The Teacher

Graphically sexual fyi

It’s amazing how life can change in an instant. What person or persons you could meet who will have such a profound effect on you ?Who will question all that you thought you knew. I’m David Walsh ,35 successful author and English professor at Columbia. I’m sexy, single ,no kids and have a host of chicks I can call up any time of the week for a good time. I drive a BMW and live in a condo next to Battery Park. In short, I’m the shit .

It all started the first day of fall semester. I looked out into the crowd of mostly sunburned suburban white faces. As usual, I counted to see how many brothas and sistas were there. They were the necessary spice and perspective that the class needed to dissect the conundrum of white male supremacy that plagues English classes all over the world. Needless to say by the semester’s end everyone loved the class. Or maybe it was the fact that I looked more like a model with my muscular 5’10 frame and deep brown eyes. I’d been propositioned by students more than I can count. I hurriedly finished reading the syllabus. And reminded the class about an upcoming assignment. I was loosening the straps of my Brooks Brothers briefcase when I felt a presence awash in strawberries approach.  “Professor Walsh”, I looked into the face of the slim dark skin boy who’d sat in the back and cheesed the whole class. He was definitely a player for the other team with his lavender polo, tight white distressed jeans and tall go boots. His eyebrows were arched to perfection over the long mascara thickened eyelashes that framed a set of most likely gray contacts. “Yes can I help you err-“,I stuttered taken aback and unaware of his name. “Yes I’m Damien Talbot and I was curious about the time period you wanted us to use in the study of African sexual life in literature. ” Of course you’d ask about sex and damn did you have to lick your lips after every two words. “Well Mr. Talbot, I’m glad you’re so focused but I’d really like if you’d focus on that assignment more in November after my Color Purple assignment.”

His face fell dramatically and his gray orbs appeared to pop out his face. Jerks and spasms assaulted his body and he was strewn over the floor damn near knocking my papers down. “Damien, Damien”, I kneeled at his side hoping his crazy faggot ass ain’t die in my classroom. He opened his eyes as I cradled him. In a southern voice reminiscent of Celie he said “Mis-tah, I forgot to mention I’m a drama major couldn’t help it.”

Later that night at home ,I rehashed the story over the phone with my friend Sonia. Sonia is a psychiatrist, damn hot and has no use sexually for the male persuasion. “Yes Sonia . It was quite the spectacle the little queer all over the floor”, I started to say before Sonia interrupted. “Damn Dave, I ain’t know you was like that.” I didn’t realize what she was talking about until I thought about my words. “I’m sorry about using that word. But you know it rightly describes them. Why are they so damn showy? “So openly Gay men and lesbians make you mad? ” “Nah”, I tried to interject but I knew Sonia was gonna assault the shit out my ears. “No! you listen cause along with you and the rest of the straight world ,hell even the gay world needs to stop the bullshit. “I knew that Sonia was mad because she was letting that Bronx broad creep out of her otherwise impeccable English. She continued “Dykes and drag queens may seem like a joke but to me they’re inspiration. Cause what they possess that the rest of us don’t is balls. Balls to say fuck you I’ ma live my life how I want. It’s only because I didn’t want to be homeless, denied loans, scholarships that I follow the status quo. And with that my brother I need you to think”, she concluded hanging up the phone in my ear. I snorted and poured myself a scotch “What crawled up her ass?”.

Nevertheless the semester continued and I sought to enrich, nourish and cultivate new ideas. I tried my damndest to ignore Damien. Sad to say I was unsuccessful. At any given day he or should I say she could be counted on to put on a show. He shocked the shit outta me one day strutting into class with a pink sequined dress ,6 inch heels complete with Tina Turner wig. I didn’t even know it was his punk ass till one of the females who sat next to him exclaimed “Oh Damien, you better work bitch.” Other compliments followed from a few girls and guys. Damn ,when did everybody turn gay?

I must say though that the kid impressed me with his writings. He spoke of being an orphan, kicked out by his family, being beat up countless times. Still, I ignored him for the most part though he tried his damndest to catch my attention. I’d bristle when he said “Good morning Mr. Handsome ” or whistle when I walked in. I felt like Laura telling Urkel no go to hell.

Five weeks into the semester I knew it was time for some help or some pussy. The class had been assigned  “Their Eyes Were Watching God” Every day Damien cried his poor pathetic heart out. Why? I don’t know. I’d brought the movie in while I graded some papers. After class everyone left or so I thought. I glanced up to catch Damien slurping a lollipop . This fruit was licking the shit outta this penis shaped black lollipop. Instantly and really not wanting this my dick went brick. Totally blood filled brick. “Damien” I said fixing my face as hard as my dick and hoping this bitch ain’t look down. “Mr. Walsh” he said stopping his blow job practice . “I must say you are like the shit. I mean I ain’t Neva had a black male teacher like you”, he said raping me with his eyes. “You inspire me like for real yo”. A little taken back and surprised he ain’t ask boxers or briefs, I responded, “Well Damien ,I’m doing my job enriching young minds. We were quiet for a moment.” “Yeah, I know”, he paused  ,”well listen I’m a caterer in addition to other occupations and if you ever need a meal or cake holla at me. And pass my number along to your siddity friends.” And with that he sashayed off in a pair of skinny jeans hugging a woman’s ass. 

 A few days later I got a call from my old partner in crime Darnell “Rail”Simms. Rail and I had gone to Morehouse. He now lived in L.A. Getting his Johnny Cochran on. So of course I had to  go out and get fucked up cause that’s how we do.  Rail wanted to meet at sum joint he called it in the Lower East Side. Rail was a light skin brotha with a basketball players body and dreads. “What’s popping bro “? I said giving him the brotha man hug. “Aint’shit man “Rail boomed while giving me a bear hug. “You doing the damn thing Mr. Professor man. You could pump it up all more though. Prolly be scaring bitches with your arms.” See that’s why I loved Rail. This man was a corporate lawyer had graduated top of his class and charmed white folks with the ease of Oprah. But he wasn’t a brown nose Oreo cookie mother fucka. He still kept it hood as chicken grease. “C’mon lets go inside”, he ushered me along into the dark lounge . The decor was some flashing pinks clashed with dazzling silvers. Madonna’s Justify my love was blazing its defense. The plush red seats were occupied by men. Mostly white dudes but a few yellows, Browns and blacks were sprinkled .This was no doubt a sausage fest, a rainbow room friend of Dorothy and Ellen take it up the shitter gay bar. I was quiet as Rail guided me to a seat in the back.  Didn’t know what to say so for the first time me a major speaker and writer shut the fuck up. Our waitress was a tall black transsexual dark skin and model thin, she owned the elegant black cocktail dress with a ferocity not found in the natural world. She was pretty as fuck. “Yo Dave”, Rail started the most he’d said in the last 2 minutes. “I ain’t gay or nothing like that I just like to have fun every now and then . You know like back in school.” I shuddered a bit at the long buried memory of male mischief. Coldly I pierced Rail, “Don’t fucking go there.” Rail looked a bit confused and sad as his bottom lip fell a bit. “Nigga”, I laughed out loud so Rail bust out laughing as well.  “Nah seriously dude you can be.  Whoever. You want . It is what it is.”

I spent the rest of the night laughing at the drag performances and comediennes . Two hours entering the bar I felt all kinds of ways . Shots of tequila and Henny as well as trips to the bathroom to smoke weed and sniff coke with Rail had me feeling wavy.Rail caressed my head. It was so light and happy and gay. I laughed insanely as I sniffed poppers. It was all so beautiful, the gay boys laughing, kissing,crying holding each other moaning a sweet stinking song. It was all so pretty and so was she in this beautiful purple gown.Her hair was a thick jet black mess of Grecian curls atop with a dazzling tiara. Damien was fucking beautiful. And in that moment those magnificent gray orbs locked onto mine as I sat almost bent over in the lap of Rail,my ass being grazed by his hard cock. “Oh my goodness Mr. Walsh” he exclaimed so loudly running across the hall in his stilettos. “Hey Damien”, I exhaled in a voice unlike my own. “What’s good honey sit”. He sat his more than happy ass next to me and I sniffed some coke off the table for like the 50th time before everything went black

This is where we reach the current point in my story. My normally pristine bedroom is in complete disarray. There are about 20 different bluntville wrappers insides of the cigars strewn next to my $3000 Cartier watch. The stench of urine and shit hits my nose, the source apparently emanating from these jeans on the floor. Vomit stains my white carpet and laid out across my bed like a black drag queen sex doll lies Damien totally nude and dead  ,the gray contacts seeming to recoil from the blank irises. A pillow covers his mouth. His plump ass sit sigh in the air smeared with cum and shit and urine. I vomit and fight the urge to gag as I access my own pain. I drag myself to my bathroom  climbing into the tub and turning on the water as I lay there for what feels like hours. I get up and search the rest of my home which doesn’t appear to be in the same level of disarray as my bedroom. Just some beer cans strewn about and used condoms in odd spots like my bookshelf and my chinchilla rug. I pick up a pack of cigarettes that seems to magically appear on my marble counter because I  don’t smoke and ask aloud to myself, “What the fuck happened?  

A pink cock ring next to my fruit bowl brings me back. Closing was at 4. Rail was obviously the strongest and most sober  because he took Damien’s ass in one arm and me in another half dragging me out the club. Surprisingly that night a cab stopped in NYC to pick up three black men. Three hot horny black mofos. Rail threw a 100 at the drier and took my card out my hand. My building was exclusive. There was no  doorman or security and entry was only allowed by use of a card. Only one other resident lived in the building ,an actor who spent two months out the year there. Once upstairs, the predawn light cast a purple shine against our black bodies. Rail and I sat on the couch kissing as Damien went down on both of us. Rail kept whispering in my ear” fuck that sissy”. Stupidly, I kept grinning shaking my head. Rail pried Damien up off his knees and smacked him hard across the face twice.  Damien fell.  To the floor . Rail again picked Damien up off the floor . It was so brutal and intense to watch. MY DICK WAS SO HARD THAT I WINCED IN PAIN.  And then Rail was on me with such an intensity, a force only two men can give each other. I was moaning and quivering like a woman. At that moment, I was a woman and as a woman I had to bear the burnt of this big dicked black man. My man. Rail was such a beast as he ripped my jeans off and created a hole in my black boxer briefs. Through the that hole he enters my ass. I cry out in agony. Rail hasn’t spit or lubed neither pole or hole. I cringe as I try to acclimate to the burning friction. My walls feeling ready to collapse as he plows my tight hole. Good thing my walls were soundproof or 5.0 would definitely be here. I’m screaming my heart out as Rail spits on me punches my buttocks and lower back. “Bitch . Bitch take this dick.” “Good ass hell yeah”, he growls. I’m at the point of howling except no sounds can come out and then something inside me pops and all kinds of liquids come gushing out. I’m taken aback even as Rail pushes farther into my anal cavity. I drift back to a memory of two boys bored in a dormitory doing a little post adolescence exploring. The light skin one is way more comfortable and experienced. The brown skin boy is a little shy and scared because the light skinned one wants to feel his ass so bad but he’s slinging a foot long.  So the light skin one agrees to let brownie fuck him first then he gets to return the favor. Brownie spreads lightskin’s voluptious ass cheeks and puts his own hard 8 inches to work. He nuts in two minutes. Lightskin is more than ready for his turn and the brownskin boy swallows and admonishes him to take it easy as his head is pushed in a pillow and a hard dick tearing his rectum with a vengeance. And at that moment he felt a real man. And each time that light skin becomes Daddy.

“Daddy yes”,I scream loudly nutting for the past and present sex. Rail fucked me for three or four times before he couldn’t get it up any more. I was so exhausted I passed out. When I awoke again I found myself being penetrated and there was line of about three guys waiting their turn on me. I glanced up to see Damien being penetrated by two guys at once their salt and pepper sticks stretching his hole to unimaginable proportions. I’m at a loss for words or processing as dick enters my mouth. I woke up again this time it’s just me and DAMIEN. The smell of cum loads, male sweat and ass juice envelop the air. I caress his cute stupid dead face. He disgusts me for his lack of disgust with himself. I turn him over. He mumbles half sleep, “Damn Daddy . Don’t , not so soon.” I ignore him push him on his side and enter him. David shifts trying to eject me but he can’t move. He moans through the pillow that he can’t breathe.”Help, Help he yells as my dick makes movements on its own and I hold onto the pillow cause I’m Daddy damnit. “I’m fucking daddy “,I scream mad in the face and it all goes black again.

I get up from my chair. Something makes me glance at the calendar. Rail and I had met on Thursday October 10th. It was now 10:00pm Saturday. Damn, so this had been two fucking days. Jesus! I go back to my bedroom, mind cloudy but clearly I pick up David’s abused and dead corpse and throw him in the tub. All of my years of watching Court TV forensic files was gonna pay off. And so was the extra cleaners the janitor slipped me. I threw bleach everywhere the carnage took place avoiding my electronics. I’d throw the bed away later. I use a whole box of garbage bags. Once the house was spotless I get busy with my butcher knife and chop Damien up like a madman. 2 hours and 6 garbage bags later I exhale and overly exhausted. I stuff the bags inside my luggage. I find his clothes on my nightstand in surprisingly good condition. His wig hangs on my doorknob in all is majestic glory. I get in the shower feeling nothing least of all remorse or fear. I shave my legs, my arms and my beard. I put on Damien’s purple sequin dress, the stilettos and the crow black wig. I grab Damien’s discarded purse and drag the bags downstairs. It is almost 1 am and my neighborhood is eerily deserted a far cry from a few hours when the area would be teeming with pompous pink bastards who run the world and their equally neurotic, entitled female counterparts. My cab driver, this funky mothafucka ,didn’t ask any questions about my odd get up and my bulging bags. Nor did he care about making two stops along the FDR once I handed him a Benjamin and a curt fuck you look.

“Where I drop you miss?”, he asks as we get further uptown. “Take me to 125th”, I say looking at the glittery dirty mess that is the Hudson and the shiny light shithole of Jersey across the river. I get out in front of the State building on 7th avenue destination  Men. Preferably men looking for daddy. I grin wickedly as my heels clap on the cold Harlem streets.

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