Detention for Kim

I was scared the first time Mr. Poln made me suck his cock. What girl wouldn't be in my situation? Up until that point, I hadn't had the slightest bit of trouble in school. A straight A student. College bound for sure, most likely with honors, with scholarships, with two proud, beaming parents and an army of jealous classmates. Well, all it took was being caught passing a note in class to drag that perfect student down. Down to a punishment, down to a black mark on her record.

Down to her knees.

Now, I know it seems silly, agreeing to do such a thing just so he wouldn't report my note passing to the school authorities, but you need to understand my mindset at the time. I was incredibly naive for my age; something that I no longer suffer from, given the things my body's been through since then. And for all the stereotyping that goes on regarding Asian parents, let me tell you something...it isn't all just for jokes. There's real pressure there; pressure to perform, pressure to excel, pressure to make your family proud and never give them anything negative to say when they're spending time with their friends.

And so I agreed to his terms because I was afraid of what would happen if that minor infraction got out. Sure, what he was proposing was worse, but...it was also something that could be kept secret. Something that my parents would never have to know about. Looking back, there might have been a part of me that wanted the excitement. A part of me that was bored with being the good girl, bored of being the sweet, innocent thing. It's easy to analyze things years later, but in that moment? I was terrified.

"Go on. Open your mouth," Mr. Poln was a handsome enough man, barely into his forties and caught in what I assume was a boring marriage at the time. He had stern features but wasn't always mean; and had a reputation at the school for having the ability to let his hair down. As it turned out, his method of letting his hair down that evening after class was making a terrified honor student suck him off in the men's bathroom.

I nodded to his order and opened my mouth a little; still very scared, and very unsure of how to proceed. Aside from overhearing the cheerleaders talk about things they had done on the bus, I didn't know what to expect, or even worse, what was to be expected of me. What if I did poorly? Would Mr. Poln not only tell my parents that I was passing notes, but that I didn't know how to go down on a man?!

Like I said, naive.

"Wider," Mr. Poln demanded of me, as his hands went down to his zipper, and started to work. I just stared ahead, my eyes wide, and a rush of fear going through me. At the time the school had uniform requirements, which...to be honest, took on a whole different level of wrongness for an Asian girl. Sure, you pretty blonde girls get the Catholic schoolgirl stuff, but when you're a Japanese girl that pleated skirt, those knee-high white socks, that vest over a dress shirt…?

Well, you're a walking porn fantasy, whether or not you realize it.

And so Mr. Poln's little Asian schoolgirl opened her mouth wider, and her eyes closed behind the frames of her glasses - yeah, I had the glasses, too - so she didn't have to look at what was about to emerge. I could hear the zipper slowly going down, and then he made a faint grunting noise as he reached into his boxers and fished it out. I felt it long before I saw it; there was a warmth that slapped against my cheek that didn't feel like anything I had ever experienced before. I flinched from it, my mouth closing if only for an instant before my diligent teacher-pleasing mindset kicked in, and I opened my mouth back up wide as I had been instructed. Mr. Poln just chuckled at that, and I could feel his fingers moving into my hair, a black, clean mess of locks that went into dual pigtails down the back of my head, and held bangs that just dusted above the rim of my glasses. His fingers slid through my hair, though he didn't grip me so much as tilted me into position, and I tensed up as I knew the moment was coming.

Like waiting for a needle, the fear built and built, so much so that by the time his cockhead brushed under one of my lips, I had a moment of panic. The empty boy's room was filled with the sound of my panicked squeal, as I slapped my hands over my mouth and shook my head back and forth again and again and again. Even then, I knew that there was no realistic way of stopping, and before too long I recovered my fear and opened up once more, my eyes still shut tight.

To keep my hands from misbehaving again, I lowered them to the hem of my skirt, where it rested just above my bare knees that dug into the tile of the bathroom floor. It hurt to kneel there, but when I had asked Mr. Poln if I could just sit on the toilet, he had advised me, quite correctly, that…

"Your place is on your knees right now."

And so I knelt, wringing my hands against my skirt, and waiting with my mouth open for the moment to arrive. It came slowly, and as he slid his cock past my lips, the thoughts and emotions that struck me where numerous. Certainly, there was shame in the moment, and part of me wanted to cry over what I was doing. And I'd be lying if I said there wasn't curiosity there as well. I was an intellectual girl after all; it was my first chance to know what a man's cock tasted like. As he pushed it inside, past my lips, onto my waiting tongue, the taste both intrigued and repulsed me, the latter of which I've long since decided was just a reaction of a nervous girl giving her first blowjob. Since then Mr. Poln's head had rested on my tongue dozens of times, and the taste never bothered me like it did that first moment.

I heard him give a content noise, and he started to move his hips, pushing it in and out of my open, motionless mouth. It was truly a "scared girl" blowjob; as I knelt there with my mouth open, my tongue not moving, and my eyes shut quite tight. And after a few thrusts I could tell that his cock was wet with my spit, and that some of it was started to roll down my lips, down past my chin. Too afraid to even wipe it away I allowed it to drool down, and it wasn't too long before I felt it splash down onto my hands at my skirt, somehow making me feel even dirtier with the liquid proof of my actions.

Mr. Poln had only gotten in a handful of thrusts before my mouth closed, and I finally dared to open my eyes. I looked up at him, with spit rolling down my chin, and my body still wrapped in that now-fetishistic outfit of my schoolgirl attire. My eyes remained firmly on his face, which I still found handsome, and they didn't dare drift down to his cock, for fear of seeing it would drive me utterly insane.

Catholic AND Asian. The level of sexual repression I had at that point was staggering.

Mr. Poln seemed to sense that I thought were were simply...done, and he shook his head with a surprisingly kind smile given the situation. His hand went down, and he took my spit-covered chin to open my mouth again, guiding my head forward to press his cock inside once more. He took my head into his own hands, lunging his member into my mouth, forcing me to taste, to experience, to feel every inch of him that I could within reason. My eyes closed after a while, but there was a moment in which I just stared ahead at his lap, eyes wincing on each thrust when he struck a point of discomfort. My hands went slack at my skirt, and my knees fidgeted, though for the first time not because of the pain the tile was causing them.

"Use your hands, Kim," I heard his command and I tried to oblige, though my placement was awkward and amateurish. One of them rested underneath one of his knees, while the other was up far too high, by his stomach. He was patient with me, moving his hands from my head and guiding my own into a better place, and he even wrapped my trembling fingers around the base of his shaft. Once I was touching him as the forty year old liked, he patted my head, and gave me a few deeper thrusts in the form of congratulations.

The spit was rolling down my open lips now, as I had yet to fully seal my mouth around his shaft. I was still just holding it open, letting him fuck it, rather than doing the work myself. It was sloppy work, and in retrospect it would've been easier for me if I had just closed my mouth and done as I was told. Having your open mouth fucked like that is somehow...messier, and because it's messier, it's more embarrassing. With each wad of spit that fell down from my chin, I tensed in more embarrassment and worry. Would my Mom be able to tell from my laundry? Did cockspit smell? My mind was spinning with worry, but before I could dwell on it too much Mr. Poln pulled his member out, and pressed his hand to the back of my head, forcing me to gaze up at him.

"Look at me," he ordered with a smile, and held his shaft by the base, guiding it forward. "Stick your tongue out. Lick it underneath, and on the head."

"...o...okay, Mr. Poln." I offered my quiet response, and opened up as wide as I could, before sticking my tongue out. I did better with it than I did the sucking; I actually moved my tongue past the underside of his head, and I smeared it from side to side, bringing a few happy noises from my history teacher's throat. He was clearly pleased with me, so pleased that he took his spit-slickened shaft and crossed it over my cheeks twice, leaving wet streaks each time. Then he pressed down on my head, at the same time that he lifted his shaft, lowering his sack against my mouth, and just underneath my nose.

I didn't wait for any instruction, since by now I had figured out my role in all of his. As he offered his sac I let my tongue slip out and I rolled it against his flesh, contemplating the different flavor of the man's balls, how it differentiated from the shaft that had been so merciless with my mouth. His hand on my head threaded fingers through my hair again, and as he rocked his hips his other hand guided mine, forcing me to once again grip his shaft. Before too long he had coaxed me into movement, and I knelt there on the bathroom floor, stroking my teacher's cock while I licked messily at his balls.

It would be a position I'd find myself in a lot in the future.

I stayed like that for a while longer, though one of my hands lowered to continued to toy with the edge of my skirt. I was still nervous and didn't know what to do with my hands; and for the moment was thankful that he had at least given me instructions for one of them. By the time his grip on my hair pulled me away from his sack, my face was a mess of spit. It crossed my cheeks, my lips, and even my glasses to such an extent that one of the lenses was blurry and washed out. Knowing that we couldn't possibly be done yet, and learning more with every passing moment, I didn't wait for his instruction.

My mouth opened and I kept my grip on his shaft, moving slowly forward to take the cockhead back to my tongue. I cradled it there, and tried my best to get used to the unusual flavor, moving my head back and forth as I tried to simulate what I felt like he would like. My teacher was happy with that for some time, and though he never said anything directly to me, I heard him talking to himself quite a bit. About what a catch he had found. About what a good student he had.

About what a slut I was under the quiet, unassuming surface. He wasn't speaking to me, but rather of me...like I was property, or something meant to be used and utilized. For some reason I could never quite explain, the notion of it made me take him a bit quicker, and my grip at my skirt tightened, my knuckles white from the grip I had against the stretched fabric.

Before long he braced his hand into my hair, and started to move his hips with a renewed vigor. I was surprised at first, and my hands finally went to his pelvis, holding there, ready to push back if he dared to thrust in so deep as to choke me. At the time I was scared and worried he was going to hurt me, but it's one of those things that has a new perspective when I look back. Since that day in detention, Mr. Poln fucked my mouth much harder, much rougher, and much more ferociously. I've always been fine, and he's never once pushed me to a point I couldn't go back from. He was going easy on me that day; knowing that the bespectacled schoolgirl offering her mouth for his pleasure was terrified and clumsy with her offering.

When he was ready to blow, he pulled out of my mouth, leaving me swallowing cock-flavored spit and gasping for air. His hand forced mine onto his shaft, and he started to stroke himself off, using his student's hand. I looked up at him, my face ashamed and my cheeks red, my pale features made to glisten from the layer of mess that was coating them. My hand continued to pump at his wet cock, and I bit down on my bottom lip in nervousness, having only a faint idea of what was to come.

The first time he came on my face, I turned away from it, and it was forced to splash against one of my lenses, and dribble down my cheek as I made a face akin to a child eating grapefruit. It was hardly my finest moment as I went entirely tense, and wouldn't even look as my teacher shot his cream across my skin. He was breathing heavy, and the bathroom stall was filled with the scent of sex, but I couldn't appreciate any of those delightful senses that I would one day learn to adore. I was too afraid. I was too new.

"Good job, Kim." I heard Mr. Poln say, and it was enough for me to dare half-open one of my eyes, gazing up at him with an ashamed expression on my face. I didn't even want to open my mouth to respond, since I could feel a line of the thick white cream crossing them. I just nodded in response to his praise, before reaching down, moving my hands to grab a cloth from my pocket.

I made quick work in wiping it over my face, wincing as it only served to smear it. Over my cheek, over my lips, and despite my best efforts, that day I got my first, incredibly brief taste of semen. Once my face was clear I took off my glasses, and squinted up at my teacher as I started to wipe them off. Already his shrinking cock was going back into his trousers, but he seemed quite happy with the results.

"There, I did it," I spat the words out, perhaps a bit more hostile than I should have. "Promise you won't tell my parents?"

"I promise, Kim." Mr. Poln smiled, and folded his arms behind his back. He had a look to him; a look of mischief, a glance I found very unsavory and yet...strangely enticing. His eyes drifted over me once more, and I closed my arms around my chest, biting down on my bottom lip as he spoke again.

"Although…" His words slithered out like a snake, and I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. "You probably won't learn your lesson in just one day."

I swallowed; and when I did so, that fraction of a taste of Mr. Poln's cum rolled through my mouth. I didn't know it then, but the sweet, smart teacher's pet was about to become…

...well, a teacher's pet, but a totally different kind.

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