Shelves line the long and narrow room, covering them with random supplies. Boxes of pencils, crayons, paper, glue, and anything needed to run a school crowd the space. Kent scans the area and finally shouts, “There we go!”
He moves toward the far end and reaches for a box. I follow, and the door slams behind me with a bang. Kent jumps, slips, and the crowded shelf rains tissue boxes down on him.
“Are you okay?” I mutter through my arm. I’ve got snot on my sleeve, and I’m grateful I keep extra clothes in my car. When will there be time to fetch them?
“Good, all good,” Kent says, bending down and retrieving a box, ripping off the top, and handing me a clean tissue. “There you go.”
“Thank you.”
I blow and attempt to clean my nose, and Kent walks past me, turning the lock on the door. He takes another tissue from the box, pulls my face toward his, and wipes right under my nose, carefully cleaning it. “There we go. Now you’re good. No, better than good.”
Without hesitation, he kisses my nose. Right where the snot was a second ago. I take a deep breath, trying to discover the moment again.
“But I thought,” I say, “we’re supposed to be professional.”
“We are. I mean, supposed to be.” He’s back at my lips, his soft beard capturing the wetness of the kiss and encouraging me to forget we should be working. “Your lips. They’re so damn perfect. How am I supposed to ignore them?” he asks.
My career may be on the line but still, the only thing I can think about is his mouth on mine. Fuck. Hopscotch can wait. For now.
I remove Kent’s glasses, carefully placing them on a nearby shelf covered in boxes of pencils.
“Vincent, how are you so damn sweetandsexy?”
His mouth lands on mine, and I grab at his belt. His smell. Earth. Pine. Embers. He’s fucking intoxicating. It’s hard to unbuckle without looking. My fingers pull and poke, and finally, his hands leave my face, and with his tongue twirling with mine, he undoes it himself. The swoosh of his pants falling to his ankles prompts me to reach and take hold of his thick cock. I stroke with my right hand while my left lifts his shirt enough so I can rub his furry belly. My heart thumps faster, and I’m not sure how this will play out, but I can’t stop myself. We’re in a supply closet. The door is locked. His pants are off. My dick stands at full attention in my khakis.
“No. It’s my turn,” he whispers.
Taking my hand from his stomach and pulling me, Kent sits on a short stepladder in the closet’s corner. Naked from the waist down, he doesn’t seem to mind sitting on the metal. Interesting.
With my stomach at his eye level, he draws me closer. His fingers find the buttons, and he works at them. “Now, be a good boy.”
My pants open, but Kent only yanks them down mid-thigh.
“Tighty-whities,” he says.
A small wet spot gives away my excitement, and the tip almost escapes the waistband. I blow a deep breath out as my shoulders drop. “Please,” I plead. His fingers peel back the fabric enough so the head of my cock can breathe, and his index finger touches the tip, pulling back a small bead of precum, forming a long band.
“There we go,” he soothes. “Such a good boy.”
He takes the sticky liquid between his finger and thumb and rubs it gently before putting both fingers in his mouth. What in heaven and earth?
“You okay?” he asks, licking his lips, and I’m not sure how to answer. “Okay” doesn’t capture it. The door locked … but the bustle of the school outside … the fact that we should be working. What magic does this man have over me? “Okay?” Euphoric would be a more accurate word choice, so I simply nod.
He leans in and, without removing my underwear, gently kisses the exposed tip of my cock. The tickling from his beard is undeniable as I shudder. I tilt my head back and attempt to breathe through it. Taking the first inch in his mouth, Kent slowly begins sucking and licking and then gently pulls my underwear down to free me.
“Bald?”
“Excuse me?” I ask.
“You shave everywhere?”
“Yeah, it’s just cleaner that way, I don’t like … ” and before I finish, he’s taken my cock in his mouth, at least half of it, wrapped inside his warm mouth, and his whiskers titillate in a way I’ve never experienced before. I poke my fingers in his thick hair, grateful there’s no product, and slowly massage his head.
He pulls off and says, “I haven’t done this—” A gasp, he sounds out of breath. “—in a very long time, so please tell me if I do anything wrong.”
“No, nothing wrong. Just keep talking and telling me … ”
“You’re a good boy,” he finishes for me. My dick fills at the phrase. “Letting me suck your cock in the middle of the day. Such a clean, good boy.”
