The following fictional narrative involves sexually-explicit erotic events between men. If you shouldn't be reading this, please move on.
In the world of this story, the characters don't always use condoms. In the real world, you should care enough about yourself and others to always practice safe sex.
The author retains all rights. No reproductions or links to other sites are allowed without the author's consent.
The town of Stafford, the Sunrise Arts Center, and all the characters in this story are fictitious.
Thanks to Mickey S. and Drew Hunt, who have provided inspiration, advice, and encouragement throughout the writing of this series.
>From chapter 4:
I wrapped the towel around my middle and went to see who it was. Without thinking to use the peep hole, I simply opened the door.
There was Louis. I swear I nearly fainted. Grinning from ear to ear, showing an expanse of brilliantly white teeth, he was wearing a cutoff tee, short shorts riding so low he should have been arrested, and sandals. I could see abs that wouldn't quit in the gap between his shirt and his shorts, not to mention his happy trail and just the top of what appeared to be a lush set of pubes.
"Whitney, I'm legal. Yesterday was my eighteenth birthday. Now I want you to give me my present. Fuck me, daddyman!"
I sounded a lot more confident than I felt when I said that to Whitney. I'd had a hardon all the way to his house, but I lost it as I got out of the car and thought about the risks of what I was about to do. He could slam the door in my face. He could laugh at me. He could call my parents.
You should have seen him when he opened the door. He didn't have a stitch on except for a towel he was holding around his waist. He'd just gotten out of the shower. I'd never seen him with his hair down before. It was still damp, so it was darker than it looked when it was dry. And it was all tousled, not hanging straight.
He stood there looking at me for a minute, like he was stunned or something. Then he just stepped back and held the door.
"You'd better come in."
Well, so far so good. I went in. When he closed the door, I grabbed him, pulled him close to me, and kissed him. I'm sure I surprised him because he dropped the towel. So there we stood. My hard cock was pressed against his belly with nothing but the thin nylon fabric between us.
At first he tried to push me away, and he was trying to talk. That's hard to do, though, when a guy's got his tongue in your mouth. I figured I was not going to be in trouble when he began to kiss back. And then, wow! I'd never experienced anything like the kiss we shared there in his entryway. Finally, he did push away. He looked up at me (I'm about three inches taller than he is) like he was studying my face.
"You're serious about this, aren't you?"
"Oh, yeah!" I pointed to the tent my cock was making in those shorts. There was a wet spot where the tip was touching the cloth.
He sighed. Then he picked up the towel and put it around himself again.
"I need to get some clothes on."
I licked my lips. "No, you don't!"
He tried to frown, but I think he was covering up a grin. "What, you want to do it right here?"
"Look, Louis, if I don't at least run a comb through my hair, it was be so full of rat's nests I'll never get it untangled. Can I get you anything to eat or drink while I'm doing that?"
"Huh uh. I want to watch."
"You're just like a willful child, you know that?"
I grinned. "I can be. I can throw a temper tantrum if I have to. That used to work when I was little."
He grinned back and looked down at my shorts. "You're not little any more." He turned and said over his shoulder, "Okay, come on. Let me do something about this hair."
Watching his buns twist under that towel nearly made me come. I was more or less aware that his house was pretty cool, but that's not what I was focused on, for sure. As soon as we got to the bedroom, he grabbed a pair of boxers and put them on. I noticed that he was about half hard, and his dick made a nice bulge in them. He went into the bathroom. There was a big leather-covered chair with a floor lamp beside it in one corner of the bedroom. I flopped down in that to wait for him. He didn't take long, and when he came back out, his hair was back in its ponytail.
"I wish you'd left it down. It's sooo sexy."
"Is there any other command you have for me, master?" he said, looking sort of amused and sort of pissed.
Some of my nerve was beginning to evaporate. "You know what I want, Whitney," I said. It came out almost a whine.
He chuckled. "Yeah, that's pretty obvious. But, Louis, did it ever occur to you to wonder whether I wanted the same thing?"
"Well, uh, isn't that what we do?"
Since I had the only chair in the room, he sat cross-legged on the bed. Though he looked thin in his clothes, he had some muscles in the right places and they were cut nicely. He wasn't really hairy, but he did have a light covering of blond hair on his chest. I almost spaced out just looking at him, but he was talking to me, so I snapped out of it and listened.
"No, just because you're gay doesn't mean that you fuck anybody who looks good to you. I don't want to turn this into a lecture, but what you're doing is pretty serious here. Sex has to be consensual. You know what that means?"
"It means both guys have to want it."
"Exactly. When they both do, if there are no impediments like a big age difference, for example, it can be fabulous."
"I want to and I don't think there are any `impediments.' Please, Whitney, I've been dreaming of you taking my cherry since the first time I saw you. Don't you think I'm attractive?"
He rolled his eyes. "I thought we'd covered that. You are a beautiful boy, or young man, I should say now, Louis. I'm honored that you want me to be your first."
"Well, uh, technically, you wouldn't be my first. But you'd be taking my anal virginity."
"You would have to agree to some things."
"No, not anything. I want you to think about what I'm going to ask you."
"Okay, I'm sorry, go ahead."
"You realize that you mustn't tell anyone, that's anyone, what we're going to do. Not any of your school buddies, not your parents, not anybody. Otherwise, I could get into trouble. Even though you're eighteen and the legal problem isn't there any more, the community wouldn't look kindly on my having sex with someone your age, especially since you've been connected with Sunrise ever since I arrived in town. Can you promise me you'll keep this strictly between us?"
"And you're sure you want to do this?"
"God, yes. Can we just get on with it? Please?"
He got up and pulled the duvet off the bed. Then he turned down the top sheet.
My heart was pounding and my palms were sweating. I kicked off my sandals, got up, and took the few steps to where he was. When I stood facing him, he put his hands up under my cutoff tee and began playing with my nipples. I groaned. "Oh, yessss!" I tilted his head up and kissed him. After a while, he broke the kiss and gestured for me to raise my arms. When I did, he took off the tee. Then he knelt and slowly pulled down my shorts. I stepped out of them and stood before him, my stiff cock on a level with his face. He sighed or groaned or something and then, taking it in one hand, began to lick the precum off the tip. It was my turn to groan. Soon he was giving me the best blow job I'd ever had. Of course, I hadn't had all that many, and never by a grownup. But I knew I was going to come right away if he didn't stop.
"Whitney, that's incredible, man, but I'm gonna shoot. Please fuck me!"
He chuckled. "What's the rush? Do you have to be home at 10:00 or something?"
"No, I just need you to fuck me."
He stood up, put his arms around my waist, and said, "Relax, baby boy. It'll happen. But it will be nicer if we don't rush it. Now, get on the bed, please."
"How do you want me?"
"Just lie on your back for now." He got some Astroglide and a condom packet out of the bedside table while I got into position. Then he got into bed beside me, leaving the lube and rubber on the table top. He began licking and nibbling my nipples. I'd never felt anything like that before. It felt good when I played with them, sure, but nothing like that.
"Ohmygod, Whitney," I moaned, "that's sooo good!"
"Kiddo," he said, chuckling, "you ain't felt nothin' yet!"
He was right. He licked both of my nips, then worked his way down my stomach. I thought I was going to explode, but somehow he'd let up a little just before I did. When he got to my pubes, he scooted down and began licking the insides of my thighs, working his way from my knees up toward my balls. I was in heaven. I'd never felt like that and never dreamed I could feel so good. When his nose hit my balls, that was it. I came! And most of it landed on his face before he could get out of the way.
When I was able to open my eyes, he had straddled my hips, with his ass on my cum-covered tool. There was cum on his forehead, both lips, and his chin. He sat knelt over me, grinning down at me.
"Wow! You must have been saving up."
I had, but I didn't want to admit it. "Nah, that's just an afternoon's load."
"Well, what am I going to do with it?" he asked, still grinning?
"Dunno. Get a wash cloth?"
"I could do that. Or . . ." he said as he bent towards my face.
I'd tasted my cum before. Doesn't everybody taste their own? I knew what he wanted me to do, so I licked it all off. I swallowed most of it, but I kept one mouthful. I pulled him down so we could kiss and then I fed the cum back to him. (I hadn't had all that much experience, but I'd read a lot on Nifty.)
We swapped cum and spit for a while, and then we just laid there together, him on top of me, for a little while. Then I said, "Uh, Whitney, Dr. Pell, sir, weren't you gonna fuck me?"
He laughed. "You're insatiable, aren't you?"
"Well, we haven't really done it yet, have we? So I don't know about being insatiable."
"Okay, turn over onto your knees and elbows, please."
I noticed as he got off me so I could roll over that his cock, nearly as big as mine, was pointing toward the ceiling.
He didn't grab the lube right away, so I wondered what would happen next. Then I felt his breath on my butt. Then he was licking it. I'd read about that, but couldn't believe anyone would want to do it. As he licked, his tongue kept getting closer and closer to my crack. And though I had just cum a couple of minutes before, I was hard again.
He didn't actually put his tongue in my crack, though. I wasn't gonna complain, but I was disappointed. His tongue felt so good. Soon I felt something cold hit my butt, and I realized it was the lube. He had dribbled it into my crack and was working it around. Then he very slowly and gently pushed on my hole with a finger.
"Oh, yeah, stick that in me. Don't worry. You're not hurting me."
He was soon all the way in. Then I felt something I'd never experienced before. He must have hit my nut. "Oh, yeah, please do that some more. That's fantastic! Yeah, wiggle it around. I never knew it would be so good."
He laughed. "Louis, you're just a little piggy aren't you? See how you like this." He pulled his finger out, and I looked around to see what was happening. He'd reached for the lube and was putting some on his fingers. Then he slowly put two of them into me. He worked them around, carefully, but he was stretching me all that time, and I was over the moon. At some point he took out the two fingers and returned with three. As good as that felt, and he never really hurt me with all the stretching he was doing, I wanted the real thing.
"Please, please, put your beautiful hard dick in me, please, Whitney!"
"Say it again."
"Please, please, put your beautiful hard dick in me, please, Whitney!"
"Bastard! Fuck me, dammit!"
He chuckled. "Well, if you're sure that's what you want."
There was a pause while he put on the rubber and lubed it and I nearly died of frustration. Then I felt the tip of his cock against my anus. It felt a lot bigger than his fingers, even when he was using three of them. But he pushed very slowly. I grunted when his head popped through the ring, but he stopped there and let me get used to it. Then he gradually eased it in, a little bit at a time. Meanwhile, I was squealing about how good it felt. When he was all the way in, I began to wiggle my butt around, wanting his prick in contact with my nut. Again, he chuckled.
"You like this, do you, Louis?"
"Are you gonna fuck me or what, old man?"
"Old man? I'll give you old man!"
I thought I'd really made him mad and that he was going to power fuck me or something. He didn't, though. He just began to ease his dick in and out very slowly, moving his hips so he was coming at me from different angles. Then I felt a jolt, and I knew he'd hit my nut.
"Contact!" he chuckled. Then he began to slide in and out faster, making sure to hit that spot on just about every pass.
"Ohmygod. Oh, fuck! It's even better than I imagined. Oh, yeah! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. Don't ever stop."
All of a sudden, I felt cum running out of my cock. It wasn't like normal coming. It just ran out onto the sheet under me.
Whitney was great. He was gentle. He never hurt me. And he must have pumped in and out of me for a long time. But eventually, I could tell he was about to come. His breathing changed, and he began to moan. Then I could feel him tense up, and his cock began to spasm inside me.
"Oh, yeah. Such a great ass!" he said, as he collapsed on top of me. I was happy just to lie there with him on top of me. He didn't seem heavy. It felt so good having his hot body stretched out over mine. The room smelled of cum, but it must have been mine because his was still in the condom inside me.
He got back up on his knees, pulled out, and slapped my butt. "Happy Birthday, Louis."
"Ohhhh, thank you, Whitney. That was even better than I'd hoped it would be."
"Well, young'un, I'm glad you liked it. Now, I hope you won't do that again until you find a guy who really means something to you, because it's not going to happen again with you and me. Not on your nineteenth birthday. Not ever! Got that?" He rolled off me.
I wasn't happy with that. I wanted him to do that to me every night. But what could I say? He could have booted my ass out when I first got there. Instead, he'd very carefully fucked me, with lots of great foreplay. I was deflowered, and I'd loved every minute of it."
I rolled over, grabbed him in my arms, and kissed him. He seemed not to mind. LOL
"I'll always remember this, Whitney. I promise not to tell anyone unless you say I can. Thank you!"
He kissed my forehead. "You're welcome, stud."
The first of the week after Frank and I ate together at Friday's, I decided to call him. I was still wondering why he hadn't wanted to come back with me for a drink. So, after the preliminary amenities, I asked him.
"Frank, I don't know how to put this tactfully. I'm going to just come right out and say it."
"Something wrong, Jon?"
"Well, that's what I want to know. I had a wonderful time with you Friday and I thought you enjoyed it, too."
"Oh, I did indeed!"
"Yet after we left the restaurant, you seemed in a hurry to get away. Did I do or say anything to offend or upset you?"
"No, not at all."
"Then, if I may ask . . . "
I could hear him take a deep breath over the phone. "I hope what I'm about to say doesn't offend you."
"That's highly unlikely. Just tell me, please."
"Okay. I was having such a great time with you and found myself so attracted to you, I was afraid if I went back to your house with you, I'd come on to you. And I thought that would be premature on our first da--, uh outing together."
"You were about to say `date,' weren't you?"
"Well, in retrospect, my friend, I think that's what it was. I'll tell you something, though."
"I might be inclined to kiss on the second date."
He chuckled. "I'm so relieved. I thought the vibes were right and we were connecting, but I was just plain scared I might be wrong."
"So, can we get together again soon?"
"I'd like that."
I suggested we have dinner somewhere after the next home soccer match and then come back to my house afterward for dessert, coffee, drinks, or whatever.
"I like the idea of `whatever,'" he said, chuckling.
I was invited to dinner with Marcy and Burke. It was awful, through no fault of Burke's. When I got there, Burke met me at the door with a worried look.
"Jon, I'm sorry about this," he whispered.
He led me into the great room where two women were sitting. He introduced me to his wife, Marcy, and their other guest, Bev. It seems Bev was a widow who'd been Marcy's roommate in college. She was a nervous, mousy woman, obviously ill at ease. She clearly knew that Marcy was trying her hand at matchmaking without ever having met me. Marcy knew I was gay, though I'm sure she hadn't told Bev.
I felt sorry for the poor woman. She must have felt as if she were being offered up for evaluation. I did my best during dinner to engage her in conversation. She brightened up when I asked if she had kids and grands. She told me all about her son, his wife, and the two grandkids.
Marcy didn't help any by trying to sing Bev's praises to me. What a good cook she was. What a lovely home she had. How well fixed her husband had left her.
Burke was as embarrassed as Bev and I were, but Marcy plowed on, oblivious to the effect she was having on the rest of us.
I think we were all glad when that meal was over and Bev and I could beat our retreat. Marcy had insisted that Bev and I trade phone numbers. When I got home, I called her. I explained that Burke and I were old friends who hadn't seen each other since high school, and that we'd recently reconnected. I said I was horrified by what Marcy had done and apologized if she was embarrassed, as I was sure she had to be.
She told me she had known Marcy for years, and she'd never known her to be quite like that. She said she was sorry that I had been embarrassed and suggested that we not think anything more about it. I thanked her and wished her well.
The next day Burke called to apologize for his wife's behavior. He said he was furious with her. He hadn't known until the last minute that Bev had been invited. He also said it was unusual for Marcy to act like that.
My own assessment was that Marcy wanted to make sure that I never came back to their house for dinner. As if she were still jealous of me as a rival. While that fear was totally unfounded, I was happy enough not to go there again. I felt sorry for poor Burke. I wondered what sort of life he'd led while married to that woman.
One afternoon about 4:00, Jean stepped in to say that someone wanted to see me. I asked who it was. She said it was Stuart Blount, of the art department at Stafford High. I recognized the name and got up to go to the outer office to greet him.
Wow! Louis said he thought I was hot, and this was his art teacher? I guessed this hunk was about 30. He was over six feet tall with curly red hair and green eyes. And he was built like the proverbial brick facility.
"Hi, I'm Whitney Pell."
He stuck out his hand, which I took. I winced a little from his grip.
"I'm Stu Blount. Would you have a few minutes to talk?"
"Sure, come on in."
I took him into my office and gestured him to a seat.
"You're Louis Lefevre's teacher. He's told me a lot about you. I'm amazed by his talent. He keeps saying it isn't talent, that he learned it all from you. I'll bet you'd disagree with that, wouldn't you?" If felt like I was babbling, but the guy was a hunk, and I was still a little flustered.
He reached up to scratch his chin. That's when I noticed a wedding ring on his left hand.
"Oh, I've helped guide Louis a little, but the boy has, as you said, an incredible natural talent. It's because of Louis that I'm here, as a matter of fact."
"I'm glad you've come. I've been planning to get in touch with you, in fact. I'd like to meet your colleagues in the art department to see if we can improve the interaction between your program and ours. But tell me more specifically why you're here."
"Louis belongs in a good university art program somewhere, and I thought perhaps if we worked together, we could get him into one."
"My thinking exactly."
We talked for another fifteen minutes or so about Louis. I suggested several universities with excellent art departments and we considered the merits of each. Then we talked a little about how Sunrise had helped the art program at the high school in the past, and I asked him for his ideas about how we could improve our working relationship. He said he had some ideas, but he'd like to work them out, run them by his departmental colleagues, and then get back to me. I told him I'd look forward to that.
As he was leaving, I asked if he knew Judd Thomas.
"Sure. He's our best soccer player. I don't really know him, but he seems like a nice kid."
"I understand he's taking an art course this fall and having lots of trouble in it."
"I didn't know that. I'll bet he's in Helen Burleigh's class, but I don't know why he's taking art at all, much less with her. She has a reputation for not being particularly sympathetic to jocks. Why did you ask about Judd?"
"Well, he's been here several times, and I've tried to help him focus in on a topic for his term paper. He's a bright guy, but he just doesn't have the vocabulary that we artists use. Interestingly, he wants to do his paper on the sculpture of Bernini."
Blount looked puzzled. "Really? That surprises me. Where did he ever get to know anything about Bernini?"
"Right here, apparently. He remembers being here while he was in middle school, when he saw a book with pictures of the Bernini sculptures and was taken with them."
"I guess you guys at Sunrise don't realize how much good you're doing in the community." He stood. "Look, do you want me to talk with Helen about Judd?"
"No, not yet. I've got something else in mind, and I'd be interested to know if you approve. I'd like to encourage him and perhaps get him some help. I'm thinking that an art student might be willing to take Judd under his wing."
"Are you thinking of the same art student I am?"
I grinned. "I suspect so."
I asked if he wanted a tour of the facility. He thanked me but declined, saying he'd been coming to Sunrise and sending his students here for years.
We shook hands, and he left. `What a waste,' I thought, `that that hunk of manhood is married. But then, the good looking ones are usually straight.'
Whitney and I were having one of our biweekly lunches together. During a lull in the conversation I asked if he'd found a tutor for Judd Thomas yet. He looked puzzled.
"Jon, I don't remember our talking about Judd. Or am I becoming forgetful?"
"No, I'm sure we haven't talked about him. But his English teacher, who's a friend of mine, is worried because Judd seems out of his depth in his art class. When I suggested that perhaps he needed a tutor, Frank said Judd had told him you were going to find him one."
He grinned. "Stafford is really like a small town in some ways, isn't it? I was just talking with Stu Blount, one of the art teachers at the high school, about Judd the other day. It seems Judd's got quite a network of adults concerned about him. Have you met the boy?"
"I've been introduced to him. I've seen him play once, and Frank introduced us afterward. He's very good, you know."
Whitney arched an eyebrow and said, "Yeah, and he's a fuckin' wet dream, too."
"Why don't you come to one of his matches with Frank and me? Have you met Frank Howard?"
"No, I don't even think I've heard his name. You say he's a teacher?"
"Yeah, teaches English." I explained how I'd met him in the book group at church.
"Well, so, he's an Episcopalian and an English teacher. What else do you two have in common?"
"What do you think, thilly?" I said, camping it up.
He arched an eyebrow and grinned. "You seem to have accelerated the coming out process. Are you guys getting friendly?"
"Nothing's happened beyond soccer and dinner at Friday's so far. But I'm pretty sure we're going to get friendlier after the next home match. We're coming back to my place for dessert."
"Yeah, right! Dessert!"
"Wish me luck."
"Oh, if you like this guy, I do. I'd also like to meet him."
"Well, I'd invite you to come to the next match with us, but as I said, we have plans for afterward. Maybe sometime soon, though, you could meet us at the high school and, we could watch Judd. Watch him play, that is. And the three of us could do something afterward."
"I'd like that if I wouldn't be horning in."
"Not at all. I'm sure Frank and I will find times and places to be together when we want to. Assuming that things go on as well as they've started."
"As I said, good luck." He chewed a moment on his burger. "Have you met Stu Blount, the art teacher, or one of them, at the high school?"
"I don't remember anyone by that name."
"Well, if you'd seen him, you'd have remembered him." He shook his hand in that gesture we use when we're talking about someone hot. "Tall, big shoulders and chest, red hair. A real hunk."
"Yeah, but he's married."
"Pity." I finished my tea. "Even though I'm on the reception desk regularly, it's always in the morning. If he's an art teacher, he's probably here often enough, but after school. I suppose that's why I've missed him. If he's as good looking as you say, I'm sure I'd have noticed. Now, to go back to Judd and his problems for a moment, DO you have someone in mind for a tutor? The semester is moving along quickly."
"Thanks for the reminder. Yes, I do. And I must get the two connected. I'll get on that this afternoon."
"Who is the lucky student, if I may ask?"
"I'm sure you know Louis Lefevre. I think those two would work very well together."
"But Whitney, do you think a jock like Judd would be comfortable with someone like Louis?"
"Well, first of all, Louis says he's not out on campus. And second, I'm pretty sure Judd is gay, too, even if he doesn't quite realize it yet."
I chuckled. "You wouldn't be planning a little matchmaking, would you?"
He grinned. "I know Louis can help Judd with his art class. And who knows what else might happen? I rather think those boys need each other."
"Now I'm fascinated. You will keep me posted, wont you?"
"Sure will. Glad to know you're a romantic."
"All of us old queens are."
He laughed, and we got ready to leave.
To be continued