Date: Fri, 21 Feb 2014 21:17:30 -0500 From: Lewd Shrewd Subject: The Chemistry Professor - Chapter 9 Disclaimer: This is a work of gay, erotic fiction; please do not read if it is illegal for you to do so. This work is entirely fictional; any resemblances to real people, events, or institutions are coincidental. Please direct any comments, suggestions, pictorial responses(!), or questions to lewdandshrewd@gmail.com. Readers, keep in mind that Nifty is a not-for-profit organization that relies on our financial support to provide a forum for all these stories. Please consider donating: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html. Thanks, and enjoy! -Lewdandshrewd Chapter 9 The next week and a half were a frenzy of pre-term preparations, and I avoided hanging out with James, focusing instead on getting ready for classes to start. I didn't trust myself to stay professional with my exceedlingly handsome colleague, and I trusted him to encourage exactly the kind of behavior I felt I needed to avoid. Lisa, my roommate, noticed my dedication to work during that week, and couldn't help but comment. "Rob, you were so excited to be hanging out with your new colleagues during your first week at work, and I haven't heard you mention them in over a week. How's that handsome one that kept giving you wood?" "You KNOW how I feel about keeping work professional, especially after that set of horrible decisions in college, Lisa. I can't let my dick get in the way of my career!" I retorted angrily. "Well," Lisa replied, "you've been a curmudgeon for a week. If you don't do something to distract yourself from work, I'm going to have to intervene on your behalf." I couldn't argue that I'd been grumpy since the (admittedly very fun) evening with James and his husband, Aaron. I'd come home from that night of dinner and board games with a raging hard-on and an even harder resolve to stay... proper. I had buried myself in my work to keep my mind away from fantasies of James' amazing cock and Aaron's pert ass. Quite unsuccessfully, I should add. Almost daily, I found myself watching porn with actors who resembled the married couple: scruffy, dark, uncut men pounding light-complected, skinny, strawberry-blonde ones. Of course, I had no idea what either James or Aaron looked like unclothed -- I'd only seen James' cock a couple of times, always hanging out of his fly -- but I couldn't help imagining the two of them fucking with total abandon. And of course, I had no idea who tended to top or bottom in their relationship; I was as prone to stereotypes about physiques as any gay man -- the bearded, hairy guy was supposed to fuck the skinnier, clean-cut one, right? Secretly, I hoped that their roles were reversed at least as often as they met my expectations. I loved to see "macho" men bottom and more "fem" guys top. As I've said, I have broad tastes. "All right, I admit I've been absorbed in work and distracted by my hormones. Want to go out with me in Boystown on Saturday night? It'll be a chance to get my mind off work and those fucking gorgeous professors. And hell, you've been complaining that you haven't gotten any pussy lately -- I bet there are plenty of ladies who go out to the gay bars." Lisa seemed excited at the prospect of going out on the town. We hadn't been out since we'd moved to Chicago, since both of us were busy with new jobs and getting settled in our apartment. "Fuck yes! I got this new double-ended dildo that I've been dying to share. Just promise me you'll be friendly and flirtatious and won't turn down a hot guy if he tries to suck you off!" I wasn't very comfortable with clubs; my shyness made the "scene" a little awkward. Not that I was shy about sex, but since college I had learned to prefer a quiet dinner date before a night of passionate, sweaty sex. Shouting two-word phrases into a hot guy's ear over blaring dance music wasn't my ideal way of getting to know a guy. But I had to admit, dark club full of drunk, shirtless men had its appeal. "OK," I told Lisa, "just don't abandon me before the night's over. And let's get drinks at a quieter bar before we go out." "Deal, mister!" Lisa agreed enthusiastically. Saturday afternoon came quickly. I was absorbed in preparing for a lecture on dimensional analysis for my freshman introductory chemistry lab course when Lisa walked in the apartment, hands full of bags from spending the day shopping, and yelled, "Stop that working shit, Rob! It's Saturday, it's summer, and we're going out later; go take a fucking run or something before we have to get ready for the big night!" I sighed, knowing that Lisa was right. I'd been cooped up either in the science building at the university or in the apartment, working almost non-stop for the last two weeks, and hadn't been outdoors nearly enough. "You're right; I'll feel sexier tonight if I've exercised today, anyway. And this pallor is just sad. When do I need to be ready to go tonight?" I answered, trying to muster the energy to go for a long run. "We have reservations for dinner at 8:30 at that tapas place in Boystown you've mentioned wanting to try, so be ready by 7:00. We can get there early and have a couple of cocktails at the bar before our reservation. I know you like to be a little tipsy to enjoy a club!" It was already 4:30, and I wanted to make the run a fairly long one, so I hurriedly changed into my briefs, running shorts, and shoes. I glanced in the mirror on my way out, and was disappointed that I hadn't spent more time outdoors that summer; I was pretty pale, but at least I'd managed to keep a flat stomach and some muscle tone. I wasn't as ripped as I'd been in high school or college, but I was still generally pleased with my physique. I shrugged to myself, then grinned as I noticed that my briefs and running shorts didn't hide my package very well. I hoped that would get a few stares while I was on my run -- nothing like a few people conspicuously checking you out to boost your confidence before a night at the club. I did my stretches on the front porch of our apartment building, and then set a moderate pace as I worked my way east toward the lakeshore. I intended to run north along the lake past Montrose beach until my body told me to turn around. The beaches were full of eye-candy at this time of year, and I was feeling a little horny as my exercise-high started to kick in. I wasn't disappointed. A Saturday in late August was the perfect time to check out hot guys along the Lake Michigan shore. A group of college kids playing volleyball, tan and fit from a summer off from school; a couple of 40-something guys strolling hand-in-hand, hairy, confident bear-ish bodies proudly on display as they walked along the beach; three skinny, tattooed skater-boys with impressive skills passing me by on their boards; a few other runners, sweaty, defined torsos making me wish I had been more regular with my exercise lately; a short, hairy red-head sunbathing on a park bench with what could only be a rock-hard cock tenting his loose shorts; a modelesque lifeguard patrolling the beach, tightly-curled black hair accentuating his impressive pecs... By the time I had reached the farthest point in my run, turned around, and gotten back to Montrose beach, I was trying to keep my swollen cock from popping out of its tight confines in my briefs. It was uncomfortable. So uncomfortable, in fact, that I decided to stop at the public bathroom by the beach to take a piss, let my cock soften, and readjust before finishing my run. As I approached the cinder-block restrooms to enter the bathroom, a gorgeous young man -- probably 23 or 24, with a darkly tan, thin, lightly-hairy torso, dark scruff covering his jaw, hair and body wet from a dip in the lake, wearing a yellow speedo -- fell into step behind me and followed me into the building. I pretended I hadn't noticed him, and walked up to the furthest of the three urinals, hoping my cock would soften quickly so that I could pee. The young man was close enough as he walked in the bathroom that I could see his dark brown eyes were outlined by the longest lashes I'd seen in ages. He sported a wry grin as he walked up to the middle urinal and started untying the string holding his speedo in place. His eyes stared straight ahead as he pulled his dick and balls (!) out of his speedo and a steady, strong stream of piss started flying into the urinal. This had not allowed my boner to subside, so I pretended to be fishing in my briefs trying to find my cock, looking as inconspicuous as possible as I soaked in this hot young man with my peripheral vision. "It's not like I've never seen a boner at a urinal before, dude," the young man said out of the blue, still staring straight ahead. "In fact, I followed you in here hoping I'd get the chance again." He slowly turned his head, eyes locking with my own, that wry grin still painting his face with mischief. I blushed, feeling extremely awkward. I was horny as hell, but shyness was an integral part of me, and that forward sexual advance caught me off guard. 'What the hell,' I told myself silently, 'it's not like you have to hook up here and now... it's just erotic!' I overcame my shyness and pulled my hard cock out of my briefs, still holding the young man's gaze. He broke off our eye contact to stare down at my crotch; his grin grew, and I watched as the steady stream of piss slowed and stopped as his own cock grew in his grip. "You and your cock are fucking hot. I'm Nicholas, and while I have no intention of getting arrested in a public bathroom, I *do* intend to feel that dick in me." He tucked his erection into his yellow speedo; it was a very tight fit. "A couple friends and I are going out in Boystown tonight," he said as he turned and walked toward the sink to wash his hands. "I hope to see you there, stud." And he walked out of the bathroom, not trying to hide the hard-on in his swimsuit. I realized that I hadn't spoken a word in that brief encounter. I hadn't offered my name, complimented the sexy guy, or indicated that I was even interested in going out to Boystown -- which of course, I was already planning to do, and was even more excited about it now. In mentally beating myself up for my shyness, my cock softened enough to pee, and I tucked it back in my briefs, washed my hands, and planned to finish the last mile of my run, clean up, and keep my fingers crossed that I'd run into Nicholas later that night. As I walked out of the bathroom, I scanned the area, on the off chance that Nicholas was still nearby and I could at least introduce myself. No luck. I ran the last mile back to the apartment, thinking the whole time about Nicholas' impressive confidence to approach a stranger so forwardly, his beautiful eyelashes, and his boner barely concealed inside those tight yellow speedos. I stretched and hopped into a lukewarm shower, debating whether I should jerk off -- I was certainly horny and eager to cum, but I liked being horny at a club, as it helped me overcome my shyness and talk to guys. So I tried to take my mind off of Nicholas (or James, or Aaron, or any of the dozens of guys that kept popping into my mind unbidden) as I dressed and got ready for the night out. I wore my best underwear -- a pair of cotton boxer briefs that had the amazing ability to make my cock look even bigger than it was without feeling confining -- my best-fitting jeans, which worked wonders on my ass, and a plain white T-shirt that was extremely comfortable and clung in all the right places. I had never been one to get too fancy, and I thought the outfit was sexy and casual at the same time. "Well, you look.... underwhelming," Lisa said as she emerged from her room, wearing a smart, short black skirt and rather revealing top. "But I know you don't like to draw attention." "You know me: jeans and a T!" I said with a grin. "I like to ogle all the men from the sidelines." "OK, fine, I don't mind being the pretty one," Lisa said, rolling her eyes at my wallflower tendencies. "At least your jeans and T are flattering." We left the apartment and walked to the El, chatting convivially about nothing much. We arrived at the tapas restaurant 45 minutes before our reservation, sat at the bar, and ordered cocktails. I'm generally more of a beer-and-wine guy, but liquor has a tendency to lube me up for social circumstances, so to speak. We sipped our drinks until the maitre d' approached us to take us to our table. The dinner was delicious. Steak carpaccio, grilled shrimp with lemon caper sauce, roasted cauliflower with pine nuts and raisins, and a few other delicious bites. Lisa had chosen this restaurant well; the small plates satisfied us, but didn't make us feel over-full. Nobody likes to be in a food coma at a club! We wrapped up our dinner and split the bill by 10 pm, and decided it was still a little early to arrive at the club, so we meandered along the street until we came to nice martini lounge where we could have another cocktail. Eleven o'clock finally arrived, and we headed to the club -- early enough to avoid the lines, late enough that people would already be dancing. We paid our cover charges, showed our IDs, and had stiff cocktails in short order. "Not bad for the Midwest!" Lisa shouted over the club's well-DJ'ed music. "We Midwesterners can do it right, at least every now and then!" I replied, making myself heard by leaning close to Lisa's ear. We settled in to a couple of seats by the wall of the dance floor, and took to checking out the other patrons. I was pleasantly surprised by the diversity at the club, in terms of race, age, and sex. Most gay clubs that I'd been to had catered to an almost-exclusively male crowd, but Lisa was just as happy with the female clientele as I was with the male. After 30 minutes of checking the hot people out, we were sufficiently drunk that I agreed to Lisa's whining insistence that I join her on the dance floor. She'd spotted a very handsome woman dancing with a few friends, and she wanted an excuse to get closer. We edged our way through the dancing throng toward Lisa's target and had started dancing when my stomach leaped into my throat. Nicholas was dancing no more than 10 feet away, wearing an extremely sexy leather harness over his bare torso and tight jeans that left little to the imagination. I continued dancing with Lisa, feeling too awkward to approach Nicholas in that atmosphere; I didn't think he'd spotted me. As one song was transitioning into the next, in the relative quiet where one could actually be heard, Lisa leaned toward my ear and said, "Who's the sexy motherfucker in the harness? You like that kinky stuff sometimes, right?" She was right, my sexual history was almost as varied as my taste in men; not only was I pretty versatile, I had occasionally enjoyed everything from leather to watersports, and just about everything in between (and probably then some). The subtle signal that Nicholas was also a little "rough around the edges" only added to my lust for him. "Go dance with him! I need an excuse to go grind on that hottie!" Lisa shouted in my ear as the music began to pick up again, pointing subtly to the woman she'd been eyeing for the last hour. I smothered my own anxiety, forced a grin, and followed my hormones toward Nicholas. I approached him from behind, and slowly worked my way to within a foot of his back. I could see two other young men -- apparently friends of Nicholas -- glancing at me as I approached, and their smiles encouraged my advance. Finally, I was within an inch or two of Nicholas and I had the courage to press my body against his, reach around his body and tweak his right nipple in a drunkenly playful dance-floor "hello." Nicholas spun around and that wry smile I'd melted for in the public bathroom at Montrose park grew on his face. He grabbed my neck without a word and pulled me into a drunken, passionate kiss. His mouth tasted faintly of vodka and toothpaste, and his lips were as beautiful to the touch as his lashes were to the eyes. The kiss was the best kind -- that soft lip contact that allows your mouths to relax and yet explore each others' mouths with your tongues, without eating each others' faces or drowning each other in saliva. I am pretty picky about kissing, and Nicholas's tongue soon had my cock straining at my jeans. Nicholas pulled away after a minute, gave me a smile and a cute wave -- it was too loud to hear any words -- and pulled me into the small circle of his dancing friends. After a song or two of dancing with these strangers, Nicholas pulled me close, kissed me again, and guided my hands down to his delectable ass, which I began happily squeezing and caressing. I could feel his hard cock pressing against my own as we danced, and I knew that he was exceptionally horny. Eventually, Nicholas broke off our kiss, grabbed my hand from his ass, and led me off the dance floor to a dark corner near an emergency exit. As he pushed me back into the corner, his hands began exploring my chest, moved down my stomach, and began squeezing my aching cock. He rubbed one hand back and forth along the length of my shaft, easily visible through my tight jeans, giving special attention to the head of my cock. He started to kneel, but a quick look of concern crossed Nicholas's face; he stood back up straight, looked me in the eyes, smiled that sly grin, and nodded his head to the side, indicating the emergency exit doors. He grabbed my hand and quickly and quietly slipped us both out the door. I was amazed that no alarms sounded. We found ourselves in a dark room; probably backstage, I thought. The pounding music was muted, but as I opened my mouth to finally introduce myself, Nicholas put a finger to his lips and shook his head, still grinning. He seductively pressed me backward with his body, until I bumped into a wall. I felt his hands reach up my shirt to tease my nipples as he pressed his own crotch hard against my own. Before I knew it, Nicholas had my shirt over my head, my jeans unbuttoned and unzipped, and his mouth was running the length of my cock, moistening my underwear with his spit. I ached to have my hands on his tight, lean body, to run my own tongue over his defined abs, and to feel his cock in my mouth... but Nicholas was in control, and I was enjoying the attention my dick was receiving too much to fight him for dom rights. Shortly, he pulled the waistband of my boxer briefs down, allowing my 8" uncut cock to spring free. He quickly grabbed it with one hand, and before I knew it his lips were three-quarters of the way to the base of my shaft. His eyes closed as began to suck my cock, and I heard soft whimpers of pleasure from his throat, especially when I unintentionally flexed my taint muscles in response to his ministrations. Nicholas worshiped my cock for several minutes before he came up for a breather. I began to say, "It's my turn..." but Nicholas's hand covered my mouth before the first word was out. "Shut up and get my ass ready to take that monster of yours," Nicholas said with a totally dom attitude, but that slightest of smiles that made me know this was horny, concensual sex, and that I might be allowed to get a word in edgewise after he'd been satisfied. He darted back further into the backstage area and returned within seconds with a sturdy bench. He quickly unbuttoned his own pants and slid them off to reveal his raging hard cock -- thick, probably 6", cut, surrounded by a barely-trimmed bush that I knew was manicured only enough to avoid getting in the way, but still thick enough to harbor that delicious cock-balls-and-ass smell that turns me on -- and laid down on the bench. He raised his legs near his shoulders, spreading his ass to reveal a perfect pink hole, clearly eager for attention. "Fucking rim me, NOW, stud," Nicholas said demandingly, maintaining that ever-so-subtle hint of playfulness. I eagerly knelt by the bench and obliged him. I hadn't had sex in months, let alone sex with a gorgeous dom bottom that needed his perfect tight ass filled, and I would have been ready to shoot whenever he commanded. I was more than happy to please. My tongue delved deep into his hole after the first few tentative licks, and I tasted his sweat, hormones, and ass as he opened his hole for me. He needed it badly, I could tell, as he kept grabbing my head to try to force my tongue deeper, grunting and demanding, "More, fucker!" After a few minutes of loosening him up, I felt Nicholas lean off the side of the bench and rummage in his pants. Seconds later, a wrapped condom slapped into the side of my head. "Get up and get that dick in me." I stood up, my own cock still rock hard and dripping precum, and worked on putting the condom on while Nicholas rummaged through his pockets again and produced a small packet of lube. He tore it open, slathered some on his asshole, and used the rest to slick my cock. As he leaned back onto the bench again, he said, "Once you fuck the cum out of me, THEN you will pull out and feed my yours. Got it?" I nodded, having understood that Nicholas didn't want me to speak, at least until this session was through. I approached the bench and guided the tip of my thick cock to Nicholas's entrance, and slowly pressed, letting Nicholas's body language dictate the speed of my entry. He winced briefly as my head passed the second ring of muscle, and I paused, my dick throbbing with pleasure. The pain must have passed quickly, because Nicholas's face resumed his sly grin and he pushed himself down onto my cock, taking nearly the entire length before slowing again. As I took over the motion and slid the last inch into his ass, Nicholas's eyes rolled back into his head, his cock flexed in ecstasy, and a huge drop of precum dropped onto his taut stomach. I hungrily reached down to take the precum on my finger and bring it to my mouth; it tasted like salty, cummy honey. I grabbed Nicholas's throbbing, thick cock as I started to rhythmically pound his ass, wanting to stimulate him any way I could. With my other hand, I grabbed the leather harness crossing his dark-haired, tan chest, and pulled him deeper onto my cock. He moaned. "Give me every inch, HARD, and I'll cum for you, stud." I understood. I pulled my cock almost entirely out, leaving only the head inside his ass, made sure my angle was just right, and began deep-fucking Nicholas, trying to ensure that every entrance put pressure on his prostate and every exit stimulated his sensitive anal nerves. Within a few minutes, I could tell Nicholas was close. His ample balls had retracted into their "cum position," his cock was dripping precum on every thrust, and he was moaning like a madman. I sped up. Nicholas gripped the sides of the bench as I gave him my final push, filling him with every inch of my thick, long rod. His handless orgasm covered his chest and face with thin, sticky cum. As I pulled out and tore the condom off, Nicholas recovered from his ecstasy, took my cock into his sticky, cum-covered mouth, and finished me off. I must have shot copious amounts after weeks of over-worked, undersexed life, but he swallowed every last drop. We both panted for a bit in silence, recovering from the illicit backstage rendezvous. Nicholas fumbled around in the darkness behind the bench and emerged into the dimly lit area with a rag, wiping the cum from his leather harness and nearly-naked body. He half-smiled at me, eyes sparkling, and said, "Hi." "Hi," I replied, a mischievous but tired grin on my face, "I'm Rob." "Well, Rob, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. We'd better get back out there, or that woman you're with will think somebody kidnapped you!" "Oh, Lisa?! She's probably four-fingers deep in her own dance-floor hook-up!" I replied, both of us chuckling. We hurriedly dressed, leaving the condom and rag for the clean-up crew, and made our way back to the dance floor. I found Lisa, indeed, deeply involved in a make-out session, but fully clothed, I was grateful to discover. I shouted in her ear, "I've had a great time, but I'm going home. Have fun!" She nodded, gave me a wink, and waved me off. I wandered back to find Nicholas on the edge of the dance floor, where he grabbed me by the neck, kissed me, and said, "You're all right, Rob. Give me a call sometime when you're horny; I like a lot of things, so don't think it's limited to dom bottoming!" He slipped a business card in my pocket, gave me a wink, and walked back onto the dance floor with his friends. I left the club and decided that I'd walk home instead of hailing a cab; I'd had a lot to drink, and the walk would hopefully prevent a hangover in the morning. As I walked, I couldn't help but wonder, "Who is this random Nicholas guy?"