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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2008.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  All rights reserved. Thank you for your 
consideration.
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Out By The Bleachers
by Anonymous (address withheld)

***

A young teenage boy is caught skipping school and will 
do anything to stay out of trouble. (Mm, ped, reluc, 
1st-gay-expr, mast)

***

Mr. Fowler was wrapping up his ninth grade English 
class at Calvert Junior High School. He looked at his 
watch and was eager to have a quick bite to eat in the 
faculty lounge during his planning period before he 
graded a pile of essays. 

"Once I finish grading your essays, I will return them 
to you," he explained, "But not before I have looked at 
all of them."

Mr. Fowler glanced at his watch and at an empty desk 
near the door. He recalled that the desk was empty for 
the past three days and yet he received no excuse note 
from Misty Regis' mother.

"Take note of tonight's reading. Be ready to explain 
tomorrow what you think of Boo Radley's character."

The bell rang and the class eagerly dispersed to the 
halls - except for one student.

She lingered at the door and peered around to make sure 
that she was alone with her teacher.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

The girl, a nebbish girl named Jane, alternated glances 
between her feet and her teacher's eyes.

"I don't know if I should be telling you this, Sir..."

"I could be making copies right now," groaned Mr. 
Fowler. He was right. The queue for making duplicates 
piles up rather quickly in the faculty workroom.

She gulped like she took a mouthful of water from a 
tall glass.

"I know where Misty is."

"What do you mean?"

"Misty goes to a wooded area by the bleachers to smoke 
cigarettes. And she might not be alone. She brags about 
it to everyone she knows that she can get away with 
this."

"Thank you for letting me know about this, Jane. I'll 
write you a pass to your next class and I will look 
into this matter as soon as I can. OK?"

Jane nodded and she waited until Mr. Fowler completed 
her hall pass. He gave it to her and she left the 
classroom like she was a dime novel detective trying to 
avoid detection.

"All you need are shades and a trench coat," the amused 
teacher muttered under his breath.

He looked out the window of his classroom and knew that 
it was not a day to just casually walk outside and not 
expect to sweat it out. He rolled up his sleeves and 
grudgingly took to his mission. He was not sure if 
Misty was dumb enough to congregate with her friends in 
the same spot every day. Was she sure that her spot was 
foolproof? Think about it. She brags, the wrong person 
speaks up around an authority figure.

Hmmm... That's what just happened now, the smirking 
teacher thought to himself.

He slowly descended the stairwell that emptied to the 
rear of the school. He pulled a pair of sunglasses out 
of his pants pocket and brushed his cool hand through 
his sandy hair. He took great pains to look like he 
just happened to be taking a walk. He looked nonchalant 
as he approached the track area. He looked beyond the 
bleachers and saw something that appeared to be a 
modern-day smoke signal.

The sound of dead leaves crunching beneath his feet 
betrayed his arrival to the group of kids who were 
lighting up beneath a shade tree.

Misty Regis mumbled to herself. It sounded like, "Oh, 
shit." It would have been foolish to run, however, 
because she still would have to answer for why she was 
missing from her gym class.

Misty's boyfriend, Chris, was seated cross-legged on 
the ground and he just lit up his cigarette only to 
have to stub it out when he was aware of Mr. Fowler's 
presence.

"I guess we're busted," Chris plainly stated. He rose 
to prepare for whatever lecture that Mr. Fowler was to 
deliver.

Silence followed for a few seconds.

Mr. Fowler counted the number of students under the 
tree. He saw three. He paused to close his eyes to 
conjure up something to say that would truly portray 
the gravity of the situation. In a split second, he 
heard whimpering. 

Mr. Fowler opened his eyes and looked immediately to 
Misty. She was dry-eyed and puffing a last drag from 
what would be the last smoke she would have for a 
while. 

Who was crying? It was Steven. He was a seventh grader 
whom Mr. Fowler saw in the halls but would have never 
imagined to be hanging out with ninth graders during 
the school day.

"Why are you crying?" asked the teacher.

Steven said something barely audible.

"I don't hear you very well."

"I have never done this before," sniveled Steven.

Mr. Fowler looked at the trio and announced his 
intentions.

"We are going to the dean's office - now!"

Misty and Chris gathered their army surplus bags and 
prepared to follow Mr. Fowler. Steven was a pathetic 
little heap on the ground who had no idea of how he was 
going to explain this to his mother or stepfather.

The trip back into the school building was a few 
minutes of heat-induced perspiration that was 
aggravated by the tension of the moment.

Misty and Chris were cool, calm and collected in spite 
of the all-black that they wore to school religiously. 
Even Misty's black gloves remained dry under the 
merciless sun.

"School's almost out and I thought that I would just 
hang out," Steven babbled as he struggled to keep up 
with the others, "I never was going to do this again. 
Whatever you do, I don't want to go to the dean's 
office..."

"Or the truant officer," interjected Mr. Fowler.

Apparently the thought of police involvement brought 
about a Niagara of tears from Steven's eyes.

He was a slight kid of twelve years with a blond buzz 
cut and a smattering of freckles on his face. His clean 
cut appearance and small size would easily fool someone 
into thinking that Steven would never run with a crowd 
that played hooky.

Misty laughed and Chris joined in.

"This, actually is his third time," Misty corrected.

Steven had nothing to say in response. The group 
entered the school doors and started down the hall to 
the Dean's Office. Mr. Fowler escorted the three to the 
door and asked them to take seats.

Steven's face, however, was in no condition to see the 
Dean. Mr. Fowler asked if the boy needed to wash up in 
the restroom. The sad child nodded and Mr. Fowler 
showed him the way to the nearest restroom.

Steven took to a sink and began to rinse the saltwater 
from his rosy cheeks. Some of the water splashed onto 
his modest white t-shirt.

Mr. Fowler leaned against the door to the boy's 
restroom and covertly locked the door with one hand.

Steven, after cleaning his face, was certain that his 
time had come to face the music.

"Please, Mr. Fowler, I will do anything not to get sent 
to the office."

Silence.

"Please, I will do anything to avoid getting punished."

More silence.

Mr. Fowler's icy glare was concealing the wheels that 
turned in his mind. And the front of his trousers also 
hid a rising movement in his loins.

"Do you have to go to the restroom? I can wait."

Steven said yes and walked to a urinal.

While Steven was pissing, he looked back over his 
shoulder to see if Mr. Fowler was watching him. Steven 
quickly faced the wall again. Within seconds, Mr. 
Fowler was standing right behind Steven and wrapped his 
arm around the unsuspecting boy's chest.

Steven's heart beat like the wings of a hummingbird.

Mr. Fowler was encouraged by this quick thrashing of 
the kid's heart and moved his hand down to where Steven 
was holding his penis to urinate. He replaced Steven's 
hand with his own and pressed himself into Steven's 
backside. He was grinding into Steven's ass and 
breathing heavily onto Steven's neck when they heard 
movement at the door. Someone was trying to get in. 
After trying to open the door, this persistent person 
knocked three times and asked if anyone was inside. 

After a minute, whoever it was gave up and decided to 
go to another restroom.

Steven closed his eyes and bit his lower lip. Mr. 
Fowler was nibbling on his ear lobe and then his neck.

The flow of Steven's urine stopped and his penis grew 
harder with every successive stroke of the teachers 
probing hand. Mr. Fowler savored the feel of the kid's 
shortish pubic hairs against the palm of his hand.

Steven didn't take long to shiver a little and then 
shudder a lot. He expelled his first semen into the 
white porcelain urinal.

Mr. Fowler stepped back and allowed Steven to zip up 
and prepare to leave. Before they went to exit, Mr. 
Fowler gave Steven a slow, simmering kiss on the lips.

"I have your back," said Mr. Fowler.

Inside the Dean's Office, Misty and Chris were sitting 
across the desk from Dean O'Malley. Dean O'Malley was 
explaining to them his choices in handling their 
situation but he decided to hold off until Mr. Fowler 
came back.

The door opened and Mr. Fowler peeked into the door.

"I know for a fact that Misty and Chris are frequent 
flyers when it comes to skipping. The third kid, 
however, got away when I went to the restroom. He 
didn't give me his name either."

Chris and Misty exchanged confused glances.

Misty spoke up but swallowed her words. It would be a 
lot easier for her to talk her way out of this 
situation without a little kid like Steven to screw it 
up.

"Thank you Mr. Fowler," said Dean O'Malley.

"No problem," said the teacher, who left a trace of 
semen on the doorknob of the office on his way out.

"This is the last class of the day, Steven. Let's take 
you home."

"Yes, Sir." 

END

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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not real life. Anyone acting
out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to
many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a 
fellow convict in their local prison.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 59