B & G
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.
Thanks and love to Tom for always patiently and carefully doing the editing chores, and to the rest of my Nifty Six colleagues. Thanks also to Drew Hunt for helpful suggestions about this chapter.
When Harry Knudson walked into my office and said "Strip, boy," I knew just what to do. I had done it often enough.
It was late, after the building was secured for the night. He'd told me earlier in the day to be there, waiting for him. As always. I could have saved some time and gotten naked, but he liked watching me undress.
I got up from behind my desk and pulled my tee over my head. Slowly. The way he liked.
"Okay, now the shoes." I sat down, untied my trainers, and took them off. "Leave the socks."
I stood, my rod poking up beyond the top of my jock and showing because my knit gym shorts were riding low on my hips.
"You're glad to see me, aren't you, boy?"
"Yes, Coach. I'm always glad to see you." That wasn't exactly true, but I needed to keep him happy.
"Okay, now, slide the shorts and jock down together, very slowly." I did what he said, allowing them to drop around my ankles, then stepping out of them. He looked me up and down. "You are beautiful, the most beautiful boy I've ever had."
I didn't say anything because I'd heard that often enough before.
"Now, pull down my shorts." I did that. Knowing what to do next, I began to lick and nibble his dick through his jock. That was the routine. Soon his pouch was wet with my saliva, and his dick was sticking straight up against his belly. That was my cue to pull down the jock and begin to lap at his balls. He let me do that for a while, and then he put a hand on the back of my head, my signal to take his cock into my mouth.
He groaned softly as I worked on him. When he was ready, he said, "Get out the stuff." I stood and took a condom and lube from my desk drawer. "Put it on me." I knelt in front of him and rolled the magnum rubber down his large pole. Then I coated it with WET.
"Do yourself, boy."
I worked a generous amount of the lube into my butt. "Now, boy, into position."
I leaned over the desk, resting on my forearms. Knudson stuck a couple of fingers up my ass and began to stroke my prostate. He knew exactly where to find it and what to do to it. I began to moan and shove my ass back against his fingers.
How had I come to this situation? After I'd been in my job with the University only about a month, Knudson had caught me fucking one of our senior gymnasts, Paul Bragge. Apparently he had suspected Paul and I were getting it on, because he burst into my office and took a picture of us. Paul was on his back on the desk with my dick up his ass. Since we had been surprised by his entrance, we were both looking at the camera as he took the picture.
He told Bragge to get his clothes on and go wait in his office. Then he practically went ballistic. He yelled at me for fucking a student, a member of the team of which I was assistant coach, said that was unprofessional, that I had abused my position, and all sorts of other shit like that.
Meanwhile, I'm standing there naked, my dick so shriveled the condom almost fell off.
"Get your clothes on and be in my office in fifteen minutes."
When I got to his office, Paul was gone. I learned later that Knudson told him if he expected to graduate in June, he'd not fuck around with me or with any of his teammates. And he reminded him of the picture he'd just taken.
Then he told me that he expected the same of me. He said, "I know you're a randy little fucker, Mannington. And I don't care who you fuck on your own time, but it had better never be one of our students. Got that?"
"Yes, Coach, I understand."
"Good. But since you seem to like fucking around so much, there's another thing you're going to have to do to keep your job here and to keep me from showing the dean of the division that pic, all very anonymously, of course."
Fuck! He was going to blackmail me. Harry Knudson was a little big to be the perfect gymnast himself, but he was a fine coach, and the University was lucky to have a man of his abilities. I'd always respected him. He worked well with the guys, and they loved him. I couldn't believe he'd stoop to blackmail.
"Here's the way it's going to be, young man." (Knudson was all of 35 himself.) "You will continue to be Coach Mannington to the students. But you are going to be my boy when I want you to be."
I gulped. I thought I knew what he meant, but I said, "Your boy, coach?"
He chuckled. "Yep. My boy. I've been wantin' to fuck that ass of yours ever since I first saw you compete, when you just missed making the 2000 Olympic team. And now I'm going to have a piece of it whenever I want. Unless you'd rather look for a job somewhere else."
I thought about that. I really liked the job I had. It wasn't as if I was straight, either. Besides, Knudson was a great-looking guy for his age. He still kept his body in competition shape. He had very pale blond hair, which he kept buzzed, and intense blue eyes. Many Scandinavians with pale hair like that tend to have smooth bodies, but Harry was a bear, covered on his chest, belly, legs, and butt with fine, almost white hair.
"Yes, Coach. What do you want me to do?"
Well, as it turned out, he wanted to fuck me about once a week. He also told me that it was okay to have sex with others, so long as they were not students, but that I must always, always be safe. I told him I was smart enough to know that, and he didn't have to worry.
Once in a great while he asked me to rim him or give him a blow job, but mostly he just wanted to have me get his big pole good and hard. He'd make me lean on the desk and then he'd fuck me. Sometimes he was very gentle, others he was pretty rough. But he always wanted to take me from behind. After he had come he always wiped his dick with a paper towel I'd learned to have handy, stuffed himself back into his jock and shorts, and left.
He continued to finger-fuck me much longer than usual.
"You really like that, don't you, boy?"
"Yeah, Coach, that's great."
"Are you ready for something bigger now?"
"Yes, please fuck me."
He chuckled. "I like it that you beg me. At first you seemed sullen, like you were only tolerating it. You really are a little slut, aren't you?"
He was sticking his cock into me as he asked that, and I was too focused on the momentary pain of his entry to respond.
He slapped my right butt cheek. "Answer me when I ask you a question!"
"Yes, Coach. I'm your slut."
He chuckled again. "From what I hear you are the campus slut. How many of our fellow faculty members have you had sex with, boy?"
He was long-dicking me very slowly, so I wasn't thinking too clearly. "I dunno, coach, maybe a half a dozen."
"More than that from what I hear. You always use a rubber like you promised me, don't you?"
"Yes, Coach." He began to pump hard in and out, and I had trouble thinking about anything except how good it felt. My cock was leaking a lot and, as I knew from experience, making a big puddle on the floor beside my desk. I always had to wipe that up after my sessions with Harry so the cleaning people wouldn't find it.
Eventually he came, pulled out, dropped the condom on the floor, put himself back together, slapped my ass, and said, "That was good. See you at work tomorrow." Then he grinned at me. "And remember, always play safe."
I used paper towels to clean up the condom and the precum from the floor. I wanted a shower, of course, but I knew Coach wanted me to leave with him, so I decided I'd wait until I got home. I stopped by his office, and we left together. In the parking lot, he said a very pleasant, "Good night, Guy," got into his car, and drove away.
My ass still burning and feeling empty, I walked the short distance to my apartment. It was about 11:00 PM. I showered, dried off, and walked naked back into my bedroom. I picked up the phone beside the bed and dialed.
"Rafe, we still on for tonight?"
"Oh, hi Guy. I thought maybe you'd decided not to call."
"No, man, I'm sorry. Just got held up at the gym. Something Coach Knudson wanted me to do. So, are you still game?"
"Oh, yeah. Can you stay the night?"
"No problem. See you in fifteen minutes?"
"I'll be ready and waiting."
Rafe Pettigrew was an assistant professor in the Art Department. I think he threw pots, as they say. I don't know anything about that stuff, but that's what he told me.
What I do know is that about a year ago I'd picked him up at the gym and taken him back to my place for some really nice sex. Since then, we'd gotten together one other time. I think he'd have liked more frequent sessions, but I didn't want him to get too attached.
When I tapped lightly on his door (it was getting close to midnight), he opened it, throwing back the door. He stood there, totally naked, his 6-inch fat cock pointing toward my chest. Even though his name sounds English, I think Rafe must have had some Black Irish in his ancestry. He stood about my height, 5'9", but he was not heavily muscled. Instead, he was what I'd call wiry. He looked skinny with clothes on, but his muscles were well defined. He was about my age, with a boyish face, black curly hair, and these really intense blue eyes. Oh, yeah, and he had dimples. Just too cute for words. And it seemed like he couldn't get enough sex.
After he had closed the door, I grinned at him and said, "What, Rafe, no `Hi Guy,' or `How are ya, Guy?'"
He grinned back. "Nah, let's just fuck." He grabbed my hand and pulled me into his bedroom, where he wasted no time helping me get out of my clothes. That took a little longer than it had at the gym, because I had to walk across campus on a cold January night. We got rid of my jacket, pullover, tee, jeans, shoes, and socks. I hadn't bothered with a jock, knowing that I'd be undressing as soon as I got there.
When I was as naked as he was, Rafe put an arm around my waist and the other hand behind my head. He pulled us tight together and kissed me. Now normally I'm not much into kissing guys I'm just having sex with, but I knew Rafe liked it, so I went along. You know, whatever floated his boat.
As we kissed, he was humping his cock against my belly, and the two kinds of stimulation had me hard in a hurry. I suppose not getting off with Coach Harry had something to do with that, too. When he finally pulled his mouth off mine, I pushed him down onto the bed on his back. Then I pulled up on his knees and spread his feet apart. That gave me plenty of room to get in there and start licking his balls. He began to make little cooing noises right away, and when later I switched to his cock, he got verbal.
"Yeah, eat me! Suck that dick! Oh, yeah, man, that's great!" He sounded like the soundtrack of a porn flick.
I quit sucking long enough to stick the middle finger of my right hand into his mouth. He sucked on it as if it was a cock. When he had it good and wet with his spit, I removed it from his mouth and slowly stuck it up his ass, so I was stroking his prostate as I sucked him. When he'd get close to coming, I'd back off a little. I did that several times, and finally, when he was squealing for me to finish him off, I let him come.
He shot so hard most of it landed on his face and neck. As he lay there recovering from his orgasm, I licked off all of his cum. Then I fed it to him with my mouth.
"Mmmmm," he said. I knew from experience he liked the taste of his jizz. In fact, Rafe just liked cum, mine or his, or anybody's, probably.
After his breathing had returned to normal, he smiled up at me and said, "Your turn, stud. How do you want me?"
"Don't move." He had rubbers and WET on his bedside table. I took what I needed and got us both ready.
He pulled his knees up against his chest, and I began working lube into his butt hole. I think I forgot to mention earlier that Rafe was pretty hairy. He had wispy black hair on his pects and a trail running down to his thick black bush. There was a sprinkling of hair on his ass, and his crack was lined with it.
He began to wiggle and coo again by the time I had two fingers up his chute. "I'm ready whenever you are, stud," he said, grinning up at me.
I grinned back at him and put the tip of my sheathed cock against his dark pucker.
"Yeah, that's it! Come on in, Guy, please."
I pushed gently and slid into his hot chute. Rafe had always been able to take me without much discomfort, and this time he seemed almost to suck me in. What more can I say? We had a very satisfying bang. He didn't come again, but he was obviously enjoying being fucked. After all the stimulation of having my own ass taken earlier by Coach Knudson, and then getting aroused being with Rafe, I had to stop a couple of times to keep from coming too soon. I played with his tits once or twice, and once I leaned over him and we kissed. Like I said, he really enjoys that, and he is a good kisser. But you can't hold nature back forever, and so finally I shot a big load into the condom.
After the necessary cleanup, we got back in bed and turned out the light. Rafe was a snuggler, and we cuddled together, kissing once in a while, until we both went to sleep.
The next morning we had a 69 session. Then he gave me oj and coffee. I told him that would hold me until I could get home and get some of the special cereal that I mixed up myself.
"Thanks, Guy, for, uh, everything."
I grinned at him. "My pleasure, Rafe. You're a sexy stud, and I've enjoyed our times together."
"Think we can do it again soon?" he asked, looking sort of wistful.
"Maybe. Let's just play it by ear, okay?"
"Yeah, sure, Guy. Anytime."
I put on my parka, slapped him on the butt, and left.
Dane Pierce, one of my two horn students, was, as I've said, smallish. He was also adorable. If I'd been into younger guys, I might have been interested in him. I figured out at our first lesson he was probably gay.
He was wearing a dark green wool pullover, those baggy cargos the younger guys like, and ankle high boots. He sat in a chair facing a music stand and kept the bell of his horn over his lap when he wasn't playing it. Except when I was at the piano, I sat beside him most of the time. The first day, however, at one point I was standing behind him as he played. When he finished the passage, I put my hands on his shoulders. He jumped almost violently.
"Sorry, Dane, didn't mean to startle you."
I could see that the back of his neck had turned bright red. "Oh, that's okay, professor. Guess I'm just a little jumpy."
"Is everything all right?"
"Yeah, no problems," he said.
I sat beside him, noticing that the blush was fading. There were still a few minutes left in his time, but not enough to begin working on something else, so I asked him a little about himself. He told me about his parents, who lived in the next town over. He had two older brothers, one in the Marines, the other the kind of engineer who builds highways. He said he'd been in band, orchestra, and chorus in high school and gotten good grades, good enough for a partial scholarship to Baldwin-Wallace. He went on to explain that they'd discovered it would be cheaper to give up the scholarship and have him move back in with his folks, so, voila, here he was.
I had noticed that he'd adjusted his package once or twice as he talked. When I told him our lesson period was nearly over and suggested some things for him to work on for next time, he seemed reluctant to stand up. Guessing what his problem was, I went over and began to get into my coat. He stood and quickly turned his back to me as he put his horn in its case. As he was putting his coat on, however, I could see that he had a major boner. He must have been well hung for a little guy. That's when I noticed that he had good sized feet and hands.
I know that 19-year-old guys throw wood all the time, so I didn't think anything more about it.
It wasn't until I'd noticed Dane sporting a hardon at each of his first four lessons that I began to wonder about him. Or, rather, to be pretty sure about him.
That created a problem for me. Being in the same small studio with him while he had a hardon caused me to respond with my own. And I think he was quite aware of what was happening to me, though neither of us had ever indicated by word or look that he knew of the other's problem.
One morning in bed I remembered that this was Dane's lesson day and groaned.
"What's the matter, baby?" Gabe asked.
I decided there was no harm in telling him.
"I've got Dane Pierce in for a lesson today."
"So, what's wrong? Is he bad or something?"
"No, he's a very promising hornist, in fact."
"Then what's the problem?"
I explained the whole thing to him.
He laughed. "So he makes you hot, does he?"
"Should I be worried?"
I turned on my side, grabbed him, and kissed him. "No, Gabriel, never! You are my man. My only man."
"But the little guy gets you excited?"
He chuckled. "What? The horny hornist. The thing to do is to confront him gently about it. You can't go on ignoring the elephant in the room."
I giggled. "I said he was big, but he's not hung that well."
Gabe laughed. "You know very well what I mean."
I was pretty tense before Dane showed up for his lesson. I was also hard as a rock. I had worn some loose-fitting corduroy slacks, but when I stood up my arousal was quite apparent.
When Dane came in, I was sitting on the piano bench, playing something, I don't remember what. He took off his coat, set down his instrument case, and stood there looking at me. He was wearing jeans that day, but I could see his tool stretched down his left leg.
He looked relieved when I asked him to sit down. I swiveled around on the piano bench to face him. I can't believe what I said next.
"Dane, we've got to talk." I cringed at the triteness of the statement.
"We do?" he squeaked.
"Yeah, I think so."
"Is something wrong, Dr. Collins?"
"No, Dane, not really. Nothing for you to be anxious about."
He relaxed a little. I was wondering how to continue. I'd been wondering all morning just what to say to him.
"Look, I've tried to ignore this, but I can't help noticing that you have an erection every time you come in here."
He blushed again. "God! I'm so sorry. Does that disgust you? I really can't help it, you know."
"No, Dane, it doesn't disgust me."
He grinned weakly. "I didn't really think it did. I've seen you throw wood, too."
I took a deep breath and exhaled. "Okay. Now we've got it out in the open, so to speak. I assume you're gay. It really isn't any of my business, and I have no right to ask, but under the circumstances . . ."
"Yeah. I'm gay."
"Got a boyfriend? Again that's none of my business. Sorry I asked."
"No, it's okay, professor. I'm glad to be able to talk about it."
"You want to tell me about yourself?"
"You don't mind?"
"Hey, I asked, didn't l?"
"Well, I've been gay as long as I can remember. I had a good friend that I had a real crush on in high school, but he went to Carnegie-Mellon when I started at B-W. He found a guy there that he's really happy with." He paused for a moment, as if remembering his friend. Then he continued. "They had a gay group at B-W, but I never met anybody there that really caught my interest. And I'm new on campus here, haven't had time yet to meet many people."
"And," I asked, smiling to make him feel less tense, "do you throw wood whenever you're around any man?"
He grinned. "No, it's not that bad. In fact, I can usually control it, but not with you. I hope you won't be offended, but you turn me on like nobody else I've ever seen. I just can't help it. I get hard every time I think of you."
Wow! "Dane, you must be assuming I'm gay."
"You mean you aren't? Oh, God, I'm SO sorry." He blushed again, looking miserable.
"Dane, relax. I just wondered what made you think I was gay."
"Well, I got these vibes that maybe you were. Then I heard some of the others talking in the snack room about you. They were saying you had a boyfriend, some guy who's not a faculty member. I confess I was both excited and disappointed when I heard that."
`Damn! The campus rumor mill has picked up on Gabe and me! And we thought we were being discreet.'
"Dane, a few of my friends know I'm gay. But I haven't really come out on campus, and for personal reasons don't want to at this time. So I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't talk about this discussion we're having."
"Okay. I promise." He sat there looking at me with his angelic face, and I was strongly tempted to grab him and kiss him.
"From what I've seen and what you've told me, would I be correct in thinking that you are attracted to me?"
"That's putting it mildly. I've had the hots for you since the first day."
"That really complicates things, I'm afraid."
"You mean you don't find me attractive, don't you?"
I smiled at him again. "No, I can't honestly say that. You've noticed that I've become aroused when you're here. Mostly because of those nice boners you can't either hide or control, frankly. Still, being honest, I have to say that you are a great-looking young man."
He sighed. "But . . ."
"But I just don't think it's right for faculty members and students to have sexual affairs, and the University frowns on such things. We could both get in trouble. That's for starters. Second, I'm in a relationship with a man I love very much, and, though I find you very sexy, I am not about to be unfaithful to him."
"You find me sexy?"
I was disappointed that he latched on to that part of what I'd just said. "Yes, Dane, I do And I'm sure lots of other guys will, too. You just need to be patient and keep looking. This is a pretty good sized school, and there are bound to be lots of gay men who, like you, are alone and looking. Have you attended the campus GSA group?"
"No, I haven't had time for that yet."
"Well, think about it. Now, there's another matter we have to discuss."
He looked at me apprehensively.
"Should we try to see if Professor Burton could take you on as a student? I don't want you to be uncomfortable working with me."
"Please, Dr. Collins. I'd like to stay with you. I promise to try to control my dick. Knowing that there's no chance with you should help, I think. And if I get hard, we'll both just ignore it, okay? I really don't want to switch to another teacher."
"Okay, that's fine with me. You have a load of promise, Dane, and I'll look forward to working with you."
He grinned at me and said, "Cool!"
It was too late by that time for him to play for me, so I let him go.
After he had shrugged back into his coat, he turned to me, picked up his case, and said, "Dr. Collins, I've never known a grown-up gay man before. I just want to say that I think you're, well, a really nice person. I'm sorry if I embarrassed you today. But I'm going to work so hard on my horn that I'll make you proud of me."
I couldn't help it. I hugged him. "Dane, I don't doubt that in the least."
That afternoon Gabe stopped by my office. He came in and closed the door. After a hug and a kiss, we turned the two chairs in front of my desk so they were facing each other and sat in them..
"So, how did it go with the hot little horn stud?"
I gave Gabe a complete recap of the scene. When I finished, he leaned forward, put his hand on my knee, and looked at me seriously.
"I hope you've made the right choice, baby."
"You mean I should have jumped his bones right there?"
He laughed, as I had intended him to. "No, Brent, but if he continues to have the hots for you, things could get sticky."
I laughed. "In his pants, maybe. But I think when I told him both that I was opposed to the idea of students and faculty having affairs and that I had a lover I was totally happy with, he seemed to understand. And, like I said, I encouraged him to go to the campus GLBT group and meet some folk."
"Brent, the last thing I want to do is have another one of those ugly fits of jealousy. If you think things are under control with Dane, then I'm not going to worry."
"What are we doing for dinner?" I asked, with an apparent non sequitur.
"I don't think we'd made plans. Want to eat out?"
"Nah, it's Friday. Every place will be busy. Besides, I'd rather have you to myself so I can prove you don't have anything to worry about. Why don't you come over and we'll order pizza?"
He grinned at me. "I was going to make fettucini alfredo tonight. Why don't you stop somewhere and get some crusty rolls, and I'll have the rest of the fixin's. I think I've got a wine that'll do. And, of course, you may as well spend the weekend."
"How can I resist an invitation like that? What about dessert?"
He leered at me as he stood up to leave. "I'll have something you like for after dinner, buster."
* * *
Two students were chatting in the conservatory's snack room. They paid no attention to the figure in a work uniform kneeling next to a vending machine, apparently working on it. One of the students was saying to the other, "Oooh, the hunky Dr. Collins is one of the family, huh?"
"Yep, that's the word."
"Well, my gaydar's pretty good, and I'd never have guessed. I mean, like, he's gorgeous and all, but he just always seemed straight to me. And I've seen him with Professor Menzies at several Con functions. What makes you think he's one of us?"
"You mean you haven't seen him with that hunky guy from B & G, the one with the sexy mustache?"
"Now that you mention it, I've seen them together at some of the recitals. You mean they're . . . ?"
"That's the word I hear."
"That's a pretty unlikely combination, don't you think? What could Collins see in that guy? I mean, he's a plumber or something, for Christ's sake!"
"Honey, just look at him. He's got a great bod, an ass to die for, and he looks like an old-time movie star. What's not to like?"
"Well," the other one said, swallowing the last of his Sprite, "it's bound not to last. Sex is fine, but don't you think Collins would want somebody with a mind?"
To be continued