|I Never Expected That, Part 2
by Greg Scott
All the usual stuff about you must be old enough in your jurisdiction, etc. In other words, if you are underage, don't read this unless you have a really cool teacher who assigned it. Otherwise, come back in a few years, when nobody will yell at you.
Mr. Sanderson led me into his son, Mark's bedroom. I saw my host's reflection in the mirror as we entered. I became even more aroused as I looked at him. He was a hot looking guy. I don't know if most nineteen year olds think of a man who is literally old enough to be his father as sexually exciting. If not, they must have never seen Mr. Sanderson with his shirt off.
He was muscular without looking artificially chiseled. His skin was pale, but it was accented perfectly by the deep black of his dusting of chest and arm hair. His face was perfectly proportioned, and his smile was warm and welcoming. He was like a more developed, more masculine version of his son.
Mark was not one of the guys that I had ever fantasized about, but that might change now that I knew his secret that Mr. Sanderson had shared with me in the living room. I liked Mark; I thought he was cute; and I would look at him admiringly at times. But "cute" doesn't seem to be quite enough to get me really interested. Looking at Mr. Sanderson, I could see what Mark would probably become in a few years. He would lose his boyish cuteness and become a masculine, handsome man. He would become sensual. Depending upon his eventual orientation, he would have many men or women who would be pursuing him. In the meantime, I was quite pleased to have attracted the attention of his dad.
Mr. Sanderson excused himself to visit the bathroom. While I listened to his stream across the hall, I casually wandered around Mark's room.
I looked at his bed, and I thought of the story that Mr. Sanderson had told me. I pictured Mark and Greg sucking each other on that bed. I wondered what else they might have done. I also wondered who else might have shared that bed with Mark.
I looked at his computer on the desk in the corner. I wondered if Mark ever sat there in the privacy of his room looking for the same kinds of videos that I watched while he stroked his cock. That made me wonder if Mark ever spied on his dad, which in turn made me suddenly jealous of Mark.
It was an odd feeling. I was feeling jealousy about Mark having such a sexy dad. On the other hand, that probably never crossed either of their minds, I reassured myself. After all, my dad was pretty good looking by any standards, but I certainly never tried to see him naked or anything like that. I wondered though whether maybe any other guys, like Greg or even Mark maybe, ever thought of my dad as a sex object the way I was now thinking of Mr. Sanderson.
"Anything you want to check out while you're here," my host said as he reentered the room and nodded to Mark's dresser.
"You're the only thing I want to check out right now," I said, trying to sound seductive.
"Good answer," he replied.
We met in the middle of the room, at the foot of the bed. We pressed our bare chests against each other, and I felt his silky chest hair again. As we embraced our lips met in what was the gentlest kiss I had ever known.
Isn't it odd how sometimes the lightest touch brings the most intense feelings, sort of like how a whisper can be more effective than a shout? I felt tingles over my whole body, all resonating from my lips. I may have actually shivered.
Mr. Sanderson steered me to the edge of the bed and manuevered me into a sitting position. He knelt at my feet, removing my shoes and socks. He massaged my left foot and then my right. He pulled my right foot up slightly while he lowered his head. He pulled his tongue lightly from my heel to the ball of my foot, while watching my face for a reaction with his upturned eyes.
He broke eye contact with me and took my entire big toe into his mouth and sucked it forcefully. I had no idea before that instant how sensuous my feet could feel. He moved to the next toe, then the next repeating the process.
As he turned his attention to my left foot, he reversed direction, starting with the smallest toe and building to a crescendo with the largest at the end. The sensations were almost too intense, and I allowed myself to fall backwards onto the bed.
This master of sensual pleasures ran a single finger from my lips down to my navel. Then he set about the job of freeing me from my pants. He accomplished his task with ease with only a little assistance from me.
He let a little gasp escape as he revealed my hidden treasure. While I was a small man, I had a sizable cock. I'm sure that it looked bigger on me than it really was, because we see things relative to their surroundings. At five feet five inches and a bit under one hundred thirty pounds, an average penis would have looked big on me. But I did not have an average penis. Personally, I didn't care the slightest about its size, but it did seem to interest others. I actually got teased about it from the other members of my wrestling and cross country teams.
Mr. Sanderson indicated that I should readjust myself to get comfortably situated on the bed. While I did that, he dropped his pants to the floor and stepped out of them in what seemed like a single fluid motion.
Unlike my own, his cock was only partially erect. To me, that is when the penis looks most attractive and inviting. As soon as he had settled into the bed beside me, I moved and took his cock fully into my mouth. I wanted to feel it grow inside me, and it responded as I knew it would. I ran my tongue in circles around the shaft, until if became too stiff for that movement.
With my left hand, I nestled his balls. I had never felt such warmth as those large perfect orbs produced. I considered releasing my oral grasp of his cock so that I could enjoy those balls rolling in my mouth, but Mr. Sanderson grabbed under my arms and pulled my body upward on the bed, until I found myself laying atop him, fully absorbed in another kiss.
After a period of time, the kiss ended. He gently slid me off his body so that I was laying face down on the bed. He started to trace an imaginary spiral on my back with each loop of his fingers covering more and more of my back. Finally the lower range of the circle reached the top of my butt, and his hand paused.
He sat up and used both hands to firmly massage my butt, both cheeks simultaneously. It felt magnificent.
He continued the massage for a few minutes, and then he stopped that pattern as well. He repositioned himself lower on the bed and then straddled me. I felt a single finger touch the underside of my scrotum. He moved his finger upward across my sack and then up farther until it was tracing my crack where my muscular cheeks came together.
Upon reaching the top of the crack, he reversed his course and brought his finger downward, pushing his finger a little deeper into the crevice this time. He repeated that pattern three or four times, each time venturing a little deeper.
I felt his finger withdraw. The bed jostled as he repositioned himself again for whatever it was that he had planned next. I twisted my head to try to watch.
"Just relax," he whispered.
I next felt his tongue under my balls, and he moved it along the same trail that he had previously blazed with his finger. I felt a shiver of pleasure mixed with a touch of fear rush through me, but it was the pleasure that was the more intense.
When he reached my lower back area with his tongue, he worked backwards just as he had done with his finger. It arrived back at its starting point. He flipped his tongue back and forth several times against my ball sac. I sighed.
As he started to move up my body again on his next pass, his hands grabbed my buttocks and firmly pulled apart my cheeks. I felt cool air penetrate the normally protected depth of my crack. His tongue picked up speed, making several quick passes across my hole. Then I felt the tip of his tongue stiffen and enter me, not far but enter regardless.
My sigh became a moan. Not only had I never experienced that feeling before, but I had never even given any thought to its possibility. Whatever small fears I had felt had turned into what felt like love for a man who could give me pleasure in such a way. I found myself wanting him desperately, but there is no way that I could have verbalized exactly how I wanted him. I knew that right now, I would do anything he asked. I would, in fact, get on my knees and beg him to allow me to do anything that would give him the pleasure that he was giving me.
Then he did the impossible. He thrust his tongue even farther into me. I felt myself relaxing as I knew I trusted him fully. He started to withdraw, but then he shoved it back still deeper. Back and forth he went. I relaxed even more.
Nothing lasts forever. Either his tongue grew weary or he wanted to move to his next trick of sensual magic. He pulled his tongue out and rolled me over onto my back. He brought his hand to my face and wiped away a tear that I didn't even realize I had produced. I guess that expresses the intensity of my pleasure. It was mindless, something that I simply experienced on some sort of unthinking sensory and emotional level.
That same tongue that had been inside me just a moment before, now plunged deeply within my mouth. Surprisingly, I found it highly erotic that he chose to share my own taste with me.
Soon, though, he moved down my body, and worked his lingual magic on my wanting dick. Circling it first with a few swirls, he plunged down upon it as far as he could. Most of my cock was in his mouth. While he didn't take it all, he managed to engulf more than anyone ever had.
I was impressed with his effort. He was determined, though. He came up for air, then lowered himself more slowly onto my spear. He kept going this time, slowly, less urgently than on his first attempt. Somehow his throat expanded to accept my full size. I was ecstatic, experiencing something that I thought I might never experience.
When he finally came up for air, I could see that he matched my thrill at his success. He was obviously proud of his accomplishment as he flashed that broad smile that I had already come to recognize and, perhaps, love.
He kissed me tenderly on my earlobe. He whispered in barely audible tones, "I want to try to take you inside me some time, but I don't think I can handle you yet. May I come into you, though?"
Now I knew exactly how I wanted to make him feel good.
"Please do," I responded.
He reached down beside the bed to his pants and pulled out a condom. He had it open and on in an instant. He seemed in as much of a hurry for this as I knew I was.
I rolled over onto my stomach. He began his oral technique on me again, using as much saliva as he could. He asked if I wanted lube. I declined the offer.
I was a virgin in that way. Perhaps if I had been more sensible I would have accepted the lube. When he started to use his fingers to open me, I stopped him.
"I just want you to take me," I said.
He spit on his hand a few times to use the saliva to coat his shaft. I felt a light touch as he lined up. He began with a little pressure, but he wasn't making any progress.
"I'm okay," I said to reassure him.
He pushed harder and finally broke through the barrier. I was absolutely determined to show no pain, although I couldn't subdue a reflexive twitch and the natural clenching until the pain subsided. He waited patiently.
When I had my body under control, I nodded.
He picked up his slow descent into my depths. When I felt his pubic hairs brushing my butt, I knew that I had succeeded. I had felt plenty of doubt for a while.
Mr. Sanderson thoughtfully paused to allow me to adjust to his considerable size. I nodded again, and he began his rhythmic withdrawal, penetration, withdrawal, over and over.
Each time he came into me I found myself enjoying it more, but each time he withdrew my regret over his temporary disappearance was greater. He shifted slightly, and my head almost exploded from the intensity of the sensation. Up and down he moved, each time pushing me to greater heights of ecstasy. I think I had cried out several times in utter joy before I actually realized that I was vocalizing my pleasure at the top of my lungs.
"Put all of your weight on me," I instructed him.
He did and maintained his pace. I felt strangely as if I possessed him while he was, in fact, controlling me. I was lost within him while he was firmly within me.
It kept building and building until I just exploded in orgasmic pleasure. I felt Mr. Sanderson biting my back and heard him moaning loudly as he did so. I felt my cum gushing onto my friend's bedspread, but I didn't care. I was out of my body, and, yet, all there was of me was my body.
I came down very slowly. I couldn't tell you how long my ecstatic high remained. I became conscious of Mr. Sanderson becoming slightly smaller within me. Next I realized that he was stroking my hair. I reached back to rub the sides of his haunches. He purred.
At last he rolled off of me. I've read that men feel a void at the time of withdrawal, but that was not what I experienced. I still felt that my partner was as much a part of me as before.
I rolled over to face him. He leaned in and we kissed. It was our first kiss that was not mixed with urgency. It was a kiss that I can only describe as comfortable.
I looked beyond him to the clock on Mark's night stand. We had apparently taken our time.
"We had probably get presentable," I said.
Mr. Sanderson turned to look at the clock. He kissed me again, then got out of his son's bed.
"What can we do about that?" I asked pointing to my huge pool of cum remaining on Mark's bed.
Mr. Sanderson reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. He wiped the remains of my orgasm, leaving a wet spot.
He said, "I guess he'll just have to wonder about that."
"I meant what I said," Mr. Sanderson said.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Next time I want to try to take you inside me."
"Will there be a next time?"
"I hope so," he replied.
"I hope so, too," I added.
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