Student no longer. A story in 10 chapters
Disclaimer: This story contains passages of explicit description of sexual activity between boys of 18+. There is also strong language. If you are likely to be offended by these, please read no further.
Chapter 3: First Lesson
I don't want to write anything about the next day up to 3 o'clock. It was instantly forgettable, a grey day in all senses of the word.
Allow me to skip to the technicolor of 3 p.m. onwards, which I could never erase from my memory, nor would ever want to.
Bob and I met up to play hookey, twag it, play the wag, bunk off, take a sicky .... or whatever term you apply to the universal practice of escaping the humdrum routine of work or education. Bob was well on time...tapping on his watch, skipping from toe to toe in his impatience to be off.
He was in a wild and unpredictable mood, so unlike yesterday. We marched brazenly, jauntily, along the Embankment by the Thames, as pumped full of testosterone as any two straight teenage kids making for their Saturday afternoon footy match.
"So did you excuse yourself from the afternoon class?" I asked.
"Oh yes, sure," he said ironically. "'Oh, Dr Gilbert,'I says, 'I can't come to your lecture on The Most Boring Aspects Of Fifth Century BC Athens because my horny mate is gagging for a shag .... and obviously I have to be aware of my priorities.'"
His humour was infectious. A smart lady in her fifties was dragging a pekinese on a lead behind her. He looked her straight in the face and exclaimed loudly, "What a beautiful bitch!" then bent down to pet the dog. The dog didn't appreciate the joke any more than she did and snapped at his fingers.
"Come along, Berty," she said sharply, yanking it sharply to her heel, and haughtily increasing her pace.
"What have I said? What have I done?" wailed Bob innocently.
"I'll disown you," I said, secretly exulting in the mischief he was bent on making.
On the escalator into the tube ... and, yes, he had to make an exhibition of himself again. He stood facing the down-travelling commuters, pretending to play a guitar, Jimi Hendrix style, and carolling, "Glad to be Gay!" with no shame whatsoever. I wanted to crawl away at this point. What did he think he was playing at?
A city gent, complete with bowler and umbrella, was trying to force his way by but Bob wasn't budging. "Oh for heavens sake," he snorted. "Some of us have to work for a living, you know. We're not all layabout students." So bugger me if Bob didn't do a funny walk behind him as he moved to the platform, John Cleese style: "Oh bless my bowler and brolly, how some of us gents have to work for our living! Oh John, (mincingly) you are such a layabout."
Looking back, it was tedious and immature, but not then, it wasn't! It was part of the anarchy of Bob that so sexed me up .... and he knew it. His humour was an aphrodisiac.
By the time we got to Clapham Common, I was as unruly as him. We pinched a couple of apples from a market stall, right under the vendor's nose, and charged over to the common, full of unleashed energy. I raced giddily in circles, then showed off my party trick to Bob - walking on my hands. He grabbed my knees and nuzzled his face in my crotch. I could feel his warm breath penetrate my pants. I collapsed with laughter on to the grass, and then, as he strode on, raced after him and threw myself on to his back.
"Aaaaah!" he screamed. "Get off yer bastard! Hell, get off!"
At first, I thought he was continuing to play the fool, but when I saw his face contorted in pain, I recognised what should have been blindingly obvious, that he was still suffering from the pain of the bruises he had incurred the day before.
"Oh Bob," I said, almost crying at my stupidity," I'm sorry. Please ... I forgot. Are you OK?"
Bob was not gracious. He stalked away, gruffly grunting,"Let's get home."
I kicked myself that I had been responsible for changing his mood so decisively, and miserably fell into step behind him. We entered the flat silently, and I fixed us up a cup of tea. He took off his jacket and shoes and sat on the bed, staring straight ahead. I gave him a cup and sat down beside him, deflated.
After a minute or two, his eyes twinkled again and he began to recover his humour. "Very sensible of us to bunk off lessons just to end up sitting in a grotty bed-sit supping tea."
I grinned sheepishly.
"Why don't you close the curtains?" he whispered huskily.
I thrilled at the suggestion. He was thawing. The lesson was not to be cancelled, it seemed.
I plunged the room into semi-darkness and bounced back to join him on the bed. We took off our jackets and jumpers and lay out fully stretched, side by side, dressed only in our shirts and trousers.
He grinned cheekily.
"First part of the lesson is the theory....so pay attention ... and keep your mitts off me while I'm lecturing!"
"Do I have to take notes?" I said sarcastically.
"You won't need to because we'll have such an effective practical lesson afterwards that the theory will be for ever and ever imprinted on your memory." He gave me a lascivious wink. My knob stirred in reponse.
Solemnly, he announced: AN EXPOSITION OF BOB'S TWO LAWS OF SEXODYNAMICS.
I giggled but he hushed me.
"The first law states that in good sex, you should aim to give maximum pleasure to your partner and he to you. Your pleasure will come from seeing him writhing in the ecstasy you've created and vice-versa. It therefore follows (again I giggled at his wonderful parody of his professor) that you must be alert for his every gasp, every tightening of a muscle, every dreamy smile of delight, every suppressed moan and contrariwise, you must allow your partner to be aware of your own pleasure by breathing extra heavily, by murmuring, "ohhh that's so gooood," "you're sooo good at this!", by stretching to allow access to your most sensitive parts, by making little shrieks of delight, nudging gently his hand or his head in the direction you want it to go....just exaggerating a little so he cannot possibly miss what turns you on.
"And the second law?" I asked, already thoroughly aroused by the first.
"The second says: "Correct judgement of PACE is everything in sex. Don't rush things forward. Live for the present sensation. Concentrate on each feeling as it comes, rather than hurtling precipitously on to the final orgasm. Once that comes (forgive the pun) it's virtually over."
I knew that this law was the one he was applying particularly to me, and resolved to put his teaching into practice.
He winked at me again. I thrilled inwardly, knowing that the real show was about to begin.
Slowly he unbuttoned my shirt, and I felt the coolness of the air on my upper body. He snuggled up to me and started to kiss me as I had never been kissed before. His lips met mine and he forced his tongue forward so that it penetrated into my mouth. I was instantly fired up, every cell of my body seemed to be supersensitised and I clasped him hungrily to me, pressing my stiff cock against him and thrusting forward eagerly.
"Hey, tiger," he hissed, disengaging himself from my clutches. "For fuck's sake, Johnny, what have I just been saying. Bob's Law Number 2!! At this rate, neither my bruises nor your semen control are going to survive. Relax. Take it easy. Take it slowly. Enjoy the sensation of the moment."
So I lay back and his mouth drifted against mine again. I let my tongue contour round his mouth this time, and he murmured his delight softly. This gave me confidence that I could pleasure him further and we drifted into idyllic, sensuous kissing with tongues playing around each other's and saliva running freely. He eased my shirt off my shoulders and ran his palms up and down my torso. I felt the thrill of each touch, and extended my arms so he could caress every square inch of my upper body. His fingers twisted my nipples and I gasped as they stood erect, aroused.
I then started to undress him, starting with his shirt. The front of his body had escaped the beating and its nakedness was perfect and beautiful. I gazed at it, slim and lithe, brown with nice flat nipples, not over-muscled, but fit. I nibbled his nipples with my lips and he squirmed with delight under my administrations. "That's so good, John," he murmured, " I love my nipples being stimulated...go on."
Leaving my left hand playing with a nipple, I proceeded to his belly button and the thin line of hair extending downwards. I nuzzled into it with my lips, then proceeded slowly ...ever so slowly to his heavy leather belt. I unbuckled it and unclipped the top of his cords. Then, with my heart in my mouth, I pulled down his zip. I watched his face, to savour his every reaction and he stared back at me, so that I felt we conspired together in this wonderful, tense moment of discovery. Yet again he wore no underwear, and to my excitement, in front of my eyes was his penis ... his tool ... his weapon .... his prick ... his cock - call it what you fucking well want - it was there in front of me.... rigid as a poker, pulsating, alive, twitching at an angle from its nest of wiry, black pubic hair, begging me to take control of it. I nursed it in my hands, dabbing it with my lips, admiring it, stroking it. It had a kink at the end, so that its tip leaned markedly to the left ... and this, like all Bob's individual peculiarities just served to make it sexier and sexier. The foreskin was peeled back, though not fully and its helmet was shiny and purple. It was slightly thicker than mine and slightly shorter. It twitched in the air and was entirely beautiful. I was in awe.
"Like him?" whispered Bob. "He likes you. Look, he's starting to leak cum for you."
Then tenderly he laid me back and started to undo my trousers. I lay back to enjoy the sensation of my private parts being exposed to his gaze. He unzipped me, slipped my trousers down to my ankles and then off completely. Then he let his hand wander lovingly up my thighs. They crept up the legs of my boxers, to my balls. He cupped them in his hands fondling them expertly for a moment or two and then drew down my boxers to reveal my engorged cock.
He cradled it against his right cheek moving his lips to nuzzle against it now and then. My tool felt it belonged there. It felt the softness of his face, sometimes the tickle of his eyelashes. I wanted the moment to last for ever.
Suddenly the excitement got to me again. Impatiently and urgently, I escaped from his grasp and lay on top of Bob, pressing him deep into the bed and fucking against his belly furiously. I just needed to cum now; I was overwhelmed by animal passion.
Gently this time, he wrestled me off. "Hey, you've been great so far. Don't spoil it." He set me back on the bed and sat astride me. I loved the feel of his weight on top of me and the bareness of his bum on my belly. I pinned his cock flat against my abdomen with my palm and he gently thrust against it. I watched. I felt the rigid member screwing between my palm and belly and stared at the look of blissful concentration in his eyes. He felt behind him and flattened my long cock against the knobbles of his spine. My eyes glassed over. I was in heaven. "Oh, Bob, that's so good." And I bucked against his palm catching the same rhythm as his as he closed his eyes and rocked backwards and forwards. His movements became more athletic, as he gained leverage at his knees, and his breathing became heavier and more guttural.
"That's right," he murmured in ecstasy. "We're together now...absolutely in harmony....together."
He kissed me gently on the forehead. Then, shaking himself out of his trance, said in his mock lecture style: "Today, to climax your first lesson, I aim to demonstrate a perfect, mutual wank. I am going to bring us off absolutely at the same time."
With that, after putting some grease on his two hands, he lay by my side on the bed, drew our two dicks together and cupped his two hands round them. The kink at the top of his cock nudged against the place where the head of my cock emerged from the shaft - a most sensitive area for me. As he rubbed us both, I was conscious all the time of this wonderful bend in his equipment prodding and exciting me. We were both so aroused by this time, that we knew that it could only be seconds rather than minutes before we would reach our climaxes. The stiffness of our muscles, the rapidity of our pulses, the blotchy redness of our faces and chests all indicated the same thing. It was a glorious time, a rapturous time. Gradually and subtly, Bob increased the pace of his administrations. He rung in the changes with his grips as well, sometimes tight .....Oh what ecstasy! .... sometimes looser;
sometimes he let his forefinger draw a circular caress on our helmets, sometimes, I felt around Bob's balls and fingered the entrance to his bum.
We could last no longer. With a strangulated voice, Bob announced: "Oh, prepare for lift-off! Five, four, three, two, one...." And oooooooohhh we arched our backs and we ejected our fuel, both of us together. All over the fucking place! It mingled so we could not tell whose was whose, although I think Bob's was slightly thicker and creamier than mine. Yes, yes, yes ... we had lift-off and how! A runnel of spunk dribbled along the channel between my pecs and Bob caught it with his finger and sucked it greedily. I flung my lips against his and caught the sweet taste of cum in my mouth. I swallowed.... mmmmm.
Then we kissed again, lingeringly, lovingly. My body felt relaxed and I was completely at peace. So, seemingly was Bob.
But after about five minutes, when soaked in our juices, we did not move or speak, he suddenly, after doing a quick wipe of his chest and loins, said he would take a shower and then had to be off!
I couldn't speak to start with. What a surprise and a disappointment! Surely he was going to stay the night?
"I've got work to do," he said. "Mustn't be late!"
At this time of night? He disappeared for his shower. On his return, I plied him with questions, as you can imagine.
"Hey, little John. Just because we made love together, it doesn't mean you own me," he said cuttingly.
Deflated, I shrank beneath the bedclothes. I felt deserted.
"See you tomorrow," I said in a subdued tone.
"Hey," he said. "We'll have plenty of time together. Remember that was only one very basic lesson ... I've got to teach you sucking and fucking yet and he grabbed me playfully in his arms and tickled me...plenty to look forward to," he grinned. Ant then more quietly and sincerely: "Come on John, I'm crazy about you. I'm not going to let you go!"
He closed the door. I didn't want to wash myself. I liked his cum on me. Besides I was tired now. I drifted into sleep.
P.S. At 4 a.m., I woke up for a while. He still hadn't arrived back. Can you believe that I had to have another wank? It would be an anticlimax to describe it here, except to say that I relived the whole experience of the night . My balls still found plenty more cum to release..... teenage hormones, eh? Imagine it for yourself. Write to me about it if you want, or your reactions to any of the rest of this chapter. I love hearing from you and, though the general pattern of my story is set, I do try to incorporate your suggestions as far as possible. Next chapter is called: "Sex and Surprises". There are plenty of both!!!