The Further Adventures of Justin & Billy Chapter 4 From Justin's viewpoint
When I left the house that Sunday, I was feeling pretty damn good. I loved the look on Billy's face when I sprayed him with my wake-up cum. He looked so cute covered in my jizz.
I thought Billy and I were getting back on the right track. And I sure liked the feeling that had developed almost over night. We were having fun again. Not like before. This was something a little different. But it felt like it was going to be good for us. I had the feeling that not only were Billy and I best friends and lovers again, but that we were moving in a new direction. In a way that would allow our love and friendship to grow.
I was feeling confident and secure and sexy. I was on top of the world as I headed for the studio and a little work on a project that was due later that week for Professor Allen.
As I drove the short distance to campus, my mind was bouncing all around. My art project. Sex with Billy. Our night at Phil and Todd's. Did I say sex with Billy already? And, I have to admit, sex with Phil.
I couldn't get the idea of Phil out of my mind. It had been just sort of an urge in the background up until now. But as I drove toward my school, it was taking form. The images becoming clearer in my mind. Phil's perfect butt. My hard cock ready to drive deep into him. His welcoming smile. The aching in my nuts. The throbbing in my cock. All just images. In my wild imagination. But they felt so real.
By the time I pulled into the parking lot, the aching in my nuts and the throbbing in my cock were all too real. I was so hot and horny and hard. I was pitching a tent in my jeans even a blind man couldn't miss. Fuck it, I thought. No one's around to see it. So as I walked into the building lobby, I had my hand on my cock, gently jerking it through the thick fabric of my jeans. I love the feel of denim against my hard cock. It's just a little rough. But so sexy.
I was surprised to see Professor Allen standing there holding two sheets of drawing paper. Studying them. Comparing them. Then he looked right at me. And almost as quickly at my crotch. The tent my hard-on was pitching. My hand conspicuously wrapped around my obvious boner.
I tried to casually take my hand from my cock and put it in my pocket, thinking that might partially disguise my hard-on. But, if anything, the attention from Professor Allen was making my cock harder. Making it longer. Making it strain to stand up straighter. And making it ooze gobs of pre-cum. Probably creating a big spot on the front of my jeans. There was no way I could look down to see how bad it was.
I felt completely fucked by this turn of events. Here was the guy who could make or break me more than anyone else on the faculty and I had just completely humiliated myself in front of him.
My cheery "Good morning, Professor Allen," sounded lame. Too cheery. Too much an obvious diversion. I didn't even want to look him in the face. But I had to.
As I raised my gaze, he was smiling at me. So friendly. Like he was genuinely happy to see me. "Good morning to you, too, Justin. It looks like you're morning is off too a good start." I must have looked startled by that remark. Did he really mean . . . but before I could even think it, he continued. "I mean," he corrected himself with an innocent sounding chuckle . . . "off too a good early morning that is."
Was he making a joke about my boner? God, he couldn't be. I'd die. I could only hope he would pretend he'd never seen it and life could go on. I had no idea how enlightened he might be. But he was teaching art at this level. Mine couldn't be the first boner he ever saw on a student.
Nothing more was said as we both headed in toward the studio area. Why did he have to be there that morning? Why did I walk into a classroom building, even on a Sunday morning, holding my hard cock in my hand? Was I crazy?
I went to my area and sat at my drawing table. I pulled my sketchpad out and stared at a blank page. Professor Allen went into his office just a short distance away. I was still rock hard and I could now see that the spot from my leaky dick was all too obvious, just as I had feared.
I mindlessly started to draw a sketch of Billy. A variation of one I had done dozens of times. Billy lying on his back. Naked. Hard. Cock thrusting up and out. Cum pooling on his abs. Cum still dripping from his dick.
I guess I had been hastily working on this elaborate doodle when I felt a hand on my shoulder. Oh my god! I jumped damn near off of my stool.
How had I not heard him come out of his office? How did I not see him walk over, around and behind me? How could I explain this drawing of my boyfriend in the afterglow of blowing a huge load on his abs?
I was truly fucked.
"Now I can see what had you all worked up when you walked in this morning. It's a very . . ." he cleared his throat and tried to sound professorial . . . "artistically interesting piece. But not really appropriate for your current assignment. I take it that you came in to work on your project assignment."
"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. Don't know what I was thinking, sir."
"Don't apologize," he said. I noticed he hadn't taken his hand from my shoulder. "It's a beautiful drawing. Nice composition. Lovely detail . . ." He paused as though picking just the right words. "But I suspect there may be some people . . . faculty . . . even students. . . . Anyway, some people who might not appreciate it . . . as art . . . as I can. And I do."
His hand tightened on my shoulder in a friendly way. Almost like a little massage. A secret message.
"I'll put it away," I said and reached out to close my sketchpad.
"No, let me look at it a moment," he said almost languidly. He picked it up and studied it closely. "It's very nice indeed" He held it to the natural light flooding in the windows. "He's a very handsome young man. He makes a spectacular model. He's your boyfriend, isn't he?"
I was so stunned by this I was silent for a moment. Before I could think how to answer, Professor Allen injected, "Or is he just a friend. I didn't mean to . . ." His words tailed off.
"How did you know," I said. Puzzled and truly wanting to know how he could recognize that the person I was drawing was my boyfriend.
"Oh, I've seen him pick you up and drop you off some days. I figured you must be roommates or . . . Well, enough said on that subject."
So he hadn't really known. But now, thanks to my answer, he did, of course. This day was not going well.
"I better get working on my project," I said and flipped my sketch pad to a blank page. As I did I couldn't help but notice Professor Allen's crotch just above it. I couldn't be mistaken. He was the one sporting wood now. The perv. He was getting off on giving me a hard time.
He might be an older guy, but I had to admit that from the first time I'd seen him I'd appreciated how he still kept himself in shape. Slim hips. Nice shoulders. I could never see that much because of the way he usually dressed. But for a guy who must be at least 27 or 28, he was in good shape. And apparently, from what was showing in his pants just then, hung as well as he was put together. Lucky Mrs. Allen, I thought. To my surprise, my cock tingled and started to stiffen again as I took in the growing bulge before me.
"Stop in to see me before you leave today. I'm sure I'll still be here grading the seniors' latest projects," he said. And with that, I tried to pull my head together and get some real work done.
I worked for about two hours and got a surprising amount accomplished. I liked the way my sketches were coming together and the events earlier with Professor Allen were quickly fading in importance.
I closed up my sketchpad and walked over to the professor's doorway and tapped gently. I could see him studying a group of sketches or drawings on the large table that served as his desk and primary workspace.
"You asked me to stop in before I left," I said, reminding him why I was there.
"Of course, step in, please, Justin."
As I did, I noticed his hand go to his crotch and . . . he was adjusting himself. Or playing with himself. Maybe trying to hide the fact that he was hard. Again. I wasn't sure. I couldn't really see his crotch from where I stood, but images of seeing his hard-on bulging in his pants earlier this morning was fueling the images in my mind.
Fuck! Now I was getting hard. And standing right in front of him with no way to hide my fast-rising cock. I decided I'd just ignore it and hope it settled down. Fat chance, I thought.
Professor Allen cleared his throat and studied me standing there, Studied me as he might a person applying to be a model for one of his classes. Maybe he was undressing me in his mind. If so, there would be plenty for him to see beneath my jeans. Nine inches of cock. Getting hard too fast for my comfort.
"I've been thinking about the sketch of your friend I saw you drawing earlier. I take it you like to draw the human form . . . as God created it." He paused. Obviously expecting an answer. An answer I didn't want to give just then. I could feel my cock get stiffer. I just hoped it didn't start leaking.
"Sometimes. I suppose. But I like drawing a lot of different things."
"But the human body, the male form, is one of your favorites? Perhaps?" He both said and asked.
"I guess so," I said sheepishly. Just wanting to leave.
"I don't know whether you realize it or not, but the male form is one of my special areas of interest."
I stood mute. Hard. Speechless.
"If you don't mind, I'd love to see more of your work. Maybe you could bring some samples next Sunday. Perhaps I could help you out with your technique. I'd love to see what you've done. I can only imagine what you're capable of."
He was staring right at my hard cock. The tent pitched in my jeans. The growing wet spot. Why the fuck did I have to go commando.
"Would you do that for me? If you have some time today . . . right now . . . I might be able to show you a thing or two. You seem to have a lot of interesting thoughts and like working hard. So do I," he said and, I swear, he groped himself. So obvious.
I didn't say anything. My mind was in complete confusion. He was coming on to me. I just stared at him. Maybe not. A second ago I was sure of it. Now he was standing there innocently before me. I couldn't see a trace of his cock. He looked . . . like any other teacher.
Maybe it was all in my mind. Too much time thinking about Billy. And Phil. And Todd, too.
"Not today, I'm afraid," I said at last.
"Then next Sunday? Is it a date?"
"Yeah. Sure," I said, just wanting to get out of there. And a few minutes later I was driving home to Billy. Trying to think what I could say. Was it all in my mind? I had a hard time thinking of Professor Allen as a perv.
But as I drove, I also had a hard time getting rid of that image of his hard cock pressing against his slacks. I was getting hard again. Really hard!
Finally I decided I'd call Phil and bounce it off him. He knew me and Professor Allen well enough to have an informed opinion. I laid it all out as best I could. Trying not to blow anything out of proportion, but not leaving anything out either.
When I was done, there was a long pause and then Phil finally said, "I would love to have been there to see you stroking your hard cock through your jeans in front of Allen."
We bantered back and forth about bits and pieces of what I'd told him and then Phil asked, "So does he have a big one when it's hard? I kind of figured he did. I think he tries to hide it in those pleated pants he wears for class."
When we were done talking, the most constructive thing Phil had said was, "The guy could hold your future in the palm of his hands. A few good words from him to the right people and you can make it as an artist, or photographer, or whatever you want. The guy can open doors. So if he's flirting or not, what you're doing is working. And it's working well. Man, you've got a private coaching session. I'd just keep on doing what you're doing."
It sounded like good advice. And while in some ways it seemed kind of creepy to be thinking about doing shit with a teacher who was probably almost 10 years older than me. Professor Allen really was a hot looking guy. It wasn't like I'd never noticed him. If he were my age, I'd say he was damn hot.
When I got home, my mind was twisting again about how I was going to tell all this to Billy. What was I going to tell him? With the state of mind he'd been in, he'd probably say I wanted to fuck Professor Allen.
To be honest, I wouldn't mind seeing what the prof had in his pants, but Billy would blow that all out of proportion. I'd have to tread lightly.
As soon as I walked in the door, I was greeted by a cool reception. A slightly accusatory, "Where have you been all this time?" from Billy.
"I stayed a little late to talk to Professor Allen," I said, trying really hard not to sound defensive.
"Whatever you say," Billy countered.
And the conversation slid downhill from there. The more he had thought about what I had said at breakfast yesterday, the more he was pissed. We talked for a while, but we weren't getting anywhere.
He didn't want anything to change. I thought it needed to. Finally, to keep some peace and hopefully create an environment in which we might talk about this constructively some day soon, I caved.
I said it would be fine with me if we left things the way they were. As long as that included sex . . . lots and lots of sex . . . between the two of us. And, when we both agreed, we could mess around with other guys the way we always had. Like with Ted. Or Greg and Alex. Or, of course, Phil and Todd.
No fucking in front of other guys. No getting into it with other guys on our own. Only together.
It was agreed. Billy wanted the agreement sealed with a fuck. And he wanted to do the fucking for a change.
As we climbed naked and hard onto our bed, I could feel Billy's anger and frustration. I asked him how he wanted me and he said "doggy style. Doing it like two fucking dogs in heat."
I reached over to the side table to get some lube, because I was pretty sure I was gonna need a lot of it. But before I could reach it, Billy grabbed my hips and pulled me back toward him.
He spit on his hand and before I really knew what was happening he was shoving a finger up my ass. And before I'd really fully adjusted to one, he was using two. I started to object, but before the words left my mouth, something deep inside me, something a lot closer to my ass than my brain, told me to shut up. I was starting to enjoy being roughed up a little. This was so unlike any sex we'd had. Billy really was usually a caring lover. But not that afternoon.
Billy thrust his hard cock deep and fast. But my ass, for whatever reason, was ready for that. Ready for a hard pounding. Maybe it was from all the sex we'd been having. Maybe it was because I thought in some way I deserved this. Maybe . . . Maybe it was because it was how I wanted Phil to fuck me. Had imagined he would fuck me.
Or maybe it was Professor Allen I imagined . . .
There were getting to be too many possibilities in my life.
Billy was pounding my ass, plunging into me with his big, thick, hard cock There was no talk from Billy. No feeling. No sentiment. Just pure, hard, pounding, sweaty sex between two guys. He was like a stranger. Almost raping my ass.
And I was like a willing slut, happy to give up my ass to this guy just to keep the peace.
After five, six, hell, maybe 10 minutes, Billy finally flipped me over on my back and started fucking me hard all over again. His face showed no emotion. No pleasure. No anger. No joy. Certainly no love.
For the first time since he pulled me back by my hips and started fucking me, I knew this wasn't good. Wasn't right. But at the same time, having Billy fucking me with such force and mindless lust was in a way a new turn-on for me. I let our sex just run its course.
I told myself I would be happy. My boyfriend really did care a lot for me. Loved me. And I loved him. We had our differences, but we'd get around those. This was just a momentary thing. A one-time step toward something better. We'd find what we seemed to have lost. I promised that to myself as Billy ground his cock deep inside me.
Then my nuts started to pull up tight and I could feel that first sense of my orgasm to come. It was deep within me. But so powerful. The need for release. The need to be fucked. Raw need. Lust. Passion. Heat. Sweat. And soon, cum. Lots of fucking cum. Spewing from Billy's cock deep within me. I was ready. I was willing.
For now, I finally had cleared my mind of all this shit about limits and boyfriends and rules and lovers. I just wanted to enjoy a good ass fucking.
It was a wild ride of sex from bedroom to kitchen to . . .
Two hours later, we were both awash in cum. We'd each gotten off at least twice, I think. Now we were lying naked and covered in cum in our backyard, where I had just finished fucking Billy's ass. Hopefully with a little more love and caring than he'd shown mine.
I was gonna be walking funny for days after that pounding he gave me.
But at least we had released a lot of the tension that seemed to keep welling up between us. Billy and I were holding each other in our arms. Our faces resting on each other's necks. Billy lifted his head and kissed me. Gently at first. Then more passionately.
"I'm sorry," he said. It was so sincere. I wanted to cry. "I hope I didn't hurt you. I really do love you. You just make me so fucking mad sometimes. But I'm trying to understand. This is hard. And we need more time."
We were OK. Or gonna be OK. I was sure of it, hearing Billy's words. Before long I fell asleep trying to count up how many times I had cum since getting home from school Friday evening. It had been one amazing weekend.
To be continued . . .
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, guys, I hope you liked that chapter. Write and tell me what you're thinking, or even just whether it got you off. Believe me, Billy really wants to know when you get off on the story. And I don't mind it either. So speak up either way.
This is the second book in the "I Thought I Knew" series. It is not necessary to read the books in order, although Book 1 chronologically precedes this book. It can be found under the title "I Thought I Knew" in the High School section. /nifty/gay/highschool/i-thought-i-knew/
The characters in this project are real. The names and some other identifying information in this story have been changed to conceal the identities of the characters described. The Copyright for this story is held by Hardreader. The story may not be reprinted or distributed elsewhere in print, electronically or digitally without the permission of the author. I would love to receive comments on this story from readers. Email me at hardreader2000@aol.com
While you're waiting for the next episode, I hope you'll stay happy. And stay hard! -- H.R.