Epoch

“Oh God, fuck-”

He looked me in the eyes and slapped me lightly. “Don’t swear.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled, putting my hand up and rubbing my cheek. It didn’t hurt, just itched a little.

He nodded and looked down again, his attention focusing back on my achingly hard cock.

He stroked me lightly but consistently, and even I can admit that I probably was overreacting with the pleasure. But my dick was so sensitive and the adrenaline I had was almost unbearable and his hand was wrapped around me so perfectly that I just couldn’t help it. I let my head fall back, closing my eyes and letting out the most embarrassing noises. Gasping and moaning and groaning and whining and whimpering. All of it. And in the moment, I didn’t give a single fuck.

Suddenly, he was pulling my pants down and my eyes widened, realizing what his next intentions were. The wall I was currently up against was slanted at waist level due to the heater, and he pushed me back on it so that my ass was more accessible for him.

He glanced at me and then down to his fingers. He put the digits to my mouth.

“Suck,” he ordered. His voice lacked emotion and, in a way, it scared me. Here I was crying like a little slut and he was just standing there, unphased. The only confirmation I had that he was enjoying this was his eyes. They were so blown with lust and the inviting, bright hazel color the orbs usually held had resided to a dark, almost brown hue. I’d never seen his eyes like that before.

I did what he said without a thought, sucking and swirling my tongue around his two fingers. He watched my mouth as I did it and I lightly held onto his arm, looking him in the eyes the whole time.

Once he deemed himself satisfied, he took his hand away from my mouth and back down to my ass. He circled his fingers around my entrance. My legs twitched excitedly and I was so desperate for him to start fucking me with his fingers, but he stopped suddenly.

“Are you a virgin?”

“Um… yeah.”

“Jesus Christ.” His voiced finally had emotion to it, but it wasn’t the kind of emotion I was hoping for.

He took his hand away quickly. I whined from the sudden complete lack of touch.

“Here you are sobbing like a whore and I’m just now catching on to it.” He shook his head and sighed as if defeated.

I blushed embarrassingly at the insult and looked down. I’d never been called something like that before.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to fuck me,” I muttered.

He put his hand on my chin and tilted my head up. “Hey, I didn’t mean to call you that. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry,” he said sincerely.

I gave him a small smile. “It’s alright.”

My cock was still so hard that it hurt and I just had to give it some attention. I hesitantly touched myself, watching as I fucked into my own hand, hot precum leaking out of me. I let out a high pitched moan and could hear his breath hitch instantly after.

“Oh please, I… You can still fuck me, please, I don’t care if I’m a virgin,” I begged him desperately. I couldn’t just stop and go home like this.

“No, sugar. Your first time needs to be unforgettable.” The nickname slid off his tongue easily and I blushed once again.

“I hardly doubt I’d ever be able to forget this.”

He laughed lightly, “Yeah, but you know what I mean. And even if I did fuck you, you wouldn’t last a goddamned minute. I can tell you’re going to cum soon.”

“I am,” I nodded and whimpered.

He positioned his hand so that it was over mine, both of us now stroking my dick. “I suppose I can at least give you a hand job.”

“Mmph,” I bucked my hips into my hands, “thank y-you,” I practically yelled.

He continued to make me milk myself and I was getting closer and closer. I glanced at his crotch and could see how hard he was in his jeans, the outline of his cock even more prevalent than usual. Honestly, I felt a little relieved that he wasn’t going to fuck me. Everyone knew how big his cock was - he had uncontrollable bulge - and now that I saw it hard, it was intimidating. I don’t think I could ever be ready for that.

“I’m close,” I gasped, not wanting this to end but being excited for my climax all in the same.

The feeling built up more and more in the bottom of my stomach and before I knew it, I was cumming hard, white ropes shooting out of me and over our tangled hands. My breathing was heavy and I rested my head on his shoulder without really even realizing it. He let me stay like that for a few moments so I could regain my composure, and he rubbed my back affectionately (with the hand that wasn’t covered in my cum, of course).

“Wow,” is all I could muster up. He just chuckled lightly and laid a kiss to the top of my head as he grabbed a tissue and wiped my cum off of his hand.

I kept my head on his shoulder. I knew he didn’t mind because the little kisses kept coming, and he ran his hand in my hair as if I was a pet. The thought returned then that he was still extremely hard. I bit my lip as I slowly reached down to touch his dick despite my nervousness.

“No! No, it’s okay. You don’t have to,” he rushed out eagerly. I felt a pang of pain hit me in the chest but tried to ignore it as I lazily put my hand back to my side.

As I regained my composure, I was washed with a wave of embarrassment. I wanted to stay rested against him for forever, but I reluctantly took my head off his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, really sorry,” I mumbled as I fumbled with my fingers nervously. A few tears slid down my cheeks as I blinked hard.

“About what?”

That was the thing. I didn’t really know exactly what caused me to become so awkward. It’s like a switch just turned on in me and I was desperately trying to shut it off. I suppose I had nothing to be sorry about. He started and ended this. I didn’t all of a sudden feel dirty because I came, in fact, I’d do anything to have him make me cum any day. I guess it’s just everything that happened beforehand. The greedy moans and whimpers, the interrogation on the state of my virginity, the absolute desperation I had to keep going, and most importantly, the rejection I just made myself go through by trying to get my hands in his pants.

Of course, he wouldn’t want me to touch him. The only real experience I ever had at that point was this exact moment. Why would he want a stupid newbie like me? It’s obvious that he had different expectations going into this and once he learned that I wasn’t “ready” by his standards, it turned into a pity party.

The thing was, I could have taken the time to explain all of this to him, to talk this out and even possibly be reassured that my thoughts were wrong, but instead I said a very common sentence in my own personal vocabulary:

“...I don’t know.”

After that, I bolted out of there. It was almost comical, really. It’s like for some strange reason my flight or fight instincts came into full swing and I just ran like I never ran before. I almost felt like Forrest Gump.

I can only imagine the thoughts that went through his head as he saw me run off. I like to imagine that his eyebrows furrowed the way they so often did, and his head maybe tilted to the side just a little, or that he stood there for a few moments, unsure of what to do next.

But that was three years ago. And this guy who I was only referring to as “he” was my History teacher.

Trying to pinpoint the exact moment that lead to that experience would be nothing short of useless. I guess you could say that it was subtle events over the four years of my high school career all factored in. Events that if you didn’t look too deeply into it, or you knew the context better, nothing would seem strange at all.

I guess it would be cliche to say that I never even liked him and that it all happened by fate. I always thought he was handsome, and for that minor bias, he was always my favorite teacher. Things he’d say that weren’t so funny were hilarious to me, him putting a smiley face on my tests whenever I got a good grade was a great feat, and the grin he’d give me if I rose my hand and answered a question correctly was a grin resigned to only me, even if he did give everyone else the same grin. So to sit here and say that I didn’t have a big fat crush on him would be a great injustice to you, the reader.

The thing is, though, is that I wasn’t absolutely ridiculous about it. Every school has that one hot teacher that everyone rants and raves about but I decided to be above that and stay reserved. Sure, that meant a lot of late night jacking off sessions mumbling to myself how desperate I was for him, but nobody had to know about that. Plus, it was obvious how much he hated that kind of attention from us kids and I’d never want to make anyone uncomfortable in that sense. It’s just human decency.

Mr. Way’s (oh yeah, that’s his name by the way) teaching methods were very different from the average teacher’s. I think he knew that history wasn’t a loved subject so he’d try to make up for it as much as he could. I always loved history since I was a little kid and I guess that could be a factor into me liking the man so much.

Something that Mr. Way was very passionate about is that history repeats itself. In fact, sometimes it seemed like he had more anxiety about it rather than passion. He would go on speeches about how us, the youth, the new generation, whatever you want to call us, are the hope for a better future. He sometimes even threatened us about it, saying, and I quote, “if I die unsatisfied with your progression, I’ll make it my business to haunt each and every one of you for eternity. You have all the tools you need, fucking use them”. I remembered I had chuckled at that, and it made him physically get less tense. Bonus points for me.

Anyway, as you can guess, the place that my sexual encounter had happened was in his classroom. It really had just… happened. I stayed after school that day to make something up for math, as I was leaving I saw him, and then the rest is history. I remember vividly how quickly his demeanor had changed when he noticed me. His limbs were looser, he had a pep in his step and a faint smile on his face. His eyes were bright with thoughts and creativity. And then all of a sudden, he just went dark.

Mr. Way clenched his fists and stood up straighter in a way to announce that he’s bigger and stronger than me; like a warning. He was wearing a black button down shirt with black jeans, but his raven hair was somehow even darker than the outfit. The corridor in which we were in was pretty much all white (or to be more specific, a disgusting off-white. Nasty public schools), and he was somehow standing perfectly in the middle of the hall, making the darkness of him stand out against the white surrounding him. It was like a symbol, and to this day I think about the different meanings of that picture.

I could feel the look of panic set on my face. That encouraged him to look around quickly to see if anyone was around and walked over to me, grabbing my arm roughly. He walked with a quick determination in his step while I helplessly was dragged, tripping and stumbling as we made his way to the classroom. There were many times I almost fell, but he never let me. It reassured me that he wasn’t a complete animal and wasn’t intending on hurting me (too much, at least).

“W-what are you doing?!” I asked frantically once he shut the door.

He walked towards me, trapping me against himself and the door, “What you’ve wanted me to do since you were a little freshman.”

That was when I knew what I thought was going to happen was really going to happen.

“What have I wanted you to do?”

He laughed lightly but lacked humor. “Oh please, Frank. We both know you are smarter than that.”

After that, he started palming me through my jeans and he looked smugly at me as he felt that I was already getting hard. I let him have his little moment of smugness. I wasn’t going to let me being an asshole get in the way of my four-year-long fantasy crush finally giving me some action.

You pretty much know the rest after that. I’ve always been left with many questions but I’ve always been too afraid to search for answers. Not that I think he’d hurt me for asking, but because I don’t want to bring something up that he might have regretted. I also made my own perceptions about this whole experience and I’m too nervous to hear anything different.

But that all changed when I got a phone call on a lonely Friday night.

Notes

Hello!! This is my first story on this account. I've written stories on here before, but never finished them. And then my account got deleted lol. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed!! Feedback is much appreciated :) What are your thoughts so far?? Also, I'd like to just say that this story isn't going to be just sex. I know you could get that impression from this chapter, but I assure you it's not just one long smut. Just wanted to inform ya'll!

The title is from Madonna!