The bitter, sweaty taste of his flesh fills my every taste bud. I can't complain. I don't complain. Instead, I keep sucking until he is ready.Soon ...nough, I can feel the consecutive pulses to the back of my throat as his fulfilled cock rips stream after stream of warm salty spunk in my mouth. Its taste is repulsive. Its texture is slimy. But it's a regular part of my daily breakfasts that I'm supposed to swallow. Every last drop.After a few deep exhales, the satisfied man leaves the. I don't have the heart to refuse him, as he seems to be the only teacher who cares how I feel. I spread my blanket over the stool provided, perch on it and lean back against the chilly blackboard. He tells the class as they file in, that they will be using me to hone their poetry skills. Christian, I notice, abandons his normal seat up front for one at the back, near Darren and Justin and the rest of their friends.Being written about is a lot like being drawn, only more intrusive. But not. More

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