Peter sits in his calculus class, staring at the red mark on his calculus test. A solid 45 - better than last time. He was told if he couldn't focus in class and take notes, his teacher would have a conversation with his parents.
He had to focus.
Peter looked at the board, full of integrals, and back down at his paper, which had... something else.
Ass.
His entire paper was filled with hot, juicy butt cheeks. Maybe there's a reason he hasn't been able to focus recently. He's so fucking horny for his boyfriend that integrals just blend into the paper - useless scribbles that don't help him with his gigantic boner.
The shape of the integral sign looks like the shape of his boyfriend's beautiful back; he has scoliosis. The marker Mr. Yonker is holding in his hand sticks out like his boyfriend's phat boner, ready to push into him and make him scream for more.
He imagines the last time he hung out with his boyfriend. The smell of McDonald's french fries, the dog hair on the backseat of his van, the juices flowing everywhere - it's disgusting to some, but as long as his boyfriend was able to shove his meaty rod inside his tight hole, he was satisfied. The rod shoving in, out, in, out, in, out...
"Peter?"
Peter snapped out of his daydream to see him shoving a pencil in and out of his mouth like it was his boyfriend's girthy peen-peen. He slowly takes the pencil out, holding the saliva in his mouth and staring back at the teacher.
"Yes, Mr. Yonker?"
"What's the answer?"
"Uh... it doesn't exist?"
"Wrong. You forgot L'Hopital's rule. Write it down this time so you don't miss it on your next test."
"Yes sir."
He placed his pencil on the paper, roughly pushing it down to write the rule. However, his frustration with the teacher and the class tore his paper, and he was staring down at a small hole. Staring down at his tiny erection (he has a tiny penis), he got an idea.
He took the paper and gently brought it down to his pants, quietly unbuckling his belt. As he removed the leather, he imagined Phil, his boyfriend, tying his hands to the bed, getting ready to suck him senseless. He let out a soft groan before smacking his mouth shut. No one seemed to notice.
He started to remove his jeans, imagining Phil ripping them off with his teeth, kissing every inch of him that yearned for his affection and working his way down. He reached his underwear, sliding it off just enough to get the job done.
Peter grasped his big shlong, thinking of his boyfriend licking the hard, sensitive tip, getting ready to envelop his meat in his eating orifice. The paper got closer and closer to the head of the weewee, and Peter realized the hole's a little too big for it - just like how Phil's peepoo is too big for his microscopic asshole. He took the paper and slid it over the head, rotating the paper around it.
He bit his tongue, the sensation almost too much to handle. Thinking of Phil looking up at him while taking his teardrop of a load, swallowing it without a second thought, being pleased with the sweaty taste... he slid the paper farther up his shaft, fitting the hole just perfectly. He rotated quicker and quicker, Phil's tongue circling every inch of his stick...
Shit.
Right before he was about to make his mark, his schling started aching like a motherfucker. He quickly tore the paper away, seeing a penis full of paper cuts. The very tip, where his teeny hole is, had a hole just on top of it, both blood and precum dripping out. He stuffed everything back in his pants, biting his tongue to stop from crying out. He quickly stands up, the paper stuffed in his pants giving him an almost big enough bulge to be average.
"Mr. Yonker, I have to go to the bathroom." Peter runs out of the room, feeling several different liquids wet his sensitive area on the way.
Thank god they thought he just pissed his pants.
