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As we wrapped up our introduction to being a French assistant the head mistress of St. Wulfgrags college in Wustishire gave us one last warning.

*quot;Some of the boys, even some of the girls at this school, can behave very inappropriately towards members of staff in order to gain attention. Under no circumstances give them what they want. As long as they do not put you in immediate danger, ignore them.*quot;

I looked over at the female assistant Marie apologetically, thinking of all the shit she would have to deal with from horny teen boys.

These thoughts ran through my head again as I sat speaking to yet another Englishman in broken French. We had just both had PE, and we both wore sweaty sports tops and shorts, and were cramped into one small room, me on the one side of an old desk and him on the other. I would have opened the window if I had one, I could smell the guys sweat. It was my fourth session of the day, and I began to slowly tire of the endless loop of chatting until the college student got stuck on a word, then get up and write it on the white board to the right of the room for them.

The board was slightly reflective, so that whenever I moved my face close to it to begin writing, I could see if the student was paying attention. It was quite a useful resource, often the students would be just staring into space, girls would just stare at their nails, and some people even got a quick glance an their phones. This boy, however, was doing neither. Instead he stared intently in my direction, but quite a bit lower than where I was writing.

It took me few more goes, with the boy wanting to know what the word for round was (we were talking about footballs), or tight (we were talking about different formations). I realized where he was gazing. It wasn't at the board, it was definitely me. It was too low to be my back... then it occurred to me. Rather than learning new vocab, he was studying the curves of my arse. I felt myself immediately go red, but did my best to keep going. Hornyness was just a human thing. I'd checked people out before, and just because I wasn't used to getting it, doesn't mean that I shouldn't put up with it. I cursed my tight shorts as my crotch rubbed against the wall again on my pilgrimage to the whiteboard. I hadn't noticed before how much they clung to me, but now I could feel the cheap fabric rubbing against me with every movement, as I pushed passed the table to write the word hot (we were talking about the weather).

I should probably just stay at the board, I thought, it would avoid me having to move about so much. But then it would give him what we wanted. His French speaking skills would probably go down the drain, just staring at me. I banished the thought as I felt blood being diverted downwards. Standing up all that time would be a pain anyway.

I took a glimpse again to see if he was still ogling. He was, and I regretted it. I had almost persuaded myself that I had miss seen, had almost distracted myself. I cursed my curiosity, even the slightest hard on would be obvious through these shorts if I made the wrong move. Regardless, casino oyna I kept looking, handwriting barely readable on the board.

Then I looked lower, and saw a strained line in his shorts. Forgetting myself for a moment I stopped using the shoddy reflection, and turned my head. With the small space it was unmistakable. The shorts gave little to the imagination, and I felt myself shocked to see the little ridge between the head of his penis and the stem. He shifted, opening his legs slightly, and the shorts bunched up. A little skin peaked out, and it took me a moment to realize that - Fuck - it was the tip of his engorged cock. I stared without realizing.

After a few luxurious seconds a voice said, *quot;are you ok Monsour Chastain*quot;. I snapped out of my day dream, and looked up at the boy's face. He looked slightly amused.

After a long second, I replied *quot;yes of course,*quot; and turned away. Finishing off the last few letters I pushed back to the relief of my desk. I felt myself grow harder as my sensitive head was pushed against the wall. Day dreaming through idle conversation it suddenly occurred to me how crass the boy was being, even he hadn't realized where I was looking, he must have realized that he was rock hard, and yet rather than hiding it under the table, or trying to cover it with an arm, he just sat there. He spread his legs for god's sake.

I tried to focus on speaking with this student about world war two memorials, plotting how I would rub one out in the staff toilets, trying to distract myself by thinking about the war dead. Once again he asked me for a word.

*quot;What is to erect in French,*quot; he asked innocently.

We were talking about the new memorial they were planning in London. Grudgingly I went to the board again, willing myself to focus on the writing not the reflection. The head was still sticking out, if not more. My help came when the pen ran out mid word. With perhaps a slightly to obvious relief I announced. *quot;sorry, if you want to ask for any more words I will have to write it on paper for you.*quot; I pushed back to my chair, where I could sit unthinking for the end of the lesson. I tried to keep my facial expression straight as my brick built lover pushed against me. I hoped there wasn't enough precum for it to seep through.

Just as I was about to reach relief he spoke again. *quot;I could have sworn that I saw another pen just roll behind the desk at the back.*quot;

There was a second desk at the back of the room next to a filing cabinet. I didn't know what either were for, they just took up more space at the back of the room. I could have just said forget about it, but I was too out of it to resist. At least it would stop him asking about any other words. I moved over to the desk, and lent over to the other side to try and fish around. I immediately had a suspicion as to why he'd had that suggestion. I was bent over the table, prostrate. I couldn't help but imagine him staring. As I squirmed against the table to try and get a reach my foreskin got a grip at one spot, so that as I moved backwards and forwards the table slowly got canlı casino me off. I tried to not make my movements to regular and purposeful, but as it became increasingly clear that I would not find anything I felt my backwards and forwards becoming increasingly less at trying to grip at an imaginary pen. Then my shorts got stuck on the table, and I realized that they were slowly but surely hiking up. I wallowed in the feeling of the cold air against my buttocks. The boy must by having a field day. Then I heard a sound behind me. A change in breathing. I stopped. My cock begged me to resume my shifting. Then the sound of flesh against flesh. Although the thought hadn't gotten to me enough to be a turn on, suspicions began to arise within me of what he was doing. Fuck. This must be some perverted daydream I thought. Should I call the headmistress? Then I remember what she said. Just ignore it.

*quot;Have you found it then,*quot; he said, between suspiciously long gaps for breath. *quot;No,*quot; I grunted, not wanting to give away my compromised position. I stayed still. *quot;Shall we start again then?*quot; the student said. As if in a trance I unbent, turned around, and started to move back towards my desk.

Then I saw it. Fuck. Fucking hell. My student. Sat there. Nonchalantly. Like nothing was happening. His. Cock. The shorts were fully bunched up now, so that his cock stuck out one of the trouser legs completely. His right hand was holding his penis noncommittally, and he was stroking his hand up and down as if he was just fiddling with a little toy to reveal boredom. Or a big toy in his case. I wondered if it was bigger than mine. Just ignore it. I went back towards the safety of my desk.

*quot;Oh so you did find one then,*quot; He said. I looked away from his member.

*quot;What?*quot;

*quot;Look I can see a pen in your pocket there.*quot; I looked down. To my dismay I had forgotten the importance of not turning my front towards him in my escape back to the desk. My cock was tenting the weak fabric of my shorts. My arousal was clear. I felt myself getting red again. What would people think? Nothing happened for a second. Then I realized he was waiting for an answer. *quot;No you can't*quot; I almost whispered. *quot;Yes I can, look let my check in your pocket for you.*quot; he said, smiling, enjoying my embarrassment. He stopped stroking for a second to show his dedication to the suggestion. His cock bounced when released. Once again I was silent. He moved his hands onto the table as if he was about to get up. I had to reply quick.

*quot;I don't have pockets,*quot; I said, which was true.

*quot;Oh,*quot; he replied. I sat down again.

I didn't know what to do. I guess wait until the end of the lesson, or if he came, whatever first. He didn't seem to either. Then, to my surprise, he started speaking French again. We talked about great men of history. It was like nothing had happen. Except he stroking his handsome cock which stuck up above the desk, and I felt like I was about to squirt into my pants. His French didn't even seem to get markedly worse, when he talked about the impressive *quot;under areas*quot; he imagined Hercules having, his French only kaçak casino seemed to be limited by his lack of vocab. *quot;Cock*quot; I told him was *quot;Bite*quot;. He sped up his jerking, face contorted. Maybe this would be over faster if I gave him some more words. I told him the word for to fuck. I noticed a spot of precum flowing down over his hand, some dropping onto his seat, some eventually being absorbed into his shorts. I wished that they didn't conceal his balls. I told him the words for fuck, facial, blowjob, anal and more. Maybe he wouldn't notice if I stroked my cock subtly. But then the headmistress did say ignore.

Then, seemingly in another rut of boredom, he slowed his strokes. Maybe he wouldn't cum so soon. Then he straightened himself up. It seemed almost as if he was planning to stop. Maybe it was all over. Then he stood up, holding his cock still in relation to his body. With inevitable dread I watched him shuffle around my desk. His cock floated towards me, and I felt enchanted, before I noticed he was on my side. It was cramped. Just ignore it. With his left arm on the cabinet holding himself up, he leaned over me as I was sat down, and pumped his cock aggressively. It was so close to me I could hear the ever slap of flesh, the precum squelching. I felt the temptation to lick it. Just ignore it. I tried to look away into middle distance. The next student was waiting outside. Fuck. Suddenly his balls bounced out of their prison, distracting me. They were heavy and hairy. I imagined the softness of the skin contrasted to the roughness of the curly hair if he was to lean forwards and deposit them in my mouth. His moaning was quiet, almost cute. Quiet was good. A little bit of precum slipped of the head, and landed on my lips. I licked them almost instinctively. It was too little for me to even tell if I had caught it, but he certainly liked it. He moaned again, redoubling his strengths. I regretted not having CCTV. This would look so fucking hot on video. His balls smacked against his leg, as his hands became a blur, his breaths becoming increasingly desperate. I forgot about myself, enchanted.

*quot;W-w-hats Fre-e-nch for t-tooo cu-um,*quot; he asked. I looked up from his cock, surprised, and felt myself automatically going into teacher mode.

*quot;Well the verb on its own is jouir, but if you wanted to say...*quot; I stopped suddenly as his hips thrust forwards, and he groaned hard. I worried for a second he would fall over, impaling my throat with his cock. I marveled at the spurts of white cum jumping out of the end. With reflex only I closed my eyes, my eyelids becoming warm with his juices. There is no reflex response for the mouth though, and I tasted his salty jizz. Fuck. I opened my eyes to him still slowly pushing his hands up his cock, teasing out the last of his cum. I pulled a tissue out from the box on my desk, and wiped my face. The bell went.

Then, with little ceremony, he pulled down the legs of his shorts again over his cock, soaking them, no longer pure white, and turned around, and walked out of the room, courteously opening the door for my next student. I stuffed the tissue into my pocket.

She walked in, then sat down, soaking the last evidence of the boys masturbation into her short skirt and tights.

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This was my first story, so any advice would be great!

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