This part is light on smut, but the next parts won’t be, promise. Bear with me. There’s a bit of unavoidable setup.
Time for my earliest tale, and the closest thing you’ll get to my origin story, mainly because reddit doesn’t like stories that take place during one’s formative years. I’d have to be HIGH to talk about SCHOOL that took place before college. Reddit would wipe me off the map. Suffice to say, before this story, I’d had my moments, but hadn’t embraced my true nature.
It was 1999. I was in my first year of Grad school, having secured a scholarship via landing a TA position I had campaigned hard for. Among other duties, the position called for me to teach a 101 course. I was absolutely stoked.
I was sleekly muscled, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and hung to a degree the Greeks would have found vulgar. Being slimmer made my hard cock look even more lewd. I went out and bought three cheap suits that I could mix and match. I still lived at home, but the TA position might change that, if I found the right deal.
And I had a girlfriend.
What, you say? Jay, a girlfriend? None of us are born into who we are. I had had a lot of fun in my life, even at this point. But I hadn’t yet given up on the idea of relationships. Lisa and I were almost a year in. Things had gone well enough, but lately I had noticed a change. A lack of effort that angered me.
In the beginning, I had been aloof. Lisa had worked hard to land me and keep me happy, fulfilling every sexual wish while allowing me space due to a busy schedule of school, tutoring, a diligent exercise routine, having friends, and now being a TA. My eye wandered, sure, but I remained faithful. Then, nine months in, something changed.
Lisa stopped sucking my cock.
It was too big, she complained. Too girthy. The curve made her choke. I took too long to cum, and when I did there was too much of it – something she never complained about when I pumped it into her cervix. And, most of all, it was too too messy. Yes, she said “too” twice.
I can’t tell you why. Maybe it comes from having big veins. Maybe its the wide slit in my fat mushroom head. But for whatever reason, when I get hard, my cock oozes precum constantly. Since puberty, my underwear has been soaked through with a wet spot. Leave my hard cock in one place for too long, it soaks through my pants. In High School, I was mortified people would think I had pissed myself.
“And it’s too….I don’t know, slimy,” Lisa went in. “That stuff like clings to my mouth. Its like I have to swallow constantly during, but it never goes away. And you practically drown me every time you shoot. I’m sorry babe. But we can do other stuff.”
Other stuff. I was young, and hadn’t yet discovered a trend with girls I fucked. Once I unloaded in them with my big cock, that’s all they ever wanted. Being stuffed full and feeling a firehose go off deep inside made a girl crave that sensation, again and again.
Did I dump her? Nope. I was too young and dumb. Back then, I thought you needed a legitimate reason to break up with a girl. Infidelity, some blow up argument. Many of us have been there. Young people, listen up. You don’t need a reason. Wanting to break up is reason enough. Stop wasting your time.
What did happen? My favorite thing in the world was feeding a girl cum. So my eye started wandering more. Every girl that turned my head, I wondered, did she swallow? I could feel something dark inside me growing. Dr. Jekyll was slowly, surely losing himself to Mr. Hyde.
Having a packed schedule kept me true. My first semester as a TA started, which meant my first section (class). I wrote my own syllabus, an eight page monster I figured would save me from future arguments from failing students. I also had my own office. That year, the department budget was slashed. Formerly, there had been several TA’s, sharing a small office with a short conference table, four chairs, a desk, a useless, ancient computer, and a file cabinet. Now it was just me. My grad classes were mostly in the afternoon or night. I stuffed a pillow and blanket into the filing cabinet. I’d teach my class, take a nap, before being a student myself.
I was required to have four scheduled office hours a week. But I thought there was no way anyone would ever come in. It was a 101 section, in a non-required subject. People didn’t show up to wax poetic about a throw away elective, and students pursuing their major didn’t need help in a beginner section. I figured no one would ever come through my door.
My first day, I was sweating under my blazer. My section was packed. Fifty students who would assume I knew what I was talking about. I walked past them to the chalkboard that dominated one short wall (yes this was before dry erase boards), and did my best to look confident. I lifted my water bottle to take a drink, and my hand shook. I set it down. I’ll never forget, one student, a male athlete type, saw it and laughed. Smiling, I put my finger to my lips and said ssssh.
I kept the first class short. I explained an overview of the subject. We reviewed the syllabus. The class was an even split, men and women. It was a state university, so origins and ages ranged wildly, as people went back to school for various reasons. Half the students were elective, half starting their major. I let everyone go early and went to my office to get out of my soaked shirt.
The next class, I noticed a shift. The front rows were all almost all women. Now, I knew about the whole teacher/student fantasy, but I really didn’t believe it was so common. I guess it didn’t hurt that I was in shape and conventionally attractive. And that there was no hiding the bulge in my pants. I was both a grower and a shower. Even soft, my cock is over five inches and meaty. My suits were off the rack. And the rack didn’t account for huge cocks.
My nervousness had faded. I dove into the first lecture, extensive notes on the podium, and made full use of the chalkboard. Public performance had never been a problem for me. We wrapped up early and I sent everyone on their way.
Except three students lingered, all girls. One was a milf. American Pie had come out just months before, and the term had spread like wildfire. She was tall and Latina, with glasses, massive cleavage and strappy heels. She didn’t do it for me. She demeanor was too aggressive. I preferred to play the predator. The next was a freshman, a Black girl who was cute as a button. Too cute, too inexperienced. Never-been-kissed girls left me cold as well. I didn’t want the blame for ruining them. Then there was Amy.
She was maybe two years behind me. Average height with straight, healthy white-blond hair, big amber eyes, and the real kicker, fully, pouty lips. As for her body, she was slim, with barely B cups and no hips to speak of, in a blouse and log, flowy skirt. I didn’t give a shit. All I cared about was that mouth. My cock twitched, staring at her lips. They were the kind women strove to duplicate with lipliner and stick, ripe as a berry. It was impossible to not imagine Amy’s wrapped around me. I was like a man starving in the desert who came upon an oasis.
Something I hadn’t figured out yet: Women are attracted to who they want to be. When they see a man successful in their chosen field, they go gaga. When they see a guy they could have gone to High School with, teaching his own class, like some kind of prodigy, they soak their undies and dress up for the next class.
I busied myself packing my bag and erasing the board. Back to the three, I asked them what was on their mind, willing my monster cock to calm. If I got hard, there would be no hiding it. Then I’d be the new instructor who popped boners in class. No thanks to seeing that on student evaluations.
The young Black girl tapped out first. It probably took all the courage she had to wait after class. She didn’t even ask anything, just spun around the left. The milf asked a schedule question. Could she come to my office and take the first test? No problem, I said. She strode out, working that ass with each step. No way was I touching that, even with my pole. She struck me as the sort who would ruin your budding career, pushing the stakes because she was bored at home.
Amy waited, and walked with me out of class. She was curious, how I had gotten the teaching job. I told her, two years back, my 101 had been taught by a TA. From then on, I pursued the job aggressively. If she wanted the same, now was the time to start.
“What did you have to do?” she said, sucking on her bottom lip. I gulped, my cock waking up and stretching.
“I asked what the hardest course was, the one we all struggled on. Then I started tutoring it. The department sent students my way. Grades got better, and I got on their map.”
“That was really smart.”
“I have my moments.” Desperate to avoid staring at her mouth, I looked where Amy clutched her books. She had a ring with the tiny stone.
“Engaged, at your tender age?”
“Oh. Yeah. Well, promise ring.”
Something dark surged inside me. The idea of Amy having a serious boyfriend only made me want to feed her more. Watch her struggle with not wanting to cheat, but unable to say no to drinking from my big dick. Mr. Hyde spoke up before I could stop him.
“Well, if you can’t keep that promise, I’ll keep your secret.”
I said it with a smirk, eyes locked on her mouth. Amy bit at her top lip, and broke eye contact, looking down, right at my now rock hard cock. When I’m hard, you can’t miss it. My cock looks like a horn in my pants. You can see the outline of the prominent mushroom head, almost touching my hip bone. Amy’s eyes went wide.
“I have to go. To class. Another class.”
“Until next time.”
Fuck! I was fucked. I had been a TA for all of two classes. If Amy want to the department chair and told them I’d oggled her with a major woody, my scholarship was toast. I was lightyears away from tenure. They could fire me, at will.
That night, after class, I went to Lisa’s house and drilled her with abandon. Every thrust, I was thinking about my shaft running along Amy’s perfect lips. When I shot, it was thinking about feeding Amy my load, watching her look at me for approval while she gulped me down. Lisa didn’t know what hit her. But she seemed relieved. She had sensed I was growing distant, less interested in sex or anything else to do with her. She took my passion as a sign things were going strong.
Weeks passed. The class was going like gangbusters. The first test went well, with a solid bell curve that told me I wasn’t a fuckup. Low first test scores are not the students’ fault. When Milf Latina came into my office and took her test, I kept my door open and my back to her. After that, she gave up.
But while lecturing, I could not not look at Amy. She dressed like a secret slut. Always with the skirts, long and short, and bouses that highlighted her fit body. Hair perfect, posture attentive. Amy had a major oral fetish. She either had a highlighter in her mouth or her thumb pushed just between those pillowy lips in thought. She also had a serious water bottle, the kind with the flared tip they don’t make anymore. She would pull the tip up, rest that bottle between her lips, and suck gently to hydrate. I did everything I could to avoid watching the show, and failed every time.
At the halfway point, I covered the paper. Every 101 course had a required essay. I was just as thrilled by that as my students. Reading fifty, eight-page papers in five days was like eating sand. I let them go, and headed back to my office for a nap. Even though I had office hours scheduled, no one had been in since milf Latina took her shot and missed. The rest of the faculty were used to my closed door. I had a sign taped on it that said:
Knock, I am in Here.
There was a soft knock on my door. I got up, and scrambled to put my pillow and blanket back in the filing cabinet.
“Need a sec!” I said it loud. The doors were metal, thick and heavy, to minimize fire losses in a building filled with paper. I tossed on my dress shirt and buttoned my jacket over it. I opened the door to see Amy staring back at me, books clutched to her chest.
She sucked on her bottom lip, working up the courage to say something. “Um. I need help. With the paper.”
Help? She’d aced the first test. Been to every class. Written short essays she didn’t need to, each of which had been flawless. She was a third year. By then, she had written a dozen essays, minimum. Amy wasn’t here because she needed help.
“Come on in,” Mr. Hyde said.
Amy looked down and took a long gander at my post-nap afternoon wood, before walking past me. I pulled the sign off my door, closed it, and turned the bolt.