Alan hurried to his first-period physics class and made it through the door just as the bell rang. As he sat down, he complimented himself that he'd gotten away with yet more outrageous behavior on the school grounds, and no one was the wiser.
But the instant he sat in his seat, a sense of horror ran through him that something was dreadfully wrong. He could feel wetness on the backs of his upper thighs where they touched the seat, and his forearms on the desk were soaking in something both wet and sticky.
Oh shit! Wet paint! He looked around. Everyone else was settling down and seemed to be doing fine. Whatever had happened had happened just to him.
He froze in place for a few moments. The combination seat and desk he sat in was painted a dull brown. He realized that if he stood up, he would be a laughingstock. But if he remained sitting and perfectly still, perhaps he could get through this hour of class and then somehow get mercy from the teacher before students came in for the next class. Luckily, the teacher of this class, Mr. Tompkins, was a pretty cool guy. Alan felt confident that he would be able to help.
But then Alan realized to his dismay that he couldn't even so much as raise either arm to ask a question or scratch his nose, since they were sticking to his desk. He experimentally tried to pull one of his arms up an inch or so. It took some effort to free the arm from the paint, and then he saw that the entire underside of his arm was coated in brown.
He dropped his arm back down and frantically looked around the room to see if anyone else had noticed. Luckily, everyone was focused on what Mr. Tompkins was saying, except some burly guys in the back of the room who were pointing and snickering. He instantly knew that they must have been involved. He felt certain that they'd spread word of his predicament, so that the whole class would know within minutes.
Then he saw Christine get up and walk to the front of the class. That was very strange, because she hadn't been called on. She handed Mr. Tompkins a note and walked back to her seat.
Mr. Tompkins read the note and put it aside. Then, he said, "By the way, class, I have good news. You all did so well with your surprise exam on Friday, and it's such a nice day, that we're going to have today's class out on the lawn! How do you like that?"
The class was very surprised and excited, and there was a lot of clapping and cheering.
Mr. Tompkins continued, "Meet me outside on the grassy knoll in a few minutes. Alan, can you stay behind for a second? I have something I need you to do."
Alan had been freaking out, but he let out a huge sigh of relief. Suddenly it all became clear. Christine, sitting kitty corner and behind him, had seen his predicament. She'd quickly written a note to get help from the teacher. Either she or the teacher had thought of evacuating the room immediately, before Alan was exposed.
Thank God for good friends! Alan thought to himself, even as he remained as still as a statue in his chair. Wonder Woman to the rescue! He thought that, because Christine happened to be wearing her fabulous Wonder Woman T-shirt that day.
As the other students filed out, Christine tried to linger. She had a concerned look on her face, but the teacher had said nothing about her staying behind as well, so she reluctantly continued out the door.
Alan gave her the most grateful expression he could conjure, mouthing a silent "Thank you." He saw a smile appear on her face just as she passed out of view.
Mr. Tompkins closed the door behind Christine and immediately rushed to Alan. "My God, kid, what happened to you?"
Alan raised his arm all the way, exposing the underside of brown to his teacher. "A prank, Mr. Tompkins. Some of the football players are out to get me. I could see a couple of guys in the back snickering, so I'll bet at least one of them had something to do with it."
"Well you certainly are calm about it."
"I may look calm on the outside, but I'm actually freaking out. I thought I was in trouble for sure!"
"You still may be, unfortunately. I can't just leave you like this, but I can't leave my class lingering around outside for more than a minute or two, either. Don't even move, or you're going to make a huge mess. I thought about leaving Christine to help you, but I didn't want her role in this to be so obvious. What should I do? Call your parents? Call the principal? In all my years of teaching, I've never seen anything like this."
A solution popped into Alan's brain and he spoke his mind immediately. "Get Ms. Rhymer! She has study hall first period, and she's a good friend. I'll bet she can get me out of this!"
"Good idea. I'm out of here. Good luck!"
Mr. Tompkins literally ran out the door and down the hall.
Alan remained frozen in place. The desk had obviously been freshly painted immediately before the class. Now some of the paint was starting to drip and run in places. He realized with chagrin that this must have been set up at the same time that he'd been having fun with Heather and Simone.
Well, at least that pretty much rules out Heather as a suspect, he concluded while he waited. Anyways, I saw the looks on those guys' faces. I just wish I could have looked more than a second or two so I could have figured out exactly which ones were mocking me. Thank God I have the reputation for being a good guy and a teacher's pet, or I don't think Mr. Tompkins would have been so nice.
Suddenly, Glory burst in. She looked deeply concerned. "Young man! What happened to you?"
Alan explained quickly, and as she listened her obvious concern became mixed with amusement.
Glory looked over the other desks, then concluded, "Hmmm. It appears that just the desktop, backrest, and seat were painted. I'd better go get some supplies. That backrest is dripping something awful. Don't move!" She ran off.
As Alan sat and waited yet again, he thought, Fuck. Someone, or more likely more than one, of those guys really have it in for me. Whatever Heather did over the weekend to try to appease them clearly wasn't enough. I might have escaped being completely humiliated and embarrassed, thanks to the sharp eyes of one of my few remaining friends, but it's not like they're going to stop. They're going to keep coming at me again and again. And they're bigger and stronger than me, and outnumber me badly. I need real help!
Glory came back with her arms full of janitorial supplies. She locked the door behind her, then set about cleaning up the mess. First she wiped up the paint that had dripped on the floor. Then she had Alan rock the desk-chair to lift up each corner, one at a time, so she could put a big plastic tarp underneath the entire area.
"You're damned lucky I happen to have this period free, young man," she said as she finished placing the tarp.
"I'm damned lucky period! I mean, what if this classroom were on the ground floor and not the second? I'd bet my tormentors would find a way to peek in and take a photograph or something." Then he briefly told the story about what had happened and how Christine and Mr. Tompkins had rescued him.
"Quick," Glory said, cutting off the end of his story. "Stand up and strip! We have to get you out of those clothes."
Alan stood, making sure to remain over the tarp-covered area. "Oh, fuck! Look at me. Look at this! This sucks! Shit. These clothes are ruined. Oh, FUCK! Where the hell am I going to get some other clothes to wear before this period is over? And of course I didn't wear any underwear today. That's probably a bad habit. I'm screwed!"
He rapidly shucked off his T-shirt and shorts as he said this. His hands had been on his desk, so they were covered with paint, too, so he got a lot more brown paint on his clothes as he took them off. They were clearly ruined. The only items not completely ruined were his shoes and socks, which he still wore.
Glory looked at Alan standing naked in the middle of a strange classroom, and cursed him. "Damn you, Alan Plummer! Why do you have to get a fucking hard-on at a time like this?! Young man, you're simply insatiable, and incorrigible!" She pretended anger, but really she was both frustrated and amused.
"I'm sorry," he said sheepishly. "I wasn't aroused even slightly until just now. But you're far too sexy in that fancy outfit. You always dress so nice. And then seeing you bend over all around me, wiping the floor... I mean, I'm only human! It's your fault for being too dang sexy all the time!" He didn't add what had brought his cock to full mast: as she'd been down on all fours putting the tarp into place, he'd a good angle to notice that she was going commando, without panties.
Glory laughed. "All right. All right. But we've resolved to have a purely platonic relationship from now on. This sure is some kind of awkward start to that! Jesus H. Christ! Make it stop bouncing around like that, dammit!"
"I can't!"
She sighed. "Let's get you cleaned up as fast as possible, then. I brought some gloves and a scrub brush and all kinds of things. But if you see one drop get on my clothes, tell me."
"A drop of what?" he asked in as innocent a voice as he could manage.
She knew what he was implying: a drop of paint, or a drop of cum? Her pussy throbbed as she thought about deep throating him so thoroughly that not a drop would escape her lips. But she gained control of her lust and said, "You know what I mean. I don't want these ruined."
He was feeling a lot better by that point. He had a good feeling that he'd get out of this jam. So he teased further, "You could just take them off like mine, you know."
"Wouldn't you like that? I'm sure you'd insist on taking off my bra and panties too, just to be on the safe side."
"Of course. One can't be too careful, especially with the expensive, pure white undies that you like to wear." He found it interesting that she was pretending she was still wearing panties. He strongly suspected that in fact she wasn't wearing a bra, either.
"Young man! What am I going to do with you?" She scrubbed his hands and forearms as she spoke.
"I could think of some fun things."
She laughed, but said, "Arrgh! Platonic, remember?" She ignored the great itching need that she was feeling in her crotch.
"I know. I'm sorry. It's just that I'm all freaked out and worked up, and some humor is helping calm me down. I'll stop."
"Thanks. I know what you mean because I feel the same. Larry - that's Mr. Tompkins to you - was in such a rush that he didn't have time to explain and merely told me that you were alone in this classroom and needed my help right away. I nearly died of worry before I got here! Just exactly who did this to you anyway, and what's it all about?"
He explained all about his feud with the football team while she finished cleaning him off. There wasn't much paint on him. It was mostly just on the lower side of his forearms and hands where he'd touched the desk, plus a thin stripe on the back of his lower thighs where his flesh had made contact with the seat. The rest had been covered by his now-ruined clothes.
Glory, however, seemed to take her time, doing an extremely thorough job of getting all the paint off his skin. In fact, she continued to work on the back of his thighs long after all the paint had gone, although Alan didn't know that. She was intoxicated by being so near his naked ass, and it was a constant struggle for her to keep enough focus on his words to understand his predicament. She reminded herself that this was probably the last time she'd be able to see and touch a naked Alan, though deep down she strongly suspected that that might not be true.
She also had a nearly irresistible urge to grab his erection, which continued to stick straight out, bobbing lightly as she worked on him. She thought, I know every single vein and bump on that penis, and my tongue and lips know it even better than my eyes do. I just can't believe I'm never going to even hold it again... Can't I pet and stroke it just a bit, for old time's sake. Can't I do that? It's not like he would mind...