For One Week Only - Part 4

All characters are 18+

In the space of just a couple of hours, I had gone from a shy virgin, to a raging cock slut. I'd managed to seduce two straight men, one, a popular and hot jock from school, and the other, my masculine, middle aged neighbour.

His cum was still dripping from my swollen hole as I pulled down my underwear to check the damage. He'd fucked me good alright, with little interest in my welfare at all. I was still confused about the whole thing.

My plan had been a success, and yet I felt like I'd been used and discarded like a piece of trash. The most confusing part of all, was that even with those feelings, my cock remained painfully erect and drooling as I recalled the sensation of John shoving his prick into my virgin hole, and throwing me from his house once he'd blown his load.

So far, my slutty escapades had only left me yearning for more. I hadn't yet cum, and I was adamant that until I'd ticked everyone off my bucket list, I would stay like that. I couldn't blow my last week here by jerking off in my bedroom. I'd spent too long dreaming of something like this.

As the evening turned to night, and both my parents returned home, I spent my time in my bedroom, devising my plan for the following school day. It was certainly risky, and I'd set my sights extremely high, but who cared? I would be gone for good in just a few days.

The journey to school the following morning threw up it's first hurdle as Stephen text to tell me that he wouldn't be in today. The fact that Stephen wouldn't be in, meant that his younger step-brother Dillon, who had been one of my intended targets, would also be absent. I mentally crossed him from my list.

Dillon was eighteen too, and a very cute young man indeed. I'd joked with Stephen about him before, much to his annoyance, but I had been lusting over him for quite some time, so I was determined to get him eventually.

My tool was still switching between sticking out in my trousers and nestling in a pool of my own fluid. I was ravenously horny, having been thinking about nothing other than hot straight men since the previous day.

As I stalked the hallways, keeping an eye out for the young men who were on my list, my mind wandered. Why were all of these seemingly straight men so aggressive? Milo had damn near choked me out with his cock, calling me degrading names as he poured his seed into me, and John had appeared almost disgusted with himself as he fucked me. Whatever the reason, I wasn't complaining. My arousal seemed to only intensify when they treated me like shit.

Brandon Lakes appeared at the end of the corridor, looking as stunning now as he always did. I'd always found the dark skinned, handsome young man to be something of a mystery. He rarely spoke to me, and when he did, it was only because he had to, and yet there was something almost kind about him.

Despite the fact that he was surrounded by his friends, most of whom would never be caught dead talking to somebody like me, I had a job to do, and I was determined to do it.

"Hey Brandon".

The words had left my mouth before I had a chance to change my mind. He turned to me, as did the group of young men he was standing with, and looked at me as though I was something on the end of his shoe.

"I was uh... I wanted to talk to you about something" I said, feeling my face begin to burn.

"What?" He asked cooly, as the others began to snigger.

"I... Uh... In private if you don't mind?"

Brandon lowered his brow, his friends now whispering and joking with each other.

"I'll catch up" he growled at them and they continued on their way, leaving the two of us alone.

"What do you want?" He snapped, shoving books into his bag.

This was it, my moment to shine. I took a deep breath, more nervous now than I had been on the last two occasions, and spoke.

"This is gonna' sound weird" I half laughed as he studied me "but I'm moving to Europe on Sunday, and I won't be back".

He glared at me, his handsome face remaining stoic.

"So?" He remarked.

"So... I was um... I was wondering if you... I mean you don't have to... But uh..."

"Can you hurry up?" He interrupted, and once again, this was not going at all according to plan.

"Could I give you a blowjob?" I blurted, and looked away from him instantly.

"A what?" He gawped, and the familiar pang of regret punched me.

"A... A blowjob" I mumbled, my cheeks now glowing red.

"You want to suck my dick?" He asked, the shock evident in his tone.

"Only if you don't mind" I pressed, and I was impressing even myself by how far I was going with this.

"You" he scoffed "a dude, want to suck my, another dude's, cock?"

I nodded.

A silence fell, other than the sound of my heart smashing against my chest.

Brandon stuffed his bag into his locker and began walking away. I remained frozen to the spot, mortified.

"Well come on" he barked back at me, and my eyes widened.

I ran behind him, watching as he swerved into the boys bathrooms and followed him eagerly. I had expected Brandon to be one of the most difficult men to win over, and yet once again, the straight man had surprised me.

"So you're a homo?" He asked, turning to me as we both stood in the bathroom.

I nodded awkwardly.

"And you just ask random straight guys if you can blow them?" He continued, and I nodded again.

"And do they always say yes?"

Once more, I nodded.

He was stunningly beautiful. His dark brown skin complimented his striking features, and I knew from gym class that he had the body of a god.

"Alright well get on your knees then" he ordered, and my cock began to swell instantly.

"What if someone walks in?" I asked nervously and Brandon pointed to one of the cubicles.

"In there then" he said, and I quickly obeyed.

I was becoming almost professional at seducing straight men, and it was a skill that I was happy to continue to hone. I rushed into the cubical and dropped to my knees. I didn't even care that I could feel piss soaking into my trousers.

Brandon stepped inside too, but left the door open.

"Open up" he said and began to fumble with his zipper.

My cock was pushing painfully against my tight trousers as I opened my mouth and waited for his tool. I was almost shaking with excitement.

Brandon lowered his zipper, and I watched as he reached inside. A split second later, I felt it.

I crashed backwards, feeling the thundering pain spread through my face. It felt like I'd been hit with a hammer, and then another one, harder again.

I was wedged between the toilet and the cubical wall, unable to do anything as Brandon's shoe trampled down on me. He was grunting, and I was crying out.

It was over almost as fast as it had begun. Brandon stood above me, breathless and seething as he glared down.

"You disgusting faggot" he snarled, and reached into his pocket.

I was too shocked to do anything but whimper as I felt my face begin to swell. This was it, Brandon was about to finish me off, and I'd be found dead in a damn toilet, covered in piss and blood.

He leaned forward, grabbing my hair and yanking my battered head backwards and I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the burning of a knife, or worse.

"So everyone knows how fucking weird you are" he snarled, and I felt something soft and wet push into my forehead.

"Creep!" he hissed, spitting directly into my face before turning and walking from the bathroom.

I lay there, numb with adrenaline and shock, and feeling his spit roll down my cheek. What had I done? How would I explain the swelling? How would I even make it to the end of the day without Brandon telling the whole school what a sick pervert I was?

I grabbed the bowl, painfully pulling myself to my feet and struggling out of the cubical. My face was becoming more swollen by the second, and I could feel a wet trickle of something other than spit.

I gasped as I looked into the mirror. A line of ruby red blood was pouring from my left eyebrow, and that eye was almost completely closed over. Aside from the obvious injury, my good eye landed on my forehead, and I felt a wave of humiliation pour over me.

The word FAGGOT had been scrawled across my forehead in thick permanent marker, and no matter how hard I rubbed it, it didn't budge. Tears began to roll down my cheeks, as I wiped away his spit in anger.

What ever made me think that this had been a good idea? I needed to get out of here and get home, but how would I even manage that without being seen by someone.

The door opened and my entire body froze. There was simply no way of hiding myself now, as whoever had entered was standing directly behind me.

"Elias?"

The voice was familiar, but I couldn't bring myself to turn around, and so I glanced at the mirror, one eye red and one swollen shut.

"Jesus Christ, Elias!"

Mr. Parker was one of the relief teachers in the school. He was only a few years older than me, and still in college, but worked in the school part-time. I'd always gotten on with him, but today I was in no mood to talk.

"Who did this to you?" He barked, spinning me around by the shoulders.

He was taller than I was, and wider too. From the stories I'd heard, Mr. Parker was once the best football player in the school, and his athletic body proved it.

"No one" I mumbled, unable to look at him as he studied me.

Mr. Parker was quite handsome too, with a mop of messy blonde hair and large blue eyes. His Australian accent had mostly disappeared, but there were still remnants of it from his childhood.

"Let's get you cleaned up" he told me, noting my reluctance to speak.

I watched as he grabbed a bunch of toilet paper and put it in my hand.

"Here, cover your head with this and we'll get you out of here".

I was too drained, and still too shocked to do anything but what he said, and a moment later we were walking the halls, with his strong arm around my shoulder and my hand clasped to my forehead.

"Have a seat, mate" he said as we entered a small empty classroom that I'd never been in before.

I did, and despite the throbbing pain which I could now feel radiating from my face, it felt good to be off my feet.

"You don't have to tell me who did it" he said as he began searching in the desk drawer "but if you want to, I'll make sure you're name isn't mentioned, okay?"

I nodded, but I had no intention of snitching on Brandon and making my last few days here even worse than they were about to be.

Mr. Parker returned and crouched down in front of me. He had a cotton ball in one hand and a small bottle of clear liquid in the other. He poured some of it onto the cotton and began gently scrubbing my forehead.

I felt ridiculous. I was eighteen-years-old, and yet I was being treated like a child who had fallen from his bike.

"Rubbing alcohol" Mr. Parker smiled, flashing his perfect white teeth "an essential tool in every teacher's toolbox!"

I faked a smile, feeling the skin on my cheek tightening over the swelling.

"Good as new" he grinned eventually, standing up and returning to the desk.

"Do you want me to call your parents?" He asked and instantly I shook my head.

"Only to take you home, mate" he continued "because I can't let you leave otherwise".

I sighed, but shook my head again. The last thing in the world that I needed now was my parents asking questions.

"I guess you could hang here for a few hours if you wanted to?" He said, returning with what looked like anti-septic wipes.

"I've a ton of grading to do, and you're a smart chap, so I could use your help".

It felt good speaking to Mr. Parker, even if he was the one doing most of the speaking. I nodded and felt the sting of the disinfectant as he wiped my split eyebrow.

"I always wanted a scar there" he told me, holding the back of my head with one hand and wiping with the other.

I winced with each motion, until finally he placed a plaster over the cut.

"Doesn't look deep enough for stitches" he smiled "so I guess neither of us will have the cool scar!"

As patronising as Mr. Parker sounded, there was something very sweet about hearing the young man talk to me like a toddler. I wondered if he had kids of his own, and that's why he was so caring.

"Your pants are soaked" he said, feeling the moisture from the bathroom on my knees as he stood up.

"I didn't... It wasn't..."

"I know" he smiled warmly "let me go and find you a fresh pair".

Mr. Parker left me alone in the classroom, and I sighed.

This had been the biggest mistake of my life. Brandon had probably already told half the school what a freak I was, and by lunchtime, I'd either be beaten to death or humiliated beyond words. I wasn't sure which one I preferred more.

"Here we go" Mr. Parker grinned, returning with a pair of brand new school trousers.

"It's a trade secret" he nodded, acting serious "us teachers keep a mountain of fresh clothes, but I have to say, this is the first time I've ever given them to somebody with pee on their knees and not on..."

Mr. Parker stopped, his brain putting two and two together, and I sunk into the seat. Now he, like the rest of the school, would know that I was nothing more than a dirty, disgusting, pervert.

"Anyway" he continued, smiling again "here you go".

He placed the trousers over the desk beside me and returned to his own one.

"You can change in the supply closet if you want" he nodded, pointing toward the end of the classroom.

Despite everything, despite the beating and the shame, despite knowing that my life would likely be ruined by lunchtime, I felt another wave of arousal come over me. Mr. Parker had certainly not been on my list, but now I wondered why.

He was exactly the type of man that I'd fantasised about in the comfort of my bed at home.

"Can I change here instead?" I said, and wondered when I'd ever learn my damn lesson.

Mr. Parker looked up from his papers and then to the door.

"Uh... Sure" he nodded, and lowered his head again.

He was never going to be interested in looking at me, no straight man was, but perhaps I could show him how interested I was.

With my face still throbbing, and my eye swollen shut, I stood up and dropped my pants. Mr. Parker remained busy.

My cock was already stiff again, jutting from under my boxer briefs as I pulled off my shoes and took a step forward so he had the perfect view.

"Thanks" I said, hoping to get his attention.

"No problem, mate" Mr. Parker replied, without looking up.

I needed to find another way.

"Sir?" I said, and once more he answered without looking.

"Could you... Could you help me?"

I feigned pain as I leaned against one of the desks, my boner on show through my underwear.

Slowly, Mr. Parker looked up and his eyes fell on my half naked lower body.

He took a breath and stood up.

"Of course" he smiled, walking toward me.

My erection was evident, though he continued to ignore it as he picked up my new trousers and crouched down. It was inches from his head as he held the waistband open to allow me to step inside.

I didn't move.

"Put your foot in, mate" Mr. Parker said, but I remained still.

He looked up at me, having no choice but to see my throbbing hard-on.

"Alright, I see what this is" he half scoffed, dropping the trousers and standing up.

"Elias do you know how inappropriate this is?" He scowled, and I lowered my head.

"I could lose my job for this, mate".

I hadn't even been thinking of that. Damn, what had I become? This wasn't me at all.

"I'm sorry" I said, genuinely ashamed.

"If anybody ever found out, of course" Mr. Parker whispered, and I felt his fingers lift my chin and a moment later his warm lips pressed against mine.