I was still a dumb ass kid when I graduated from college with an Art History degree. It didn’t take me long to figure out that there were no job opportunities for new Art History graduates. “Get a Master’s and come back and talk to us,” I was told at the few interviews I had finagled, so I busted my ass and went even farther into debt and hit the bricks again with my new Masters degree, ready to go to work. “Your degree isn’t much use to us without a Teaching Certificate. You do have one, don’t you?” I was completely tapped out by then and the family fortunes had changed for the worse, and I finally resigned myself to accepting any offered job.

Inland Prep offered me a minimum wage job as a teacher’s assistant and lecturer with ‘other specified duties’, and included room and board. “What other specified duties are included?” I asked the interviewer before signing the one-year contract. I had heard of school employees, usually coaches, falling out of favor with the administration and being forced to work in the kitchen or clean toilets until they reneged on their contracts and left.

“Well, let’s see,” the interviewer said thoughtfully. “You’d be required to act as a chaperone occasionally, I suppose, or we might ask you to referee an ball game from time to time, and to act as a proctor for testing, routine things like that. Also, being the newest and youngest staff member you would also assume the duties of reliever.”

“Reliever?” That was a new one for me.

“Why, yes.” He was nervous now, as if he’d been here before and had the whole interview fall apart on him. “You see, the school is for boys only and we absolutely forbid any homosexual liaisons between the boys, and for obvious reasons we also discourage masturbation. Therefore, we appoint one staff member to be a reliever; someone to spend part of his time, ah, orally relieving the boys of, ah, excess youthful tension.”

The shock on my face was probably as apparent as the embarrassment on his, and I took a minute to formulate a response to his insane suggestion. “You mean to tell me that I’m required to spend eight hours a day sucking boys’ cocks?” I finally asked.

“There’s only a hundred students,” he replied, “they are young and, uh, fruitful, shall we say, and we limit them to twice a week so it wouldn’t involve eight hours a day by any means. Also, most of the students are quite wealthy and reward good service. The last reliever averaged eighty thousand dollars a year tax free in tips.”

My heart was pounding in my chest and I was nearly hyperventilating as I considered the outrage of what he’d just said. I pretended outrage, of course, but actually I was elated. I had longed for years for the opportunity interact with a boy, and now I was offered a hundred young teenagers, many still virgins, and they’d also pay me. Nothing could be better. I waited a full minute before signing the contract. “It’s only because I really need the job,” I said, with as much scorn as I could muster.

“Excellent!” He beamed. “Let me show you our facilities.” He then gave me a tour of the campus and explained a little about the school. The hundred boys were equally divided between grades Nine through Twelve. Most of the students were dumped there by their parents, out of sight, out of mind, to prepare them for college or whatever. Academic standards were relatively high and there was an extremely high faculty to student ratio. The students were housed in comfortable looking four-man dorm rooms, each with its own bath, and the community study areas and dining room were huge, as was the modern library and computer lab. Most of the faculty lived off campus, but comfortable rooms were provided to those who were required to live on the premises. My room was large and included a private bath, and also opened to an airy courtyard. A separate door from my room opened to a private passageway that led to the Relief Room.

The Relief Room was small, not much larger than a toilet stall, and had a molded in bench on which the student, or relivee, could kneel. My compartment was behind a thin fiberglass barrier and had a lowered floor and a comfortable chair, and also a reading light. The relieving was performed through a six inch diameter glory hole that had been positioned for the reliever’s comfort and included an inside curtain. The students’ door to the room locked from the inside and included a switch that automatically turned off the room light. I could control the light in my compartment to suit myself, and access to my compartment was only through the passageway from my room. Students would have no idea who was relieving them and I was not allowed to see their faces. They had thoughtfully provided a light in the outside hallway that I could turn on to indicate that I was open for business.

School started right after Labor Day but no relieving would take place until the results of the blood tests were in. The tests were mandatory for all students and faculty, and were repeated for the students any time they spent an unsupervised night off campus. Students awaiting results of tests were segregated, as were those determined to have VD of any type. The results were finally posted and I was instructed to be open for business on Friday afternoon.

“I wonder how the relief will be this year?” I heard a student ask his buddy.

“I don’t know,” came the reply. “It wasn’t as good last year as the year before, know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” and then a snicker, “I think she had a chipped tooth,”

I made my way to my chair and turned on the OPEN light and sat back to wait. The door opened immediately and I had my first customer. I heard the door close, then the zipper opening and the rustle of clothing, and finally the curtains parted and I was eye to eye with a slender teenage cock. He was already erect and I was ready and willing to please, and in less than a minute my mouth was filled with his sweet young seed. He withdrew as I savored his taste, and about the time I spit his seed into the waiting bucket a five-dollar bill dropped through the provided slot. I would have paid him twice that amount.

Eighty others followed him and I kept the light on an extra hour just to accommodate the crowd. After that, there were usually thirty or so customers every evening. There were short cocks, long cocks, fat cocks, skinny cocks, hairy cocks, smooth cocks, straight cocks, bent cocks, circumcised cocks, and uncut cocks. There were an equally diverse assortment of balls that fueled the erections: large, small, tight, low hangers, and unequally sized, and also a variety of ejaculatory styles. Some were shooters, some were gushers, while others more or less oozed their semen into my mouth. Some boys were rock-hard and ready for action and resolution came within seconds; others were completely flaccid and required foreplay before becoming erect and several minutes of fellatio before popping. Some boys were cheapskates who tipped only a few dollars, others were extremely generous, and at the rate I was going I would be able to retire after a very few years.

The next morning I overheard some of the boys talking. “Hey, how about the new reliever?” One said enthusiastically. “She’s the best one yet!”

“For sure she’s better than last year’s, but how do you know it’s a chick?”

“Oh, they all are. Besides that, who else could do it so well?”

The tips became more generous as I gained more experience, and after a few months I could easily identify my favorite customers just by their cocks, and I assigned my own identity to each. I never saw their faces or much of the rest of their bodies, and although it was expressly forbidden for me to have any interaction with the students I could generally differentiate between the thick-cocked coarse-haired juniors and seniors and the smoother, more slender lower classmen.

One boy was particularly memorable; he only sought relief once a week and always arrived at my curtain late on Thursday evening after the other boys were done. I didn’t know his name, of course, but I nicknamed him Adam. I couldn’t tell Adam’s age, but the thinness of his cock and the absence of hair on his thighs made me think he was a freshman or sophomore instead of a more mature junior or senior. Adam was a slow starter and always arrived flaccid, and after aroused spent ten to fifteen minutes in my cubicle. I suppose this accounted for his always being last in line; otherwise the other boys would probably pound on the door and tell him to hurry up. His crotch hair was blonde and downy. His flaccid cock drooped down in a graceful five-inch arch that matched the hang of his unusually large balls, and once aroused it extend upwards in an equally graceful six-inch arch. I liked the fact that I could take my time and enjoy myself with Adam, and I usually took the opportunity to pleasure myself at the same time, boning my own dick as I sucked his, and we often came at the same time, my seed wasted on the wall and his week-long accumulation spurting into my mouth in a warm wonderful flood. Adam was my last customer of the day and I savored and swallowed his seed instead of spitting it out, then licked him clean and kissed each one of his balls, after which Adam always slid two twenty-dollar bills through the slot.

Early in May my shower took a dump. The hot water valve refused to open and I was compelled to call the maintenance staff to fix the damned thing. They promised that they’d get right on it, but had to order parts, and suggested that I use the locker room until they got around to fixing it. That was okay; the locker room was only a short stroll from my quarters and was always empty early in the morning, or so I thought. I was just finishing my morning shower when three kids strode into the cavernous shower room, fresh from an early morning track conditioning run. Two were anonymous students that I may have seen around, but I knew the third one.

Unlike the other kids who yawned and nodded through my terminally boring Art History lectures, he sat up and paid attention and even asked questions. He was also on the school’s swim and track teams, and I instantly recognized the handsome face of Jesse Martin. Lower down, below the muscular chest and flat, hairless belly were the graceful penis and perfect balls of my beloved Adam! “Good morning, Mr. Delamayne,” he said cheerfully.

“Oh, hi Ad.., uh I mean, Jesse,” I mumbled, and then fled from the room before my cock could betray my true feelings.

Now that I could visualize a face, I expended extra effort on Adam. I started slowly, taking each of his lovely testicles into my mouth and rolling them around with my tongue before finally accepting his cock. I tried to imagine the expression on Jesse’s face as I held Adam on the edge of orgasm for twenty minutes before allowing his relief, and when he finally came it was with an intensity that caused him to cry out. I swallowed the oyster, licked him clean, and kissed his balls. Clipped to the two twenty-dollar bills was a note. ‘Thank you Mr. Delamayne. You’re the best ever!”

It was, of course, inevitable that we’d eventually share my bed. His slender, well-lubricated cock felt as good in my hole as it had in my mouth, and his beautiful balls felt as good slapping my ass as they had caressing my chin. I knew it was illegal to interact with a student this way, but Jesse’s separated parents had reconciled their differences and the new family unity meant that Jesse would transfer to a public school next year and I’d never see him again.

The feces impacted the oscillating rotary device on the eighteenth of May. The boy had cried out as I mounted him, and a passing custodian had interpreted the moan as distress rather than passion and had used his passkey to enter my room.

“I don’t know how you could be so stupid,” the Principal lectured me. “You could have easily have gotten your teaching credentials this summer and returned in the fall as a full-time teacher. Instead you blew it, pardon the expression. The law compels me to report you and participate in your prosecution, after which you will undoubtedly be found guilty and face years of incarceration.”

He was right, of course. Incompetence is usually overlooked, but messing with the students is absolutely taboo, and I knew it.

“However,” he continued, “you have established an excellent rapport with your students in regards to your, ah, other duties.” No shit, I thought. “Therefore, the board has directed me to extend an offer to you, one that I think you would be wise to accept.”

“Yes?” I grasped at the life ring he’d just tossed. As much as I enjoyed masculine company, spending years in prison as Bubba’s bitch didn’t appeal to me.

“We would like you to stay on here in your current capacity,” he said. “However, we can’t risk you committing another ah, indiscretion, with the boys, so you must agree to be, ah, sterilized.”

“Sterilized?” I said, “Do you mean a vasectomy?”

“Not exactly,” he replied, “Actually, you’d have to be castrated. It would be done surgically, under anesthesia, not an act of butchery by any means, and you would be immune from prosecution for your, ah, indiscretion.”

That was over ten years ago and I have ministered to thousands of boys since then and I’m as popular as ever, but I have never found one as wonderful as Adam.