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I sat on the ottoman, trying not to sulk. Dad sat on one side of our big couch (the Fucking Couch, he calls it, though you could add "Fucking" to any piece of furniture in our house and it would likely be accurate). My sixth-grade teacher Mr. Corneil sat on the other side, fidgeting. I couldn't tell if I was in trouble or not.

I mean, I know Mr. Corneil had caught me sucking the janitor's dick during lunch, but who could blame me? Old Mr. Pesci wasn't ancient, about sixty or so, but he looked lonely so I thought I'd ask him if he wanted to feel good for a while. Plus, bison dick, roll credits, end of story.

At least Mr. Pesci had squirted already. We were working on his second (and he would've too!) when moose-face had barged in after hearing "strange sounds" coming from the janitors' lounge.

None of his business, I say, but here we were. And nobody was saying a thing. Lame.

So I started it. "I didn't do anything wrong." Color me surprised when Mr. Corneil didn't immediately jump on me.

"Why don't we let your teacher be the judge of that," Dad said sternly. "Morris?" The moose was studying his lap, pawing at the arm rest idly. This was weird for him. I mean, he's not a hard-ass by any means, but he's not a snowflake either.

"Well," he began, "During lunch yesterday I was passing by the janitors' lounge when I heard some strange sounds." Ugh, so by-the-book. "Upon further investigation, I discovered your son, uh...performing a certain act...on our janitor, Mr. Pesci."

Dad studied me askance. "And what, pray tell, what this act?" His face told me nothing. I couldn't believe I was in trouble. This was like getting in trouble for breathing!

Mr. Corneil cleared his throat. "Uh...he was, uh, fellating him. Oral sex." Color rose slowly out of his sweater vest and up into his face, his normally woodsy scent tainted with anxiety. Was he afraid Dad was gonna tear into him or something? This had only happened once before, a few years ago when I'd had a female marten teacher, who had not been amused. Dad had made a show of punishing me, but after she'd left he'd jerked off all over me while I spilled all the details.

"Hmm." Dad chewed on his pipe while he mulled it over. He looked so serious. "This is indeed concerning. Hector, what do you have to say for yourself?" Both men waited for my answer. A visible bulge prodded at Dad's khakis; he wasn't all the way hard yet but he was getting there.

I shrugged. "I dunno. He was looking lonely, so I wanted to make him feel better."

"And you thought a blowjob would accomplish that task." Whether or not Dad was joking I couldn't tell. He's usually easy to read, but my thudding heart wouldn't slow down.

"Well," I muttered while twiddling my fingers, "they feel good, and Mr. Pesci's a guy, and guys like their dicks sucked, so..." I shrugged again, my point made. Mr. Corneil tried to form words, but his lips weren't working right. His bulge was giving Dad's a run for its money. Now things were getting interesting.

Dad turned to the moose. "Is any of this untrue, Morris?"

"I...uh...well, no, but..."

"I see. Hector, is Mr. Pesci hung?"

"Is who what?!" Mr. Corneil spat.

"Let me question my boy, Morris."

I heaved a massive sigh, hoping neither of them noticed. Dad had cards up his sleeves, and the moose was an easier target than that bitch marten. Talk about "teacher, leave them kids alone"!

"Well?" Dad coached, adjusting himself. Mr. Corneil stared at both of us in turn.

"Yeah, really hung. He's a bison, and he's big enough. Dangly balls." I held out my paws and made grabby motions. "He likes 'em stroked."

"Did you get him off? Did you make him happy?"

Now I started squirming on the ottoman, fond memories of a thick cock down my throat pitching a pup tent in my shorts. Dad was definitely up to something. "Oh yeah," I grinned. "Very happy. He gets kinda noisy when he comes, but I was working him up to his second in a row when we got caught."

Dad nodded, then turned to the stricken moose. "So, what did you see when you barged in on my boy performing this act of unsolicited altruism?"

Mr. Corneil tried futilely to cross his legs to hide his erection. It looked about the same size as the bison's, and I leered at it and added a lip-lick. He saw this and began to pant. "Sebastien, there are rules, and...regulations, and...uh...decency...stuff."

"You have some pretty decent stuff in your pants," Dad said. "What do you think, son?" The ghost of a grin crossed his lips, that fatherly twinkle in his eyes.

"Mr. L'Hounque, I don't know what you're implying." For someone whose job it is to keep control every day, the moose was sure having trouble.

Dad crossed his legs, clearly unashamed to be aroused in front of company. "I got a very interesting phone call last night. You see, I have connections in the PTA, both on the parent side and the teacher side. They like my son. They really like my son, and each has his own reasons for needing relief. But the point is, we've got a good thing going here. When Mr. Pesci stumbled upon one of our 'after parties,' we managed to convince him to keep quiet as long as he could watch from time to time. And that's how it's been."

"Until I decided he'd had enough watching," I giggled.

Mr. Corneil looked like his world was crashing down, seeming awful small despite his antlers. If he bit his lip any harder it might bleed. Every so often he would glance my way, so I put my paw down my shorts and groped myself lewdly for him. "I could report you to the school board," he squeaked.

"And I could do the same. Oh no, my son was molested by his teacher, he's fucked up for life, he can point on the doll exactly where the bad moose touched him."

At this, my teacher took a handkerchief from his pants pocket and wiped across his forehead. I almost felt sorry for the guy.

Dad continued. "But here's the thing, Morris. I got that phone call last night. My good friend Giorgio Pesci, whom I've known since college, mentioned that you came to him after school and...pardon my crudeness...asked how you 'could get in on that action.'"

"No. I'm fucked. I'm so fucked." The handkerchief tumbled into his lap. "I don't know what I was thinking, I...I wasn't thinking. I didn't mean to--"

"Oh, don't bullshit me, Morris," Dad said. "I mean, look at yourself! You're boned up for my boy and you can't deny it. You're not the first, and you won't be the last. Gio told me not to be too hard on you, so I think you've had enough. But if you could take off your pants, please."

The moose's lip trembled. "You...what?"

I'd had enough looking. "For fuck's sake," I sighed, scooting off the ottoman. "Dad, can I?"

"Doesn't look like he's taking initiative, so be my guest." Dad fumbled with his fly as I threw off my shirt and shucked my shorts and undies to the carpet.

"Jesus Christ!" Mr. Corneil cried, clearly confused. He wouldn't be for long.

I shuffled between the moose's legs and bent to work his belt. "You're acting like you don't want me to blow you or anything," I said. "Ass up, sir." He complied without a word and soon he was bottomless on the Fucking Couch, a nice fat pink shaft draped across one thigh.

"That looks yummy." I licked my lips. "Nice and juicy." His balls had a good heft to them.

Dad had his cock out, a proud spear surrounded by khaki. He likes watching me getting fucked almost as much as I like taking dick up the tailhole. "They feel full, son?"

"About ready to explode." Rolling around like fuzzy lemons, they almost hit the couch they hung so low.

Usually, when I play with a guy's balls he moans or shoves my head down or something, but poor Mr. Corneil sat like a criminal on trial. When I raised my head, my paws kneading his sheath, he winced and looked away. So I climbed onto his lap so our dicks touched (which he liked, you can't hide that gasp) and got nose-to-nose with him.

"You're not in trouble, sir," I explained. "My dad just likes to play around a little. Nothing personal." I took his shaft and pulled it to my belly, pressing it there so it left a big sticky spot between my nipples. "I know you want to. Would it help if we donated to the band?"

"What do you think is a fair price, Morris?" asked Dad, pulling out his wallet. "A dollar a minute? Five? I've recently been to the bank, so I'm pretty flush."

"That's a great idea!" I bounced on the moose's lap, making him groan into my neck. "Five dollars for a kiss, sir?"

From behind I heard a shuffling of paper, and then a bill was pressed into my paw. It was a five. Dad said, "The middle school activities committee would be disappointed to hear that I offered a generous donation, only to have it rebuffed by the band director himself."

Nibbling on a rubbery lower lip, I managed, "Our sousaphones are awfully denty, sir. And I like moose breath." I trailed the bill down his arm and pressed it into his palm.

"Come on, Morris." Dad waved his wallet in one paw and jerked himself off with the other. "You're never gonna get more consent than this. You have my say-so to fuck around with him. Do you need me to sign a permission slip?"

"That'd be hot," I breathed into the moose's mouth. And then he growled around my teeth, twisted his head and smothered my muzzle with his tongue. He grabbed the bill and I squeaked into his cheeks. I was right at home. Who'd have thought stoic old Morris Corneil was such a passionate kisser? I guess he was taking all his fear and frustration out on me, and I was okay with it. As long as he saved some energy for my butt.

After the five, Dad started handing me singles, which I stuffed one by one down his collar. I think there were seven, which is a real long time to kiss, especially when the other guy wants to suck the spit right out from under your tongue. His flat herbivore teeth felt nice and different compared to Dad's sharp fangs. Not better, but different.

He pulled off with a pop, his eyes aflame with lust. I knew the look. "I...I would lock myself in one of the soundproof practice cubicles and masturbate thinking about kissing you," he admitted, making me blush. " Every time you put that clarinet between your lips..." His panting told me everything. We'd spent so much time together, and he never came on to me! Then again, that's not exactly something one just does in sixth grade.

I slid down his legs a little, bending to meet the blunt head of his cock. "Like this?" And I tickled the underside with my tongue. Some kind of mating call escaped my teacher's lips.

"Oh fuck, just like that!"

"Things a bit dry at home, Morris?" Dad ventured while I bottomed out about halfway down.

"You know how it goes. Huff, huff..."

"Well, I don't, not personally, but I know how it goes in a general sense. Here, a tip for reaching second base." This time a ten-spot drifted onto Mr. Corneil's lap, but I brushed it away so it wouldn't get cum on it later. Since I wasn't used to grownups having hair triggers, he surprised me by pushing me off after just a couple dollars-er, minutes later.

"Too much, too much. I don't want to finish yet."

"How's my embouchure?" I asked with a shit-eating grin.

The moose gave a lopsided smile. "The best it's been all year, Hector. You're still third chair, though."

"That's right," Dad added. "Just because you're fucking my son on the side doesn't mean he gets a pass for goofing off in class. You grade him for his effort. The other teachers do."

"Other...teachers?" the moose barely breathed as I milked a good dollop from his tip and stuck two fingers under my tail.

"I can't tell, though," I said, wagging. "Maybe if you come to Dad's poker night you might get to meet them. But you hafta pinky swear to keep it secret like the rest!"

Dad waved a twenty in front of Mr. Corneil's face before tossing it onto his discarded pants. "I suppose we could buy your silence."

"Best extortion I've ever done," said the moose.

"You can fuck me now," I encouraged. "I'm still kinda stretched from this morning in the shower."

"What can I say," Dad shrugged. "Morning wood and horny kid. Meh." I straddled my teacher before he could even switch to lie lengthwise.

"Is it okay if I squirt on your vest, sir? It's kinda hotter that way."

A toothy grin. "You can do anything you want, as far as I'm concerned."

"Thank God, we finally got him to loosen up. Took long enough." Dad pulled out more singles. "You two go ahead, the view's great from here."

You know what's awesome about being able to take a moose dick? Watching the moose's face as you pop him in, slide down and don't stop until you feels his balls on your butt.

"Nice job," Dad said, adding another single. "We might have to switch to credit cards if you get him off in under five minutes."

Wiggling my butt side to side made Mr. Corneil pedal his legs, almost kicking my dad in the thigh. "Whoa, cowboy!" I laughed, bucking my hips anyway. "Nice and big. So good, so good..."

Soon Mr. Corneil had planted his hands on my thighs and taken over. For a few moments we fought to synchronize our thrusts, but once we got it we really got it. It felt like a Louisville Slugger back there!

Even Dad was impressed. "Damn, son, you've got a good four inches of travel going on. Looks good. I don't think your teacher would mind if I climbed on after you, would he?"

The moose made a noise that sounded like a very enthusiastic "yes."

"Not until I'm done with him," I insisted greedily. "How much money left?"

"Four dollars."

"Four minutes," I considered, watching Mr. Corneil's ecstatic face. "How about one, sir?"

When he gave me a dubious look, I started clenching. "I don't think that's...oooooh my. Oh my...what are you doing?"

"Making you feel good! What's with this andante crap; give me allegretto!" Grabbing my little dick by the knot, I began conducting, though I flung precum about more than anything.

Dad chuckled. "I love it when you talk dirty, Hector. Twenty seconds."

"Too good..." the moose groaned through gritted teeth, spitting little bits of saliva when he exhaled. If he'd had claws he'd've poked holes in my thighs, but holding me still he was able to hump himself up balls-deep, which put his cockhead past my second ring. I half-expected it to bulge out my belly. He took on a slack-jawed expression, his hips going all screwy. "Oh, fuck, Sebastien, breedin' your boy. God damn, creamin' that hole!"

"Well now," said Dad. "I like it when you talk dirty too, Morris. Spooge away."

Oh man, I love it when they come hard. I couldn't feel him shoot but I sure could tell when it started leaking out of me.

"Couldn't have done it better," Dad said.

I planted myself down hard, trying to keep as much in me as possible, reaching back with a smirk. "Might as well hand over the wallet, Dad. Which card has the highest limit again? We have a lot of sousaphones."

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