Get Stuffed

She’d mentioned them watching videos before, but the way she says it now leaves no doubt as to which video she’s talking about. Squeezing my lips together, I stand straight as if my vertebrae has been soldered together. It was only a matter of time before someone found the old movie. I hoped it would be long after I’d retired, but luck doesn’t seem to be on my side. At the time, when the porno was first made, it seemed like a needle in a haystack that someone I knew would come across it. It was made in a tiny back-alley studio. The company was professional enough to test for STDs prior to production and it paid well, but as these types of companies go, it was like a mom-and-pop thing. The director wrote the script, did the lighting himself, and ran cameras, while his wife and brother ran the others. I had no idea they’d have the kind of distribution to keep videos out in the world after all these years.

Now it has finally come back to bite me in the ass.

“Who all knows about the video?” I ask, sounding angrier than I should. It’s not like it’s her fault that the students in my class found it, and I can’t blame her for being curious enough to watch it. If the shoe were on the other foot and I found a video of Georgia, I would definitely check it out.

“As far as I know, just us,” she says. “They were hesitant to even show me, but I’d already seen enough to realize what they were watching. I don’t think they’ll tell anyone.”

“No,” I say, resigned. Looking out the window at the clear sky, I see my entire career—all those years of late-night study sessions and horrible part-time jobs in greasy fast-food joints to earn tuition flash before my eyes.

That’s why I’d resulted to porn, because there were no part-time jobs that paid enough. I was going through the job section of the newspaper one day when I saw the ad for porn actors. I was young and thought, fuck for money? Hell yeah, I can do that. But it wasn’t at all how I thought it would be. I showed up at the studio and met my co-star, who, at the time, was smoking a joint because she couldn’t bear to have sex with me sober. She was twenty-six years old and had already starred in over fifty movies, some of them so extreme, according to her, that they had to have a medic on set just in case. After that I was afraid, to say the least. There was nothing sexy about any of it. She immediately went into the rules, what she was willing and not willing to do. I was then instructed to lie on a bed with all eyes on me. With the heat from the lights blazing down on me, and the cold mechanics of the whole thing, I struggled to stay hard. They made me pop a little blue pill and threated to kick me out and not pay me if I couldn’t perform. Somehow I managed, but despite my hard cock, I wasn’t turned on one bit. Once I came, I was so glad it was over I decided never to do it again, even after receiving a nice paycheck. It just wasn’t worth it. And now, everything I’ve worked for, all of it could be gone because I had sex for money on camera ten years ago.

Exhaling a long, exhausted breath, I say, “I don’t think they’ll tell anyone as long as I give them something in return. Their parents are wealthy, so I doubt they’ll want money, but I’m sure they will want As in this class. But you already have a perfect grade in my class, so what will you want?”

I have a hard time keeping the irritation back. I thought Georgia was different. Stupid me, I was actually starting to feel a connection between me and her. I thought she liked me. Now that I realize she did all of this to blackmail me because of the video, I realize how dumb I’ve been.

“I don’t want anything,” she says.

I watch her, trying to read her face. I’ve been teaching long enough to spot a liar from a mile away. So why am I not picking up on anything? I want to believe her. Those big blue eyes look sincere, and so does the shocked expression on her face, but the way she continues to twist the straps of her backpack tells me she’s not being entirely honest.

“You’re lying,” I say.

She bites her bottom lip, her eyes bouncing between my face and my dick, which has finally settled down in the face of my ruin.

“Well, there’s one thing,” she says.

It’s probably money. Scholarship kids are always scraping by. But how much will she want and how much is this job really worth to me?

“How much?” I ask.

She tilts her head to the side, confused. “How much?”

“Yeah,” I say, getting irritated with this innocent act of hers while she’s committing extortion. “How much money will it take to keep you quiet about the video?”

She leans away from me. Irritation warps her face. On anyone else, it would be ugly, but I think it’s physically impossible for her to be unattractive. “I don’t want your money,” she says, spitting out the words as if they’ve left a bad taste in her mouth.

“Then what do you want from me,” I say, lifting my hands in surrender.

Shaking her head, she says, “I wasn’t trying to get money from you, I just wanted to see your cock!” She slaps her hands against her mouth, eyes wide, as if she’d spilled a secret she’d meant to keep.

A short burst of laughter escapes my lips. I can’t believe what she’s telling me. “In exchange for your silence, you want to see my cock?”

I’ve never seen anyone’s face turn as red as Georgia’s is now. Seriously, is there any blood left in the rest of her body?

“No,” she insists. “Not in exchange for my silence. I never planned to tell anyone. You’re my favorite teacher. I would never do anything like that. I was just . . . I bought the video and now I’m curious. It’s not blackmail. If you don’t show me, it’s not a big deal.” She scrambles for her backpack. It’s adorable the way she keeps dropping her books when she tries to shove them inside. “Never mind,” she says, anxious to escape. “Just forget I said anything,”

When she tries to leave I grab her arm to stop her. “Sit,” I tell her. She stares at my hand connected to her arm. At first I think she’s going to demand that I let her go, or get pissed that I’m physically detaining her, but instead, she obediently sits back in her chair without a word or even a hint of reluctance.

I take another step toward her so her face is right at the opening of my legs, just inches from

my boxer-clad dick. “You stayed to see it, so take a look,” I say.

She starts to fidget. “Maybe it was a bad idea—” she starts to say, but I cut her off.

“Look at it.”

Her eyes shoot upward to meet mine, a look of stunned disbelief making her look younger than she is, and somewhat nervous.

Her next words come out slow and methodical, as if she’s thinking really hard about what to say next. “Okay . . . aren’t you going to take off your boxers?”

“No, you’re going to do it for me,” I say, my words curt, leaving no room for her to argue.

I watch her, wondering if she’ll actually go through with it. She looks scared to death.

She starts to laugh, as if I’m joking, but when my lips don’t budge, her laughter trails off. “You’re serious.”

“If you want to see it bad enough, you get to do all the work. Now pull down my boxers and look at my cock.”

I move closer so that the flap on my boxers is just a hair’s breadth from her trembling mouth.

It will definitely be work trying to get these boxers off now that I’m getting hard. The fabric starts to gouge at the skin of my waist and becomes uncomfortable.

She visibly swallows and reaches for the elastic waistband. Holy shit, she’s actually going to do it, I realize, and I become harder still. Honestly, I thought she would chicken out; she seems so innocent, so virginal, but this girl is determined. I fight the smile wrestling my lips while she struggles to get my boxers over the head of my growing prick. When that approach doesn’t work at first, she reaches behind and slides them down my ass first. Always the little problem-solver.

Once my boxers are down in the back, she’s able to easily get them down in the front. I wait for her to say something, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t really need to, though. The look on her face speaks volumes.

3

Georgia

Mr. Johnson has the most beautiful dick I’ve ever seen. Straight with a slight arch toward his belly button, everything proportioned nicely. And big.