This story is a work of fan fiction, and I don't own any of the characters. The characters depicted are 18 or over. Etc.
Zack's thoughts drifted, as Miss Flugelhorn droned on about the American Civil War. Or was it the Spanish-American War? Zack wasn't really one for history. He preferred to use fourth period with Miss F for less edifying purposes.
As usual, Zack had chosen a seat at the back of the class. This was partly to avoid being called on to answer questions, but the chief advantage was the vantage point it gave him. He liked to use this time to survey the class--boys and girls alike--and ogle his favourite features. Kelly's perfectly molded breasts. Slater's muscles. Jesse's alabaster skin. Screech's... well never mind about Screech.
So immersed in his erotic fantasies was Zack, that it took several pokes from Lisa to get his attention.
"From Slater," she whispered, handing him a folded note. (The year is 1991, and text messaging has not been invented yet; the students of Bayside must make do with more primitive modes of communication.)
He unfolded it and read:
"need help with math homework after school meet me in the libary"
Zack was too excited to even scoff at the misspelling. Study sessions with Slater had become the highlights of Zack's weeks. They were, however, study sessions in name only. What Zack and Slater were getting down to was much more salacious.
As a teenage male, AC Slater had certain needs. As a self-righteous, uber-feminist teenage female, Jesse Spano took great pleasure in preventing Slater from fulfilling those needs. The two had been dating for years now, yet every time Slater got Jesse alone, it was the same protestations: "I respect myself too much as a woman", "I'll decide when I'm ready, you chauvinistic gorilla". etc.
Eventually, Slater's need had become so great, that he caved and sought another outlet for his libido. Though he could have slept with just about any girl at Bayside, Zack noted that this seemed to constitute an unacceptable moral breach in Slater's mind. Nevertheless, messing around with Zack in the locker room was apparently not cheating.
Zack, for his part, was not motivated by desperation. Kelly had been putting out for him for a while now, and he had sampled most of the pleasures the rest of the student body had to offer. To Zack, who stood pretty firmly in bisexual territory, having it off with a guy like Slater was no compromise at all--it was a treat.
They had to exercise a certain amount of discretion in their communication, since the class had its share of gossips, Lisa Turtle being the queen. If she were to find out about Zack and Slater's shenanigans, word would get to Jesse. Hence, "the library" was their code for the locker room, and "math homework" stood for something like "you better show up with your pants around your ankles, preppy, cause I'm going to give your ass the ride of its life".
Zack turned his gaze to Slater. Feeling himself hardening in anticipation, he eagerly awaited the bell.
As usual, Zack was the first to arrive. He did his usual sweep of the locker room, to make sure there was no-one skulking about. No-one was ever down here after class, unless there was a practice, but Slater insisted on constant vigilance.
Finding the place to be empty, Zack headed for their normal rendezvous point, the last shower stall on the left. Slater liked to do the deed here, since he figured it would give them a chance to collect themselves if someone were to walk into the locker room. There was obviously no reason for the boys to be in the locker room after school, but if they had a few seconds, they could at least pull their pants up and pretend they were huddled in the shower stall smoking cigarettes--a much less grievous offense than what they were actually up to.
As Zack waited, he loosened his belt and slipped a hand down the back of his pants, idly fingering his asshole in anticipation. Slater had a monster cock, and Zack had learned by now to make some attempt at loosening himself up a bit beforehand.
Zack closed his eyes, starting to really get into the sensation, pushing further and further in, massaging his hole. It came as a shock when the shower curtain was suddenly parted and Slater walked in. He must have been so caught up that he didn't hear the door.
"Oh, hey Sla-", Zack began.
"Shut up, preppy," Slater said, grabbing Zack and turning him around so he faced the shower wall. Slater was pretty brusque during these encounters, perhaps to convince himself that his masculinity wasn't being compromised. Zack didn't mind. In fact, he rather liked the tough, stoic treatment Slater gave him.
With one firm tug, Slater had Zack's jeans around his ankles, and he was already unbuckling his own pants. Zack couldn't see, but he knew from experience that Slater would already have a huge hard-on. Zack's asshole might have given a little twitch just thinking about the thick, uncut member. Comments, criticism, love letters, hatemail, all welcome: cleraphone@gmail.com. This is my first story, so go easy on me. Slater unzipped the special pocket of his knapsack where he kept the tube of KY jelly he had purchased when he and Zack first started their trysts. They had learned the hard way that, even though Slater produced copious pre-cum, trying to fuck without lube was difficult with a man of his size. Carelessly, Slater squirted a glob of lube into his palm, and spread it along the shaft of his cock. Slater wasn't one for foreplay, or a big build-up. Wordlessly, he gripped Zack's hips, and eased his cock inside him. No more than 20 seconds after Slater had entered the stall, his cock was buried halfway inside Zack.
Zack resisted the urge to moan, as he felt the familiar waves of pain and pleasure. He gripped his cut dick (a peanut compared to Slater's, but not smaller than average), and stroked himself, as Slater pushed in further. Within a few moments, Slater was buried to the hilt. Zack knew the ride was about to start. Gripping Zack's hips more firmly now, Slater began the business of fucking him. Slater liked to take long, slow strokes, watching his cock sliding in and out (a rather narcissistic habit, Zack thought).
As usual, they fucked standing upright, their bodies pressed together. Zack loved feeling Slater's breath on his neck and, when Slater really started getting into it, hearing it.
Slater picked up the pace, fucking him hard and fast. Zack couldn't help but let out a gasp every time Slater bottomed out, his dick lodged deep inside Zack's ass, his balls slamming against Zack's.
Slater grabbed a handful of Zack's blonde hair, pulling his head back. Zack gave a little moan. He could tell Slater was close now. Zack's eyes widened as, with one final slam and a muffled grunt, Slater came inside his ass. He lingered for just a few seconds, before pulling out and wiping his now-sticky dick on Zack's t-shirt. Neither of them said anything as Slater pulled up his pants, grabbed his knapsack, and walked out of the locker room.
Zack didn't even see him go. Still facing the wall, he had barely had time to catch his breath. He was still rock-hard, but after the intense fucking that Slater had given him, his legs felt like jelly. Knowing he would have to take a shower soon anyways, he peeled off his clothes and tossed them outside the shower stall.
He sank down to the floor, sitting with his back against the wall, and his knees up. He spat in his palm, and got to work rubbing his eager dick. He closed his eyes and thought of Slater, licking his lips. He could feel Slater's cum still inside him, and with curiosity, he probed his asshole with the index finger of his spare hand, feeling around for the prize Slater had left behind. He scooped some out, and rubbed it on his dick. The perfect lube, he thought to himself. Feeling extra slutty, he brought his finger up to his mouth and licked off some of the remaining cum.
Soon enough, he was on the verge of the mother of all orgasms. He reclined on his back, and brought his hips up. Feeling his balls tighten, he aimed his cock toward himself, and sprayed several jets of cum, letting them streak his chest and dapple his face. With a groan of relief and exhaustion, he let his body go slack. Sprawled on the shower room floor, covered in (and leaking) sticky fluid, he looked like the victim of one of Screech's science experiments gone wrong. Soon he would have to turn on the shower, clean himself off, get dressed, and return to the vagaries of life at Bayside. For at least a few minutes more though, he would allow himself to lie there, savouring the sinfulness he had just been a party to.
Comments, criticism, love letters, hatemail, all welcome: cleraphone@gmail.com.