Date: Mon, 18 Nov 2002 19:38:49 +0000
From: krisjon40@hotmail.com
Subject: Student-no-Longer Chapter 7

Student no longer.  A story in 10 chapters


Disclaimer:  This story contains passages of explicit description of sexual
activity between boys of 18+.  There is also strong language.  If you are
likely to be offended by these, please read no further.


Chapter 7:  Sunday Penance

	I felt no better the next day.   I needed to be on my own to assess what
was happening to me.  I had within a week had my first sex with a boy, one I
felt I loved very much, and had been unfaithful twice.  What sort of slut
was I?

	I decided to go for a walk.  Bob was not up yet, even though it was nearly
noon. It was a nice, but chilly day and I wrapped up warm.  As I went down
the stairs of the flats I felt a creepy feeling in my stomach, and looked
round to discover Mark, the serious looking guy with the icy blue eyes whom
I met in the pub, trotting down behind me clad only in a sexy singlet and
very skimpy running shorts.

	He greeted me coldly in a broad Glaswegian accent and scornfully
ascertained that I was going for a walk.

	"You mus' be kidding," he scoffed. "Are yer a geriatric or something?"

	I didn't like his tone.

	"Come for a run wi' me," he suggested - or rather ordered, because I didn't
feel that declining his offer was an option.

	"But I haven't any shorts," I said feebly.

	"Borrer some of mine," he said and headed back upstairs without waiting for
anything as irrelevant as a reply from me.

	I followed him into his flat.  It was built to the same specifications as
ours and Andy's but he had had fitted an amazing home gymnasium, containing
wall bars, horse, weight-training equipment, a rowing machine, a treadmill
and so on.

	I was nervous.  His body was awe-inspiringly beautiful.  He was well toned,
with an embarrasingly large protuberance between his sinewy legs, hardly
disguised by the white, cotton fragments which were his shorts.  It spelled
power. It left almost nothing to the imagination. He tossed me a spare pair
of running shorts and a singlet like his. Under his penetrating gaze,
modestly taking care not to show my privates, I changed into the gear.

	Then we set off.  He strode into the lead, with a steady, quite rapid pace.
  I must admit I loved watching his figure as he jogged down the road.  He
had a runner's physique.  His legs were slim, sinewy and pale.  His bum was
firm and rounded beacuse of his muscle.  He was clearly not ashamed to let
the whole world marvel at the evidence of his endowment as his cock swung to
and fro.  I suppose the same could be said of me in his spare pair.  I loved
the freedom of movement they offered and the sexiness of the feel of the
cool air on my thighs.

	We swung into the park and he slowed down a bit as I began to pant.

	"You're no bloody fit" he shouted at me in his rough Scottish brogue.

	"No," I agreed and stopped to catch my breath.

	After another mile, we agreed that he would do an extra mile and I would
head off home.  Just as I was approaching the flats, he wheeled round the
bend to meet me, his long, thick  cock outlined in his sweaty shorts, his
face now flushed with the air and the exercise and his singlet dripping with
perspiration.

	Both of us were panting as we headed up to his flat.

	It had been good, but the guilty feelings at the way I had cheapened myself
with Candy and Game Boy  took hold again and, when we got in, I just sat for
a while despondently on the sofa, while Mark did some exercises on the
apparatus in the room.  He started swinging on the horse, hung on the wall
bars and lifted some weights...and all the time, I tried to avert my eyes
from the movements of the apparatus inside his shorts, equally impressive.

	Finally though, I put my head in my hands and stared at the floor.  It was
then that I was aware of his presence standing above me.  His powerful
figure stood astride my knees and I looked at the level of his belly button.
  I could smell a potent mixture of body fluids.

	He was an awesomely strong physical presence, with those muscles and that
penis announcing itself so close to my face.  I was overwhelmed.

	"I take it ye're not pleased with yersel',"

	I don't to this day know why - perhaps it was because of his strong
authoritarian presence - but I started to make a confession to him of all my
recent sins.

	He heard me out without making any comment at all.

	Then, when I'd absolutely finished abasing myself, he said with a
blood-curdlingly quiet voice, "Seems to me laddy, ye deserve a bit of
punishment and you willnae find any peace o' soul wi'out it."

	The thing was that I knew he was right.  Self-flagellation was all very
good, but it was not like being punished by a cold executioner for my
misdeeds.

	Ye'd better fucking stand up then," he whispered menacingly.

	I obeyed while he drew from a cupboard an old gym-shoe. I stood there
helplessly frightened at what might happen, but experiencing a strange sort
of thrill as well.  When I was at school, older pupils were allowed to keep
discipline by "whacking" younger ones.  When my class mates bent over the
master's desk, their cute bums displayed to the whole class , I inevitably
got an instant hard-on, for reasons I couldn't really explain.  Once when I
was "whacked" myself, I felt a sexual thrill which I still remember with
excitement.  Was it the pain or the idea of the exposure of a backside to an
unpredictable force.  I still don't know.

	But now, Mark was swishing his slipper in the air, practising his shot,
and I thrilled to hear the sound it made.

	"Stand right here on this spot and bend over to touch yer toes," he
ordered.

	I parted my legs slightly but it was still a strain.  I placed my hands on
my knees. The fabric of my shorts stretched tight over my pert bum.  The
blood rushed to my head. There was a terrifying silence.

	He stood adjacent to me, still swishing his slipper.  I peeped sideways and
saw him inspecting his target, felt him placing the slipper on my bum, the
easier to take aim.  I could feel the spongy hardness of the rubber on my
bottom.  Then he stood back and swung and SLAP, he hit me hard and my bottom
was on fire....and my cock was rampant under my shorts....and oh, as I
looked sideways so was his...sticking out at an angle of ninety degrees from
his shorts....betraying the fact that he was enjoying this encounter as much
as me!

	Down again....and again the quiet moments as he took aim and SLAP and
another thrill as I yelped, snapped back up and felt my backside with the
palms of my two hands.  "AAAAAAhhhhhh"

	Mark came closer and I could feel his erection scraping against my arse.
The next two, wee laddy, will be with your shorts down, on your bare bum, "
he adjudicated in his low voice.

	"Pull them down," he ordered, and I haplessly obeyed letting them pool
around my ankle, reddening as my erection swung into view, feeling exposed
and as vulnerable as a little boy.

	"Oh you are a naughty, randy young laddy, i'nt ye?" he said, and he took my
penis between his forefinger and thumb as though to inspect it.

	I didn't dare to say that the same was true of him as there was an even
bigger lump under his shorts now.  His face was flushed with the effort of
punishing me and his sexual desires.

	"Bend over the horse this time,"he ordered and grip the handles.  Tuck your
dick underneath.  We must tek care not to damage that precious piece of
equipment."

	I wasn't clear whether he meant the horse or my dick.  I felt even more
vulnerable now, with my penis scraping against the hard leather of the horse
and my bright red bum the Scot's target once again.

	The familiar swish and the slap again...and again... and again....and my
hard-on throbbing under me, with precum now staining the leather.

	Then I was aware that Mark was slipping off his shorts and singlet and was
standing totally naked behind me.  He came closer. His cock was now rubbing
along the crack of my bruised bum and he was hot-breathing into my neck.

	Stay bending over the horse," he whispered, and I did as I was told,
trembling with fear and desire.

	I glanced back and saw him swagger to the cupboard where he had found the
gym-shoe. His eight inch, circumcised weapon was in his hand, poker-hard
with a deep vein running its length.  He found a condom and slickly sheathed
himself up.  He then found a tube of KY and stood with his eyes closed,
lubricating his thick tool, oiling it up for the job ahead.  Then he
sauntered over to me.  I quickly went back to position over the horse, and
he jerked two fingers up my arse, coolly smearing the cool jelly around my
passage.  I could feel his cock pressing into my back.  We enacted all this
as a sort of ritual, dead silently.

	He sauntered back to replace the lubrication weighing his prick in his hand
as he did so.

	Then back to me trembling in position over the horse, pretending not to
look his way.  His hand gently felt his target and then WHAM his cock thrust
up my back passage.  It was like being raped, but his aim was sure and I had
got used to the pain he inflicted.  AAAAAAH.  And he was in and jerking up
and down and I felt a huge iron-like bar inside me filling the orifice
totally.

	He roughly thumped up and down on top of me and I gasped with the strain
and with pleasure.  Relentlessly, he pumped in and out, in and out, his
hands grasping my shoulders so he could invade my body completely.  One hand
crept round to one of my nipples which he squeezed and twisted so I was in
agony.  We were beside ourselves in the throes of an uncontrollable passion.

	"Oh fuck me hard!" I screamed.  "Harder still.  Fuck me to death."

	Then he stopped.  Ignoring me the while, he strolled over to a rowing
machine, his condom protected cock, swinging from side to side.

	"Come!" he commanded, sitting himself on the machine.

	Not knowing what to do, I joined him.

	"Face me!" he ordered. "One leg each side."

	I stood over him, tingling with anticipation.  He drew me down to sit on
top of his rampant tool. He eased me over it and then with a quick jerking
movement, he stabbed my arse again and I sat abruptly, pierced by his
weapon, once more. I felt the iron of the hand-bar on the small of my back.
Then came the most thrilling ride I have ever had.  He started rowing, in
and out of me.  His calf and thigh muscles were flexing, showing rigid under
his pale, hairless skin.  His face showed the effort he was putting into it,
the pain and pleasure combined.  I stroked his pecs and his tiny pointy
nipples.

	I tried to imitate Candy, teasing his cock with all the muscles I could
find in my arse,
and, as I  discovered what it was to be fucked, I discovered how to
reciprocate by being an active bottom.  We discovered a rhythm together.
Then he upped the stakes and we rowed swiftly - in/out, in/out as a cox
would say, until we nearly reached the finishing line and, gasping now, he
disengaged himself once more and wordlessly, he led me to the wall bars.
Facing the wall, I was made to hold on to some upper bars with my hands and
to place my legs only one or two bars below, so that my body was bent almost
double and my bum protruded a metre or two out from the wall.  It was like a
hanging torture.  Then, the muscled body of Mark joined me on the bars, his
hands gripping beside mine and his legs on the same bar, and again he
penetrated me, with his body hugging me closely on the bars.  His forearms
were parallel to mine and looked strong and sinewy as he flexed his arms and
drew his cock further up my hole yet again.

	This time was to be for real.  His breath alonside me got shorter and
shorter.  He grunted in his efforts,  His body was hot against mine.  I
didn't think I could stay the course.  My arms were aching, my feet
slipping.

	I whimpered, "I can't hold out."

	"Stay put, laddy!"  he demanded.

	I tried to oblige.  I loved feeling him pounding into me.  He was slapping
my buttocks now, keeping himself up with only one arm, in the fury of his
desire, riding me hard and harder.

	Now he shouted in my ear, "I'm cumming, bonny boy, I'm cumming."

	And I felt his body clench around me and his cock stiffen and expand even
more inside me....and I knew that he was spurting uncontrollably, and I
contracted my arse muscles and released my breath and....fell off the
bars.....

	On to a thick coconut gym mat, which prickled and scratched me as I rolled
over and over with Mark on top of me, biting and hugging and
thrusting....and I simultaneously released all the spunk in my balls, and
lay exhausted in a heap of tears and sweat.

	We lay there entwined together for several minutes.  I tried to hug this
Adonis, to elicit some post-coital tenderness from him,           but he
shrugged me off and slapped my buttocks vigorously again.

	"Ye really are a slut," he sneered. "Anyone's, aren't ye?  Fucking
anyone's! Get yer sodding claethes on and fuck yersel' off!"

	I stumbled wretchedly into my pants and shirt, red, sweaty and confused.  I
moved to the door.

	"And mind ye haste ye back again," he called after me.

	Had I misheard? I looked back and, for the first time since my meeting him,
he grinned, and gave me the most wicked wink.

	And that changed everything.  I left with a smile on my face and a song in
my heart.  I would take the low road any time ... to this Scot's torture
chamber. I'd get a welcome there in the hillsides.

	And my bum still smarted like hell!  Mmmmmmm.