Detention 6

I woke up with Chris next to me. Sunlight poured through my window, filling my whole room with bright light and it took me a moment or two to realize that it was morning. It was morning and Chris was still in my bed, sleeping next to me. We had slept together in the same bed. All I could wonder was, “How did that happen?” His face was buried sideways on the pillow, his eyes lightly closed, and his mouth slightly open. I studied his perfect, beautiful face for a minute before I looked over at my alarm clock; it was ten minutes to eight. “Oh, shit! Chris wake up now!” I yelled. 

Chris’ eyes popped open. He looked at me at first as though he couldn’t remember who I was and then he sat up in bed. “What am I still doin’ here?” he asked.

Quickly, I jumped out of bed, not wearing a damn thing, and found some underwear to put on. “We gotta hurry up. We’re supposed to be at school in like ten minutes.”

Chris didn’t move from the bed at all. He just stretched his powerfully muscular arms over his head, arched his back, causing all of the muscles in his upper body to flex and ripple. “Fuck school. Let’s just not go.”

“No, we gotta go. We’ll get detention again if we miss school.”

Sighing, Chris said, “We’ll probably get detention anyway.” He stepped out of bed, fully naked, the light illuminating his god-like body, and his giant, semi-hard dick swinging around like a pendulum. He picked up his shirt and put it on. “Where the fuck are my pants at?” he asked.

“Think you left `em in the living room. Let me go get them. I don’t know if my mother is home or not.” I left my room, went into the living room, and found Chris’ baggy jeans in a pile on the carpet beside the couch. Picking them up, I sniffed the crotch area of Chris’ jeans a few times, and I could smell his sweet, pungent scent through the denim. It made my dick harden a little bit in my boxer shorts. I jogged back to my room and handed Chris his jeans. “Chris we gotta hurry up and get to school. If we’re late, then we gotta go to detention...again. I’m not tryin to have detention on a fuckin Friday.”

Chris lazily stepped into his jeans. His dick was poking out of the zipper hole. He stuffed it back in and zipped them up. I was surprised to see how good Chris looked in the morning. He looked so fresh as though he didn’t just wake up. Me on the other hand, I knew that I probably looked like a big mess. “It’s already eight o’clock, B.” I checked the clock and saw that he was right. Fuck.

After he was finished dressing, Chris said, “I’ll see you later.”

“Wait a second, I’m almost dressed.”

“No. I need to go home and take a shower and put on some different clothes,” Chris told me.

“Why don’t you just wear what you got on now?”

“`Cause it’s musty, and I hate wearin’ the same thing twice.”

“You can just wear somethin of mine,” I told him. “We’re basically almost the same size.”

Chris looked at me as if I was stupid. “No offense, B. But I wouldn’t be caught fuckin dead wearin any of your shit.” He scoffed and walked out of the room. “I’ll see you later.”
I caught up with him in the living room just as he was about to open the front door, and grabbed him by the arm spinning around. I leaned my face in close to kiss him but Chris pulled back. “I’m cool, B. Your breath stinks.” He grinned, tugged open the door and left. I couldn’t believe he just said that to me--I mean I could believe he said that, because Chris always said shit like that, but that fuckin annoyed me. It just proved to me that the closer that I thought the two of us got, the more Chris proved to me that I wasn’t worth shit to him. 

Since I didn’t have much time, I just put on a slightly wrinkled T-shirt and the same jeans I wore the day before. It was fifteen minutes after eight when I finally got out of the house. As I was getting on the bus, searching for my fare, I found the letter that Jason Coleman had written me last night. I paid the dollar fare, found a seat, and reread the note again.

Hey Brandon,

This is Jason. Came by your house around nine-fifteen, but nobody answered the door when I rang the doorbell...I’m kinda disappointed that I didn’t get spend time with you tonight...

As I thought about it, I realized that I was disappointed too.

I reported to the main office where the bitter old receptionist, Ms. Grayson grimaced at me from behind her desk. “You’re an hour late, Mr. Newman,” she said.

“Um...my bus ran late...”

“Next time,” she said as she filled out a pink slip for me, “Wake up earlier.” Ms. Grayson handed the note to me. “Report to Mr.Wilson’s room at three-fifteen for detention. Next!”

So obviously I could see that this was already gonna be the worst fuckin day of my life. I snatched the slip away from her and stormed out of the office.

Later, during lunch, I saw Jason Coleman walking in my direction as I sat under my favorite tree. 
As he came closer, I was just so mesmerized by how attractive he was; and not just the way he looked. There just seemed to be a confidence about him, a maturity about him that set him apart from most high school boys our age. Jason sat next to, smiling. “Hey,” he said. “Did you get that note I left you last night?”

“Yeah, I did...um...my mother wanted me to go somewhere with her at that last minute. I told her that you were comin over, but she didn’t care. I’m sorry I missed you.” 

Jason looked at me intently with his bright hazel eyes for a few seconds, as if he were trying to decide if I was telling the truth or not. He just said, “It’s OK. That’s cool. Well, what are you doin after school?” 

I sighed. “Got detention again. But afterwards I free to do whatever.”

“Good,” Jason said. He stood up. “Come to the library after you get out. I’ll be there.” Jason winked at me and walked away. I watched his ass through his semi-tight fitting jeans as he strode off. It was really tight and round-looking. I was still amazed that somebody as good-looking and sophisticated as he was would be interested in me. I looked around to see if Chris was spying on me as he had been the other day. When I didn’t see him, I gathered my stuff and headed to class. 

I reported to room 738 after school for detention. The bad thing was that this wasn’t going to be like Ms. Navarro’s detention, where all we had to do was sit in our desks and look like idiots for forty-five minutes. Mr. Wilson, the detention teacher for the whole school, was an unnecessarily cruel asshole that made us actually do things as part of detention, like clean all the bathrooms or pick up trash all over campus. This was really not about to be fun.

There was only four other people in detention other than myself: this extremely good-looking, tall and muscular sophomore fifteen-year-old named Scott Howard, Rachel Johnson who was in my Physics class, and of course, the two people I really wasn’t all too excited to see: Billy Anderson and Chris Green. When Chris saw me, he smiled; I couldn’t really tell if it was an insulting smile, or a genuine smile. Just as I sat in my seat, I heard Mr. Wilson say to me in his extremely deep voice, “Five minutes late, Newman.” 

I checked my watch. “It’s three fifteen now.”

Mr. Wilson pointed to the wall clock. “Not on that clock it isn’t.” He walked over to my desk, and as he came closer to me, I could smell the sweet scent of the cologne he wore. Mr. Wilson gripped both sides of my desk and lowered himself down so that our faces were at the same level. He stared at me deeply with his piercing ice-blue eyes. Very deliberately with his sexy lips moving slowly, Mr. Wilson said to me, “Don’t ever be late again, Newman.”

With my heart beating at rapid speed, I answered, “I won’t be.”

I heard Chris, Billy and Scott snickering at me. Mr. Wilson looked in their direction. “Did I tell any of you to make any fuckin noise?” he asked.

“No, sir,” all three said at once. I had forgotten that Mr. Wilson had been head coach for the football team in the fall and their Track and Field coach. That’s why Chris, Billy, and Scott respected (or were intimidated by) him so much. Mr. Wilson looked at me again, for a few seconds. And there was something in the way he looked at me, that was not just anger, but also a look of lust, like he wanted to fuck me right there. It was the same look Chris always gave me. I looked at the wedding band on Mr. Wilson’s finger and then I looked him directly in the eyes. Mr. Wilson arched one of his eyebrows slightly, stood up and headed back toward his desk. Like I had done with Jason, I watched Mr. Wilson’s firm-looking round ass in the snug-fitted brown slacks he wore. I could tell from Mr. Wilson’s body shape that he worked out a lot and had a nice physique. He probably had a giant dick like Billy and Chris. It’s been my experience that football players--and their coaches probably--all though I have only fucked three so far (football players, not coaches)--have massive dicks. 

“Anderson and Green,” Mr.Wilson said to Billy and Chris, “I want all the trash in the main courtyard and the bleachers on the football field cleaned up.” To Scott, he said, “Howard, you go clean up the men’s locker room. It should be empty by now. All three of you should be back in less than half an hour. Ms. Johnson you can leave now. I don’t have anything for you to do today.” Rachel looked very happy when Mr. Wilson told her this. She was out of the classroom in two seconds. I didn’t dare think to tell him that was unfair that she got to go while the rest of us stayed. But I, as well as Billy, Chris, and Scott knew that was a bad idea to challenge Mr. Wilson. The three boys left the classroom, leaving Mr.Wilson and I alone. “And you, Newman...” Mr. Wilson reached into one the drawers in his desk and pulled out one of the biggest stacks of papers that I had ever seen in my life. He saw the shocked look on my face and this made him smirk. Mr. Wilson carried the papers over to my desk and placed them on my desk. “I want you to grade each one of these. And if you make any mistakes, I’ll be seein your ass everyday in detention for the next two weeks.” Now I was beginning to see where Chris and Billy got their arrogant, fucked up attitudes from. And I hated to admit that it was actually turning me on.