Johnson takes his time recovering his breath, M
From Create Your Own Story
Johnson ran his hand down Alex's back, shivering in the aftermath of his orgasm. He loved the way Alex felt like this, vulnerable and under his control. His hand smoothed into Alex's hair, feeling the young student struggling to hold his breath with difficulty, unable to gasp for air due to the length in his mouth.
"Can't breathe, can you?" Johnson taunted, a wicked smile on his face.
Finally, Johnson pulled away from Alex, saliva connecting the two of them in a stringy line. The orange clad Alex coughed, sputtering for oxygen, and for a few seconds, Johnson seemed almost tender as he stroked the hair behind Alex's ears. It was hard to comprehend what was happening before your very eyes.
"Better, boy?" Johnson asked, his voice softening for just a moment.
"Y-yes... thank you," Alex whispered, his cheeks flushed and his breathing still ragged.
You didn't know what to think of it all, but one thing was clear – Johnson enjoyed having power over others. And as much as you disliked it, there was something undeniably captivating about the raw intensity between him and Alex. An uneasy thought lingered in your mind: Would you be able to resist that same power if it were ever directed at you? The moment of tenderness shattered as Johnson's face contorted into a sneer, his eyes locking onto yours. "You're a fun little spectator," he snarled through a laugh, the sound of students bustling behind the door providing a stark contrast to the scene that unfolded within. As if nothing had happened, Johnson casually packed himself away into his trousers, his voice cold and commanding. "You're both needed at the Library tonight. Count it as your punishment for making my classroom smell like sex."
You glanced over at Alex, whose cheeks were flushed and eyes watery from the ordeal he'd just experienced. He seemed so vulnerable, an image that was difficult to forget.
"Now. Get the fuck out," Johnson snapped, waving his hand dismissively to unlock the door. Obediently, Alex stumbled to his feet, still dazed from the events that had transpired. You reached out your arm to offer him support, but he jerked away, avoiding any physical contact with you.
"We're late for class," he said, his voice emotionless and devoid of any indication of the intimate moment he'd shared with Johnson. There was only a soft gravel to his tone, betraying the lingering effects of the encounter. The door swung open, and you both stepped out into the hallway, leaving behind the suffocating atmosphere of the classroom.
As you walked side by side, you couldn't help but replay the scene in your head, the raw power and vulnerability etched into your memory.
