The Guidance Counselor - Chapter 17 (Patreon)

Things really felt different this time since I was able to drive myself. I may have obsessed over my appearance in the bathroom mirror for well over an hour. Nevertheless, I made it. The doors were already open and people were loitering in the cafeteria waiting for the dance to officially start in the gym. I caught a whiff of weed as Kevin Lu passed by me.

Next thing I know, a hand slapped my shoulder, making me jump.

Tom Rizzo popped into frame. He was already shitfaced, cheeks red, but he beamed at me and said, “Looking fresh, Jason! Hell yeah! Is this gonna be your big night?”

I half-nodded and gave a shrug.

“I gotta give it to ya, man. All those other nerds in this place are real pussies but you actually show up, which is half the battle.”

I wasn’t sure how to take that. But for someone like Tom Rizzo it’s a compliment, I guess. Four years sitting around this bastard in almost every other class and I realized I was actually going to miss him. He honestly used to scare me during our freshman year, but now he was a harmless silly frat boy. I even dared to join him in talking to girls before the dance started.

We stood in a circle in the cafeteria with Kevin and a few guys from the swim team. Girls were fanatic about boys in the swim team. And who could blame them? Swimmers probably had the best “all-around” athletic body. They didn’t look roided out but they weren’t exactly skinny either. I admit I felt belittled by them. I probably was the most physically inept out of all of them, even Tom Rizzo, who dabbled in working out.

We were a group of six talking with four girls, so the competition was palpable as everyone kept chiming in with a joke or just trying to sound cool mentioning something or another that they did. I kept quiet, naturally not having much to boast about. I mean, I wished I could have boasted about Ms. Johnson to somebody, but that would have obviously required the revelation of many deep details. I even stopped talking about Ms. Johnson to people online. I figured the less people know the better. That, and my growing love for her made me think of it as something much more private now. Ms. Johnson wasn’t someone to boast about so the boys could go “OoooooOOOOoooo”. She was a real living person I felt a bond with.

The longer I stood there in silence, the more I started to think that maybe I should leave. Maybe this was a bad idea. I knew I had to move on from Ms. Johnson but right then and there it was too soon. I didn’t feel anything for those girls. But a part of me also was afraid of another Heather situation.

I stood there not saying a word for what was maybe 30 whole minutes. I wondered if they would have noticed me leaving at any point and not say anything. It wasn’t so much that I didn’t want to say anything; rather, I didn’t know how or what to say.

Tom then chimed up in the conversation and said my name. I panicked. It took me a split second to realize that he was actually giving in a good word for me.

“Jason here knows how to draw,” he said, pointing to me.

I didn’t know what they were talking about, but I gave a lopsided grin. Most of the group didn’t seem interested except one tall slim girl wearing a long yellow dress. She looked like she had gone tanning. Short black hair. Very pretty, despite not being my body type. The way she smiled with interest drew me in. “Oh yeah? What do you draw?”

Tom elbowed me. I nearly jumped. “A bit of everything. Manga.”

One of the swimming team jocks chuckled. “The fuck’s manga?” His friend chuckled like a dunderhead. “Is that one of those hentai things?”

Tom whispered to me, “Maybe shut up with the nerd shit.”

Voices clamored as they opened the gym doors. People were starting to line up to get inside, and the music had started, so the conversation was cut short. I ended up standing next to the girl in the yellow dress in the line and we awkwardly smiled at each other.

My brief moment of happiness was cut short when I noticed Mrs. Bernot as one of the chaperones. Ms. Johnson was nowhere in sight. While waiting for a girl to rummage through her purse, Mrs. Bernot looked up for a moment, noticed me, and immediately and side-eyed me. She wasn’t exactly the type to quickly forget about things. In class, she would openly remind students of mistakes they made, sometimes with a cheery smile. Everything about that day made me cringe and look down at the floor pretending like I didn’t see her.

“Ah shit,” I instinctively muttered.

“What’s wrong?” the girl asked.

“Nothing. I just uh…I hate that teacher.”

The girl chuckled. “Really? Why? She seems nice.”

“Yeah, that’s what you think on the outside but then you have her as a teacher and it’s different…”

“Did you get in trouble with her?”

“Something like that.”

The conversation tapered. I had a crazy idea. But I was desperate to feel anything with this girl and figured I would take a shot.

“She teaches computer class. And uh…” I made sure nobody was listening to us. “I drew something I shouldn’t have on Photoshop.” A little embellishment of the truth but whatever.

“What, like a penis?”

“Well, I did say I draw manga…so, you know.”

Her blank expression told me she didn’t quite get what I meant and I finally said, “I was drawing characters having sex. You know, hentai?”

She gave me a lopsided look, not quite disgust but more like she didn’t actually expect that from me. I was after all more dressed-up than the rest of the boys there. One could easily spot me out as a bit of a dork. I wasn’t even wearing jeans – I wore dockers.

My impromptu game plan had been to go all out – show her who I was. No messing around. Just tell her straight up that I drew porn and got in trouble for it. I wouldn’t gloat about it or say much about it – just play more the “bad boy” type, I guess.

“Wow,” she then said. “That’s…something.”

“It pays on the side. Sex sells, you know?”

She chuckled. “I mean…yeah, you’re not wrong.”

My cheeks flushed as we approached closer to Mrs. Bernot. When we finally got to her, she let out a long sigh as she waited for the girl to open her purse and show her. Before we entered the gym, Mrs. Bernot said in an irritated tone, “Behave, Mr. Gallagher.”

The girl snickered looking at me. I rolled my eyes.

The lingering scent of weed hit me after we stepped through the gym doors.

Tom and the others were there at the edge of the massive dancing crowd. The swim team jocks were already wrapping their arms around some girls and swaying to the music with them. The girls danced wildly in their arms while they rocked side-to-side coming off as rather statue-like. I never really understood that. Was that really the secret to getting with a girl? Just coming off as stoic and unemotional while they danced in your arms? I thought the whole “rocking side-to-side” look was awkward enough in middle school.

Surprisingly, Tom was not with a girl. He was chatting with Kevin and when he saw me with this girl in the yellow dress, he nodded at me and winked.

Maybe he wasn’t an asshole all along.

The girl loitered next to me, mildly moving to the beat of the music. My heart pounded because I knew what I had to do but every muscle in my body froze, afraid of how to initiate anything. Her attention strayed, looking off at the group as if she wanted to go there. Before she could do so, I elbowed her and nodded to the crowd.

“So,” I cleared my throat and had to speak up louder, “so you wanna go in there?”

She nodded enthusiastically.

The heart pounding got worse as we squeezed into the crowd.

How the fuck do people like doing this?

Well, if you were drunk and high it didn’t matter so much. I couldn’t tell if this girl in the yellow dress had anything to drink. She was much more sober than the rest of them. But then again sometimes these things eluded me and I couldn’t tell if someone was high off their ass.

I had successfully broken a barrier and exited my comfort zone. Nothing about this was anything I ever liked or thought about pursuing. Nevertheless, I went in. The girl did all the movements for me – she turned around and pressed her back against the front of my body, then swayed to the music.

What should I do with my arms?

I swayed a bit, feeling like a caveman. Then I slowly wrapped my arms around her belly. Her dress hid a little flab of fat there, and that got me aroused. She smelled sweet.

I kid you not, we grinded for about an hour without changing dancing styles. I honestly had no idea what else to do. My legs were getting a real workout and we both started sweating. Sometimes she would switch to face me, then turned around again. This was quickly becoming one of the more awkward experiences of my teenage life – absolutely no skill except grinding for hours on end.

For a few minutes we all sang Lil Jon’s “Get Low”. That was a nice break in pace, as the entire gym joined in chorus and it was a song I actually knew.

Then it went back to grinding…

She put her face close to mine and I panicked thinking she was actually going to kiss me. She yelled a bit too loudly in my ear saying, “STAY RIGHT HERE! I GOTTA GO TO THE BATHROOM!”

I nodded.

She went off. I stood idle for an awkward minute or two before going off after her. I waited around the bathroom doors and immediately thought about Heather. I checked my surroundings like I was preparing for a sneak attack. I hoped to God I wouldn’t run into her there.

I waited…and waited…

And I started to get the sneaking suspicion that the girl wasn’t there in the bathroom. Had she already left before I arrived? Maybe she was out there looking for me.

I went off in search of Tom or Kevin or anyone familiar from the group. The throng of people had dramatically changed. I didn’t recognize a lot of people from other schools. It seemed like everyone made sure to get a piece of our legendary Last Chance Dance before high school ended.

Maybe they went back to the cafeteria to get a snack or a drink, but as I was about to leave, I spotted Kevin in the corner of my eye. He was by the gym entrance with a couple of the jocks before someone tugged him to leave.

I followed.

I started to get déjà vu as they went past the vending machine and snuck through the fence blocking off the exit that Heather and I had slipped through months ago.

“This again,” I murmured.

At that point, I figured if you can’t beat them, join them.

I stepped out into the warm night but this time was greeted by a bunch of students loitering. It seemed like they didn’t quite care if they got caught by patrolling chaperones and were openly smoking and sneaking a drink or two. A few of them stared at me as I walked past trying to find where Kevin went.

At last, I found him hanging out by a car owned by one of the swim jocks. They were smoking in a dark corner of the parking lot away from the street lamps. Walking there across the mostly empty lot felt like an eternity, and I kept glancing over my shoulder wondering if a chaperone would suddenly call out at me, knowing my luck.

“Hey,” I said. Kevin only nodded. I recognized all the jocks but didn’t see Tom or the girl.

“Where’s Tom?” I asked.

The jocks snickered. Kevin chuckled and motioned towards an SUV on the other corner of the lot, also away from the street lamps. It was parked so far out it was nearly touching the grass by the soccer field.

I raised a brow, waiting for a response. Kevin just said, “He’s over there, man. Hey, he asked about you too. He’s over there in his car.”

“Oh,” I said dumbly. “Really?”

The jocks snickered. I took them for being high.

Kevin nodded. “Yeah man. Really.”

“Aight.”

I turned and walked towards the SUV.

Now, I don’t know about you but maybe there were some cues there I didn’t notice. Particularly that Kevin was fucking with me. Approaching a lone SUV purposely tucked away in the corner of a parking lot at night should have given me some cues. My dumb naïve ass never caught any of that.

I thought I heard voices as I approached the SUV – heightened voices, maybe even moans.

I mistook them for possible laughter, and proceeded anyway.

I looked into the driver’s seat – nobody there.

But two conjoined shadows were in the backseat.

I pressed my face up against the glass of the backseat window.

Tom Rizzo was on top of the girl – the girl in the yellow dress. I didn’t see many explicit details in the darkness, but the motions became unmistakable.

As the realization dawned on me, I stood there not knowing how to feel. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw the girl’s face look over Tom’s shoulder and lock eyes with me for a few seconds, and then she closed her eyes again and reared her head back as her lips parted to let out a muted moan.

Welp.

That was the first thought that finally passed my head.

Welp.

I turned back around to the school. I may have heard laughter as I approached the doors. Everyone was looking at me as I went back inside.

Welp.

I slinked through the fence again, passed the vending machine, passed Mrs. Bernot…

Welp.

I loitered around the edge of the dancing crowd. I became more and more aware of how I must have stuck out like a sore thumb – just standing there tapping my foot lightly to the music trying vainly not to act awkward.

I had no fallback.

Anytime someone glanced at me I thought they somehow knew. Was my awkwardness written out so easily available to everyone else? Did they know I was a virgin? Could they tell with just a glance? Did they even somehow know I had a fetish? Every single person was talking to someone else or in a group of at least three. I loitered tapping my hands on my thigh.

My head started to hurt. Funny since I didn’t drink or something anything. All of this felt so out of touch with me. I didn’t care much for that random girl.

Right?

She was too skinny anyway. She wasn’t my type.

Exactly.

Then why couldn’t I stop thinking about what I saw there in the dark? Why did my head start hurting as something began tearing away at my heart?

I needed to retreat. Every strobe light on the ceiling beat down solely on me, singling me out from the crowd. The more aware I was of my loneliness, the more my head hurt and my heart throbbed.

I passed by Mrs. Bernot with a low head and turned left towards the vending machine.

. Lady Gaga blasted in the distance behind the gym doors, the bass practically pulsating beneath my feet.

I thought about getting a drink but didn’t have any cash on me. My head hurt so much, and then my eyes started to hurt too. I sniffed and sat down on the floor behind the vending machine, where you could sit alone without anyone realizing you were there.

Tack, tack, tack, tack.

Through all the distant noise, the sound of heels was unmistakable.

The heels stopped at the vending machine. Seconds later, after a couple beeps, a soda rolled out. I stiffened, trying not to make any noise. The heels were about to turn back the other way when they paused…and Ms. Johnson peered over the side of the vending machine.

“Oh!” she nearly screamed, putting a hand to her chest. “Jason! You surprised me! I thought I sensed someone there.”

I didn’t say anything, though my heart fluttered at the sight of her. I had so much to say, so much building inside of me in a reaction I couldn’t understand. The sight of Ms. Johnson sent mixed emotions through me – sadness, love, desire, frustration. I immediately eyed every inch of her. She wore her tight business skirt. Instead of a blazer she had put on a black dress shirt with fancy buttons. Wine red lipstick. Hair nicely combed and ironed. Gold hoop earrings. You would think she was there to dance, not to chaperone. She outdid all the other teachers wearing jeans and t-shirts.

“Oh dear,” she said, crestfallen. Her features frowned. “Let’s go to my office.” That had been a command. She wasn’t suggesting anything. She stated it; it had to be done.

I had been weeping. That was the first and only time I wept without realizing it. I didn’t think it was possible. Once I became aware of it, the emotions were too great to hold back. I wept more intensely and held in a cry.

Ms. Johnson led me to her office down the darkened hallways, lit up very gently only by small night lights and the red glow of the emergency exit sign. Away from all the noise, it felt wrong being so far back in the school while everything was dark.

When we were both inside her office, she turned on her desk lamp. I think she thought the bright fluorescent lights might be too much for me. She handed me a few tissues and I noisily blew into them. My headache was going away as I calmed down, the sides of my head loosened.

As usually, she sat at her desk and waited with a neutral expression, letting me have a moment to myself. I wasn’t afraid to wipe my face messily with my hands and snort and use up her entire tissue box.

It took maybe ten minutes for me to say something.

“I don’t get it,” was the first thing I could say. That was the phrase that I had been looking for since I peeked through the glass. “I don’t get how they do it. I don’t get how Tom Rizzo does it. How does everyone seem to know what to do but me?” I started to babble incoherently assuming she knew the situation, with things like, “It’s not like I liked her so I don’t know why I’m mad. I’m not mad though. I know it hurts but not in the I love you way. I mean I didn’t fall for someone after meeting them for five minutes but what the hell?” Again, I half-shouted, “I don’t get how they do it!”

After my words filled the room and seeped through the walls, and after silence passed over, Ms. Johnson opened her can of soda. It was the single loudest fucking thing at that moment – the crack and the hiss.

She took a swig.

After she sighed again, she said, “Jason, do you still prone?”

I looked at her, a bit confused that she had suddenly jumped to that. I looked away feeling embarrassed. “Yeah…”

Ms. Johnson stood up and walked towards me.

My knees buckled. She walked towards me in a way she hadn’t before. She took her time. I took notice of her sway – her hips. Something was up. Something felt…different.

She stood in front of me, a hand on her hip with her other hand holding the can of soda. She looked down on me, and I looked up at her. I was stricken with an intense arousal I hadn’t felt in a long time…Something reawakened in me but I didn’t know what. I liked it. I liked the thought of her towering over me like that. It made me sit up straight.

The longer Ms. Johnson looked down on me, the more I wondered if this was really happening or not.

“Jason,” she finally said, low and soft, “I think we should try one more experiment.”

Voice shaking, I said, “W-what?”

Ms. Johnson took another swig.

“I have a hypothesis I want to test,” she said.

“What…hypothesis?”

“I’m going to touch you. Is that all right?”

I reeled in my seat.

Did I fucking hear that right?

“Touch me?”

“Yes.”

“Touch me…how?”

Ms. Johnson stated firmly. “I think you need to masturbate conventionally, by hand I mean. You need to be confident in yourself and with your penis.” Her eyes lowered. “And I can help you with that. I think the fact that you are going into college still proning is unacceptable. Besides, that would be difficult to hide from your roommates.”

Without skipping a beat, I said. “Yes.” I gulped. “Yes, you can…touch me.”

Ms. Johnson smiled. “Lie down on the couch then.”

She downed the rest of her soda, tossed it in the recycling bin, and went over to her desk drawer to take out a bottle of lotion. She stared at me as she lathered her hands in Aveeno.

I laid down on the couch and my nerves started to get riled up as she approached me. She bent down on her knees and motioned me to open my pants. I unbuckled them, too lost and dazed to actually take them off.

“Pull them down. Lower.”

I had them down past my knees. Now in my boxes, I shivered a bit, but she placed her warm hands on my thighs and said, “Just relax. It’s a massage. Think of it that way.”

Ms. Johnson taught me the wonders of touch. She caressed my thighs heading to my crotch, and then spread the lotion around, sometimes poking under my boxers but never quite committing to touching my genitals. The sensation made me crave that touch even more. I kept thinking, Do it. Do it, please. Just grab it…The teasing was killing me, and yet I enjoyed it, wanted more of it.

I heard a low rumble – the carbonation from the soda was rolling up her esophagus. She made no effort to hold it back and belched in my face.

BRRRREEEEEUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRPPP!

The scent of fizzy soda washed over my face.

My cock pitched a tent.

Ms. Johnson reached under and started brushing her fingertips against my cock. I inhaled sharply.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“It’s not cold now, is it?”

“No…no…not at all.”

“Just let me know if something feels wrong.”

“No, no…it feels…good.”

I just couldn’t believe this was going on. I wanted to savor every moment of it. The most gorgeous woman in the fucking world giving me a handjob there in the darkness of her office.

She didn’t yet stroke until I started showing signs that I was dying for her to start pumping me. I winced and moaned. She finally pulled down my boxers and I looked down at my cock.

It looked different this time. I know it sounds weird being that I looked down at my own dick on a daily basis peeing. But consider the fact that for my entire life until that night I had masturbated by humping the floor or the bed. I never actually fully engaged with myself, never truly looked down and considered what sex might look like with my bare genitals.

Damn, my dick actually looks pretty big.

A weird thought at the time to me, but that was what immediately popped into my head.

I think that’s what Ms. Johnson was trying to get at, trying to teach me – confidence in myself and my body. That’s when it all hit me like a ton of bricks – I proned because I was ashamed of my parents knowing that I masturbated, ashamed of even seeing my naked cock, ashamed of touching it. Proning was my way around the shame to feel the pleasure but not have to feel the guilt of looking down at what I was doing.

Ms. Johnson effortlessly let loose another raucous belch.

BRRRRRAAAAAAUUUUURRRRRRPPPP!

Deep and sonorous.

Another one immediately after it, like saying there was more but it had been waiting for a while stuck deep inside.

BBBBBBBEEEUUUURRRRRRRRPPPP!

This one ended with a small grunt, a little “ugh” like she was taken aback by the sudden force of it.

I felt the cum rising inside my cock. Jesus Christ I never actually realized how it could feel like that. She fucking knew how to handle it. She angled it so perfectly towards me. Any slight misdirection and it would feel weird. I couldn’t focus on anything anymore and turned my head side-to-side trying not to moan out loud. I clenched my fingers but she brought my right hand up and gently set it on my cock, helping me stroke it with her hand.

She was teaching me how to give myself a handjob. She slowed down, somehow noticing that I was close to cumming. She showed me how to keep moving without getting there – edging, basically.

She settled more comfortably on the floor next to me and her face was now close to mine. She belched casually near my ear, a small one but deep and loud regardless.

“Now…” she said softly, a hint of deviousness in her tone. “try it on your own.”

She let go.

I nearly moaned in grief at her letting go. I looked up at her and wanted her so bad, but I did as I was told. I was so in the mood that I kept pumping it just like she taught me. I wanted to cum but still wanted to hear her burp more and admire her – that dreaded paradox where you want to experience orgasm but keep wanting to edge indefinitely.

Ms. Johnson looked dead in my eyes and belched directly in my face. This time, she even blew the gas on my face, so gently like an effortless breeze.

“Oh….” I said aloud. I felt the point-of-no-return. “Oh fuck---I’m gonna….gonna…”

I came. I never truly experienced the joy of an orgasm until that moment. My toes clenched. My legs went wide. I spat random moans and curses. My mind went crazy. The white stream shot over my shoulder, and more poured out over my bare stomach. I looked down at it and, again, realized that I was witnessing my own body’s natural reaction for the first time. It endowed me with a mysterious, greater sense of purpose when it came to sex. I desired to see that overflow of white cum from then on. The seed – my seed. I had sexual energy all my life – a vast majority of us do – but I finally really felt it. The deeply embedded genetic code that told us we had to procreate screamed at me. I wanted to take part in it and never run away from it again. I wanna live. I wanna fuck. I wanna have everything.

“Ohhhhh shiiiit,” I said, calming down. Even though nothing came out, I still felt a need to keep stroking it slowly and ride out the aftershock.

“Ohhhh. Mmmmmm---” I stopped myself short. I had nearly shouted “MS. JOHNSON!”out loud. My cheeks flushed red. I so badly wanted to say that out loud. Instead, I managed to keep it as a simple drawn-out moan. “Mmmmmmmh!”

Ms. Johnson had got up to get the tissues and wiped everything down for me, even my own stomach.

Still reeling from the orgasm, I chuckled and put my arm over my face. I didn’t know why I felt the need to do that. I had a feeling to do all sorts of things. I wanted to hold onto something. To grab? To cuddle? When that feeling washed over, I remained lying on the couch sighing, my moans reduced to murmurs.

God, what a woman.

She towered over me, both hands on her hips, pleased at the “results” of her experiment.

“How do you feel, Jason?”

“Like…I can…fall asleep.”

“Good. Now do that from now on however many times a day and you will be successfully weaned off proning.”

“Th…thank you.”

After that? I honestly couldn’t imagine ever going back to dry humping the floor or the bed. A small part of me was still worried I would revert.

I didn’t.

I don’t even remember anymore the last time I proned.

But I’ll always remember my first handjob.