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Introduction:

A coming of age story involving a small town girl and her high school janitor.

Seducing The School Janitor

By Greg & Kayla

Author’s note: A former girlfriend and I spent an afternoon during a ski trip to Colorado cuddled up in a cabin on the side of a snow-covered mountain. It was snowing too hard to ski. This story is a result of that afternoon. Kayla sat naked on my lap the whole time I was typing this. And no, I didn’t take any Viagra (maybe a little weed). She kept me hard as hell with her naked butt on my naked lap.

She detailed the entire story in one sitting, so to speak. Kayla’s memory of all this was incredibly vivid, and she assured me that it was all true. I felt the need to write it exactly as she told it. This is my personal favorite because of Kayla. It is her "coming of age" story. It was the hottest damn thing I had ever heard come out of a girl’s mouth. It is almost completely devoid of any dialog because it was just too darn hard to reach the "" keys (her breasts were in the way.)

Kayla, honey, here’s to unforgettable memories at Keystone.



My name is Kayla. This all happened when I was a senior in high school. I had just celebrated my eighteenth birthday a couple of months before, and I had three goals in my life back then. First, was to get out of the house and be on my own; second, I wanted to get lined up in a college program; and third, was to lose my virginity, not necessarily in that order.

I was still living at home with my mom and her new live-in boyfriend, Doug. He was such a fucking pervert. I just had to get the hell out of there. My mom had put on weight since her divorce from my dad, and she was nearing forty. The only things she had going for her were that she owned her own house and had a steady job. She met Doug maybe six months earlier, and I think he really just pushed his way into our lives. He was, of course, unemployed but got disability checks for some supposed injury he suffered a while back, although whatever it was, it never seemed to be a problem for him around us.

Doug was one of those cocky types, a real know-it-all. He had graying hair but secretly dyed it late at night, thinking no one would notice. He had terrible "smoker’s breath." I guess at least I should have been thankful he didn’t chew and spit. Doug really thought he was a real lady killer, too. He was the main reason I had to get out on my own. He was such a loser, and Mom just didn’t see that yet. I doubted that he really even loved my mom. He just saw a better situation than he had before and horned his way into our lives.

Truly, I was not jealous, in case that is what you’re thinking, because I really wanted Mom to be happy, but this guy was no good, and she would eventually find that out. I had already figured it out, but then again, I wasn’t a desperate, overweight, middle-aged woman.

When I say Doug was a pervert, I know what I’m talking about. I had gotten up a couple times late at night and secretly caught him out in our living room on Mom’s computer looking at porn. Mom always went to bed early because she had to get up early for work. This douchebag was laying on our couch playing with his cock while the rest of us had to get up early the next day.

The main reason I needed to get out of there was because I knew he was thinking he was going to have a shot at fucking me, and I wasn’t just being paranoid either. Doug pretended to act all lovey-dovey towards Mom, but I would get a weird feeling when she wasn’t around.

Look, I know I wasn’t exactly cheerleader material. I was kind of a skinny kid back then, and being the only redhead in the entire fucking school, yeah, I stood out some, but I could still make a pair of Levis snap. I had the full-body freckle thing going on and pale skin to boot. I was only really happy with one part of my body, and that was my crystal-blue eyes. But my hair was all anyone ever noticed about me—carrot top, red, ginger—oh yeah, I heard it all. Doug got to calling me "burning bush." I knew what he meant, and I threatened to cut him if he ever called me that again.

The way Doug undressed me with his eyes was also unsettling. He’d look for some excuse to hug me. He tried to pretend he was just being all warm and fuzzy, but I knew by the way he pressed against me that he was copping a feel. I had turned around several times and caught him staring at my ass. If we were alone together, he would constantly be making suggestive remarks or telling me some off-color joke. Mom just didn’t see it, but I did.

The creepiest part started happening about two months after he moved in with us. One morning, I went to the dirty laundry basket to retrieve an earring from the pocket of a pair of shorts I had worn the day before. I noticed my panties lying in the basket under my shorts were all wet. I had just taken them off the night before when I showered. When I had thrown them into the laundry basket, they were totally dry.

I picked them up and could see the outlines of yellowish stains on them. Lately, I had been noticing the same thing happening to my bras. I had thought it might be the hard water we had in the area, but this was not a water stain. As I lifted the panties to look closer, I could smell the unmistakable scent of a guy’s cum. That fucker Doug was jacking off into my underwear and then washing it off before putting them back in the laundry.

Eww, what a scumbag!

I knew then for sure that Doug had been fantasizing about fucking me. I wasn’t about to let that happen. I had not said anything about any of this to Mom yet because I didn’t want to be the one to break her heart. I kind of figured it would only be a matter of time before she would catch on to the scumbag and throw him out herself. I really loved my mom a lot, but since Dad left, Mom never seemed to come across any decent men. I really didn’t feel like there were any men around that a girl like me could look up to either. Guys my age were so immature, and they came and went. Any grown men Mom seemed to attract were full of problems, Doug being the worst so far.

The one bright spot in my social life revolved around a man I knew at school. During my junior year, I joined a committee to do the decorations and set-up for the dances and other events. This often required me to get with the school janitor, Mr. Garcia, to see about ladders and borrow tools and such. Mr. Garcia was really nice to me, and we would often chat a little before and after I borrowed something. Our small town was rather hick, and he really stood out, being Hispanic and all. He was probably in his late 30s, short but stocky. He had the most piercing black eyes. He was always smiling and willing to help me whenever I needed something. I found out by talking with him that he was in this country on a work permit. He was hoping to someday send for his wife and two children. Until then, they remained in some little town in Mexico.

Most students didn’t pay any attention to him. He was really quiet and polite and kept to himself unless you started the conversation. Mr. Garcia spoke in very broken English, but a quick smile would always come across his face when he spoke to you. He was always so cheery. Each and every day was a wonderful thing to him. Given his situation and separation from his family, I found him to be simply inspiring.

I liked seeing Mr. G. and would go out of my way just to greet him in the hallway at least some time during the day. He was not like the rest of the staff at the school. The teachers were all stuck on themselves, and the administration staff was even worse. They were trying to run a strict place, and they kept their distance from the students. Mr. G. wasn’t one of them, and they had little to do with him either.

Over the summer between my junior and senior years, I had broken up with my boyfriend. Boys at that age were so stupid. It wasn’t over the sex or anything like that; he just spent more time with his friends than with.me. Besides, he wasn’t going anywhere. He was a local farm boy and would spend his life there. I wanted to get out like most of the girls and experience the rest of the world.

I had at least a new boyfriend every year or so since I started dating. Even though I was technically still a virgin, I wasn’t against giving a guy a good time. Small town living doesn’t leave much to do outside of school and sports. I had spent many Fridays and Saturday evenings at the old quarry just outside of town. Everyone went there to swim, party and make out. No telling how many girls got pregnant there over the years. That is how our small town still survived.

The farm boys would get some girl pregnant, and she was stuck. Eventually they would get married, she would stay and become a farmer’s wife, and the cycle would repeat itself. That was not the life I wanted. But I wasn’t against sucking a guy’s cock. I had more than my share by my senior year, but no one was ever going to stick an unprotected cock into me. Condoms were something you had to get from the next town over. Here, everyone knew everybody and all their business. There were only a couple places in town to buy something like that, and you could count on someone telling on you. I figured if the guy wasn’t carrying one, he wasn’t sticking it in me. I wasn’t about to get pregnant by any local kid and end up stuck here all my life.

You know, I probably would have lost my virginity with any number of guys had they come prepared. Really, guys, what the fuck is the matter with you all?

A girl friend of mine once told me the joke about men being born with two heads and only having enough blood to operate one at a time. It’s a true thing. The guys must have all thought it was the girl’s responsibility to protect herself. I guess they figured that it was my job to carry around condoms just in case.

Yeah right!

Mom would have gone nuts if she had caught me with one. Besides, I figured if a guy wanted me bad enough, he should go get them himself. If not, then he’d have to settle for a blow-job. That’s another thing while I’m at it. Can't you guys shut the fuck up about stuff like this? If I even touched a guy’s wiener, it was all over the place by the next day. Then I had to put up with all the guy’s loser friends making comments about "when is it their turn?" Really? So, when I broke up with my latest boyfriend, Chad, I really wasn’t all that upset. I had a reputation already for at least giving good blowjobs, and I knew that another guy was just a weekend or two away.

Weeks before school would restart I started waking up from some really wild dreams. I never did this before. I thought it might just be the stress of starting my last year in school. At first I didn’t remember much of them, but after a while I began to have the same dreams over and over. This wasn’t willful on my part, and I had never even considered it, but I began to realize I was having dreams about Mr. Garcia. At first, I think they were innocent. Some had me back in Mexico, living with him and his family; then they started to focus on just him and me. Then, it started to be sexual. I dreamt he was making love to me in a beautiful and secluded place, tropical at first, then in places I was familiar with.

One very vivid dream had me vigorously bouncing against him in an effort to reach my orgasm. I think I actually had a cum as I slept. I woke so suddenly that I could almost feel him still inside of me. I felt myself, and I was completely wet. This had never happened to me before. It was about this time that I began to actually look forward to getting back to school. I knew it was about seeing Mr. Garcia again.

I was tempted, and I actually did go out to the school to see if he was even still with us. I knew his work permit was only temporary, and I guess I just had to know if he had been hired back on for another year. Under some other excuses, some friends and I cruised out to the school campus.

While the others were scoping out new changes and stuff, I was scanning the place for Mr. Garcia. There was no sign of him around the buildings. The other girls were ready to move on and head back into town. Just as we were leaving the school property near the highway, I spotted Mr. G. He was out along the frontage road, mowing grass. The car I was riding in was full of girls, so I knew he probably wouldn’t even see me. He was focused on the path ahead and steering the mower. As we passed by, my heart skipped a beat.

It was really hot outside, and I had never seen Mr. Garcia do this while school was in session. He had taken his shirt off and was wearing just khaki shorts and a Panama hat. I had to take a hard look to make sure it was really him. His physique was incredible. Even though he wasn’t all that tall, I was shocked to see the ripped stomach muscles and massive chest. His powerful thigh muscles and calves were like those of a young football player. His upper arms and shoulders were huge.

Even a couple of the other girls in the car gasped and hooted. I’m pretty sure they didn’t even recognize who that was. They probably thought he was some nameless worker hired for the summer. None had ever even paid enough attention to Mr. Garcia to recognize him out of his normal work clothes. I was utterly speechless. My emotions caused my skin to flush, and my heart rate pounded the whole way back to town.

Needless to say, my dreams then took on an overtly sexual tone. I swore the intensity of my dreams was leaving me hornier than I had ever been before. I even started masturbating just after I woke up. I knew this wasn’t a good idea because Doug was always around, but I couldn’t just walk around horny all day long either.

One of the perks of senior year was the option of having a study hall either just after lunch or for last period. If you chose last period, you got out of school early one day a week. Since Mom needed our car for work, I would still have to stay around anyway and ride the bus home or wait for other friends to give me a lift. The only other option would be for Doug to come pick me up. Being alone in a car with that creep was not going to happen, not for all the money in the world.

I made the choice of having a study hall period just after lunch. No one cared where you went or where you hung out during that time. You just couldn’t leave campus, or disturb other classes. It was just fifty extra minutes of free time after lunch. Wednesday was assigned to me as my extended lunch break by a random drawing.

When school resumed, everything got back to normal rather quickly. Same old faces, same old teachers. Not much ever really changed that much around there. I went out of my way to find and say hello to my buddy, Mr. G. I couldn’t ever mention anything to him about seeing him that day when my friends and I drove out. I think I did actually start to imagine myself with him about then. I tried to ignore the fact that he was married and probably a good husband. He was, however, a man in every sense of the word. I tried to look past his loose-fitting clothes and remember that five-second glimpse I had gotten while he was on that mower. All this was floating around in my head when we met for the first time again.

Then, I did something really stupid. He and I were talking in a small nook of an empty hall. As our casual conversation ended, some impulse just came over me. I know I caught Mr. G. off-guard too, but I reached for him with my only free arm and gave him a huge hug. As my head came to rest on his chest, I realized what I was doing, and I quickly pulled away. I didn’t have the nerve to look him in the face, and I quickly walked away. I could feel my face flushing all the way to my next class. "Stupid, so stupid!" was all I could mutter as I walked. "God," what an idiotic thing to do!

Things at home with Doug were becoming intolerable, and maybe I just needed to reach out to someone I could still trust. Still, I was so embarrassed. I think I avoided where he might be for the next couple days. Then I ran into Mr. G., who was accidentally coming at me down the hall. As we approached each other, I quickly decided to just pretend the whole thing never happened. I smiled and said "Hi" like nothing else had happened. Mr. G. smiled politely back and raised his hand in a friendly wave. We walked away without saying anything else.

That night, I had one of my most intense dreams yet. I don’t remember all of it, but it was Mr. G and me again, and we were passionately going at it somewhere. I must have been moaning or something. A hand suddenly touched me, and I was startled. It was my mom. She was asking if I was alright. As my vision cleared, I could see Doug standing in the doorway just behind her, wearing only his boxers.

I must have woken them with my moans. The creepy stare Doug was giving me snapped me out of my wondrous state immediately. I just knew the scumbag had followed Mom and wanted to see me having an orgasm as I slept. I brushed Mom off and assured her I was just having a bad dream. That asshole Doug put his arm around my mom, and as they turned to leave, he looked back over his shoulder at me with a fucking smirk on his face.

That was it; I just couldn’t go on like this. The next day, I knew I would have to face my issues. I really didn’t even consider that Mr. G. might just completely blow me off. We were friends, yes, but maybe that was all it would ever be.

I planned to at least attempt a move on Mr. G, but exactly how and where, I didn’t have a clue. The next day was my Wednesday long lunch, and I had to at least find out. I felt like if I made a complete ass of myself, at least Mr. G. was not likely to say anything about it to anyone. I hardly ate any lunch. I knew I was either going to make a damn fool out of myself or something. I left the lunch hall early. The hallways were empty as I made my way to the utility room, where Mr. G, always hung out. He would likely be eating his lunch about now.

Sure enough, he was there, just finishing a sandwich at his workbench. He heard me coming, and a warm smile came across his face as I entered the small room. I didn’t even have a plan, a request, or anything. In fact, I hadn’t even thought of an excuse to even be there. I just hadn’t thought this through at all. I sort of stood there nervously looking around. The small room was cluttered with cleaning supplies. Two large white tanks lined one wall. Mr. G. had a small, worn-out couch sitting against the wall by the door. I guess he needed a place to sit and cool off after outside work. Along the opposite wall was a long workbench covered with tools and such.

Mr. G. was expecting some sort of request, and I didn’t have any. He stood up, wiping his mouth with a napkin, and stood square in front of me. A clear thought would not even form in my head. I couldn’t have even strung enough words together to form an intelligent sentence. Mr. G. was looking at me kind of funny, and the smile was drifting from his face.

"Is something wrong?" He finally asked.

"I missed you," I said. It just sorta popped right out of my mouth.

I could feel a tear forming on the edge of my eye as I just stood there. I blinked several times, trying to avoid having it run down my cheek. It didn’t work. The tear started trailing down my cheek. Mr. G. was still holding his napkin and gently reached for my face to wipe away the tear. As his hand neared my face, my hand moved all on its own. I caught him by his forearm, and I wouldn’t let go.

I remember just standing there, looking into his dark eyes, hoping for some sort of connection. I didn’t care if it was only friendship, lust, or something in between. I just wanted to know if there was anything he felt for me. I can’t really tell you exactly who moved first, he or I, but the next thing I knew, I had my lips pressed up against his. His arms enveloped me and practically lifted me off the floor. Somehow my hand found a button on his shirt, and I couldn’t believe I was actually tugging at it. Just then, his hand reached up and grabbed mine. Our lips were still glued together, and I could feel the heat from his body through his clothing.

He used both of his hands to cradle my face as he pressed against me. I felt my body being pushed across the floor. I moved backwards just a little before coming up against the back of the door. As he flattened me out, I felt "it." At first, I thought it was his arm, and then I realized he was still cupping my face. My God, it was his cock, and it was pressing against my stomach. I couldn’t believe the thing could really be that damn big. In my dreams of having sex with a full grown man, it had never occurred to me as to the size of him being an issue. The guys my age were all relatively the same. Most acted like they were hot shit and hung like stud racehorses. All of them overrated themselves.

Suddenly, Mr. G. stopped. He realized that what we were doing was visible to anyone coming in this direction. Anyone could just walk in on us. He released his grip on me and pulled me away from the door, which swung shut. He turned the lock on the knob. There was a small throw-bolt latch on the inside of the doorframe, and he slid it to lock the door from the inside. A wide push broom was standing by the door, and he moved it over to block the light at the bottom crack of the door. I assumed he did this whenever he didn’t want anyone to know he was in the tiny shop.

He turned to me, and without words, our lips met again. Mr. G’s sensual touch penetrated me to my very soul. As he leaned in, I could feel my heart pounding and my breath quicken. I felt my knees start to weaken, and suddenly he clasped my arms and firmly pulled me up against him again. I was kinda in unfamiliar territory right now, and I knew things were going to move fast. I felt uneasy as to how to control things, so I fell back on what I knew worked.

All the guys enjoyed my mouth on their cock. I knew blow-jobs. I sort of instinctively fell to my knees and began tugging at his zipper. I fumbled at the release on his belt buckle. The bulge in his crotch was noticeable, and I should have been somewhat prepared for what was next. His loose work pants dropped away easily. He was wearing dark-colored boxers, and I slid them down toward his knees. I could not believe my eyes. The length of his cock was longer than any I had ever encountered. The real shock was he was natural, uncut, I mean. I had heard about this but had never actually seen one up close. I figured this was maybe a cultural thing.

His cock hung at least half the length of my forearm, and the natural end made it seem even longer. I could tell that he was only half hard too. I gripped his shaft and pointed it straight out. Mr. G. had the kind of cock that a girl could wrap both of her fists around like a baseball bat and still have enough poking out to play with. Its size and heft were simply awesome. I had done blow-jobs before, mostly because the guys liked them. But this time "I" was going to enjoy doing this. Hoo-boy! I was going to make this bad boy stand up and sing for me.

I was pretty familiar with what turned young guys on, and after a little adjustment because of the size, I was on my way to giving him a racked-out blow. I worked my tongue up and down his shaft. I probed more places than I had ever encountered before. Damn, I was having fun playing with all this. My knees sort of began to distract me, so I got up for a second and reached over to the small couch and threw one of the cushions on the floor. I was going to be here for a while, and I intended to be comfortable.

I knelt back down in front of him and continued slobbering all over that thing. I knew other guys liked their ball involved, so I sucked on Mr. G.'s, paying particular attention to the tender spot just beneath his shaft. Mr. G. was standing near the center of the little room, but as I continued working on him, he began to sway a little. He sort of scooted over next to his workbench and grabbed for the edge. I felt him steady himself by pressing one hand on the top of my head.

I was now kind of sideways, and I kept up my effort by dragging my tongue back and forth along the bottom of his shaft. A couple guys in the past had really gotten off on this, so I figured to give Mr. G. the full treatment. By now Mr. G’s cock was hanging just about straight out. I had enough spit on it to give it a very nice shine. I happened to glance forward toward his workbench, and there on the bench was a picture of his wife and kids. I kinda felt a little guilty looking at the little smiling faces, but hey, I didn’t plan on taking daddy away for good or anything. Besides, his wife didn’t look all that attractive anyway.

I justified it further by figuring I was just making their daddy happy for now, and I was kind of filling in for wifey in a way. Surely, she wanted him to be happy, and I know she wouldn’t have wanted him going to a hooker or anything like that. I was clean; I had no diseases or anything. What the fuck? I had this cock going, and I was going to give it something to be happy about. By the time I was done, I wanted Mr. G. to know just what a truly epic blowjob was really like.

I figured by the size of his balls that he might be carrying a sizable load. Many times, if I wasn’t particularly turned on by a guy, I would just let his cum shoot out and go wherever. But if a guy seemed like he really wanted me to and I liked him, I’d keep my mouth on him and down the whole load of cum. I had no idea just how much cum a mature guy like Mr. G. would produce, but I was going to give it my best shot at taking it all.

I had been working G.’s cock for maybe fifteen minutes or so, and by now anyone I had ever been with would have shot off already. I could sense that he was close. I even looked up to him and told him I wanted it in my mouth. He was kinda in that state where guys don’t talk much. He just sorta nodded.

I think my telling him that was what triggered his orgasm. He was using both hands now, cupping my ears and guiding my strokes. I was really appreciative of the fact that he wasn’t trying to jam it down my throat. Some guys do that and wonder why you gag. He allowed me to control just how deep I felt ok with, a true gentleman.

I knew the taste of pre-cum, and I could feel his intensity increasing. I reached for his ball sack and cupped it in my hand. I gave both nuts a very gentle squeeze, trying to encourage them to let go of their juices, and that was all it took. The first spurt rocketed off the back of my mouth. A second and third did the same. Mr. G. was astonishingly reserved in his groans. Of course, it probably wouldn’t have been a good thing to be roaring about the place since we were trying to be a little quiet about all this.

His cum load continued to pour into my mouth. I did the best I could to swallow it. Finally, I had to hold the shaft and sorta pull back on the foreskin. The flow of cum kept me swallowing in gulps. I continued teasing the tip with my tongue by flicking at it. I could feel each spurt as it left. I had swallowed maybe five or six times before he finished. I was so damn proud of myself; I hadn’t wasted a drop. This is where it would normally end with the guys I had been with. Once they got their nuts off, they wanted nothing more to do with you.

Pay attention, guys! This man knew how to treat a girl. As I stood up, I noticed his lunch soda cup on the workbench. I drew in a long swig to flush my mouth. As soon as I finished, he cupped my face again and laid on me, giving me the most sensuous kiss. He bent down, picked up the cushion, and flipped it back on the couch. Mr. G. walked over near the door and turned off the main room lights. The fluorescent light over the worktable was now the only light in the room. It wasn't exactly what I would exactly call romantic or anything, but it helped with what went on next.

Mr. G. reached down and drew up my top. I know I was trembling as I raised my arms to help him. I was wearing the only white bra that Doug had not crapped in. He unclasped it masterfully, and he guided me gently back onto the couch. I wasn’t exactly sure what was next, but so far, so good. Mr. G. motioned for me to remove my jeans, which I did. I was kind of nervous as I wiggled out of my panties. The darkened room helped lessen my embarrassment. Before I even had a chance to feel uncomfortable, Mr. G. sat down on the bare floor just in front of me. He gently parted my legs. Using a firm hand, he kind of pushed me back slowly into a laid-back position and leaned his face right into my navel. I felt Mr. G.’s hot breath, and then the wetness of his tongue touched my stomach. He then began working his way downward.

When he got to my clit he began the most amazing manipulation of my sex as I had ever dreamt possible. His tongue darted in and out of places I had yet to even explore. He used his tongue, his lips, and even his breath to stimulate my body. The redneck boys my age thought they were giving a girl a real thrill by pawing and slobbering all over her tits. This man truly knew how to awaken every part of a girl’s body.

As I lay there with his head buried in my lap, I kept one hand gently resting on top of his head. I couldn’t resist grabbing a tuft of his curly hair, especially when he got on a particularly sensitive spot. This was absolutely my idea of a Latin lover. My mind drifted in and out of reality.

I almost started to laugh out loud when a silly thought entered my head. Everyone seemed to ignore Mr. G. during the day. This man ought to be teaching a class on this. "God damn it, other men should know how to do this shit!" In just a little bit he had me at my first orgasm, and then another, and still more. I almost lost all control. More than once, he reached up to cover my mouth, as I must have been moaning maybe too loudly. I remember panting like a bitch in heat.

I swear, if he had stopped right then, I would have gone right to the flagpole in the middle of the student square, and in front of anyone there, I would have continued grinding myself against it for relief. But Mr. G. left me wanting nothing. As this first encounter ended, I whispered to him that I would be anxiously looking forward to our next time alone. He smiled at me. I left that little room and tried to somehow focus on the remainder of my day’s class schedule.

When I saw Mr. G. in the building the next day, I was tempted to give him a subtle little hip bump, but there were just too damn many people around. I knew we had to be discreet, and so all he got from me was some serious eye contact and a little wink. Waiting an entire week was like living without air. My imagination constantly dragged me back to the incredible heights of sexual arousal that he had taken me to. Fuck Doug being around, I had to bring myself "off" several times before the weekend had even started.

The size of Mr. G’s cock did worry me some. I needed to try and figure out a way to stretch myself, or at least prepare for it. I felt as perverted as Doug as I scoured the house looking for some object that I thought I could use to practice with. Maybe it was just me, but I felt like that scumbag Doug was somehow sensing my horniness. He seemed to just be there every time I turned around. I guess, like a male dog knows a female is in heat, maybe I was putting off some kind of scent. Anyway, it didn’t matter; Doug was never getting anything from me willingly.

By Saturday, I had discovered that the big round handle of one of my hair brushes would fit inside me just nicely. That brush and I spent several long sessions together. It almost seemed like Mr. G. had turned on some kind of switch inside me. Sex up until then was something I just kind of did for the guys. They kept you around if you kept them happy. And the social part of being with the group meant you had to "put out" some to stay in the crowd. Mr. G. had changed all of that. His bringing me off like that had triggered a deep need within me. Within a couple days, I found I could manipulate myself into several orgasms in a row using the brush handle and some manual help.

I thought Wednesday would never come. I was so nervous by lunch that I really didn’t feel like eating anything, so I settled for an apple and a bottle of water. Fifteen minutes into the lunch period, and I was already heading towards Mr. G’s little room. Mr. G.’s eyes lit up as he saw me approaching. I remember looking around to make sure no one was directly behind me. I had no sooner entered his room when he quietly closed the door and bolted it again. This time, he turned out the main light and drew me near. He held my face so gently, and we kissed passionately. I tried to take the lead this time, but Mr. G. held me firmly. I got the message that this time he was going to set the pace.

He led me to the little couch, and we sat down. I leaned back and raised my top and bra. I felt completely at ease with him as he gently cupped my breasts and gingerly began pecking soft little kisses all over them. He had me in such a state of arousal that I willingly began unbuckling my jeans. I didn’t know exactly what would happen this time, but I knew I needed to have his tongue between my legs again. Damn if he didn’t start right where he had left off the week before. After maybe my second or third orgasm, he stood up and began removing his pants. Suddenly, I started to panic. I loved where this was going, but that fear of pregnancy always prevented me from actually fucking someone. Mr. G. was already stiff and ready, and I remember thinking, "Oh God," what will I do now? I couldn’t tell him I wasn’t on any birth control.

Mr. G. suddenly reached back for his work pants and fumbled in a pocket for a moment. By God, he pulled out a condom. Truly, this was a guy who knew what the hell he was doing. My whole mood changed, and I was "ON" for this now.

My body was aching for fulfillment. I held my legs apart and tried to breathe. I hoped the masturbation sessions would have prepared me somewhat for his initial penetration, but nothing would ever feel as wondrous as the sensation of having that thick beast pushing its way into my belly. Pressure, and then more until I thought I would split. He had rubbed spit on the end of the condom, so I wetted my fingers and tried to lubricate the edges of my pussy. I began to worry that maybe we might just not fit together. I guess it has happened. Surely there are guys who are possibly too big to fuck. God, hopefully this wouldn’t be how this would end.



Mr. G. was gentle but firm. I think he might have figured I was unsure about doing this, but he didn’t waste time letting me think it over. At some point, something gave, and I could feel the monster forcing its way up inside me. Mr. G. was exceptionally gentle. He held steady, allowing me to get adjusted to his size. He was considerate enough to wait until I began cautiously

thrusting back against him. He held completely still as I became accustomed to the entire experience. I began massaging my clit. He picked up on my rhythm, and together we found our pace.

My hair brush handle had been nice, but nothing could ever compare with having a live, pulsing cock lodged so wonderfully in me. I was going to go absolutely nuts on this thing. My hips stayed in sync with Mr. G.’s thrusts. I began to groan as it slid further and further into me. His strong hands held my hips and steadily guided me back and forth against him. His rock-solid thrusts against me were like sitting astride some powerful engine. His methodical thrusting both stretched and released sensations deep within me.

As Mr. G.’s pace increased, I could feel another orgasm only moments away. I knew I probably couldn’t contain myself, so I buried my face right into him. I mashed my lips up against his chest. I could taste the salty flavor of his skin. Even my nose flattened out, restricting my breathing. I wrapped my arms around his chest and held on for dear life. My orgasm came so hard that I bubbled spit right out of my mouth. Embarrassingly, I left a slobber spot right in the center of his chest.

Mr. G.’s methodical stroking had never let up. Each time he withdrew his cock, he seemed to deliberately lift and drag it against the inside of my belly. This was driving me insane with lust. I think Mr. G. was surprised to see me push him away. I sat up and whispered that I wanted to be on top. G. obliged, and I got up. He sat back down on the couch. His cock was waving around like a spring. I straddled him cautiously, then I began lowering myself as far as I dared.

There was no way all of it was going in, but I had enough in me to give me a serious ride. I bucked and bounced against that thing till I couldn’t stand it anymore. I knew Mr. G. wouldn’t let me down, and he didn’t. His moan and sudden jolts drove that cock against me so wonderfully that I followed his orgasm with yet another of my own. The warmth and feeling of having something so big and powerful skewered into my body like that has never been topped.

You know, they say you always remember your first time. It is true, and that is why this story is so important to me. I knew right then that I was being ruined because I would always compare every sexual encounter to this man. He absolutely was, and has been the best I would ever have. (Sorry honey!) The tiny cocks I’ve had to put up with and the self-centered lousy lovers that would follow couldn’t hold a candle to the skills this man possessed. It wasn’t just the size of his cock; it was what he did to me with it.

I know I was pretty clueless back then. Mr. G. was not what I would be looking for in a long-term relationship, and I knew that he would never leave his family for someone as young as me. This wasn’t about any of that. We found each other, made a connection, and would continue to be fuckbuddies for as long as it lasted, then move on. I was OK with that, and I guess he was too. Eventually, Mr. G. and I would get on with our lives. I would graduate and move on to college, and he was eventually able to bring his family here. And so, our lives continued separately, but with some wonderful, life-long memories of my last year in high school.



End

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