That afternoon, in the Spanish teacher's small apartment, Kurt's shyness is finally wearing off enough for him to speak up. He sits on the man's tabletop with his arms wrapped fearfully around his knees. "Um... Mr- Mr Martinez? What am I doing here?" He almost whispers, but the Latin god manages to hear him.
Striding around his apartment, the giant has made short work of kicking off his shoes and pants, now he's tossing his shirt to the floor and standing in nothing but skimpy briefs that cup his manhood like a swinging hammock. "That's a good question, little one." He smiles, fishing a small item of clothes out of a nearby laundry basket. "I was wondering when you'd speak up. You don't have to be afraid of me, you know. I want us to be friends. I want to get to know each other." He eyes the wide-eyed boy as he takes out a pair of scissors and starts to snip away at the tiny piece of fabric dangling in his enormous fingers.
It's not long before Kurt realizes, with a spike of confusion, that the behemoth is cutting away at a colourful G-string. He seems to have cut out the string, and as he steps towards Kurt he holds it outward in presentation. "By sunset today, little man, I want us to know each other a lot better." The smoldering man says with a flash of his pearly whites.
* * *
Kurt's wrists are tied together. His ankles are tied together. He's being pulled taut at each end, by the knotted fabric of his Spanish teacher's altered G-string. To make him even more uncomfortable, the sun is beating down on Kurt's bare back as he's squeezed between two solid mounds of furry flesh.
It seems that when Mr Martinez cheekily covered a song about tanning his butt cheeks, he was either speaking literally or the lyrics inspired him to try this out. But not with any ordinary thong. As the nearly-naked Adonis lies face-down on a banana chair on his apartment rooftop, feeling the sun cook into his caramel skin and listening the the ice crack in his cold drink nearby, he enjoys the feeling of one bound-up little teenager wriggling and squirming deep between his bulging bubble butt cheeks.
Hyperventilating, Kurt tries to thrash about like a damsel in distress, but every movement seems to edge him deeper between the warm muscle mountains. The smell of tanning skin is pleasant enough, especially mixed with the cocoa-scented sunscreen that Mr M has spread all over his luscious body. But there's also the vague smell of asshole and the scary sense that if he wriggles any further between the great brown hills he could be clenched and swallowed by them forever.
"Please let me free! Please! I don't like it down here!" Kurt begs in a shrill voice, trying to lift his face which in its natural position drills between the giant's whopping beef patties.
"Stay cool, bum boy." The teacher glances over his shoulder with a smile, wearing shades and sounding in no hurry to change a thing. "You'll want to reserve that energy for when I roll over to work on my front. You'll be in deep trouble then." The man's husky voice chuckles. "Mmm, I can't wait to have you in my bedroom later. Where there'll be no strings to stop you from slipping all the way in."
To punctuate the message, Mr Martinez flexes his butt cheeks slightly and Kurt is jolted into the air, only to be grasped by the mega muscles once again. Feeling like he's about to be crushed between two boulders, Kurt...
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