I forgot to tell you the whole fantasy in that notebook I found in my classroom. The first part, as I told you, was a fantasy about lying beneath Demetrius and watching him take a dump. In fact, about lying beneath Demetrius and being dumped on. (Man talk about sick!) The second part was a fantasy about _s_h_i_t_ting on Demetrius. My sweet little buddy lying beneath a hairy, middle aged arse. His young dark eyes filled with panic and shame, his lips which usually had a pert, cheeky grin, revealing very white teeth in his rich black face, now trembling with disgust and panic. The hairy perv squatting above that sweet little face, reached out in the fantasy and brutally grabbed Demetrius's flaccid little chocolate _c_o_c_k_ (what by the way is wrong with the erudite perv? why does "chocolatey" so often turn into "chocolately" in his weird fantasies? is he dyslexic? or do I mean dy_s_e_x_ic?) and began twisting it.
"Open your mouth, dinge boy," he barked.
Demetrius obediently openened his mouth, the glint of braces showing. The perv personally had always found Demetrius's slightly protruberant little boy teeth a turn on, but his parents in the interests of making look like everyone else (long live conformity was their motto, but not the pervs) had wasted gobs of money on braces).
"Now," hissed the perv. "Lick my ass>"
"No sir, " protested Demetrius. "Sir," turned on the perv, nomesain, and so his little _c_o_c_k_ began tenting up. Poor Demetrius's little black _c_o_c_k_ was flaccid. He was not turned on by the torture and humiliation and scat.
The perv stood up. In the fantasy he leaned over the recumbent boy, so his nose was almost touching Demetrius's sharp little acquiline nose. "Do you know what you are going to get now, bitch?" he demanded.
"Yes sir, " moaned Demetrius, a tear trickling down his black cheek.
"Don't think that will soften me," the perv said. "I like to see my little black boy toys cry." With that he leaned forward and lapped up the salty liquid from the soft black cheek. Not as good as the rich creamy taste of cum but yummy all the same.
The perv raised his little stubby hand up, taking his time, so the terrified boy could experience all the torture of anticipation and then savagely whapped him across the face: "Whap."
Demetrius gasped. "I'm sorry sir, " he gabbled, "I'll lick it sir; I'll suck it sir. Please don't hit me, sir."
The perv who was turned on said, "I know you will, but I'm not finished. What is three times thirteen?"
Panic in Demetrius's eyes, "T. . . wenty six, sir, " he said hesitantly.
"Wrong, _f_u_c_k_er." Whap! _s_e_x_y little dribble of boy snot from the terrified black boy's nostril.
"Two times eight."
"Sixteen sir," Demetrius said more confidently. He knew his eight times tables.
"Last time you got a whap for being such a dolt; this time you will get one for being such a know it all, " said the perv, giggling at his own humor. Of course, petrified Demetrius did not find it at all funny. Whap on the other side of his cheek.
Bored by the game, the perv squatted over Demetrius little face again, and the boy trying to control his gag reflex began to lick his master's _s_h_i_t_ty, hairy, gross old middle-aged Indian hole. Little chunks of _s_h_i_t_, the consistency of peanut brittle flecked those soft, baby lips that had not yet kissed their first girl, or indeed their first boy. For even though Demetrius and I messed around; we never kissed because we are not faggots, nomesain?
Anyway, I've spent so much time recounting the last part of the fantasy that I found in the notebook that I haven't gotten any further in my own story, nomesain? That will have to wait for next time.