Date: Wed, 15 Aug 2007 08:02:12 -0700
From: Jay roberts <diplomat1501@msn.com>
Subject: "The Boy is Mad About Me" by Jay Roberts  Gay Authoritarian

+++Oh my, looking out there through my special viewer I see a few people
under the age of 18.  You should not be here, I don't want you, your
parents, your church doesn't either.  I also see a few folks looking
shocked at this story, those also should go.  The rest of you, friends,
please get comfortable, your are very welcome.


I am the first to admit that I am a very bad person; a person of shady
character, one who has morals that are just too flexible.  I will go to
great extremes to satisfy my "special" interests.

Are you intrigued?  When I gradually reveal myself, if you are not
repulsed, then you are as depraved as I am.  I would never take, as a
friend, someone like myself.

I will relate to you one story from my life.  This involves Robert
Mayberry.  If his last name make s you think of sunny innocence then you
have grasped his essential character.

I am a college professor, albeit a very young one.  I suppose my adventures
cast a bad light on teachers, but frankly I don't give a fuck.  I am 24
years old.  I have a doctorate in history, with minor in education.  I had
no trouble landing a position as instructor in Salt Lake City, Utah, at one
of the Community Colleges.

The administration was glad to get me because of my qualifications and they
were overjoyed that the students seemed to line up to get into my class.
In some ways I was like a rock star, the girls' hearts went pit a patter
and the boys admired my cool way of presenting an essentially dry subject
with verve.  In fact I do look a bit like a rock star, having a skinny body
stretching over my six foot two inch frame, longish blonde hair and, I must
admit shyly, a very handsome face.  Besides that, I have developed a strong
personality, almost commanding and that has helped my pedagogical success.

Now these student, oy vey, some are really eye candy, but in order to
retain my position I must retrain myself.  My sexual gratification must
come from outside the school.  I was successful in maintaining that
separation until I spied Robert Mayberry.  As soon as I saw him I knew I
was sunk.  He radiated pure innocence and personified it in his messy light
haired hair, fair easy-to-blush skin, pale blue eyes, eyebrows shaped like
perfect wings and that mouth that was the feature that led me astray.  His
mouth was puffy, especially in the middle, and the color of a pink rose.
When he approached my desk after class to ask a question a found myself
staring at his perfect tongue, pushing out the words over gleaming white
teeth.

"Mr. Gold," (that's my name, Steven Gold) "I just can't understand why you
marked my essay on Hamilton with a "C".  I really worked hard in the
library to get the facts together and I tried to write it cogently."

I thought, (dear boy, if you let me undress you right now, I'll raise the
grade to A double plus,) But what I said out loud is "Steven, I can see you
in my office today around two PM to discuss this.  How's that for you?"

It was, and he arrived three minutes before two and knocked on the door.
When he came in I was thrilled to see that he had changed from his usual
class attire of jeans and a tee shirt, to very short-shorts and an athletic
shirt.  He apologized for his dress, explaining that he was working out in
the gym and rushed over so as not to be late.  The results of his activity
added to his usual appeal.  His smooth forehead was shiny with moisture and
his hair was a bit matted as well.  The best part was when I got close to
him to shake his hand and got a whiff of that heavenly nineteen-year-old
smell.  It's rare and disappears by one's next birthday, but right now the
combination of daily showers (he was a clean boy) and hormones and fresh BO
was intoxicating.

Now a moment to tell you of my bad character and what direction it takes.
I know, if you now found me engaging, you will change your opinion and
detest me, but that bothers me not one bit: fuck you.

I am a dominator.  My thrill comes from reducing proud young guys to
personal slaves.  It's not easy, some boys can never be conquered, but the
fun is in the process.  But in the case of Robert, I just had to try, even
though the risks were great and could have seriously deleterious effects on
my career.  But my cock was leading.  I had to try.

"Robert, please sit down."  Oh shit, his already short shorts hiked up to
show more of his muscular fuzzy with blond hair thighs.

"Robert, I'd like to get to know you better so that I can determine how to
give you help on your problems."

His eyebrows lifted and his eyes widened (Too charming to see, I had to
narrow my own eyes) "Problems?" he said.

"Well I mean problems with the essay.  Robert do you have siblings?"

He stared at me a moment, "If that information necessary?"

"Yes it is.  Now Roberts, may I call you Bob?  Until I can understand the
total person, I cannot help."

"Okay, Bob is okay too."

"Perhaps your mom calls you Bobby."

"My mom died when I was two years old."

"Then you were raised by your father?"

"Yes."

"Is your father a tough disciplinarian?"  (Whew, I was getting close to the
bone here....or boner.)

"Dad is a sergeant major in the army.  That should answer your question."

"Bobby, do you have a girl friend at present."

He blushed brightly all the way down to his smooth white chest.  How sweet.
He answered, giving more information than he realized, "I don't have a girl
friend.  We moved around so much that I never had a chance.  Most of my fun
came from time at the gym and some of the enlisted men in my father's
outfit were friends."

"These were homosexual contacts?"

"Now Mr. Gold, I am feeling strange with these questions.  They are too
personal."

I decided to take the plunge and capture him.  I spoke in a new voice, a
commanding voice, "Bobby, you will answer my questions otherwise I am going
to throw you out of here."

His eyes teared a bit.  I wish I could lick every drop.  He spoke softly,
his eyes lowered, his color still heightened.  "I'm sorry Mr. Gold.  I do
want to answer your questions and I'll redo the essay or anything else to
get a decent mark.  If I fail this class...."

"What?  Will your father beat you?"

His head reared up.  "How did you know that?"

"I guessed.  A bet he used his garrison belt."

"Yes," his voice trembled.

"How long is it since he beat you?"

"Three months."

"Then the scars must still be evident.  Drop your shorts and bend over."
Oh, what a wicked web we weave.

He looked at me a moment, then got up slowly, leaned over the chair,
bracing himself on the back, and pulled down his elastic waisted shorts.
"I came close to gaze at this sunrise of an ass.  It was perfection of
perfections, ivory in color, hairless, even the crack,
unmarred....except...."Ah yes Bobby, I can see a faint stripe from the
belt."  I pressed it.  "Does that hurt?"

"No sir.  But if you keep that up, I will embarrass myself."

"Ah Bobby, a perfect choice of words.  Did you notice that embarrass has
the word ass in it?  And your ass is an example of the best in the Western
Hemisphere.  Of course, unfortunately you can't see it."

"I have used two mirrors."

"So you are ass vain, or at least ass centered."

"I'm afraid so.  I do not mind when my dad whips me.  Sometime I ask him to
do it.  It is a real turn on for me and sometimes I have, well to come
right out with it, ejaculated from the stimulation."

I pulled my hand back about four feet and gave Bobby's left buttock a
resounding slap.  His face reared up.  He was breathing hard.  "No more
Mr. Gold, I am getting too into this."

"I think we now know each other quite well enough for you to call me
Steven.  After all, we are only 6 years apart, really nothing.  Do you suck
cock?  I said this offhandedly but Bobby jumped and stood, abandoning his
bent over position.

"That is a very improper question....Steven."  I said nothing, he said
nothing, there was about a pause between us of at least two minutes.  I
could hear the clock on the wall ticking as the hand jumped along.  "Why
did you ask, do you want a blow job?"

"Would you give me one if I asked?"

"Let me answer that with a question.  Would you raise my mark if I raise
your penis?"

"Could be."

"What mark?"

"Well let's say a solid "B"."

"Let's say a solid "A"."

"But that means you'll not get your father mad and you will lose out on a
hot whipping."

"Perhaps you will give me the high grade plus a nice sexy hand whipping."

I realized that this beautiful boy, standing there naked, his cock erected
and clinging to his stomach, was playing me like a violin, but I would be
the winner.  I would get the blow job and I would play with his ass of
perfection."

"Yes boy, you win.  I"ll give you all you want and then you will give me
what I want.  Now, lay across my lap after I lower my chinos.

He grinned happily and dutifully lay across my naked legs.  His blond fuzzy
belly was across my hairy upper legs.  The contact was so warm I was afraid
I might blister.  In a strangled voice he urged, "Now slap my butt.  Don't
be afraid.  I can take it.  I want to take it.  My cock is already leaking
from excitement."

My head was swimming with horniness.  This was one of the most vivid
experiences I ever had.  I held up the whipping, I wanted to investigate
his butt first.  I stroked his mellons, tickled his side dimples, took
trips up and down his hairless crack and made circles on his pucker.  He
was mewling slightly from the attention and I felt his pre cum wetting my
leg.  I could smell the fecundity of his ass and a faint aroma from his pre
cum.  This was heady stuff.  He wiggled on my lap to prompt me to begin.  I
did.  A whack on one side, balanced with one on the other side.  My hand
had produced a faint pink color to the porcelain of his backside.  "More,
harder."

Now I am a dominator, but I am not into S & M, pain you know.  But this was
a charity case.  He wanted it.  He was pleading for it and I'm afraid I got
carried away.  I swacked him very hard, over and over again.  He was
calling out with every strike.  His ass was now bright red and it felt very
hot.  I wound up and took the hardest blow yet and he stiffened and his
cock that was suspended between my thighs squirted so heavily that I could
hear the splashes hitting the tiled floor.  He was howling as he released,
his ass opened and closed.  He even farted loudly three times.  This boy
really got into his orgasms.  Finally he quieted down.  Slowly he
disengaged and stood up.  Then he came around close to me and pressed his
warm, full lips against mine.  He whispered "Thanks."  I nodded, but
maintained my role as master and put my hands on his shoulders and pushed
him to the floor on his knees.

"Suck and suck well," I ordered.

This was the blowjob of my life.  He knew the secret: start very slow and
soft and like a sonata, go to the presto then the finale.  I was reduced to
a jabbering fool as he worked on me.  Each time I thought I was on the edge
of the hill, he'd stop, look up at me and smile, then he'd wait until I was
back away from the edge, and then resume.  If someone came in the door and
interrupted this, I would take my gun out of the drawer and shoot that
person.  My whole existence was prick centered, centered on his beautiful
puffy mouth and clever, slippery tongue.  Finally he must have sensed that
if he continued holding me back, that madness awaited.

He looked up at me again nodded wisely and then murmured, "Okay Prof we're
going for the big one, brace yourself.  He took my cock all the way into
his gullet, held it there and began rapidly swallowing.  The effect didn't
only bring on my orgasm, it hurled me into it.  I let out a hoarse shout
and entered the world of autonomic reactions.  I cried and heaved and shook
and thrust.  Bobby hung on like a Bull rider, finally bringing me to the
side of the ring and to a halt.

The shit head then held my wet prick in his mouth, licking off the remains
of my cum and looked up at me.  "An A plus, don't you think?"

This was the only time we got together sexually, but sometimes he came into
my office and talked over relationship problems, school problems.  We
became like, well father and son.  Sometimes he slipped and called me Dad.

I saw him several times in the cafeteria with other guys.  When I passed I
would give him the thumbs up.  One time this hunky guy saw that and gave me
a two thumbs up sign.  I bet he had enjoyed one of Bobby's A Bomb slow
jobs.

As for me, I found a great guy who is the tennis coach.  He has taught me
ball handling and other skills.

End