Closet Fetishist's Stories

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Class System
Author: Closet Fetishist

Written: September 30, 2012

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School had just started back, my last semester of senior year and then I’d be free of this educational hellhole. I wasn’t really a bad student more than I just hated school as much as the next guy but I figured my reasons were far more profound and thought-out then any else’s; school just prepared you for a life of servitude on your economic level. Perhaps it was fitting, perhaps the masses needed to stay in the lines and follow orders; perhaps it would be chaos without sheep. I suppose just like the unseen workers keep our world together so too do these sheep, doing their menial task of consumption and production to keep the wheels of society turning. How sad an existence but is mine any more glamorous; I suppose it could be but what are the odds? What’s the likelihood that I’m important?

Like a distraction ordered in, my mind switched to the tight, slightly hiked up lime-green skirt of Ms. Sulage as she turned her back to write meaningless equations and exponents on the board. Her firm cheeks swayed gently from side to side as she hastily yet neatly scrawled problems across the board like a professional.
I was lost in the material of her skirt; I noticed her head turned my direction. I looked up to meet her eyes and she quickly glared at me, angrily. I stared at her, expressionless, embarrassed but not wanting to admit or deny anything. She turned back and continued writing problems on the board.

I stole glances whenever I could, her body was too perfect to ignore yet her stare was too piercing to be fully bold. Ms. Sulage seemed like a very mild mannered teacher all the same but who knows once the school year has worn in on her, and us.

“So Tim,” I jumped to attention from nearly nodding off, “Since you we’re so focused on this problem, why don’t you tell me what the variable is?” She asked the question with a tone of aggression in her voice.

“Uh...X?” I answered like a student completely out of it and answering completely from fear.

“No, see if you were listening you would have heard me say that, in this instance, only Y and Z are variables because X is already simplified. Do you understand?”

“Yuh..yeah,” I also nodded to reaffirm my understanding.

She stared at me, seemed like she looked right through me, “See me after class, won’t you?”

I nodded sheepishly, deflated.

Class seemed to fly by after that but after the short lecture, we took a quiz so much of the class left early. I waited at my desk until the last student filed out of the room onto freedom.

It was then that I made my death stroll to Ms. Sulage’s desk. I wondered what she was actually going to be talking to me for; the math problem? Oh shit! Staring at her ass? Fuck. That’s probably it.

I stood at her desk, gazing down at her few tasteful tchotchkes to avoid her eyes which too were occupied by papers in front of her. When she looked up, I instinctively did the same; “Tim,” she started, putting down her pen with authority as if she’d just completed a masterpiece in administrative paperwork, “I don’t want you to be nervous about this, I just wanted to know what happened today? I know you’re a really intelligent student so I don’t expect you to get lost in the material and, if you are, maybe I’m doing something wrong.”

I was quick to answer, quick to console her, “No, no, I just...I was just distracted.”

The corner of her mouth revealed a slight smile, or perhaps I imagined it, “Distracted by what?”

I stalled but nothing came to me, “I mean, I was confused by the problems.”

“No, I don’t think so; why won’t you tell me what distracted you? If I don’t know the problem how can I fix it?”

“I don’t...”

“What is it?” She probed.

“This isn’t something you can fix.”

“Let me be the judge of that, alright?” She asked, a little impatiently.

“I...uh, I was distracted by you...” I trailed off.

“By me? I don’t understand.”

By this point, I had to wonder if she was merely playing dumb or she really didn’t get it.

“Uh...yes...you’re...um...attractive.”

Finally she smiled, awkwardly; “Okay, I think I understand. But you realize that’s inappropriate, right?” She asked as she stood from her desk. I figured we were close to finished.

“Yes, I do; I’m sorry.”

She walks towards me slowly, “You don’t have to apologize, I know it’s also perfectly normal for a boy your age to have raging hormones,” she says, putting a gentle hand on my shoulder. “But you know you need to control them as well, for your studies and other places or times where it’s not okay to ogle women. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“You’re a very good student Tim, but the choice is yours; could you put your hand right here?” She asked, interrupting her spiel to take my hand and secure it to her desk in some kind of heavy cloth cuff. I didn’t understand what was happening, I could feel fear within me building but Ms. Sulage remained comforting which added to my confusion. “This is your time, you get to pick your...”

I interrupted, “What’s ha”

“Shhhh, please don’t interrupt; the path is yours to choose. I just want to make sure you’re happy with your option.”

She restrained my other hand; both wrists were attached to the desk now, my body held in a hunched over position. I strained to look back up at Ms. Sulage.

“Look, I’m sorry; whatever this is...please, don’t.”

She smiled, “See you have no idea, you can’t choose without information.”

“I don’t think I’d choose this.”

“You’d be surprised,” she said, slipping under my arms into the small area created by my writs tied to her desk. Her body this close, looked and smelled so sweetly but I was still fearful, what was all this? What was she going to do?

“You should get on your knees, you’re going to get tired like that,” she said, not giving me a choice as her hand gently pushed me there.

She flipped her lime-green skirt up to reveal hot pink panties; the color combination would make a modern artist cream. She put her hands on the waistline of her panties before she stopped.

“Oh Tim,” she looked down over her shoulder, “How old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

“Good,” she said as she quickly pulled down her panties and grabbed me by the hair, shoving my face to her ass.

The sweet smells of her body faded away as I got whiff of a pungent, sour smell near her pulsating anus which breathed in and out as she did.

I was freaking out, I shook and sputtered but she held me tight in her butt, “Please relax, no one likes it at first.”

I felt her body bend over, her ass seeming to become larger around my face; she moaned. PRRRRRRRRRRRBBBBBBBBBBBBBB!

A hot, rancid air brushed my face. I coughed and sputtered but as I inhaled I noticed a certain pleasantness to the odor; it was strong and terrible yet all the same was equally alluring; sexy. It didn’t make sense as I found myself cautiously, lustfully pasting my nostrils against her hole looking to suck up any of the remnant fart around her anus.

I heard her giggle silently, “I thought so.”

She grunted daintily and fired off an explosive little fart that startled me a bit but I ran my nose up and down her crack, running like a vacuum to suck every particle from her backside.

“I know you want to Tim, you don’t have to hold back. Lick it.” She said in a way that seemed half-request, half-demand.

It gave me pause to hear my name but I shook off the feeling and slowly stuck out my tongue and ran it across her butthole. She shuddered delightfully as I got a moist, stinky taste glued to my tongue.

She farted a little before she clenched her butt quickly, my head feeling a little of the squeeze. “Get your mouth over it, I want you to eat my fart.”

The demand this time was clear, the positions being cemented, as I did as I was commanded, holding eagerly my mouth wide over her asshole.

Then it burst open to a mouth-sized hole as hot, fetid wind invaded, echoing through my mouth. My eyes watered from the smell but I felt euphoric as her thick gas entered my throat with its unnaturally pleasant rancidity.

Ms. Sulage lied down casually on her desk, allowing me to continue to service her backend for few minutes more before sighing, satisfied.

“I’ll write you a note for you, Tim,” she said neutrally, as she undid my wrist restraints; she seemed to act as if nothing happened, casually pulling up her panties and flipping her skirt down, readjusting just slightly before returning to her seat at her desk.

I looked at the clock, yeah, I would be late for my next class but all I could really think about was Ms. Sulage’s ass, her sweet farts; they absorbed me, possessed me it felt like.

She ripped a sheet off her pad, handed it to me, and returned to her paperwork without even a glance to me. I felt saddened as I walked out of her classroom. The door shut softly behind me; I stood for a moment and then peered down at the note Ms. Sulage had given me.

It read, “Wait for me at home. 653 Oakage St.”

The note excited me but I didn’t know what to do in the meantime; go to class? It was already more than half over, and it was the last class. I decided to go to Ms. Sulage’s home; hopefully she’d be there before too long.

I waited on her walk for hours, when dark started to fall I thought about leaving when I saw headlights come down the street and into her driveway. She looked to my shadowy figure as I looked to hers; she didn’t wave. She walked towards her front door, towards me.

“You’re a good boy. Come!” She demands, tugging my shoulder as she unlocks and opens her door. The lights flick on as she kicks off her shoes and tosses them gently near the door.

“Let’s go,” she says sternly; I jump, realizing I’ve just been standing in her doorway looking stupid for a few seconds. I join her and she leads me upstairs to her bedroom. She points, “Wait in the corner.”

I proceed there and dropped to my knees as I faced the wall, noticing a thick rope attached to the wall and black collar hung there.

I stole glances as she undressed; this irritated her, “You’ve licked my ass, you think I’d have a problem with you seeing me naked?” She asked harshly yet still playfully.

I was at ease as I turned to watch her perfect, naked body slide onto the bed.
“Come.” She said sensually, “And bring the collar.”

I shuffled to her and handed her the collar; she slipped it on my neck with a smile and tightened it just a little too tight. I gave her a slight look of despair and she replied with a look of distain that I was not already serving her buttocks.

I stepped up onto her bed; she separated her cheeks, her face already expressing joy. I planted my head inside her crack only to realize she’d been releasing a thick, potent silent but deadly fart as I brought my head down. The stench threw me off, I coughed a little as she grabbed my head and held it down. I recomposed and took a deep nasal inhale of the gas and felt relaxed in its putrid prison.

“Aw, I thought you liked this...” she said, teasing as she poked her butt out to release a low, flapping fart that popped like so many bubbles against my face. It was almost too much but I sucked her gas greedily, like I lived off of it. She ran her fingers through my hair, twirling locks and pulling them a little forcefully; I groaned just a little in discomfort as she wrapped her legs around my back and squeezed, expelling all the air from my lungs.

She dropped an earth shattering fart right as I eagerly hungered for oxygen but her thick, tainted fumes were somehow better; like pure oxygen only from the ass. Perhaps, like urine, gas was sterile. Or was that just stupid thinking.

She squeezed again and farted again; it made her laugh to see me struggle just a little as I started to get woozy.

She fell asleep some hours later as did I against one of her soft cheeks, my nose still deep within her stink-stained ass; it was heaven for me, nothing else could be more peaceful.

It was morning, I awoke to find myself still on Ms. Sulage’s bed but she wasn’t there. The soft sound of the shower rang from the other room. I laid my head down again against the sheets, they had a subtle smell of last night’s gas and I absorbed all I could from it like a morning high.

She emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, I was in my corner; she smiled at the sight of me.

“That’s a very good boy.”

“I wanted to ask you, Ms. Sulage.”

She sighed, hiding her irritation, “Yes, Tim?”

“Should I meet you here every day after school or how...”

She laughed, “No, see, a person like you, doesn’t need to worry about anything anymore; not school, not bills. You’ve found your place, people can spend their whole lives looking for it and you’ve found it; right here.” She said, sexually running two fingers across her crack, her ass still dotted with droplets of water from the shower.

I was immediately turned on by her action and the loud slap she gave her ass but I was still conflicted. She sat down on the bed and started to brush her long, brown hair.

I looked up at her, “Do you think people can change their path?” I asked.
She stopped brushing and looked at me with the face a parent might show to her naïve child.

That seemed clear enough an answer. And why not, I mean, there are servants and there are masters; why would it be so hard to believe I’d live to serve? Besides, I enjoyed this, right? Her gas? How else could something like this happen? She was a teacher anyways, there’s no way she’d allow a student into something she herself thought was negative. No, this was a calling; a purpose.

“Now get in here!” She demanded; I turned and noticed she was on the bed with her legs in her hands, holding them up and back, presenting her spotlessly clean asshole to me.

I dive face first into her crack and begin to lick her anus; the subtle stench of old farts and waste linger around her hole which I occasionally spear with my tongue to act as a sort of pressure release; she seemed to enjoy building up gassy pressure and then having me release its rancidity right into my mouth.

She moaned with great pleasure as she grabbed my hair with both hands and shook it aggressively; she screamed with delight. And I feel loved.