Central High Blues Ch. 02

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The Usual Disclaimer: This is a work of fantasy. All characters featured in sexual situations are over 18. The characters in these stories are fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons living, dead or undead is purely coincidental. Do not try this at home.

Writing this has made me feel really, really old. I was wracking my brain trying to remember what the senior classes were when I was in high school. I realized it was such a struggle because I graduated from high school 31 years ago. So, if you are reading this and it sounds a little dated compared to your high school experience, now you know why.


I made sure to get up early and eat a substantial breakfast before leaving for school. Not sure what would happen after my English class, I wanted to make sure that I wouldn’t be starving if I missed out on lunch. I was preoccupied with that, but I really wanted to talk with Trina today as well. As usual, I scarfed down my workout supplements. After dinner last night, my dad and I had hit the home gym pretty hard. We were both lost in our own thoughts the entire time and barely spoke.

Because I was up so early, I was sitting at the dining room table when I heard my parents’ alarm clock go off. I got up and quickly started coffee for them so that it would be ready before they left for work. My dad emerged from their bedroom a few minutes later. He looked a bit worn out and his eyes were bleary as he stalked over to the coffee pot.

“Mornin,’ Dad,” I called from the dining room table.

He looked up at me and nodded. “Good morning. Thanks for making coffee.”

“No problem,” I responded, “Looks like Mom wore you out last night.”

I had intended it as a joke, but then I saw his back. He had red marks all over from my mother’s nails. A couple of those looked like serious welts; she had really dug into him. He turned around to face me then, sipping his coffee while his eyes held a rueful smile.

“Yes. Yes, she did,” he said after that first sip.

I realized at that point that he was only wearing boxers. This was new, at least as far as I knew. As a family, we never walked around the house in underwear. I had seen him in shorts and a tank top, and that would have been acceptable attire for me as well. Dad seemed comfortable enough standing and talking to me dressed like that, though. I guess that my parents might have started wearing less clothing around the house when I had been in the hospital and my sister was away at college.

“How’s Marty doing these days?” my dad asked. It took me a moment to realize he meant Mr. Delgado, the Chemistry teacher in whose class I was now a lab aide.

“He’s doing well,” I said, “We never had much time to talk yesterday. I expect that will change going forward.”

“Well, make sure you tell him I said ‘Hi,’” my dad said. “Ask him if they’d like to come over this weekend. I’d like to use the pool before it starts to get cold.”

“Yes, sir,” I responded. It had been a while since I had seen their family.

I gave my dad a hug and headed out the door. I wanted to pick up Trina and give her a ride to school, hoping that would give us a chance to talk before school started. We hadn’t really had a chance to talk last night, with all of our other online friends chatting and as busy as we had been with our game.

When I pulled up at their house, I saw there was a car in the driveway. I presumed that was Trina’s mom’s car. I think my mom said her name was Deirdre, but I wasn’t entirely sure. I walked up and knocked at the door.

After a moment, the door opened a few inches. I saw a Trina’s mom looking out at me with wide eyes.

“Miss Wilkins?” I asked. When she nodded, I went on, “Good morning, ma’am. I’m Josh Thompson. I was hoping to give Trina a ride to school this morning.”

She opened the door fully. I saw she was wearing a bathrobe with a floral pattern on it. “Sorry, Josh,” she said in a soft voice, “You look so much like your father…I should have known who you were. Come on in.”

Trina’s mom was a little shorter than Trina, maybe five-four. Like her daughter, she had dark hair that was short, but definitely a woman’s hairstyle. Her bathrobe was wrapped tightly around a narrow frame, and I tried not to stare at her dark nipples pressed against the fabric.

I didn’t know she knew my dad. He hadn’t mentioned it last night when my mom had talked about her. I saw Trina come out of a doorway to my right and I automatically said, “Hi, Trina!” before I realized she was only wearing a bath towel. She blushed and ducked into her bedroom, closing the door quickly behind her. I turned to her mom and said, “Sorry. That was a little awkward.”

She was still looking up at me with wide eyes. I felt a bit uncomfortable.

“Have we met before?” I asked her.

“I don’t think so,” she responded. “Your parents both used to work out at the gym where I work. Your dad still comes by once a week or so.”

“Ah,” I said, “That makes sense. I still haven’t gotten bahis firmaları used to how much I look like him now.”

She nodded at that. “You sound just like him too,” she added.

She shook her head softly after that, and gave me a shy smile.

“Where are my manners? Here, have a seat,” she said, indicating the dining room table, “Have you eaten anything?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said as I sat down. “My dad and I have been working out at our home gym, so I always make sure I get breakfast with my weightlifting supplements.”

She stopped at that. Turning to face me, she asked, “You have a home gym?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I nodded, “Dad put it in while I was in the hospital.”

She looked a little troubled at that. I had no idea why, but decided to change the subject.

“Miss Wilkins, did Trina mention that I wanted to take her out on a date?”

“No, she didn’t,” she said, “But that would be great. I’ve been trying to get her to get off that computer and go out for two years now.”

She was smiling at me as she said it. That was a relief. I had been worried that her mother might be overly protective, from what Trina had said yesterday.

Trina finally emerged from her room, dressed for school. She still looked embarrassed. I preemptively apologized.

“I didn’t mean to surprise you like that, Trina,” I said, “I would have called first, but I didn’t have your number.”

Trina’s mom spoke up, giving me their home phone number. I did have my cell phone, so I pulled it out and punched the number in, saving it. Trina grabbed some cereal and sat next to me to eat it.

“Why are you here, Josh?” she asked between bites.

“I wanted to give you a ride to school. I was hoping we could talk before school starts,” I said. “You never did tell me where I was going to take you on our first date.”

Trina’s eyes shot to her mom’s face. Her mom was smiling at her. Trina nodded at me and kept eating. She finished quickly and kissed her mother on the cheek after depositing her empty bowl in the kitchen sink. I waved goodbye as Trina rushed me outside.

On the drive to the school, Trina turned to me. “Are you and my mom teaming up on me now?” she asked.

“No,” I replied instantly, “What do you mean by that, anyway?”

She blew out a frustrated breath. “She has been on me for years. She thinks I spend way too much time on my computer.”

I nodded. “I’m sure I would get the same thing from my folks if my dad didn’t spend so much of his time working on his computer,” I said. “Look, if you don’t want me to take you out on a date, you can just say so. I never want to make you do something you don’t want to do, Trina.”

I was paying close attention to the traffic as we approached the school, so I couldn’t read her reaction to that. When I finally parked the car, she was looking out the front windshield and appeared lost in thought. I looked at my watch. We had fifteen minutes before we needed to be in class. I wasn’t sure it was enough time to cover what I wanted to say.

“Trina?” I said softly. She looked over at me. “We don’t have a lot of time before school starts, here. I really wanted to talk to you. Can I give you a ride after school so we can talk?”

“Sure,” she said. She nodded and then grabbed her backpack.

“Oh, one thing,” I said, “You don’t want to sit anywhere near me in our English class. Just trust me on this, okay?”

She nodded again, but there was a questioning look in her eye as we got out of the car and headed for our Biology class. I had to stop at my locker to grab my bag and textbooks, and Trina and I got separated in the press of all the students in the hallway. I finally caught up to her at the science wing, but didn’t get another chance to talk until we were seated in class with Carla. Trina and Carla started talking, and I didn’t want to start the conversation I had in mind until we had privacy. It would have to wait until after school.

Miss Green had a really tough time asserting control over her classroom. She cleared her throat a couple of times to try to get the class’ attention, but it just wasn’t working. I watched her and it made me appreciate Miss Cahill’s approach. Finally, I decided to help her out.

I cleared my throat, and using my new “dad voice,” I said, “Alright, guys, it’s time for class. What were you saying, Miss Green?”

Everyone turned to look at her, and she gave me a grateful look before smiling brightly and starting our first real Biology lesson. It was a good thing we got it started right away; there was a lot of material we covered in that first lesson. Trina and I both asked a handful of questions as the class went on. Those were, according to Miss Green, “very good” questions. Each time we asked a question, I noticed relief on the face of more than one underclassman. They had been wondering the same thing, but were too shy or embarrassed to ask.

When class ended, Miss Green came over to our lab table. Her voice was very soft, I thought.

“I kaçak iddaa just want to thank you guys for being so helpful in class today,” she said. “I just wish I had students like you in my other classes.”

Her expression told me she was struggling in those other classes. I didn’t realize until she was standing right next to me, but Miss Green was really short. I don’t think she was even five feet tall. She had curly blonde hair and huge blue eyes. Her glasses made her eyes look even bigger. She reminded me of a helpless anime character. I knew from her lecture that she was smart and knew the material, but she just seemed too demure to be an effective teacher.

There was just too much ‘damsel in distress’ emanating from her. I wanted desperately to help her. Blame it on my geeky sense of honor, or too many role-playing games. I would spend some time throughout the day trying to figure out how to help her without drawing attention that might hurt her career. I gave her a grin.

“You’ll be great, Miss Green,” I said, “Since you have us first thing, now you know the kind of questions to answer for the rest of your classes.”

She smiled back, a little weakly. She didn’t look as confident as I would have liked. Unfortunately, I really needed to get going. I gave her another smile and a thumbs-up as I headed out her classroom door.

Calculus class was another really intense lecture. Mr. Roush was not messing around. I didn’t have a lot of time to sit around thinking about Miss Green, just trying to keep up as we got rolling. We got our first homework assignment at the end of that class. My mind was busy trying to sort out all of that new data as I made my way to my locker and dropped off those heavy textbooks and grabbed the English book.

I looked at that book in my hand and felt a little chill. What did Miss Cahill have in mind for me today?

For starters, she had a new seat in mind for me. I got to class, and she directed me to the front row, center desk. Her own desk was off to the left of the whiteboard, so I would have an unobstructed view of her ass the entire time she was at the board. Her dress was still conservative, but the one she wore today was light blue with lots of white flowers spread around it, as well as splashes of other colors.

I saw Trina make her way to a desk over on the left side of the classroom. She looked over at me, but I didn’t make eye contact. I realized my hands were sweating as I got my notebook ready. The bell rang, and the class started out with a groan.

“Today, we’ll be starting out with the parts of speech,” Miss Cahill stated. I heard a handful of groans from around me, and my hand shot up.

“Yes, Mr. Thompson? You have a question?” Her eyes fixed on me. I would have to categorize her expression as hostile. I had to remind myself that it was an act.

“No disrespect, Miss Cahill,” I said, “but why do we need to know this stuff? I have never heard my parents talk about using the ‘parts of speech’ at work.”

Now, I knew that there was a whole two-page essay in the book explaining this. I also knew nobody else in that class had read that part of the book—it had never been assigned in three years of English class, and wasn’t in this year’s lesson plan either. Still, Miss Cahill’s response caught me off guard.

“Mr. Thompson, why do we write anything that we write?”

I almost said, “So we don’t forget,” but realized that was a poor answer. I thought for a moment about that essay in the textbook and then said, “To communicate a thought or an idea to someone else.”

Students seated around me raised eyebrows at that answer. Most of them would have given my first answer. Miss Cahill’s lips twitched a bit. She was working hard to keep that stern expression.

“Alright, you want to communicate a thought or an idea to someone else. Does it matter at all if that thought or idea is expressed clearly?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” I answered.

“How would you know if you have expressed yourself clearly, then, if you don’t know the rules for doing so?” She raised an eyebrow as she delivered that question. She then addressed the entire class. “How many of you plan to attend college after high school? Raise your hand.”

Everyone raised their hand, of course. Honors English was not required to graduate high school, but it was almost mandatory for most colleges. Students who didn’t plan to attend college would not bother taking this class.

“I see,” she said. What followed was a brief but pointed lecture on just how important clear communication was in so many fields of employment. The ability to write clearly and well could actually provide employment opportunities. An inability to do so could sharply limit a career in a wide variety of fields.

“Does that answer your question, Mr. Thompson?” she finished.

“Yes ma’am,” I breathed.

That little episode had set the class back a bit. I thought it had been worth it. The students who had groaned earlier kaçak bahis were now paying close attention as the class went on. They had caught the part about “getting stuck short of a management position because you can’t write a decent sentence, or getting fired because of a poorly-worded e-mail.” However, we didn’t quite cover the entire planned lecture. I did ask a couple more questions, and I thought they were “good” questions; they were the sort of thing that helped move the lecture forward. When the bell rang, Miss Cahill looked genuinely annoyed. She turned and glared at me.

“We will have to finish this tomorrow, I’m afraid,” she said. “There is no homework. See you all tomorrow.”

“Mr. Thompson,” she spat at me, “You and I need to have a little talk. Please stay after class.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Trina gave me a sympathetic look as she left.

After the last student filed out, Miss Cahill closed the door and locked it. She was shaking as she rushed over to me. She grabbed my arm and pulled me over to her desk.

“Oh, my god, I am so fucking turned on right now!” she gasped as she dropped her panties. She raised the back of her dress and bent over her desk. “Please,” she whispered, “I need you to fuck me hard right now!”

I had already been hard for half the class, staring at her shapely ass while she had been at the board. Actually seeing her perky bottom exposed like that was like a wet dream come true. I whipped out my hard dick and slid the head inside her. I was expecting to have to take it slow, but she shoved back into me and took me to the hilt unlike anyone I had ever been with before.

I tried to keep in mind where we were and not to make too much noise. I gave her the rapid fucking she needed and she was coming all over my cock in two minutes. Her pussy muscles locked down on me then, and I almost lost it. The only thing holding me in check was that she hadn’t told me to come inside of her. I could only imagine the scandal if I knocked up my English teacher.

“Ooh, that was close,” I breathed into her ear. “I almost came inside you just then.”

She groaned and turned to kiss me, driving her hips back into mine as her tongue invaded my mouth. That angle of penetration brought her to another rapid orgasm, and then she whirled around to take me in her mouth. Her eyes opened wide as she looked up from my hard dick to my face. She stroked my cock as she spoke.

“I heard you were big, but damn!” she hissed.

Then she took half my cock into her mouth, choking the head down her throat. I was worried she might be too loud, but I was far too turned on to think about it as she sucked that load right out of me. A lot of it ran out of her mouth, down her chin and onto the front of her dress. It was a good thing she had chosen the one she wore today.

After that, she had me sit in her seat while she sat on her desk and pulled my face into her tasty pussy. She spoke in a ragged whisper as I licked and sucked that juicy little snatch.

“Josh, you had me so fucking turned on every time you asked a question,” she said, “Seriously, I am going to have to bring a change of underwear to class every day.”

I was looking up at her while I ate her pussy. She was still finding bits of my cum with her fingers and scooping it into her mouth. She seemed to really enjoy the taste of it. When she bucked on my face with one fierce orgasm, I locked my lips onto her entire pussy and sucked out her juices. Afterward, I sat back and wiped off my chin.

“You know,” I said, “Nobody else is going to want to ask you a question after the way you looked at me today.”

She looked thoughtful at that. “Damn,” she said, “You’re right. I have to tell you, Josh, I was surprised at how turned on I got, treating you like that.”

“I think I have a solution, though,” I said thoughtfully. “Tomorrow, I’ll try to convince one of the other students to ask you a question. Then you can tell them what a great question it is, and that should pave the way for more.”

She nodded at that. Then she rubbed her pussy with two fingers while she looked at the clock.

“I really want you to fuck me some more,” she whispered, “but I’m afraid we won’t have time to finish.”

“We really need to find a better place and time for this,” I said. I stood up and slid my cock back into her hungry pussy in one long stroke as I kissed her. “You really are an exceptional English teacher, Miss Cahill,” I whispered into her mouth, “I would hate to get you fired.”

I leaned her back on her desk and fucked her hard for five minutes. I held my cock balls-deep inside her and covered her mouth with mine as she shook through that last orgasm. When she was done, I grabbed a tissue and cleaned up a spot of semen from her neck and another from between her breasts that she had missed. I then wiped around the base of my cock before tucking it away and zipping up.

She looked a little shaky as she pulled her panties back up her shapely legs. She looked at me and shook her head softly.

“I’m a nymphomaniac, you know,” she whispered to me, “I’m not just saying that I’m a horny woman; I have a psychological diagnosis. I even saw a shrink.”

“How did that go?” I asked.

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