innocence

prt 1

preface this by saying marilyn manson isnt his real self in this, its him but he never became a famous singer , just a teacher.

blah blah first day of school whatever ur goth asf and dress real dark and shit.

you walk into your homeroom and try and guess what teacher you'll get this year. will they be obese? ugly? pregnant? normal? who knows!

you sit at your desk blasting music and start doodling some gore or smthn, and the teacher starts his briefing.

"hello boys and girls, my name is Mr. Manson, and I'll be your homeroom teacher for this school year."

That bitch Rebecca that you hate cuts him off at the end and says "What, like Charles Manson?"

Mr. Manson responds "Sure, whatever you want."

You look up and see a thin, sickly man with pitch black hair that goes to his collar bones, with white contact lenses and dark make-up. Your heart flutters thinking of him whipping you and being his bitch.

All the kids in class are talking to eachother as he passes out papers, it's really loud, louder than your music. He comes to your desk and says:

"And what is your name?"

"It's ___"

"___? That's really pretty."

You blush and thank him. As he hands you the paper his hand brushes against yours. You feel your downstairs get very tight and hot.... almost unbearably so. He smirks and walks to the next student.

When you got home that day it was all you could think about, him kissing you wet and sloppy, hot and heavy, fucking you like his life depended on it. You were totally infatuated by him.

The next day, you arrived at school. You notice he is staring at you and you look down and blush a little and scurry into the classroom.

"Today class, we will be reviewing student portfolios. Break into groups of 3 and discuss your portfolios with one another." Said Mr. Manson.

Nobody wanted to join your group because you are an emo faggot. Mr. Manson notices and comes and sits right next to you.

"Noticed you were all alone, ___. Figured you could use a friend."

You blush as he scoots his seat very close to yours, his kneecap hitting yours.

"Oh.. thank you.. It was pretty lonely.."

He sweeps the hair falling from your forehead behind your ear and asks:

"May I see your portfolio, ___?"

"Sure, ..no problem." You squeak out, shy and nervous of being next to such a sexy older man. You start to feel hot downstairs, like you did yesterday but worse. Your face get a bit flushed and youre fidgeting slightly with your knees.

"Oops." Mr. Manson peeps out, dropping a pencil right under your feet.

"Let me grab that for you.." He whispers. Mr. Manson bends down under the table, picks up the pencil but on the way back up he places his hand on your kneecap and slowly slides it up your inner thigh..

You get a cold chill over you, but not a bad one. One you've never felt before, It was cold but so so hot at the same time. Your panties start to feel wet, sticky, and tight...

He knows what he's doing, and he knows it turns you on. He knows its wrong but it feels so fucking  right...