to someone who can step into the ring to protect him from turds like Harrison.

At supper, he was much more talkative, like a huge burden had just been lifted off his shoulders. He talked about his day, about some kids at school who were doing something or other. I didn't see any point in paying attention to the details. I didn't fuckin care. I just found his smile and exuberance a welcome change. However, my ears perked up when he started talking about some dogs. "This one dog he's always tied to a tree in front of his house across street from school, and when we go out to recess, he barks at us. But today another dog he come by and he gets on the other dog and they is playing like the dogs we saw in the park that day, remember? But then the first dog's mother comes out of the house screaming and she chases the other dog away and at first he didn't go away cause he was stuck or something. And we all laughed."

"That is funny, slave. Ain't that a funny story, Vera?" She just let out a hmmmm.

Next: The Next Logical Step