Date: Sun, 13 Jun 2021 22:45:51 +0000 From: butters2020 Subject: College Credit (gay, Adult Youth) It costs money to maintain this website. If you enjoy these stories consider making a donation to help keep the site up and running. You can do it here: I enjoy getting feedback. If you like the story feel free to email me at butters2020@protonmail.com If you didn't like the story, email someone else. I'm not listed in the prolific authors section but I've written several other stories here. You can find them by searching for "butters2020". College Credit By Butters2020 i It was 1957. I was a Brand-New teacher. That's capital B, capital N. I had graduated from Florida Teacher's College only two months ago. It was an adjunct of the state university in Tallahassee. I'd been hired to teach algebra and geometry at Fort Lauderdale High School and the first thing I needed was a place to live. It was the principal, Mr. Simon, who pointed me to Norah Kingsley. She owned a house about two miles from the school. There was a detached garage in her backyard. A one-bedroom apartment was built over the garage. During World War II, she rented it out to two women whose husbands were kicking Japanese ass while her own husband was kicking Hitler's ass. Her husband died on the beach at Normandy, leaving behind a son he'd never met and a widow who still rented out the garage apartment to supplement the salary she made working at Flowers Bakery. The apartment was small, a bedroom, bath, kitchen, tiny dining room and living room. The kitchen was so small that that there was no room for the refrigerator; it was in the dining room next to the china cabinet. Still, the rent was right, and it was close enough to school that I could walk. The apartment was acceptable to me and I was acceptable to Norah. We sealed the deal with a handshake. I don't think either of us ever heard of a lease. The place was furnished, which was good since I had nothing but my clothes, books, and new diploma. I was putting a nail in the wall, getting ready to hang the diploma, when Norah's twelve-year- old son, Bradley, Jr. came up the stairs that ran up the outside of the garage. I'd met him when Norah showed me the place the week before. "Hey, Mr. Richards," he shouted when he was still halfway up the stairs. I grinned. I still wasn't used to be called Mr. Richards, but school started in a week. I'd have to get used to it. "C'mon in, Bradley." "My hands are full," he said. "Can you get the door?" I gave the nail a final tap with the hammer. I opened the door and Bradley stood there holding a tray of sandwiches and a pitcher of iced tea. "Mom wasn't sure you'd had a chance to go to the market yet." "She's right." I took the tray from him. "I hope you brought an appetite to go with these sandwiches. I can't eat all of them by myself." "I'm not supposed to bother you, just drop off the sandwiches and come back." "You're not bothering me," I assured him. "I can use the company." I put the sandwiches on the dinette next to where I'd set the diploma and went into the tiny kitchen for some glasses. I stopped at the fridge in the dining room. "I'm not sure the ice has had time to freeze, but I've got some cold pop in the fridge." "Pop sounds great," Bradley said. His voice cracked, making him blush. I pretended not to notice but couldn't help grinning. Fall was just around the corner, but this was South Florida where fall was just an extension of summer. It was still in the 80s every day. Bradly wore cut-offs, flipflops and a yellow t-shirt with a big toucan printed on it. He had no muscles on him to speak of, but he wasn't scrawny, just a typical twelve-year-old boy who spent his days playing outside. Since his voice was breaking, I expected to see some hair on his tanned legs, but they were smooth. He wore Clark Kent glasses, giving him a nerdy, studious look that made him awkwardly attractive. His summer reprieve from the barber had allowed his hair to grow out to a shaggy mess but with school starting next week that was destined to change any day now. I retrieved a couple of cold bottles of Coke and popped the caps off on the dinette. I handed him one and gestured to the sandwiches and sat at the small table. He sat down and grabbed one of the chicken salad sandwiches. I sat across from him and we ate lunch and chatted. I asked him about school. He attended the middle school next to the high school I would be teaching at. He told me where the local movie theater was, and the bowling alley and the where the best hamburger stands were and how to get to the beach. The kid should work for the Chamber of Commerce. He reached for a second sandwich a bit of chicken fell out and landed on the glass frame of my diploma. "Oh, sorry!" he said and reached with his napkin to wipe it up. Suddenly, his eyes widened, and he stopped wiping. He stared at the diploma for a few seconds and then looked at me. "Bradley? Is something wrong?" "I gotta go. My mom said not to bother you." I looked at the frame to see what had startled him, to see if maybe he'd broken the glass from wiping it too hard, but everything looked fine. "I already told you, you're not bothering me." He only repeated that he had to go and practically ran out of the apartment. I played back the last few minutes of our conversation and shrugged to myself. I finished my sandwich and wrapped the leftovers in wax paper and put them in the fridge. Then I hung the diploma on the wall and walked to the local market to buy groceries for the week. ii My first night in the garage apartment was like camping in Norah's huge backyard. There was a mango tree in the far corner. Fruit was on the branches, far too high for anyone to pick unless they climbed the tree. It was far enough from the house that it didn't obstruct my view of the house, or the house's view of the garage and my apartment. I didn't realize that, until I stood out on the landing outside the door to the apartment. I was marveling at how crazy dark it was; I could see every star in the sky, something that was impossible at the teacher college with all the light pollution. Back then that wasn't a problem in Fort Lauderdale, which was still a sleepy beach town. The only light was coming from Norah's house, twenty yards away. Most of the house was dark but downstairs the lights were on in the kitchen where she was washing dishes at the sink in front of the window. Upstairs, on the same level as my apartment, lights were on in what I assumed was a bedroom. A shooting star caught my attention. I closed my eyes and made a wish, that I didn't completely make a fool of myself the first week at my new job. I opened my eyes, feeling foolish-a twenty-two- year old man making a wish on a falling star. Some movement in my peripheral vision caught my attention. I looked back to the second-floor window. What had caught my eye was Bradley opening the bedroom door. It was his with the light on. He'd come into it while my eyes were closed. I'd missed his entrance, but I saw him now as he closed the door behind him. He wore a towel around his waist. His shaggy hair was wet. His chest was as tan as the rest of him. Even his nipples seemed to be tanned. They were dark brown. I don't know why I thought they would be small, but they weren't. they seemed almost obscenely large on his small frame, the size of nickels, maybe even quarters. He walked to his chest of drawers, still in view through the window. He took off the towel and I sucked in a breath. His dick was clearly coming down from an erection. No longer fully hard, not sticking out anymore, but not yet flaccid. Still thick, it was arching downward rather than just hanging down. Looks like someone was jerking off in the shower, I thought. And as Bradley's dick was on the way down, mine was suddenly on the way up. His balls were still drawn up tight against his body. Oh yeah, this boy has just cum. I Found myself wishing he hadn't done it in the shower but had waited until now when he was in his bedroom. Now, when he was on display through the window. Now, when I could watch. I'd never had any homosexual thoughts before. I used to sneak looks at my buddies in the locker room when I was Bradley's age, to see how I compared, but there was nothing sexual about it. But something about seeing him now, knowing what he'd just done, was making me harder than I'd ever been before. I wished I had a pair of binoculars so I could see him better. I'd noticed earlier today that his legs were smooth. It thrilled me to see the small patch of brown pubic hair over his penis. Dammit, screw the binoculars, I need a telescope! Bradley looked down at his dick, which was a little smaller now than it had been a few seconds ago. He looked puzzled, then reached for it. He milked it with his left hand and rubbed the head with the finger of his right hand. He held the finger up to his face, peering at it. He sniffed his finger, then put it in his mouth sucking off that final drop of boy cum. I couldn't take anymore. I unbuckled my belt, opened my slacks and let them fall to my ankles. My boxers soon followed, and I stood on the landing masturbating in the moonlight. If Norah had taken that moment to look up from doing the dishes I would have been evicted or arrested or both, but at the moment I didn't care. It took all my willpower not to make any noise when I climaxed. I knew the windows were open in her kitchen and Bradley's bedroom. The house was twenty or twenty-five yards away but when I cum, I'm loud. I can't help it. I bit my lip while I emptied my nuts over the railing and onto the leaves below. I wasn't aware I'd closed my eyes during the orgasm until I opened them again. When I did, the light in Bradley's bedroom had been turned off. I pulled up my pants and went inside my apartment. iii The next two nights I lurked inside with the lights out, peering through the living room window with my new binoculars, staring into Bradley's bedroom window. I never did see him jerking off but several times I saw him naked, either while he was changing clothes, or coming out of the shower, which seemed to be the only place he masturbated. Thanks to the field glasses I had a much better view of his large brown nipples which I could now see were excellent barometers of his horniness level. Even before he dropped the towel, exposing his deflating boner, his hard, pointy boy tits told me he'd just cum. I could also see his downy pubes better and could tell that his balls were as smooth as his legs. I wonder if he knew, as I did, that there were two little hairs in his left armpit but none in his right armpit. When I discovered that, I had to hold the binoculars with one hand, my other too busy pumping a load out of my dick. I no longer wondered what was wrong with me, why I suddenly was aroused by a naked preteen boy. I didn't care why. I only thanked God that I could watch this perfect boy every night. At the college the other guys complained about how hard it was to procure the mysterious girly magazines we'd heard about, or where to find the peep shows we'd heard existed in the red light district of cities like New York and Boston and Chicago. They remained forever a myth, maybe existing, maybe not, but even if they were real, they were forever out of reach. But here I had a real live boy to look at. On the third night I felt daring and stood on the landing again, this time wearing just my robe. I left the binoculars inside but when Bradley removed his towel, I opened the robe. We were both naked at the same time. I didn't touch myself, though, just stood there with my hard cock under the full moon until his light went out. Only then did I touch myself. I aimed my pulsing cock at his window, shooting my seed toward the boy who coaxed it out of me. iv You can imagine how my stomach dropped when Norah knocked on the door the next day. Bradley was with her. I desperately tried to come up with an excuse, some lie she'd believe, but my mind was blank. I opened the door and tried to smile. Norah said, "How are you, Mr. Richards? All settled in?" Not the opening of someone who wanted to kill me for peeping tomming her son. "Yes, Mrs. Kingsley, quite well. I meant to thank you for the delicious sandwiches the other day. I've been meaning to return your tray." She waved it away. "It was my pleasure. I was just being neighborly, which my lawyer doesn't like. He prefers I keep thinks strictly businesslike between my self and the tenant, and I suppose he's right, but I just can't help myself." Now that I didn't feel like I was going to be arrested I invited them in. She said, "Just for a minute. I'm sure you're busy." Bradley, so effusive and friendly the other day, stayed close to his mother, looked nervously at the diploma on the wall, then at his mother, as if afraid she'd see it. What the hell had he done to it? I'd be sure to check it out again after they left. Norah said, "I'm actually here to ask a favor, Mr. Richards." "I wish you'd call me William," I said. She smiled. "My lawyer wouldn't like it, but under the circumstances, I can hardly call you Mr. Richards and then ask for your help. Of course, you must call me Norah." I nodded. "Bradley has a chance to go on a school trip to Washington, D.C. in the spring. It's a wonderful opportunity for families that can afford it." Was she going to ask me for a loan? Or raise my rent? "The bakery pays a substantial differential for working the second and overnight shifts. They've agreed to let me work the four to midnight shift for a month, and then the nine to five a.m. shift for two months. That will be long enough for me to make enough to pay for the trip." "That's great," I said. "Isn't it?" "It is," she assured me. "But Bradley's only twelve. He's very responsible for his age, but I worry about leaving him on his own. I'd feel better knowing he had someone he could call on if he needed to." I looked at Bradley, wearing his usual cutoffs and t-shirt. He looked anxious and hopeful at the same time. Norah said, "I'm not looking for a babysitter. I just need to know that if there's some kind of emergency, if he were hurt, or sick, or scared, could he come to you?" "Mom!" he protested. "I'm not gonna be scared. I'm not a little kid." "Hush," she said. "The grownups are talking." "What kind of neighbor would I be if I said no?" I asked. "Of course, he can rely on me. You both can. In fact, he doesn't have to be scared or hurt or sick. If he's just bored, he can feel free to come up here to keep me company while I'm grading papers, or we can play Yahtzee, or dominoes." "I don't want him to bother you." "Trust me. I'm new here and don't know anyone except you two and my principal. I'd welcome the company." When they left, I studied my diploma once more, looking for blemishes, cracks, stains, or anything else wrong with it. It looked fine. Why did it make Bradley so nervous? The next day an installer from the telephone company arrived. There was no phone in the garage apartment, but with Norah starting nights she wanted to be sure I had a way to call for help if needed. The installer was a few years older than me, a veteran. For all I know his wife may rented the apartment while he was overseas. I told him about the apartment and Norah. When I mentioned she was a widow he winked and made some lewd comments about how I could knock a few bucks off the rent each month. I wanted to sock him. She was a mother, for Christ's sake. And a nice lady. I wondered, if I had any desire to get in her panties, would I still have been offended, or would I have laughed along with him? She was very pretty, but she wasn't the Kingsley I wanted to make love to. I kept my temper in check. I couldn't deck this jerk, at least not until he finished installing the phone. When he left, I tested the line by calling the Kingsley number. "Hello?" "Hi, Norah, it's William." "It's Bradley, Mr. Richards." No sign of his voice cracking today. I'm sure he got sick of being mistaken for his mother on the phone. "Sorry Bradley. I just wanted to tell your mom, and you too, I guess, that my phone is connected, and to give you the number." He wrote it down and promised to share it with his mom. "Can I ask you something?" he said. "Sure." "Is that diploma for real?" "Of course, it is." "From a real college?" Has someone been spreading rumors about my credentials? "Yes, from a real college. Why?" "Dang." Was all he said and hung up. v School started for both of us. As I suspected, a trip to the barbershop replaced Bradley's shaggy summer hair with something more suitable for school. Our schools were next to each other and we walked to them together in the morning. Both of us wore black slacks and a white shirt and a black tie. We both had fresh haircuts, slicked down with Vitalis. Except for the fact that he wore glasses and I didn't we could have passed for brothers. In the afternoons I was kept busy with lesson plans and grading homework. Norah worked the later shift. Bradley took advantage of his mother's absence by staying up past his usual bedtime. It didn't take her long to figure out he was abusing her trust as far as bedtimes were concerned. He was nearly impossible to wake up, or so she told me the third day of the new schedule when she called me. "William, may I ask yet another favor? Do you think that once or twice a week you could just look in and make sure he's in bed by nine o'clock?" I took a chance when I told her that I could tell if the lights were on or off without leaving the apartment. I didn't admit I could see into his room. "If the lights are still on by quarter after I'll call the house and remind him that he's up past curfew," I promised her. I thought it'd be at least a week before boredom brought him to the garage apartment, but Thursday at eight I heard him coming up the stairs. "It's open, Bradley," I yelled before he knocked. "C'mon in." He wore his favorite toucan t-shirt and his usual pair of cutoffs. "Are you busy?" he asked. "Just reading," I said. "Wanna play Yahtzee?" He took the game off the bookcase and we moved to the dinette. He shook the cup of dice and glanced at the diploma. He tossed the dice onto the table. He left three of them on the table and put two back in the cup and shook it again. "I don't have a dad," he said, tossing the dice on the table. "I know," I said. Neither of the dice were what he wanted. He put both back in the cup and took his final roll. "When my mom told me about-" he glanced at me briefly. "You know...babies-we both nearly had a million heart attacks." "I can imagine." He tossed the dice on the table and wrote a 9 under the "threes" column on his scorecard before handing me the cup and dice. I rolled a full house on my first toss and took the points. He reclaimed the dice but didn't roll them. Instead he said, "But that's all she told me. After that we never talked about that kind of stuff again. I mean, she told me to come to her with any questions, but no way." I nodded sympathetically. "Do you have questions now?" "I dunno. I guess I figured stuff out already. Or else my friends told me." "Okay. Well, I'm not your dad. But I can be like an older brother. If you do have questions, I'll try to answer them without giving you a million heart attacks." He took off his glasses and cleaned them, while he made up his mind about something. He was cute without them, but I decided I liked him better with them on, especially with the new haircut. Maybe because I was used to him that way. He must have come to a decision because he blew out a breath and put his glasses back on. "It's just." He sighed. "I mean, I try real hard to be quiet and they give you a college diploma for doing it loud! How do they even know? And how do you have the guts to put that on the wall so the whole world knows? I would die if anyone knew!" I was beyond lost. I looked at the diploma again. When I finally saw it, it was hard not to laugh: Cum Laude. "Bradley. That doesn't say 'cum loud'. It's 'laude'," I said, pronouncing it properly. "It's Latin. It means 'praise' like 'laud.'" I thought for a second. "In church, haven't you sung that hymn that goes, 'All glory, laud and honor, to you, redeemer king'? Laud. Not Loud." His eyes grew wide, the way they did when he first saw the diploma the day he brought the sandwiches. "That's even crazier!" he exclaimed. "They give you a diploma for being proud of cumming? What kind of classes do you take for that?" I winked at him. "Come on Bradley, you're not going to tell me you're ashamed of cumming are you? Don't tell me you think it's a sin or something silly like that." "I dunno." He was looking at the table again. I waited until his eyes met mine. "I think," I said, "If you practice doing something a lot, like maybe every night in the shower, and you get really, really good at doing it, you should be proud." I reached my hand under the table and placed it on his bare leg. "And I think if it feels really good when someone cums, he shouldn't try to hold in how good it makes him feel." He was breathing harder but still maintained eye contact. "I think he should be as loud as he wants to be. Especially if his mom is working the late shift and isn't home to hear him. What do you think?" I ran my hand as far up his leg as I could from where I sat across from him, which wasn't as far as I wanted to. "Uh huh," he agreed softly. "Mr. Richards? Do you think I'll ever be proud enough about it to do it outside in the moonlight?" I raised my eyebrows in surprise. I guess I wasn't the only one peeping across the yard from a darkened room. "Because to be honest, I don't think what I have is really anything to be proud of. I mean it's not the kind of thing they give out diplomas for." "Well. You aren't the best judge of that, are you?" "What do you mean?" Oh God, if I don't go to jail, I am definitely going to hell. I pointed to the diploma on the wall. "I am certified by the state, after all. I have the diploma in cum laude to prove it. I can check if you have a right to be proud or not." I swallowed. "I can make sure you're doing it right, and if you aren't, I can teach you how to do it better." "Better?" I nodded my head. "As good as it feels when you cum right now, imagine it ten times better than that." He looked uncertain. I'd only been teaching at the high school for four days but already I'd mastered my "do what I say" voice. I used it now. "Stand up, Bradley." He obeyed. I saw the lump in his cutoffs. He wanted this lesson. "Take off your shirt." He hesitated only a second. He removed the shirt, exposing first the tanned belly, then the bronzed chest and those larger than average brown nipples. They were flat and smooth now, not the perky tits I always saw when he came out of the shower. "Now your shorts," I told him. This time he paused a little longer. "I never did this in front of anyone." "Not even in the locker room?" He looked embarrassed. "What if I get a boner?" he half whispered. "That's the whole point. It would be hard to cum without one." I waited, giving him my 'Are You Going To Solve The Problem, Or Are You Going To Get An F', teacher face-patient, but expectant and unmoving. He undid the snap on his cutoffs and kicked them off. The lump I'd seen through the cutoffs was much more evident now that they were out of the way. He wasn't fully hard but was clearly on the way. I'd never seen him with a hardon, only after he'd already cum, when his dick was deflating. I licked my lips in anticipation. "Underwear, too," I said. He kept looking me in the eye as he stepped out of his white cotton briefs. Sweet Jesus, he was perfect. As much of an improvement as the binoculars were over staring across the yard at him, they were nothing compared to having him naked right in front of me. For the first time I saw his nuts hanging in their sack, not drawn up post-orgasm. His left nut hung a little lower than his right one. His circumcised penis hung in front of that perfect scrotum, thicker than it usually was when he whipped it out to take a piss, but not as thick as it was going to be in a few minutes. It twitched and thickened a little more and was maybe half a centimeter longer. "Suck your finger. Cover it with spit." "How come?" "Because Teacher said to." He put his index finger in his mouth. When he took it out it glistened with saliva. "Now just gently rub it over your nipple. Just barely touch it." He followed instructions and his tit responded. So did his dick, filling with blood. "Ohhh," he said it so softly I almost didn't hear him. He switched to his other nipple, rubbing it softly and moaned again. His cock was now fully hard, and I finally got to see his boner. The head flared. It was so much larger than the shaft, not like mine at all which was pretty much the same width as the rest of my dick. I've never seen another hard cock before and to be honest I thought they were all the same. I was fascinated by his mushroom shaped head. I forced my eyes away from his throbbing boy dick, back to his finger playing with his tits. His eyes were closed. I silently slid my chair back from the dinette and stood up. "Don't touch your cock, Bradley. I know you want to, but don't do it. We have plenty of time." "But I got to, Mr. Richards. I want to bust it so bad." "I know you do. But I want you to bust it so good. Better than you've ever done it before. So, hands off, Mister. Understand?" He groaned in frustration and put his hands to his side. I laughed and said, "Only off your cock." I reached out and pinched his left tit and he yelped. "Tits are allowed." "Oh! Oh geez! I sat in the chair he'd just been in, which put my face level with his chest. I kept rolling his left nipple between my thumb and forefinger. His eyes were still closed so he didn't see me lean over. I stuck out my tongue and ran it over his big brown nipple. He moaned and it hardened under my tongue. When the tit was perky and sticking out, I sucked it like a nursing baby. He tried to reach for his twitching cock, but I grabbed his arm. "Please! Please let me rub it!" I bit down on his tit, just once, as a warning about trying to masturbate too soon, but if I thought it was a punishment, I was wrong. He only moaned louder. He wasn't lying about earning a Cum Loud degree. Now that he knew I was right there in front of him he humped himself against my arm, trying to use me as a substitute for the hand I wouldn't let him use. I stopped pinching his tit and placed both hands on his hips to push him away from me. Feeling his naked flesh nearly caused me to add my moans to his. His skin was so warm. My own cock was straining against my slacks. "Do NOT touch your dick," I told him in my sternest teacher voice. He opened his eyes and watched as I stood up and quickly shed me clothes. In seconds I was as naked as he was. My dick, three inches longer than his four and a half inches, but without the bulbous head, was leaking. "Holy shit!" he said, then immediately put his hand over his mouth. "I mean, holy crap! It's huge! I never got a good look at in the dark." I had no idea if it was huge or not. Like I said, it's the only one I've ever seen hard. Hearing profanity in his little boy voice was strangely erotic. "It's okay to curse, Bradley. We're not telling your Mom about this lesson, so she doesn't have to know about the language, right?" He grinned. "Did you like looking at it when I jerked off in the moonlight? Do you like looking at my cock now?" He'd been staring at it, but he stole a glance at me when I said 'cock'. He grinned again and nodded. "Yeah. It's a nice cock. It's a FUCKING nice cock!" He giggled at using the even dirtier word. "You can't touch your boner yet," I said. "But you can touch mine." His hand reached out and carefully wrapped around my dick. I'd tried to get my girlfriend to do this, but she refused and damn near had me arrested for rape. Bradley's hand was the first that wasn't mine that had ever touched me. It was heaven and so far, he hadn't even stroked me, he was just holding it. He explored it with his fingers, feeling the shaft, then gently feeling the head, before running his fingertips through my pubes. "You got a lot of hair," he said. "I only got some." He sounded dejected. "You're beautiful," I told him, and meant it. "I love watching you, looking at you." I reached out to his dick and felt his soft pubes. He gasped. "Will you rub it?" he begged. "I need to bust one so bad. For real my balls are hurting." I sat back down in the chair. "That's too bad. I don't want you to hurt. When you were little and fell and hurt your knee, what did your mom do to make it stop hurting?" He looked confused. "My knee?" His eyes widened behind his glasses. "Are you really-she kissed it to make it better!" "C'mere." He took a couple of steps toward me. I grabbed his ass and leaned over. His mushroom head poked my cheek. I lifted it out of the way and kissed his nutsack. "Oh man," he whispered. "I gave his balls another little kiss, then a lick. "OH MAN!" I inhaled deeply, savoring the smell of him. More precum leaked from my cock. I gave Bradley's balls one more lick before sucking them into my mouth. Bradley completely lost his vocabulary. He was making noises, but no words. "Ohh! Uhh! Guh!" I wanted to touch his cock, to give it a stroke but was afraid the one touch would push him over the edge. In the beginning that was my goal, to masturbate him to an incredible orgasm, but I found myself hungry for his dick. I wanted it in my mouth. Only trashy girls, sluts and whores did things like that. I'd always been a "good boy." I'd gone to church every week for as long as I could remember. I'd never had a queer thought in my life until I saw Bradley that night while I was looking at the stars. Was I now a trashy slut? A whore? A queer? I didn't know and I didn't care. I knew only that I had to have this twelve-year-old boy's penis in my mouth when he climaxed. I needed his cum in my mouth more than I needed oxygen. And I was going to get it. But I was going to make him ask for it. I kept bathing his nuts with my tongue and took my index finger and slowly ran it up his cock from the base to his fat mushroom head. When I got to the head, I thought he was gonna jizz right then. "Jesus! Oh Jesus, don't stop, Mr. Richards! I gotta bust! Oh God let him make me bust, please!" I released his balls from my mouth. I grabbed his cock and squeezed, hard, not to hurt him, but to delay his orgasm. "NO! Please!" When I was sure he was in no danger of shooting I eased the pressure on his cock but didn't let go. I took a deep breath and wondered if I could cum without touching myself, that's how close I was to "busting it." Then my tongue followed the path my finger had just taken, licking his dick from root to head. This time Bradley didn't say a word. He just panted until my tongue reached his head. When I licked the ridge of his cock head, then went over his piss slit he groaned so long and so loud I wondered if he was dying. "Again. Do it again," he moaned. "Please do it again." I obliged, slower this time. I don't know which of us enjoyed it more. I loved the way that big mushroom head felt on my tongue. He tried to grab my head and clutched handfuls of hair. "Please?" "Please what, Bradley?" "Put it in your mouth? Suck it? Suck my cock?" I slurped his dick into my mouth and we both moaned. Nature took over and he started fucking my face. I was right; he was too close to last more than a couple of seconds. I wanted to suck this boy's cock forever but after only three seconds he screamed, "ARRRRRRRRR" and the head of his dick swelled and pulsed and a rope of watery boy cum shot out of his cock, hitting the back of my throat. I didn't swallow, but waiting for the next volley, which was right behind the first. The next yell was followed by a grunt, and another spurt of sperm, this one landing on my tongue. I licked Bradley's spasming cock head while he twitched and a third blast of cum joined the first two. Only then did I swallow, sucking his cock head clean, just in time to gobble up his fourth and final spurt. He pushed my head away and backed away. I saw the familiar sight of the spent, beautiful boy, his brown, perky nipples, the little nest of pubes over a cock that wasn't yet beginning to deflate, but soon would be arched over the balls that were now drawn up tight against his body. He stood there catching his breath. "You were right," he said. "A hundred times better." I reached for my own cock which was begging for release. "Congratulations. You just graduated Cum Laude."