Subject: A Good Boy for Mr B – 3 Thanks for picking my story. This story will have sex between men and boys and will also include a few kinks as well. Like all the other stories say: if you shouldn’t be reading this or you think that it will offend you, then don’t read it. This is all made up but doesn’t mean anything about the fantasies or sexual desires of the readers or the writer. Please donate to Nifty – the more we support it, the more likely it is to stay here for years and years. I’m pretty new to writing but have been reading the stories since I found the site years ago – this is only my second erotic story so let me know if you think it’s any good. ail *********************************** A Good Boy for Mr B – Chapter Three *********************************** “Go and do it, now,” my teacher’s voice was low and quiet, whispered from his lips directly into my ear, “Be a good boy.” I was sat within my primary school classroom, in the middle of a Science lesson, at a shared table with five of the other kids. It was so… exposed and I couldn’t believe that Mr B was doing this to me right here, right now. After our encounter in the stall of the cinema toilets, during which I’d experienced my very first taste of cock and spunk, it was all I could think about for the rest of the weekend. Regardless of whether I was at home or out and about, whether I was alone or surrounded by people, all I could think about was Mr B’s thick, long, veiny cock and how feeling it shoot inside of my mouth was the single most intense movement of my ten years on this planet. Whenever I’d found myself alone, I’d even taken inspiration from what Mr B had shown me and started to play with my own little dick. I laid there on my bed, sniffing the grey school socks that my teacher had rubbed on his cock that day in the storeroom. Almost straight away, my boycock would harden so much that it felt like I’d be able to cut through glass with it: it jutted out from my body with such a fierceness that I couldn’t help but play with it. Sniff and rub, sniff and rub – that’s how my sessions would go but, eventually, something weird would put a stop to it. Through my body, I’d start to get small tingles that would grow and spread. When I felt them in my dick, it reminded me of the feeling of peeing and I’d stop: I definitely didn’t want to pee myself and get it all over my bed. Still, the bit of play that I got before reaching that point was enough to make me keep doing it again and again. My little boydick was actually quite sore by the time I got back into the classroom on Monday morning. And that’s what brings me to Mr B doing something that completely shocked me. In the middle of the afternoon, he came right up behind me while I was still sat on a table with others and he whispered a message into my ear for me and me alone. “Ask to use the toilet,” he began, “and when you’re there, take off your sweaty little socks and bring them back to me. I want you sockless for the rest of the day.” My heart was pounding just from having my teacher so close to me: I could feel his warmth even though we weren’t touching and his breath on my ear sent shivers down my spine. “Go and do it, now. Be a good boy.” “Mr B, can I go to the toilet please?” I practically blurted out, not even bothering to raise my hand first as I normally would in class. He looked at me, a smile on his face that shifted into a frown: “No.” Wait… what? He was the one who told me to ask… I didn’t understand and, again, I just shouted out: “But Mr B, I’m desperate… please…” A few giggles started from three or four of the other children around the room. I could feel my cheeks starting to pink: why was Mr B trying to make me embarrassed? My teacher sighed and rolled his eyes, making a show of it as if it was a display for the class: “Well then I guess I better let you. We don’t want little Ryan having an accident now, do we class?” The giggles evolved into laughter, which quickly filled the classroom, and I was bright red by the time I rose from my seat and left the classroom. But, rather strangely, my dick was really hard in my school trousers. Being in the boys toilets and sneakily peeling off my schoolboy socks felt so… naughty but so good at the same time. Having this whole secret thing going on with me was starting to make me feel really special and it was so amazingly cool in the classroom to have this shared thing with my teacher that no-one else was getting to have. As I sat there, on a closed toilet, and pull off my first sock to leave my foot bare, all I could think was what a lucky little ten-year-old I was to have Mr B as my teacher. Today, I’d chosen to wear a pair of cotton socks which reached as far as the top of my ankles. They were white and grey striped with thick bands that went all the way from the toes to the very top. As I removed them from my small, soft feet, I noticed how damp they were with my sweat. Another lunchtime spent running around and playing footie with the rest of the year six boys had ensured that they were soaked: no wonder Mr B wanted them. I had to give them a quick sniff before slipping my bare feet back into my school pumps and heading back. Getting the socks to Mr B was easier than I’d anticipated. As soon as I stepped back into the room, Mr B told me to return to my table and, about five minutes later, he came to check the work I was doing in my Science book. As he did so, he crouched down beside me and, while talking, his fingers entered the pocket of my school trousers. I could feel the pressure against my skin as he slipped in and took hold of my socks. Before he even got back up, they were already safe and etiler escort secure in his pocket and I could imagine him enjoying them later on in the same way that I wish I could have taken some of Jake’s to sniff when I was all alone. I didn’t get much work completed over the remaining hour as memories of my best friend and my teacher swirled within my mind. At the end of the day, Mr B sent us out to the cloakroom so that we could get ourselves ready to go home. As he did, he asked me to wait so I hovered by his desk. As soon as the last of my classmates was out of the door, my teacher placed his large hand on my chest and, using his considerable muscles, pushed me backwards. My back landed on top of his teacher desk and my legs went up into the air. As quick as lightning, Mr B took hold of one of my ankles and whipped off my pump, exposing my bare foot to the air. My little size 1 and a half wasn’t alone for long though. Mr B pushed his face into the soft sole and I felt his nose head straight under my little toes. With how he was breathing, it was as if he was trying to draw my foot into his body. “Oh fuck yes…” he groaned out, still being quiet, “that’s the fucking stuff.” As quickly as he’d put me in this position, he returned my pump to my foot and had me upright again. “Listen carefully,” he said to me in his usual low tone, “I know you’re going to the park after school but you’re going to leave early: at four, you need to meet me by that little alley round the corner from the bottom of the field.” For a moment, I just stood there, taken aback by his command and my little mouth fell open but no words were forthcoming. “You understand?” he said, this time with a degree of urgency in his voice – the first members of the class would be returning soon. I nodded, still unable to find the words. “That’s my good boy,” he smiled as he ruffled my hair and sent me on my way to get myself ready for hometime. Most days, a small group of us boys would head to the park for a couple of hours. Some of us were there because we were latchkey kids – I was one of those. My mum wouldn’t get back from work until sometime between 5:30pm and 6pm and while I could go home, I’d be on my own. Others, like Jake, came just because they wanted to hang around some more. Heading down there and playing around on the playground equipment there felt really weird knowing that I was going to leave shortly after arriving and, even more so when I thought about leaving to see Mr B. But my desire to spend more time with him was so strong that there wasn’t a single doubt in my mind as to whether I was going to be in that alleyway at 4pm or not. “I’ll come with you,” Jake said, almost straight away after I’d announced that I was leaving to go home. It was about 3:55 and I’d planned to run over the field so that I could be there exactly on time. Unfortunately, Jake trying to be a good friend was now going to put all of that at risk. “Er… you can’t,” I said and then felt a small pang of guilt at the confusion that appeared across his face. “Why not?” “Well… my… mum says… you’re not allowed tonight.” Even as I said it, I knew that there was no way that my best friend was going to buy it. My mum treated him like a second son, the exact same way as his mum treated me but I honestly had no idea what else to say. My only option here was to get out of there before he was able to pick enough holes in my argument and tear it to shreds. So, with a quick bye, I set off, running as fast as my little legs could carry me. There was no sign of my teacher when I reached the alleyway and it was already 4:03pm. I thoroughly scanned the faces of everyone that I could see in the distance and he definitely wasn’t there. It wasn’t until I nearly walked straight into the side of a parked car that I realised that I could just about make out my teacher through the window on the passenger-side door. Reaching over, he pulled at the handle and pushed the door open. His only instructions a very quick: “Get in.” The drive wasn’t particularly long, roughly ten minutes, and during the journey, Mr B asked me about how I’d felt being a good boy for him and giving him my socks. He seemed especially interested when I told him that it had made my little dick go hard in my school trousers. He even reached over with his left hand and started to tease and tickle it through the fabric, which, of course, just made me giggle and blush even more. “I’ve got a present for you,” he said, smiling as he glanced over at me. “Really?” “Well, I guess it’ll be more of a present for me in the end but it’s you who will wear them,” he adjusted the bulge in his work trousers and smiled as he turned the corner into a small estate. “But I didn’t get you anything…” I said, slightly joking. “Don’t worry,” he looked over at me again, sat there all small in his passenger seat, “You will.” Mr B’s house was larger than mine and was detached so that it was away from all the nosey neighbours. Even still, we both hurried inside so that we wouldn’t be spotted. He kicked off his shoes and told me to remove mine: my little trainers looked so small compared to his huge school shoes and I wondered exactly how many times my feet would fit against his. Once I was stood there, barefoot in his hallway, my teacher put his hands on both sides of my torso and lifted. Given that I only live with my mum, and don’t have many male relatives, it had been a while since someone had picked me up but wrapping my arms around his neck and my slender legs around his waist just felt right. I relaxed into it as he carried me up the stairs of his etimesgut escort home and into his bedroom. “You don’t know how sexy you are, Ryan,” he said with one of his hands under my bum and the other stroking my back. Once we were in his bedroom, I found myself with the wall behind me: he was pinning me there, held up in his arms. He looked at me, my teacher’s sexy rugged face just inches from mine, and the gap narrowed little by little until his lips were on mine. The kiss was quicker than our first had been: the movements more aggressive and I felt his tongue swipe over my lips a couple of times. Then, a few more seconds into it, he pushed the tip against the opening between my lips and his tongue slid in. He used it to play with my own tongue and I tried as best as I could to mimic what I felt him doing but his was so big that it practically filled the space in my ten-year-old mouth. When the kiss was broken, he carried me over to bed and let me fall backwards into it, leaving his safe embrace. As I landed, and tried to steady myself, he took hold of both of my ankles, just like he had in the classroom, and the soles of my little boyfeet were quickly joined by my teacher’s face. This time, he showered attention on both of them and didn’t stop at just sniffing them. No, his tongue darted out and I felt it slide slowly up both of my soles from my heels to the very ends of my toes. It felt like electricity was surging through that part of my body and I caught myself moaning out a little and scrunching up my toes as he danced his wet tongue across the surface of this sensitive and ticklish area. “Mmm…” he moaned out as he took his tongue away, “Barefoot boy in your school uniform. Fuck… that’s the way you should always be, Ryan. Makes my big pervy cock so hard for you. He kept one of my feet up at his face but brought the other down to his bulge and ran my toes along the full length. Every time I touch it, I’m sure Mr B’s cock gets bigger and bigger. I’d swear that I felt it pulse against my sole through the material. “Time for your present,” my teacher said as he let go of my ankles and let my feet fall away from him. He sat on the edge of the bed and told me to stand up between his legs. As I did, he reached under the bed and pulled out a small box, wrapped up in birthday style wrapping paper. He laughed as he saw how excitedly I ripped into it, pulling off the paper as quickly as I could and then pulling open the lid of the box. Inside, were two black items. They looked almost like kneepads but with a soft and padded bit of material on the outside of where your knee would be. “I had to get them specially made just for you,” Mr B said to me, his right hand stroking my back. He had slid it up the inside of my school jumper and t-shirt: the skin-on-skin contact was making me feel really blushy. “They’re kneepads but the normal ones would be far too big for a special little boy like you.” I picked one of them up, turning it around in my hands: “Why do they have this bit on?” I indicated the padded front: my kneepads for cycling certainly didn’t have them. “Well Ryan,” my teacher began, falling back into his ‘teacher-voice’, “These aren’t kneepads to stop you hurting yourself in a crash. These are for very special, very good boys who spent lots and lots of time on their knees. And you’re about to spend a long time down on your knees for me.” “I am?” I asked, slightly confused. “Oh yes,” he smiled at me, “Today you’re going to learn how to deepthroat, my special little boy. All the of the very best boys know how to deepthroat big cocks like mine so I’m going to teach you. Aren’t I a great teacher?” I lunged at him and hugged him, wrapping my arms around his large body as best as I could: “You’re the bestest teacher ever!” Mr B helped me put the kneepads on so I could get them on above my trousers. He said it was really important that I kept all of my school uniform on so he insisted that it all stay on, even my special tie that only the year six children were allowed to wear. Once I was ready, I found myself stood in front of him again, with him perched on the end of the bed. “You’re going to feel my cock here,” he said to me, his fingers against my lips, “And you’re going to feel it here.” He pushed two of his thick fingers into my mouth and over my tongue. “Last time you were such a good boy and I know you will be again.” Feeling the praise from him warmed me from the inside. “But, this time, you’re also going to feel it here,” he said. With that, he used his other hand to trace down over my chin and towards my collarbone. His hand widened and I felt him take hold of my little boy neck. “It’s going to feel very tight,” he said and he gently started to squeeze. My eyes widened and my breathing became shallow as he continued: “You’re going to have to hold your breath and you’re going to choke and gag. But that’s okay…” his voice lowered into more of a growl, “I want to feel you choke and gag.” He released his hold on me and straight away I gasped for breath. “See…” he said, “there’s no need to worry because I’ll always let my good boy breathe again when I think he needs to.” At that, he leaned in, kissed me and told me to get on my knees. “Open,” he said to me, once he had removed his work trousers and pulled out his long, thick, meaty cock again. Like before, I couldn’t look away and I just let my mouth hang open with my tongue out like a little puppy. “Good boy,” he praised me before placing his hard cockhead against my tongue. His hands moved so that one was behind my head and the other with fingers intertwined with my hair. “That’s a good etlik escort boy, Ryan,” I heard him say as he started to pull me down towards him, his cock slipping into my open and willing mouth, “Good boy… I’m gonna keep going… good boy… that’s it… no don’t panic… it’s ok… let me feel you gag.” And gag I did. When his thick cock hit the back of my throat, I retched and gagged but Mr B didn’t release me, he just held me there, even trying to push a little bit further. I tried to pull back and managed to get the head out of the back of my throat, my hands coming up to take hold of his cock instead. “No, Ryan. Good boys don’t use their hands anymore. Take your hands off my cock.” I complied but when he pushed me down again and, once again, I choked, my hands went straight back to his dick. “Ryan!” Mr B raised his voice, “I’m going to get very pissed off with you if you keep doing that. In fact…” He released me and I moved back off of his cock. His fingers started to fiddle with the school tie around my neck and I felt it loosen before he removed it completely. He placed his hands on my shoulders and brought me up for a kiss, his hands sliding down my arms. Before I knew what was happening, he’d pulled my wrists together and was weaving the soft fabric around them, pulling them in tightly and knotting them there. “That’s better,” he smiled at me, “Let’s continue. Mr B was right: I was spending a long time on my knees. He taught and encouraged me to take more and more of him into my body and I continued to gag but he told me how much he loved that and how sexy good boys like me always gag a lot on big man cocks. The first time he managed to push through my throat’s resistance, it felt as if it had popped and was on fire. “FUCK YES!” he cried out, “Tight fucking schoolboy throat! Good boy, Ryan! Fucking GOOD BOY!” My eyes were starting to water and I gasped and coughed when he pulled my head back, using my hair as a handle to control me. There was a moment’s rest before he pushed me down again straight to the same point, the length of his cock hitting the back of my throat and forcing its way inside. “Such a fucking good cocksucker,” he moaned out as he pushed even further. I could feel my own neck bulge as my teacher’s cock cut off my oxygen. A second passed, then two, three, four and he just held me there, my ten-year-old throat impaled on his cock. My body wanted to use my hands almost automatically but no matter how much I pulled, they were bound tightly by my school tie. I began to struggle against his grip in my hair, trying to pull out and desperate for breath again. “I know, I know. Good boy. I just wanna feel you choke… just feel you choke. Good boy!” I gagged and, as soon as I did, he pulled back out again. That continued for a while, with him pushing it further and further each time. I still couldn’t get it all the way inside but Mr B was patient and taught me to take his cock step by step in the same way he taught me to solve fractions or remember my times tables. He was so encouraging the whole time: “Good boy Ryan. Such a fucking good schoolboy for my huge pervy teacher cock! You’re taking it so fucking deep, you nasty fucking cocksucking slut!” “Wow, Ryan,” he said after a while, letting me off completely, “You’re so pretty like that.” I smiled but I wasn’t sure I’d agree: my eyes were watering and, every time he’d pushed me down on his cock, some saliva had come out with it and it was all over my face. Even the top of my school jumper was covered in saliva. “We’re going to do something a little different now and I’m going to fuck your throat. You trust me, don’t you? My special little boy trusts his teacher, don’t you?” “Yes, Mr B,” my voice sounded a little rough, “I trust you.” This mountain of a man lifted my small body up straight from my knees and threw me onto the bed, my wrists still bound behind me. He pulled me towards him so that I was laid on my back and had my head hanging over the edge of the bed. “Just remember,” he said, taking his position at my head, his dick wet and glistening with my saliva as he placed the head once again in my mouth, “I’ll keep you safe, my good little boy. You might worry but just trust me: I’ll keep you safe.” With that, he thrust his hips forward and his thick cock stretched out the inside of my throat. “Take it! Take it! Take my big fucking pervy cock!” he grunted and groan and cried out again and again as he thrust his hips back and forth, my little mouth taking the full force of his dick as he forced it down my throat. Gone was the gentle teacher: it was hard, rough and messy now. My whole body was twitching as I felt my neck expanding again and again to take most of his length and I gasped for air in those moments when my throat wasn’t full of Mr B’s meat. It still wasn’t all of it: even in this new position, he couldn’t get the last few inches inside. Suddenly, I felt my legs being lifted up and that, now familiar, sensation of Mr B’s face being pressed into my soft size 1 and a halfs. He was sniffing and licking my soles and toes as he fucked his huge cock in and out of my throat. “This is what little boys are made for… FUCK!” he cried out, “I’m getting close, getting so fucking close.” This time he didn’t spunk inside of my mouth. Instead, he pulled out and started to fire thick ropes of his cum all over my face. Some went into my mouth and I could taste it on my tongue, but the rest mixed with the saliva that was already covering my face and some more powerful jets even fired onto my school jumper, the white cum standing out against the dark blue material. “Oh fuck, Ryan. You’re such a good fucking boy. The best boy. And you’re mine. My good little boy.” ********************************************** Drop me an email: ail I’d love to hear your ideas, feedback, thoughts, experiences, whatever you want! Hit me up and let’s chat. Let me know if you think this story is worth continuing or if I should leave it here.