Boys In Heat, page 11
I didn’t mind.
I was going to mess up more than just his hair!
I spat his cock out of my mouth and gazed up with faux concern.
“What’s wrong? Why aren’t you coming?”
“I…I...” he said, breathing like he’d run a marathon, more sweat seeping through his T-shirt, plastering it to his powerful torso. Andy was on the swim team: everything about him was toned, if not bulging, under his creamy, lightly tanned flesh.
I stood up and helpfully tugged his soaked shirt over his head, tossing it on the floor, exposing his smooth, heaving chest and broad shoulders.
“N-nothing…nothing’s wrong.” He coughed and his seven-inch cock bounced enticingly. “I just—usually I can’t come unless…you know...?”
Indeed I did.
“Unless what, Andy?”
He shook his head.
“Unless Shane’s fucking me.” He sounded both embarrassed and breathlessly horny.
“Oh?” I furrowed my brow again and then smiled brightly, an I’ve got a great idea smile. I reached into my pocket and produced a purple-foiled condom.
“I don’t know…” he said, looking commendably torn.
“Yeah, I know,” I said, dropping the rubber on my desk. From my other pocket I pulled out a Trojan Magnum and handed it to him. He started to shake his head, but then stopped, registering the contents of the foil package.
I ripped my polo shirt off, noting how Andy’s eyes shone as he took in my body; I don’t have a football player’s physique, but Andy wasn’t the only one on the swim team.
Then I played my ace.
I pulled open my pants, unzipped my fly, and let my monster burst free. He never needs an invitation, just a way out: a downward-pushed zipper, fretfully worn trouser material…
Andy’s mouth fell open. I was tempted to push him down on his knees, to coax him into giving me a blow job, but my monster wanted the entree, not an appetizer!
He looked from my pulsing cock to my eyes and then back to my cock. More troublesome contemplation. “I really shouldn’t…”
Shouldn’t! Not can’t. Can’t and I might have backed off. But he just said shouldn’t.
“Shhhh,” I breathed, pressing two fingers against his pretty lips. He started to open his mouth, so I put my talented lips to good use again, pulling him to me, kissing him with the passion of one thousand and one hard-ons.
He submitted, and, god, he tasted good!
I gently pushed him away—only to arm’s length—then squeezed his hand holding the Trojan Magnum. “What are you waiting for? Roll it on me.”
He fumbled with the packet for a moment, then resorted to tearing it open with his teeth. The condom fit snugly. I reached around and cupped each orb of his ass with my hands and lifted him onto my desk, playfully kissing and nipping at the flesh of his neck with my lips and teeth. He fell back at the lightest of pushes, and I made fast work of his clinging jeans and tennis shoes.
I left the one sock on for effect.
His hole winked at me right before I pushed into him. His sphincter may have been fucked not minutes before, but he hissed with painful pleasure as my cock stretched his anus and I poked around in his warm center.
“Oh, man! You’re too big!” His cheeks blushed and his ass squirmed, trying to expel my cock. But my monster was inside and wasn’t going anywhere. I pushed down on his chest with one hand and found his stone-hard dick with the other. I leaned in and spat saliva on his cock, slathering it with my fist, then I pulled halfway out and slammed right back in, to the fucking hilt.
I pushed and pulled myself in and out of him, pumping his cock with my fist, giving him the royal treatment.
Suddenly his hand latched onto my spit-slicked fist.
“Stop!” he panted. “Don’t wanna come yet…” he said, in a breathless heave.
So I paused briefly, then I let go of his cock, crawled up on the desk, folded Andy’s hot body in half, and started power-fucking his ass like a goddamn locomotive, making the milky white flesh of his ass jounce with every plunge of my prick into his hole.
Objects were falling off my desk and onto the tile floor, both of us were cursing, pleading for more—harder! tighter! faster!—and a slapping, suction-cup sort of sound was increasing in volume.
Andy looked into my eyes—the look of disbelief, mingled with ardent lust, told me my plan had succeeded. With my cock jackhammering his ass, I was ruining him for all other men. Even his beautiful boyfriend, what’s-his-name, the quarterback!
I came up Andy’s very well-fucked ass, swelling the Trojan Magnum to the brink. Andy came in concert with my hardest, most fervent thrusts, splattering my chest, his cheek, and the tilted screen of my laptop with copious jets of spunk.
I pulled out, sauntered to the bathroom to dispose of the jizz-filled condom, and took a well-deserved piss.
Lust was unmistakably etched across his face when I returned. I threw him a towel and then handed him his clothes. He looked confused.
“I thought we could…you know, go again?”
I smiled. Lit a cigarette.
“Nah. You go home, get a good night’s sleep, and come back tomorrow night.”
I slapped his bare ass as I scooted him stark naked out the door. “I want you fresh next time—all mine.”
FLUID MECHANICS
Dale Chase
Nobody knows because nobody looks, not a bad thing so long as you alter perspective to embrace obscurity. I can cross the entire university campus with no more than the occasional nod or “Hello, Professor Blaine.” I return the greeting in kind even as the anarchist who’s recently taken up residence inside me urges me to fuck them all.
It’s a savory sort of conundrum and I move about toting it as one would an untimely erection, enjoying the fullness while not as yet getting it out, so to speak. I lecture and tutor and consult, interacting with students and faculty while beset by this new arousal and yet at night, when logic says I could get it out and have my way, I sleep as never before.
I don’t question why the anarchist has sprouted within me, I simply enjoy his presence, relishing the need he thus far has displayed only to me. It’s possession of the highest order, dick within a dick, and I wait to see what he’ll do.
Of course I will at some point fuck. Years of restraint will ultimately give way and it won’t be some bathroom quickie or lengthy courting ritual over expensive meals. No, it will be lust unleashed, Father Nature baring all to obliterate the empty decorum on which life is needlessly built. The worst fuck, the best fuck, nasty and uplifting at once, soaring cock trailing excrement-tinged come. I shall open a bottom and climb in, Alice down the rabbit hole. I shall smother myself as I come and come and come.
My first outward—to me—concession is to stop wearing underwear. Nobody knows as I move about with just khaki between my anxious cock and the students. I become erect behind the lectern and pride myself on my ability to detail fluid mechanics without pause while fighting the urge to bare my dick. I pontificate about the Navier-Stokes equations, discussing velocity and pressure in the flow of fluids, and as I hear myself speak, the anarchist looks out at the comatose throng and thinks of the only fluid that matters in life. He urges me to step from behind the lectern, get out my dick and wake them with a demonstration. He wants my spunk shooting at them, my hand guiding an endless spray, pumping and pumping, breaking the laws of physics, ethics, and humanity itself. The anarchist thrills to the duplicity yet he allows the professor to lose neither his decorum nor his job while the students remain unenlightened.
When the sex does happen it is, oddly, not my doing. A student, Jeremy, quite gifted and one of many I enjoy gazing upon, knocks on my office door one Tuesday and rushes in, apologizing for not making an appointment. Clearly distraught, he tells me his life has collapsed. His parents are divorcing and funding for his education is suspended. As he crashes about the room wailing that his life will end with the semester, it hits me: My god, I’m going to fuck him.
I wait for a break in his lament to offer alternative funding sources and a good dose of encouragement but the anarchist in me has climbed atop the pillars and bared his cock. I watch Jeremy, twenty-year-old physics major, brilliant, blond, slight, tousled, and I uncross my legs, allow a hand to slide into my lap where I prod my swollen prick. God, let me get it out and solve his problems. But then Jeremy has run down, slumped into the chair opposite, and now looks at me. “What can I do?”
He knows the answer as well as I. No student is ignorant of loans and scholarships and the practicalities of life so I view his question as one of personal need. He is hurt by thoughts of abandonment, frightened at the consequences. He doesn’t want practical advice, he wants comfort.
“You can do what a great many students do,” I tell him. “Apply for loans, scholarships. Take a part-time job if necessary. I worked my way through college and there’s actually a great sense of accomplishment in paying your own way.” Now take down your pants and come sit on my dick, the anarchist cries. He laughs at teacher’s claptrap. Fuck is the answer. Bend him over. Put it in.
Jeremy looks away because he doesn’t want advice. He wants an ally and I find myself flattered that he might think it me. A surge of compassion rushes forth. I want to hold him, care for him, reassure him. Let me suck your dick.
I retain my composure because that’s what I do, although I do it seated due to my erection. Jeremy gradually calms and accepts that he will be on his own and I find hope in him trying to embrace independence. He has no ties. I will fuck him.
Twenty years lie between us but it is that difference that matters most. The wisdom of experience is the gift I can offer, that and my cock. “When the semester ends you can move to my guest room if you like. By then you’ll have a feel for how you’re going to handle things.”
“You’d take me in?”
“Of course. You’re one of my best students. It would be a great loss if you left us.” Left me, the anarchist cries.
Tears come to Jeremy’s eyes, such is his relief. He smiles and in doing this, catches my eye. I hold his gaze long enough for him to understand that something is beginning between us. He does not flee. Rather, he quiets and I see consideration run through him. It’s a glorious moment, the birth of possibility, and I am content when he rises to leave. “Thank you, Professor Blaine.”
“You’re quite welcome.”
When I’m alone I lock my door and get out my cock and my handkerchief. I sit in my chair and work myself, thinking of Jeremy naked in my guest room. I see myself standing in the doorway with my cock pointed at him. He raises his legs, shows me where he wants it, and I climb onto the bed and shove it into his pristine ass and we fuck and fuck and fuck and I come and come and come.
When I’m done with the real thing I wipe away my cream and sigh with contentment but the anarchist does not join me. I put away my cock but he insists I look at the calendar, add up the days until semester’s end.
There are just eighteen, which I remind myself is a small number. Until then I live on anticipation, calling on Jeremy in class and counseling him afterward. Life is suddenly beautiful because we will fuck.
When he moves his meager belongings into the room in December I want to do it then and there as the anarchist screams to set down the bags and fuck. I don’t try to hide my erection and Jeremy glances down, smiling shyly, which makes me want it all the more but I don’t press, not just yet. And then he’s telling me he won’t go home for Christmas due to the unrest so I invite him to celebrate with me, knowing by then we’ll be at it like rabbits.
He is neat and clean. We share a bathroom and I encounter him in the hall in just a towel. His hair is wet, curls at the neck, and we stand immobile. “I hope I didn’t use all the hot water,” he says somewhat sheepishly. So polite. Let me lick your bottom.
I cannot sleep with him in the house. Our first night is spent with him undoubtedly snoring away and me frantically abusing myself. I spray come; I shove a dildo up my ass; I work my cock until it’s red.
I want to go down the hall and invade him, take him in his sleep if need be, just get into him. And I want his prick as well because penetration is a universal condition and everyone needs a rear assault now and again whether or not they’ll admit it.
We chastely coexist for two days and then he calls his mother one evening, which is his undoing. I eavesdrop from the next room, hear it all. He is quiet, subdued, listening mostly, then sobbing by degrees and finally angry. There is no good-bye and I hear him slam down the phone.
When I join him he’s pacing, flushed, tears all down his cheeks. “Come here,” I say as I step into his path and he falls into my arms. His sobs resume, a veritable eruption. I hold him, head on my chest, tears wetting my shirt. My cock is up and pressed against him. I rub his back to quiet him and he gradually settles. It is then I begin.
I slide my hands onto his bottom and pull him to me. He’s still agitated and it’s this I draw upon. As I rub against him, I feel his cock awaken. “You need to get past them,” I say. “You must take charge of yourself, see to your own needs. Your life doesn’t have to fall apart because of them.”
I squeeze his bottom as I say this, which causes him to wriggle in my grasp. “You know what you need,” I say and I let go of his bottom to take down his zipper.
He doesn’t resist. In fact, when I have his cock out he seems most anxious to shed his pants. I watch as he strips naked.
When he stands bare, holding a small but persistent prick, I feel a moment of anguish that anyone could hurt such an innocent creature but then I catch myself and attend to the matter at hand. I strip, then beckon him into my arms.
Clutching his body against my own causes him to come. I feel his spurts between us as he cries out and shudders and I wallow in our slippery connection.
His head is on my chest and I slip a hand to the back of it, push him to my tit where he takes hold and sucks frantically. As he feeds I tell him we must fuck.
I lead him to my bedroom where I arrange him on the bed. When I raise his legs he pulls them high, slides his arms around them to hold the position and I see he’s experienced. His pink hole quivers and I realize he’s clenching his muscle. As I apply the condom I wonder how many cocks he’s had but when I run a gob of lube into him and feel his tightness I forget them all and embrace the moment. He’s watching me now, holding his prick and waiting for mine.
When I’m in position I want to tell him what this is for me, how my dick in his bottom is bliss, ecstasy, nirvana, but I know not to say such things because it’s not the professor who’ll fuck, it’s the anarchist and we are just beginning.
As I push in and experience his spongy warmth, a jolt slices through me from balls to spine and back again and this causes a small shout to escape me but then I’m off on a rampage, thrusting madly as I look at his pink tits and his prick, which is spraying come again. The sight of his hand pulling at it inflames me and I think of eating the morsel and wish I could feed and fuck at the same time.
I look down at our connection, watch my cock go up him over and over and this fixation brings on a climax. As it beckons I grow frantic, ramming it home, and then I am unleashed. Professor, anarchist, prick—no matter, it’s a come, a come, a come.
When at last I’m empty an anguish overtakes me, not unfamiliar but not welcome either, and I pull out, toss the rubber, then get my mouth down where no mouth belongs and lick the residue and put in my tongue, still fucking. He grabs his cock.
I’m like a pig at a trough, snuffling and snorting. I keep at him until my jaw starts to ache and only then relent but when I sit back and see the whole of him, so pink and fresh, I want to dirty him so I fall onto him, flatten him under me and drive my just-up-his-rectum tongue into his mouth. To my surprise he not only takes it, he sucks it, which is the closest you can get to eating your own ass.
I writhe atop him and he finds my spent dick and pulls at it, which is futile at the moment yet still pleasurable. And then I pull off him, see his mouth still open like some hungry baby bird’s and it drives me mad so I crawl up onto him, stuff my limp dick into it. He takes hold, sucks like he’s starving, and as he does this I manage a rather masterful, near-acrobatic reversal so I can gobble his dick while mine remains inside his eager mouth and thus I suck him as he sucks me, feasting until he rewards me with a few more spurts.
He is still sucking my cock when I decide we’re done and as I pull out I hear his tongue still working, still sucking. I reverse, slide up next to him, quiet him. “Enough,” I whisper as I pull him into my arms. “Sleep now.” He quiets and in seconds I hear his soft snore.
Lying with him I remind myself of just what I have here, hoping satisfaction will lull me toward sleep, but the anarchist glances at the clock to calculate the next fuck at dawn. Turns out he’s wrong because I awaken in the night, emerge hard from vague dreams, and I find Jeremy’s bottom and shove a finger up him.
He awakens enough to respond, pushes his ass back at me to encourage the prodding and I add a second digit, working my dick with my other hand. If I fuck now, I may be ready again before morning classes.
The covers are thrown off, he’s still riding my fingers, and with my free hand I grab a condom from the nightstand. I pull out of him only to suit up and lube, then I pull his ass high and push in.
“I’m going to fuck you raw,” I growl in a voice not my own. I ram it in for emphasis and he clutches the sheet. Fuck, fuck, fuck—a mantra now, anarchist loose in the night. Fuck him, he prods. Fuck his sweet ass, get it up there, fuck, fuck, fuck. He keeps at it like he’s riding me and I see us now as a three-some, dick up my own ass, which seems at the moment entirely possible. Grunting and sweating, reduced to filthy animal, at last comes the rise and I claw at flesh, pounding and pumping as it shoots out of me. Pain sears my chest, I cannot breathe, I may die fucking but don’t care because I’m giving it to him, filling his ass with spunk. I hear “Fuck, fuck, fuck” as I spurt and shudder and when I run dry I keep at it because I want to fuck forever or die trying. My cock allows a few seconds of such indulgence before succumbing to reality. I slide out and fall onto my back.
