Date: Wed, 28 Jan 2015 16:16:08 -0500 From: Andrew Phillips Subject: He and I (Part 3) He and I This is a story from two perspectives, mine and my future lover's. It is fictional, aspirational, and hot. My name is Andrew (andrewphil69@gmail.com ). People call me Drew. Part 3 – A kiss Me: How could I refuse his offer of help. Mr. Allcock had a small office just off his class room; a desk, three chairs, bookcase and narrow window. I was nervous, but finally got up the courage and picked the end of the week to visit him. It was a warm day and I decided to wear a T-shirt that hugged my torso and my tightest jeans, leaving little of my physique to the imagination. After classes on Friday, April 17th, I knocked on his office door. "Just a moment," he said, and then opened the door. His shirt had an open collar with his sleeves rolled up (he usually wore a sports jacket and tie in class). He had a pile of exam papers on his desk that he was grading. "Hope I'm not disturbing you, Mr. Allcock," I said. He said, "No, and you can call me Sean, at least here." "Well, er, Sean, I had a questions about how to handle Sally Hemmings in my paper on Jefferson. How much detail of the rumors of his relationship with his slave should I put in the paper or the talk I have to give?" I thought that was a sufficiently academic question to justify my visiting him. He thought for a moment and looked me in the eye and said, "You know you are very handsome." "Huh? Oh thank you," I answered awkwardly. And then I returned the complement, word for word. He stood up, walked around his desk and sat in the chair next to mine. God, there was an expectant tension in the room. Nobody spoke for a couple of minutes, as we both looked out the window on the sunny spring day. Finally, he added, "You're quite beautiful. I noticed that the day I met you last fall and have not been myself since. I've dreamt of you, I've ... I don't know what to do." He paused. "You must think me a sick, perverted individual." "No, no...Sean," I responded, "believe it or not I've felt the same about you." "But, but, what can I do about it? You're one of my students. I'd be canned in a New York minute if I did anything about it. Not to mention my family who I love very, very much." I didn't know what to say. "At least I'm not a minor any more," I quipped. He smiled at that, and then as we sat there his eyes welled up and a teardrop fell on this cheek. Jesus, now what do I do? More tears just kept coming. I'd not seen a guy crying since my father learned he had only weeks to live. I turned to him and wrapped my arms about him. He leaned his head against my shoulder, sobbing quietly. I lifted his head to look at him, saying, "It's all right." He smiled weakly and I kissed him. First on his damp cheek then on the lips, tentatively, but quickly deepening into a long, passionate kiss as he embraced me as well, and we held on to each other for dear life. For what seemed a long time. Well I'd be damned if I would let his "reservations" get in the way of realizing my fantasies! We stood and I continued to hug and kiss him, now moving my groin against his until I felt the hardness of a response. I undid a button on his shirt and slid my hand under his shirt, massaging his magnificent pectorals. I felt his nipples harden. He moaned and slid his tongue between my teeth. While our tongues wrestled, my hand continued to his arm pit. More moaning. Our erections, separated by several layers of clothing, were at full mast. Suddenly a shudder ran though him as he ejaculated, again and again. He gasped, "Thank you, thank you." Finally we separated and I said, "You know Mr. Allcock, I mean `Sean,' in six weeks I won't be your student any more!" It took a moment for him to realize what that meant. "Can I get your, er, advice again, soon?" He answered in the affirmative and I said, "How about next Tuesday." He smiled at me. "Fine," he whispered, not taking his eyes off mine. When I left, I slipped into a stall in the boys' room down the hall and came. What an afternoon! Sean: I thought he would never come. Andrew was probably unaware of my, er, special interest in him. Each day that week I purposely stayed after classes working in my office. Finally, on Friday, with yet another pile of sophomoric exams to grade, he did come. When he entered he was stunning, in a tight white T-shirt. He asked me some question or other about Jefferson's mistress that frankly I didn't even hear. All I could see was this object of my obsession, my desire. All I could tell him was how handsome he was, and he said the same to me. I came over and sat next to him. I felt such transcendental joy as I confessed my deep attraction for him. He responded in kind. For months we were of the same mind and hadn't know it. How great! But then I felt the weight of reality come down on me like an avalanche. How could I be so stupid, willing to sacrifice everything, my job, Joyce and little Emma, to be with this young man? And yet that is what my emotions, my soul, was telling me to do. This angst so overcame me that as I sat there I started to cry uncontrollably, tears running down my face. Andrew must have been shocked. We both sat there along time, so close, and yet so far away from each other. And then this young man, this young god, embraced me. I could feel his warm body, his unshaven cheek, and hear his heart beating. Finally he pulled back, said everything was okay, and kissed me. Soon I was reciprocated with enthusiasm. Then he, well, took advantage of my vulnerabilities, and I surrendered to my nature. Such amazing pleasure, not to mention a bit of a mess! After all that he said that he'd only be a student in high school for just six more weeks. It didn't take me long to realize what he meant; not only that my concerns about being fired from my job would end in 42 days but that our sexual frustrations could be fully satiated as well. And, in my relief, and perhaps selfishness, thoughts of the other consequences to my personal life vanished. I felt liberated. We embraced once more and as he left we agreed to meet the next week "for more advice." Could I resist Andrew for six more weeks? Could he me? He surely knew all the buttons to push. And, how come I felt the younger of the two of us? I circled May 30th on my calendar, a day to look forward to. Next: Part 4 – An opportunity