Date: Fri, 08 Jul 2022 22:27:02 +0000
From: Lizard69 <69lizard69@pm.me>
Subject: Mr. Perkins complete

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Mr. Perkins
(Mm, reluctant)
Lizard69

	"Anybody home?"

	"Out in the garage."

	When I got there Mr. Perkins and a younger man were cleaning stuff
we'd found on a dump dig the previous weekend.  I was a little puzzled.
He'd called me asking if I was up for something interesting.  That wasn't
*exactly* like saying, "I thought up a new way of perving on you", but it
was close enough I was half hard before I could hang up the phone.  Even,
"the same all around", wasn't going to happen with a stranger present.
Unless...

	"Oh no!  You said...  You *promised* you'd never tell."

	"That's right, and I keep my promises.  If anybody finds out what
you do it won't be from me.

	"Brian is a teaching intern, helping me with the summer lecture
series in exchange for course credit.  We were discussing how the most
enjoyable benefits of giving instruction aren't part of the salary.
Talking about the special rewards of tutoring or mentoring got me thinking
he should meet you."

	"Wha...  What are you talking about?"

	"I told him how you started attending some of my open lectures and
leaped at the invitation to join the field trips, as much for the
companionship as for whatever you might learn.  I explained how awesome it
was giving you one on one instruction.  Watching you soak up knowledge like
a sponge.

	"What I didn't, couldn't, talk about was your somewhat reluctant
introduction to other subjects.  You have to tell him that."

	I couldn't.  It was hard for me to believe I was really doing that
stuff.  If my family or friends found out I'd want to fucking die.  He
couldn't expect me to tell this guy I just met.  No fucking way!

	But...  It's hard to explain.  He sat there looking at me, not
threatening or intimidating.  His expression wasn't hard, just... firm.
Like, he already knew what I was going to do and was patiently waiting for
me to figure it out.  It wasn't like the first time, not even close.
Still, it brought back memories of that afternoon in his office.

	It was a Sunday and the place would have been deserted even if the
field trip hadn't been rained out.  There might have been a janitor
polishing floors somewhere but the building *felt* empty.  His office
wasn't large to begin with and was crammed with books and mementos of
places he'd been, digs he'd been on.  In a way it was more interesting than
a major library or museum.  This was his collection, stuff he found
interesting or important, his place.

	I'd asked him about a small piece on one of the shelves and he'd
selected a large volume on Greek pottery.  We'd spent some time going
through it while he pointed out the differences and how to date them, until
we got to something I'd never imagined.  Quite a bit of the artwork had
featured nudes, both men and women.  He hadn't made an issue of it so I was
doing the same, being mature.  But this...  Naked men, and boys, in
positions that made it look like they were... what?

	It could have, should have, been really awkward.  He'd quietly
explained how it was a different time and culture.  Boys being tutored or
apprenticed to learn a trade were expected to learn this other stuff as
well.  Later they'd date girls, grow up, get married.  In that era part of
their instruction was learning to give sexual pleasure to their mentor.  I
asked how long ago that was and it got really quiet in the office.

	"One of the things history teaches us is that while times change
people don't."

	"What do you mean?"

	"This sort of relationship, a mature mentor and a young boy, is no
longer socially acceptable.  It's against the law in every civilized
country.  Most people consider it sick and perverted.  If they get caught
the man faces prison and the boy... well, life isn't easy for him either.
We know this because it's still going on and sometimes they do get caught."

	"Sometimes?"

	"Yeah, well, it's not something you do waiting in line at the bus
stop.  There's no way to know how many boys are doing it.  Once or twice a
week there is a note in the paper about an arrest or conviction.  For every
guy convicted there must be three of four that have the charges reduced or
dropped because there isn't enough evidence.  For every one of them there
must be what, five or ten, that don't even get arrested after somebody
reported something suspicious.  The others?  Think about it.  You're not
exactly an average kid but imagine yourself in that spot.  Who would you
tell?"

	Imagine myself in that spot?  Like the picture of that Greek vase?
Who would do something like that to me?  I didn't actually say anything but
it felt like I was thinking really loud.  So loud I hardly heard him moving
around behind me, locking the door to the office.  At least I hope he
locked the door.  Just the possibility that somebody could have walked in
on what happened next...

	"This is unexpected but I guess it's now or never.  I like you.  I
enjoy the things we do together.  There are other things we could do
together I'd enjoy even more.  I'm not going to tell you to get lost if you
refuse.  There are other boys who *like* that sort of thing.  But, you
know, there is only one of me and only so many hours in a day.  If I have
to find one of those other boys to get what I really want, I won't have as
much time to spend with you."

	"Oh."

	I remembered how lonely and miserable I'd been before Mr. Perkins
showed an interest in me.  Could I go back to that?  Knowing that for a
little while I had something this good?  It wouldn't actually kill me but I
might not care that much if something else did.  If other boys did it, had
been doing it for hundreds and hundreds of years, could it really be that
bad?  What exactly...

	"...would I have to do?"

	"Anything.  Everything.  Nothing at all.  We wouldn't be having
this conversation If there was any chance you'd tell people what I asked
you to do.  From now on I'm going to tell you what I want.  I've had it
from others and I know I can get it.  What you have to decide is whether I
get it from you, or some other boy.  Take off your clothes."

	Just like that?  Before I could do more than stand up, he'd
unfastened his pants and settled into my chair.  The message was clear, go
with it or go away.  Afterwards I thought it was good that he rushed me.  I
mean, it was weird and embarrassing and kind of scary but I didn't really
have time to think about that.  At the same time, it was kind of exciting,
shivery, sort of.  By the time I was naked I was blushing like a beet and
almost dancing.  The way he was looking at me... I didn't understand, had
no idea what was coming, but that shivery, quivering, sensation got
stronger.  It seemed to settle in somewhere behind my navel.  His slow
smile caused me to look down and discover I had a stiffie.

	Instead of giving me time to contemplate my embarrassment he pushed
his own slacks and underpants down around his ankles then unbuttoned his
shirt.  Mr. Perkins wasn't a large man or heavily muscled.  He told me he'd
been a swimmer in college.  I'd seen him without a shirt before.  We both
liked to soak up some rays on our dump digs.  Now I was seeing him
as... well... a *man*, and was excruciatingly aware that I was not.

	But what was I?  Something more than a boy for sure.  I'd been a
boy all my life and it never felt like this.  Did girls feel this way?  Not
if all that gushy romance stuff was anywhere close to true.  In a way that
was a relief.  I liked him a lot but wasn't in love with him and didn't
want to be.  His own cock was fully erect, bobbing slightly with his pulse.
I didn't realize I was staring until he told me to kneel between his legs
and take a closer look.

	Later it would shrink to it's true dimensions, somewhere between
five and six inches long and about two fingers wide, boy fingers, not the
ones he used.  Right then it was gi-normous.  I wasn't sure I could even
wrap a hand around it though I didn't have any trouble when he told me to
do exactly that.  Soon he had me teasing the sensitive underside with the
tip of my tongue while I stroked him.  I don't know if he planned it that
way but I got my first taste of pre-cum without really thinking about it.
Maybe that's what made me hesitate when he told me to take the head in my
mouth.  Maybe I just wasn't *that* innocent.  I caught a facial instead of
a mouthful.

	Another thing I'd quickly learn was to get my own nut off before
going home.  That first time I had blue balls before I could find the
privacy to masturbate.  I'm not sure if it was the excitement, the delay,
or a combination but by the time I popped a load I came so hard I almost
hurt myself.

	They say it's much easier to lose your virginity the second time.
In my case it was certainly true.  Mr. Perkins didn't want sex from me the
next time we were together or even the time after that.  We weren't alone
somewhere private for almost three weeks.  By then the idea had lost a lot
of its shock value.  While appalled at what I'd done the enormity of the
break with my former life didn't fully register at first.  My mentor was a
perv?  Oh... Ok.  I got some sort of weird thrill out of letting him do
stuff?  If I have to to do it anyway, I guess that's better than hating it.
It quickly began to register that this thing went beyond having me
physically.

	Not that the physical part was easy.  The actual sex acts
were... perverse.  I was soon skilled at pleasing him orally and got lots
of practice.  Anal intercourse was quite uncomfortable at first.  It
required plenty of lube and patience to keep from tearing me up.  That was
trivial compared to the strange blend of excitement and dread I felt at
being his... cunt.

	The first time he said it there was almost an audible click as it
filled that space where I didn't quite know what to call myself.  It was
blatantly, shockingly sexual without being the least bit romantic.  A
verbal perversity on par with the physical acts I performed.  I could
hardly talk to anyone without wondering what they'd think if they knew.
Here was this polite, soft spoken, considerate man acting as my mentor in
public and to a large extent in private as well.  He'd won my trust and
admiration, then demanded I surrender my innocence.  I don't know which of
us was more surprised to discover my unsuspected talents in that direction.
I couldn't understand how anything so degrading could also provide a sense
of satisfaction, accomplishment, maybe even pride.

	All the rules for being a "nice boy", all responsibility for my
actions, came off with my clothes.  I was, "off the reservation", outside
normal society... and thrilled to be there.  That my personal rebellion had
to remain secret, hidden from the whole world, may have made it more
intense.  My previous masturbation fantasies were quickly forgotten,
overwhelmed by memories of actual events.  Mental images of him using me,
even single words fed a level of arousal I wouldn't have believed possible.
The worst, the one that seemed to capture the essence of what I was for
him...

	"Cunt."

	I looked around the dusty garage.  Brian seemed puzzled.
Mr. Perkins had that, "I'm already fucking you but nobody has noticed yet",
smile.

	"We do stuff.  Pervert sex stuff.  Nobody, well, nobody but you
now, knows about me being his cunt.  Uh, none of us needs a road map to see
where this is going... or why he made me tell.  I never... I mean it's not
like you think.  He isn't, uh, *making* me do it.  I can just walk away if
that's what I really want.  But if I do, I have to walk away from
everything.  I don't know anymore if the sex stuff is part of everything
else or if everything else is part of the sex.  I never even thought about
being with a guy until the first time.  Now?  If he wants me to do it with
you too, I'll try just as hard to please you as I would him.  ...or both of
you at once."

	And I did, until my jaws ached and my knees were sore.  The way my
poor ass hole felt, the stuff trickling down my thighs should have been
red.  It ended with me sucking them, trying everything to get them hard one
more time, and terrified that I would succeed.  I was shaking, crying
actually, by the time Brian left and Mr. Perkins told me to get dressed.  I
had been, had allowed myself to be, raped half to death.  Even my balls
ached from not being allowed to cum while they were using me.  I took care
of that in the shower at home while I was getting ready for bed.

	Then I found myself doing it again not ten minutes later.  I'd felt
an odd sort of contentment at being such a sadly used little cunt.  Until,
drifting off to sleep, I remembered something Mr. Perkins had said that
first time in his office.  He'd said there was only one of him, only there
wasn't, not any more.  The idea of him telling me to do it, over and over,
with any pervert he chose to give me to was frightening, but not as
frightening as how fast my dick got so stiff it hurt.

(Probably not)
The End