#mentorstart

Brock was in the bathroom, freshly stepped out of the shower, towel loosely wrapped around his waist as he rummaged through his things on top of the sink. The mentor grabbed his set of clippers from his bag and plugged them in before begging to trim his own hair back to the short length he kept it at. He couldn’t help but notice someone else standing in the bathroom, “You’re up next” he teased, southern accent strong as he winked at the other.

Peter had just got back from the gym when he decided to go into the bathroom and stir up a bit of trouble. The charming mentor with the recognizable southern accent was humming to himself as he dug through his bag of bathroom supplies. He checked himself out in the mirror thinking no one else was in the communal bathroom, flexing his muscles and noticing his figure in the tight grey tank top he wore. He smirked as he grabbed his hair clippers from his bag and clicked them on. Peter had always worn his hair short by choice and he usually could be found every Monday morning with his hair clippers clipping down his head and his cadets heads to regulation. He had just seen someone enter the bathroom when he asked, “Mornin’” a wide grin on his lips before he flopped down onto the nearby chair in the bathroom and patted his lap, “If you come on over n’ sit on my lap I’ll trim ya up good” he teased, his hand squeezing at his thigh as he offered the other a serious proposition. Peter was a man of simple pleasures and the thought of an attractive man on his lap made a stupid, smug grin appear on his lips.

When he wasn’t working, Paco could usually be found in the gym, working out, particularly focusing on keeping his impressive ass as firm and luscious as it was in his twenties. Who said being thicc was a younger man’s game? But because of his deep, deep focus, Paco didn’t even notice someone else encroaching on his space in the empty workout room.

“Can I help you?” asks Paco, looking over his shoulder at the usurper, who could presently get a prime view of Paco’s derrière as he did some squats on the floor, those tight workout pants of his leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.

At least this place had a pretty nice pool... one he assumed was available to cadets. He always liked swimming for taking his mind off stuff that bothered him. Thinking nothing of it, he stripped down to his undies and started doing laps, not hearing someone as they entered the cavernous space and looked down on him from their vantage point. 

“If you wanna stop and stare, then at least take some pics of me... I got some modeling experience, so...”

It wasn’t easy, but Milo spent his life doing things he had no business doing. And after a few whispers, and some greased palms, and one blowjob for a lucky cleaning staff member... A bottle of Jack Daniels had made it to his hands. He sat in the chapel, a couple hours after Lights Out, taking a couple slow pulls of the harsh liquor. He found a fiendish delight in breaking the rules with booze, and drinking it inside “God’s House,” at Preston. Almost like adding insult to injury in his protests against his forced attendance. 

“Here’s to Preston Fucking Academy” he called out, perhaps a little too loud. “Lick my tight pink hole, fuckers,” he added, and took another swig.