I sat below the dweeb's crotch, listening to the silent trickle of his business, feeling completely disgusted. I'd just given him a goddamn blowjob, or a handjob, whatever, I'm a damn jock strap! And on top of it all, I drank his jizz, and enjoyed it. My hate for the little fag was intensified beyond what I'd ever experienced before for doing this to me.
Suddenly, I was jerked up almost immediately back into the darkness of his jeans. Although it now felt perfectly comfortable in the warm confines of a pair of pants, I forced myself to loathe the experience.
I could feel ourselves walking for a distance, soon sitting down again. This time I didn't recognize the room or teacher, although I'd seen him around a few times. As I strained to get a good look at the room, I noticed that it was getting harder to see through the twerp's eyes-and I was feeling weak.
I could feel another familiar sensation again as well, hunger. And even though my mind screamed a protest, I felt downright excited to get my sustenance.
Flexing a bit, I encouraged the twerp's dick to expand a bit. He squirmed a bit in his seat, trying to adjust me. But I continued to squeeze, tightening and loosening in an increasingly controlled way. It was almost like my routine workout. A light ripple here, some massaging here-as I continued masturbating the hardon inside me, it occured to me how much thought I was putting into this. I probably would have really realized what I was doing were it not for the steady stream of precum I was greedily lapping up.
Ignoring the rest of the world, I put my final efforts into getting the biggest load out of this guy I could. And it all paid off, the sweet cum flowing into me, filling me to contentment. I was loving it, and probably wouldn't have been ashamed to admit it were I capable of speech. But in the middle of my basking, I felt myself lifted from the chair and rushed outside the room. I guess the little jerk had gotten permission for a bathroom break.