Boy

"Now, to calculate this correctly you have to..." Jerking awake with a start, you look around sheepishly. At the front of the classroom your professor drones on, with most of the other students either struggling to keep there eyes open, or slumped over there desks just as you were. You don't know how Professor Oshiro Chieko does it, but she makes College Algebra one of the most soul draining subjects in existence. As you try to refocus, your mind drifts as you struggle to absorb anything she is saying.

Your name is John Doe, and you'd say your a pretty average guy. At around 5' 9" with mousy brown hair, and an unremarkable physique with a little pudge in the belly, you tend to blend in to the crowd as you go about your life. You have slim hips and an average 6 inches below the belt, and so far you have yet to have any kind of romantic relationship to this point. You just started your freshman year of college this morning, and so far the day has been boringly uneventful. With most of your classes being entry level and rather dull, you've struggled through the day as the one class you actually want to sit through, Foundational Drawing 2, drew nearer.

"And that is how we get the correct answer." Professor Oshiro remarks as she finishes writing a complex equation on the whiteboard. "Remember, there will be a quiz at the end of the week on what we go over in the next few days." Startled, you quickly copy what you can into your notebook as the rest of the class begins to gather there things and leave. As you gather your notes and stuff them into your bag, you look over at the professor. A short woman in her late 50's of Asian decent, she has a slim figure and small, B cup breasts. Her black, silver streaked hair is held in a tight bun, and her knee length, black pencil skirt paired with a white button up shirt give her a strict, no nonsense air. Paired with her half frame glasses and practical black pumps, she'd look right at home in any library. A few wrinkles around her eyes and cheeks only slightly detract from her looks, and one could see that in her youth she was decently pretty, even with her thin lips and lack of makeup.

Leaving her classroom, you weave your way through the crowd of students and faculty, making your way to the campuses Art Department for your final class of the day. Situated in the basement of the colleges main building, it takes a while of winding through the halls and going down a staircase before you arrive at your destination. Sitting at an empty table, you set out your supplies as other students filter in, patiently waiting for the class to begin. As the clock ticks to 3:30, the teacher walks in. A man in his mid forties, Professor Gerald Langschaft is an imposing man who'd look more at ease smashing boulders with his fists than painting a picture. With a slight beer gut bulging out his red plaid button up shirt, he stands a head taller than you at around 6' 3". He wears blue overalls stained a rainbow of colors from paint, and has heavy, clunking steps thanks to his scuffed work boots. With a mirthful twinkle in his green eyes and a full, brown beard peppered with gray he looks more like a lumberjack than a teacher.

"Welcome to Foundational Drawing 2 everyone!" He says as he writes his name on the board with a flourish. "Since everyone here has already shown some skill, today were going to get right into it and start our first projects... Personal Portraits!" A general hum of excitement spreads though the class as everyone goes about gathering what they need to begin. The class itself is fairly simple, with Professor Langschaft walking around the room offering advice and critiquing his students work as the minutes tick by. You make decent progress, having chosen to do a full body portrait to further challenge yourself. As you work a fellow student walking by trips, knocking a collection of paints off a shelf as she tried to catch herself, causing them to break and spill everywhere. "Uh oh, you all right dear?" The professor exclaims as he rushes over to help her. "I'm ok." She says as she wipes paint out of her eyes. "Amber, can you help miss Blanc to the sink in the corner to clean up, and then take her to the nurses office?" He asks the girl sitting next to you. Nodding, the blonde girl gets up and helps the fallen girl to her feet and does just that. As they do professor Langschaft turns to you, "Mr. Doe, would you be so kind as to go to the supply closet and get a mop?" Sighing, you put down your pencil, and after receiving directions you head out into the hall in search of the cleaning supplies.

After a few minutes of searching, and having to backtrack after a wrong turn, you finally find the closet in the basements labyrinth. "Man, who designed this schools layout?" You mutter as you go to push open the door. To your surprise, it barely budges. Shoving hard, it slowly pushes in until suddenly, it flies open with a bang. "Gah!!" You exclaim as you fly forward, landing flat on the ground as the door slams closed behind you. "What the hell?" You grumble, getting back to your feet. Looking around, all you see is darkness, not even a silhouette of the door. Feeling around for a light switch, and failing miserably, you do find the door and are unfortunately shocked to feel no handle on the inside. "Seriously, who makes a door with a handle on only one side!?" You exclaim, turning your back to the door and sliding to the ground. Taking out your phone you flip it open to call for help, only to see you have no bars. With a groan you close it and hang your head on your knees.

After a few minutes of waiting you are feeling warm and a little flushed from sitting in the dark and warm room. Look around as sweat drips from your brow you notice a faint light emanating from further in among the shelves. Hopeful that there's another door, you get up and carefully feel your way through the rows of shadowed shelves, the light growing brighter as you draw near. Rounding the corner of a shelf blocking your view, you stop dead in your tracks as you stare ahead in shock. Floating a few inches above the ground, shedding dim light across the shelves, floats a glowing, jagged 'crack' of light, gently pulsing as it slowly twists in place. Roughly 6 feet long, it draws in your gaze as the heat you've been feeling surges. You realize then that it's not actually physical warmth your feeling, but a far more sensual heat burning from within you, lighting your loins on fire as you stare enraptured at the strange sight before you. Your cock twitches in your pants, tenting them as it grows to full mast, practically painful with how much blood is pumping into it as it throbs to your pounding heartbeat. Panting, you can't help but moan as your balls ache, begging for release as a steady stream of precum pumps from your shaft, soaking through your underwear and pants. Even your nipples throb as you slowly draw nearer to the light, causing you to whimper as they rub against your shirt. No thoughts cross your mind as you draw near, only an incessant need for release as the light seems to reach out tendrils towards you, pulsing faster and faster the closer you get, until suddenly, with a blinding flash it surges.

Flying forward it engulfs you, sinking into your flesh and shattering any restraint you had left. As the light disappears, you frantically tear at you clothes, **** for release as you manage to yank your shoes, pants, and underwear off all at once. Grabbing your cock with your right hand, you quickly begin jacking off as a steady stream of precum oozes from its tip, quickly coating it and your crotch while forming a growing puddle at you feet. Kneeling down, you pinch your left nipple, sending a jolt of pleasure through you as the flow from your shaft increases. The flow now more akin to a faucet than anything else, colors swim in your vision as your pleasure reaches a crescendo. With a snap, orgasm rockets through you as your penis explodes with ivory cum, pumping spurt after spurt on the floor and your body, each one several times larger than your entire normal output, and it just doesn't stop. Rolling onto your back you continue to jack off your inundating member, now with both hands, as it rains load after load upon your face and surroundings, each burst taking several seconds to end before being quickly followed by another. Your balls feel tight and full, seeming to be increasing there production even as you empty them out. Never seeming to end, you loose all sense of time as wave after wave of pleasure shatters your mind, leaving you a gibbering mess as you slowly drift into unconsciousness. As sleep claims your mind, three orbs of light float through your mind, each a different color, drifting about in a hypnotic display.