Date: Mon, 19 Dec 2016 16:13:43 +0000 (UTC)
From: short_guy@yahoo.com
Subject: Driving Instructor

Driving Instructor
by Short Guy

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Driving Instructor part 1

I had turned 16 and it was time for driving lessons. Our high school had a
program that let you take lessons right at the school. It was taught by a
bunch of the gym teachers and a few other teachers who wanted to earn some
extra cash. I got my assignment and opened the envelope to see who would be
teaching me. They gave two teachers to each student. When I read the names,
my heart started racing and goddam it if my cock didn't start to get
hard. As luck would have it, I was assigned to two of the biggest hunks in
the school. One of them was my gym teacher Mr. Bruno and the other was my
math teacher Mr. Madonna.

I wasn't sure if I should be happy or terrified. Both teachers were fuel
for my masturbatory fantasies. Many times I had jerked off thinking about
one or the other.

Mr. Bruno was short, thick, hairy, and incredibly muscular. He had been
both a wrestler and a gymnast when he was younger and he had kept his
athlete's physique although with a little bit of a belly. His hair was dark
brown, his eyes were deep and mysterious, his eyebrows thick and sexy and
tilted so he always looked like he was frowning. I wouldn't have picked him
out as the handsomest guy but he was rugged, tough, imposing. He was
Italian and he oozed sexual power. He was the most manly guy I had ever
met.

Mr. Madonna, in contrast, was tall, blonde, thin, and delicate, but with
muscular pecs and thighs; he also had a killer ass. He had been a
dancer. And he had the face of a goddam angel. While Mr. Bruno was a man's
man, Mr. Madonna was almost feminine. He walked like a dancer, and that
high pert round ass of his was a wonder to behold. But he was a man, not a
woman, and I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He had delicate
boy-like features, but he was so fucking handsome, it took my breath away
every time I looked at him. He was like a model or a teen idol grown up who
had kept his youthful looks.

The idea of being alone in the car with either of these two studs was both
thrilling and horrifying. It was a kick because I would get to spend time
with them alone. More than that, they would have to spend time with me; it
was part of their job. I would get their undivided attention and have a
ready excuse to stare at them all I wanted. And they would have to look at
me. They would be forced to meet my eyes. But that was the problem, right?
I was a horny teenager and fuck me if I was going to be able to pay
attention when they gave me instructions. I was either going to get
dreamily lost in Mr. Madonna's deep blue eyes or be intimidated and spout a
huge boner being so close to Mr. Bruno's raging masculinity.

And of course there was the crotch issue. There was no way -- no fucking
way -- I could spend an hour with either of those specimens of manhood
without stealing glances -- fuck, let's be honest -- staring at their
bulging packages. For that was the other thing about them. It was the 60s
for God's sake and tight pants were God's gift to horny queer boys. Those
pants left nothing to the imagination. If you were gifted with a big cock,
no pair of tight pants on earth could hide that fact from any kid with a
mind to look down. And fuck it, I was one of those boys who looked
down. There was no way -- no way -- I would not stare at their crotches at
some point or other. And fuck me if that would not out me as a fag.

You have to remember this was 1970 and the last thing you wanted your gym
teacher to think was that you were one of those boys who thought about
sucking cock. But thinking about sucking cock was one of my favorite
pasttimes. I was a total virgin but I jacked off four or five times a day
and sometimes even more.

I was surrounded by handsome, hormone-filled teenage jocks. I was a horny
little bastard at five feet two inches tall. Not a jock by any stretch of
the imagination but not skinny either. I did some running and some
gymnastics and I had not an ounce of fat on me. I had gotten away with my
huge attraction to guys by being very careful about where I looked in the
locker room when I was surrounded by all those hunky teenage boys.

But I had not been careful when Mr. Bruno took a shower with the boys in
the open area which he did from time to time after gym class. I had stared
at his horse cock the same as everyone else. It was so big that even the
jocks couldn't take their eyes away from that baseball bat swinging between
his legs.

The thing is that I didn't know what to make of it. It might have been just
Mr. Bruno doing the guy thing. We were all running around naked anyway. Why
shouldn't the teacher strip down to his baby suit and soap up his muscular
man's body right next to us? We were all guys, right? Wasn't that what
jocks did in the locker room? Get naked and hang around making jokes?

But of course he didn't shower with us every day, just once in a while. And
I couldn't help thinking that Mr. Bruno not only must have known that
everyone was staring at his cock on those days when he let us feast our
eyes on it, but that he was fucking getting off on it. After all, we were
not stupid. We watched that monster cock grow in his hands. It hung low and
did not spring erect or stick out but it did get longer when he washed
it. And then when he would wash his soapy face with closed eyes, wasn't he
giving us all permission to stare at his engorged manhood? Was he really
just getting naturally turned on by washing his stuff or did he want us to
see how big his cock could get? Fuck me if I didn't jack off dozens of
times imagining it getting even longer and harder and thicker and more
erect and what it would be like to kneel down and get close to it and touch
it, kiss it, open my mouth and... oh God, thinking about going down on
Mr. Bruno was enough to make me shoot my cum across the room.

And math class was a gay boy's wet dream. There he was, Mr. Madonna,
looking out at us with his dreamy blue eyes and his soft shock of golden
hair, and right there at our eye level as we sat in our chairs, that
bulging package. It was hard to believe he did not stuff his pants with
socks. His pants were tight and fit his muscular dancer's thighs but there
in front, oh God, there in front was this mysterious bulge. I swear it was
not normal. It was fucking obscene. His cock did not snake down his thigh
the way Mr. Bruno's did. He encased it lovingly in a brief or jock strap so
as to make it protrude forward so fucking far that it looked like he had a
grapefruit stuck in his pants. From the side, that package was so huge, you
could not help looking at it. I was not the only one who noticed. Everyone
in class would look and talk about what Mr. Madonna was packing in his
jeans. I swear the first time I saw his bulge I thought he was sporting a
fucking hard on that was pointed straight forward. It stuck out so far, I
was stunned by it. By after I took my seat in the front row I got a better
look. The bulge was filled in and it must be his big cock and balls that
together pushed forward into the world seeking fresh air. They were just
too big to fit in his pants the way a normal man's would. Damn--it looked
like his cock was fucking pregnant.

And it was these two gods of manhood that would be teaching me to drive. I
didn't know whether to cheer or throw up. I knew it, like I knew my own
name, that I would out myself to them at some point. I would look too long
into their eyes. I would lick my lips as I stared at their crotches. My
cock would flip a boner that I couldn't hide. Being close to either one of
them was going to put my hormones into overdrive. They were like switches
that were going to put my cock in the "on" position. I was going to get
hard in front of them and there was no way I was ever going to hide it.

This could go only one of two ways. They might call me a fag and insult and
belittle me. They might talk about me to the other teachers or even the
young studs they coach and teach. They might make me the laughing stock of
the school.

Or they would take advantage of the fact that I worshipped the ground they
walked on, that I masturbated every fucking day thinking about touching
their cocks, stroking them, getting close to them, licking them, sucking on
their mushroom heads. Fuck me, they were going to notice my longing, my
sexual hunger, my need to share in the power of their ripe manhood. They
would find a way -- some time, somewhere-- to put me in my rightful place,
on my knees before them. They would yield to temptation. Here they were,
alone with a boy who clearly wanted to suck their manly dicks. And why not?
Why not take advantage of me? Why not stuff my eager boy mouth with their
throbbing penises? Who doesn't want a blow job from a virgin boy with soft
lips and a wet tongue? They might risk their jobs, their status in the
community, knowing that I was even less likely than they were to let it be
known that they liked getting their dicks sucked by a teenage boy, a
student in their care. My longing would be so obvious, my lust so clear,
that they would unleash their raging hardons, they would satisfy their
needs, and they make me their cocksucker and feed me their hot sticky cum.

I didn't know which it would be. Either the jocks were going to learn I was
a fag and beat me up, or the teachers were going to get me on my knees
teach me to service them the way a boy should. Either way, driving lessons
were going to change my life. Either my studly teachers were going to make
me suck their throbbing cocks or they were going to let everyone else in
the school know that I was a cocksucker. If they spread the word around--
if they told on me -- I might get beaten up by some fucking homophobic
football player. But it was just as likely that some horny jock would take
advantage of the situation by getting me alone, shoving me to my knees, and
forcing me to service his throbbing teenage hardon. A mouth, after all, is
a mouth. And if the coach won't let you fuck the hormone-soaked
cheerleaders before the matches, what's a guy to do? A cocksucker would be
be a gift from heaven. Either way I was fucked. Or maybe I was about to
receive a gift from heaven... One thing was certain. However it happened,
it looked like I was going to be sucking someone's cock and sucking it
soon.

Driving lessons part 2

My first driving lesson was with Mr. Bruno, my gym teacher. The first time
I saw him in freshman year, I had a hard time not ogling him. He was a
thick, big guy, like a truck driver or a mountain man. He had dark silky
chest hair that was very visible even when he was wearing a button-down
shirt and was on full display with the muscle shirts he wore for gym
class. His thighs were big and muscular and his pecs were defined and
prominent. He was one of those guys who thought the best way to motivate
young boys was to yell a lot and insult us. He loved to mock us by calling
us "girls" as a way to motivate us to do better. You know the type.

The first lesson we had was wrestling. He got us paired up and explained
the starting stance and the first moves to try. But seeing is believing and
we couldn't really make out what he was saying unless he could demonstrate
it, so he picked the most muscular kid in the class to show us how it's
done. Rich was taller than Mr. Bruno but not as thick or heavy. Mr. Bruno
had Rich be the bottom while Mr. Bruno got on top of him. That sight was
enough to get my cock going. My gorilla of a coach was perched on top of
this muscular redhead jock. What more could you ask for?

Mr. Bruno had his right arm around Rich, cupping Rich's belly button with
his right hand as if he was hugging him and Rich's bubble butt stuck up in
the air like it was ready for something to happen. My teenage fantasies
were starting to unfold in my mind seeing the two of them clenched
together. The coach and the jock. The uncle and the nephew. The church
leader and the boy. Mr Bruno demonstrated the opening moves and showed Rich
how to respond. They practiced for a bit and then wrestled for real.

The site of these two hunks grappling with each other gave me an instant
hard on. Thank God I was wearing a tight jock strap to hold my throbbing
penis in and make it less visible. I don't remember everything that
happened, but I do remember Mr. Bruno's hand cupped over Rich's crotch
holding it there for some time as they struggled. I was so fucking envious,
wanting Mr. Bruno's hand on my own crotch, grabbing my pulsing dick, but
also frantically nervous about what would happen if he or another guy
really did that to me. Fuck it if I wouldn't blow my load right there in
the gym class if a hunky guy was grabbing my crotch and squeezing it. What
a fucking nightmare.

Luckily when it came my turn to wrestle, the struggle for survival took
over and the last thing I was thinking about was humping my opponent. That
is, until Mr. Bruno came along to demonstrate what the guy on top of me was
doing wrong. Get this, I was the smallest guy in the class. I was five foot
two and back then I must have weighed 120 pounds or so. So of course I was
the bottom. Mr. Bruno got me settled and then he climbed on top, his strong
manly right hand embracing me with his fingers just to the left of my belly
button, his left hand on my elbow, and his pecs grazing my back muscles. We
tried the opening moves and of course I was no match for this hunk of a
stud who must have weighed twice as much as me. I struggled mightily but he
flipped me easily so I was on my back and his arm was between my legs
pressed hard against my crotch. I fucking flipped a boner so fast it was
like my dick had exploded. Mr. Bruno held me down, longer than he needed to
(I thought) and then he released me. As he did, his hand grazed against my
crotch, almost lovingly. Damn if he didn't squeeze me as his hand cupped my
rigid throbbing dick. It was almost as if he was confirming that he had
given me a hard on. Then he put his hand out to help me get up. I took his
hand and mine virtually disappeared inside his muscular mitt of a hand. And
dammit if he didn't touch me gently on the ass and squeeze my fucking butt
cheek before saying "good job, son."

Damn did I jack off thinking about my brief contact with him that
time. Just imagining his muscular fingers caressing my butt was enough to
make me shoot my load. Over the next two years, I had physical contact with
him from time to time as he taught us different sports and skills. And all
those encounters fueled my jack off sessions.

When we had gymnastics he handled me every which way, lifting me up to the
bar, guiding my legs on the side horse, manually flipping me on the
mat. And fuck me if he didn't grab me by the crotch as much as he could. He
would fucking hold me by the crotch as the most comfortable way to move me
around and position me correctly. And sometimes he would move his thumb
around over my hard cock. Was his finger just slipping off my cock as he
tried to hold me? Or was he fucking deliberately trying to stroke my
teenage dick?

When we were doing tennis, he stood behind me to guide my stroke. To show
me how it was done, he physically held my legs to put them in the right
positions. And he stood behind me, his right hand on my right wrist to
guide my stroke. That put his crotch right over my boy butt. He would swing
my arm back and forth to show me the right way to do the stroke and fuck me
if his cock was not pressed against my ass the whole time. And his left
hand was cupping my right pec to hold my body and make sure I moved the way
he wanted. I could not believe it when I felt his cock growing against my
ass. I was so fucking naïve I thought he might not be aware of what
was happening. I thought it might be an accident. It was too good to be
true to believe this stud of a grown man actually wanted to slide his cock
between my ass cheeks. What I did know for sure was that I loved feeling
his cock throb in the valley between my left and right buttocks and his
hand cupping my right pec. And when he would let me go, he would not simply
lift his hands away. He would squeeze me, copping a feel of my pec. Or he
would caress me, dragging his hand across my chest, my bottom, my leg, as
if he wanted to keep contact until the last second. I was confused by it
all. But I fucking loved it. I was his dough to mold, I was his plaything,
and I was putty in his big sexy hands. And at night, back at home,
remembering the feel of his hands on me would make me slip down my briefs
and shoot a hot load of boy cum.

But then came the day of my first driving lesson. I was now a junior. I met
Mr. Bruno out by the parking lot. The drivers ed cars were around the
corner of the school in a secluded small lot just off the gym surrounded by
woods. No one could see us there unless they opened the back door or walked
around the corner. We had privacy and it scared me to death.

I fucking should have known that Mr. Bruno had spent years lusting after
me. I should have known that all those times he was deliberately feeling my
young taught body all over, imagining all the things he could do with a boy
who was obviously entranced by his manhood. I was thin after all but
wiry. I had a six pack the way kids do who are active and have a metabolism
that sheds fat like water from a faucet. I wasn't a model or anything but
people told me I was good looking and when I wasn't being an insecure
teenager I could sometimes see it in the mirror. I had dark deepset eyes,
long brown hair that reached below my collar, and lips that were thick and
often wet. Mr. Bruno must have looked at my long hair and my lips and
thought about sliding his man meat between those soft boy lips. My mouth
must have looked like it was meant to service a real man like him. But I
was a stupid kid, afraid of being labeled a fag, desperate not to let
Mr. Bruno know how much his hands on my body made me rigid with lust or how
often I jacked off thinking about sucking his tongue, his nipples, or even
that goddam horse cock.

But driving lessons had come at last. Mr. Bruno shook my hand and held it
while he explained how we were going to do this. I had to look up into his
manly face listening to the rules and his tips; he held my hand the whole
time. I started to shiver, feeling that muscular hand encasing my own. He
held me gently, tenderly, but firmly. I relaxed my hand and tried to take
it back, thinking our handshake was over. But this was more than a
handshake; I'm not sure what it was, but he would not let go. Mr. Bruno
held onto me and fuck it if I didn't like it. And then there was his big
middle finger stroking the center of my palm as he held my hand. Stroking
back and forth, back and forth, as he looked into my eyes and explained the
basics of driving safety. Goddam it, my cock started growing in my pants.

"The most important thing is safety," Mr. Bruno said, as he held my
hand. "I'm going to keep you safe and I'm going to teach you how to keep
yourself safe." My cock was expanding by the second as he stroked my palm
and held my hand. His left hand now was on my right shoulder, holding me,
massaging me. "You kids are the most important thing and we grownups want
to make sure nothing happens to you. There are too many accidents with
teenagers who get reckless driving and there's nothing we want more than to
make sure you take care of yourselves."

I was starting to breathe hard and my heart was racing as his physical
contact with me was making me lose my grip on reality. I was so fucking
attracted to him. He reminded me of my Dad but a Dad who was twice as big
and muscular as my own. He continued to massage my shoulder and my neck
while holding my hand.

"You nervous about starting to drive, Guy?" he asked. "You seem a little
worked up."

Fuck me, of course I was worked up. This muscular hairy dad was caressing
my shoulder and holding my hand. And I was looking up at him more than a
foot taller than me as he gazed at me with those deepset beautiful
mysterious dark brown eyes and his full lips. I was fucking in total lust
of his hairy muscular Italian body. He was my goddam hero.

"A little," I said.

He frowned a little, as if he were concerned. But then he smiled and let go
of my hand. Instead his right hand went to cup my chin making me look him
straight in the eyes. Fuck me, before this I thought he was manly and sexy
but I had not thought he was handsome. But looking up into those deepset
eyes, feeling his hand under my chin gently holding me, tenderly but in his
control, seeing his nostrils flare as he looked down at me, I thought, fuck
me, he is a handsome guy, a daddy, a real man. His eyes bore into mine, his
full lips curled into a smile, his hand held my chin in place as he spoke.

His voice was quiet and eerily tender. "I'm gonna keep you safe, son." And
then his right hand was on my cheek cupping the left side of my face.  And
fuck me his left hand was on the right side of my face. He was fucking
holding my face gently but firmly. My face was in his hands; he was
controlling where I looked; he was controlling me. I was frozen stiff in
awe. He bent over so his gorgeous eyes were a few inches from mine. "I'm
gonna take care of you like you were my own son."

Fuck me I almost shot my load right then and there. His hands on my cheeks,
the power in them that put me under his control, the gentleness in his
touch that expressed affection, the muscles encased in those gentle
fingers, those beautiful eyes that imprisoned my own so I could not look
away even if I wanted to, the dominance that forced me to yield to his
authority, his manhood, his muscular power, to trust him, to trust him with
my life...

"Now, get in the driver's seat, little buddy," he said. I shivered again,
when he said "little buddy." The idea of being his buddy at all made me
feel important, wanted, worthy. And that "little" part... Damn it was true
that he was twice my size, he had four times my strength, he was twice my
age, and he was just in every way more man than I was. I was a boy and I
was so attracted to the man and I was so eager to try to hide it that I was
shaking all over.

I got in the car and left the door open. He kneeled next to me to explain
the controls in the car. Damn, why wasn't he getting in the passenger seat?
I wondered. His face was right near mine. He was pointing to the gears, the
lights, the windshield wiper. And oh God, his left hand rested on my left
thigh. It's like he needed to brace himself so he could move his right hand
freely. His beautiful eyes kept grabbing my own as he looked at me
explaining everything. And then slowly, imperceptibly, lovingly, his left
hand started to move up and down on my thigh. Oh God it was moving over my
leg so he was now caressing the inside of my thigh, talking the whole time.

It was hard to pay attention to what he was saying. My cock was starting to
rebel. It was growing like a puff pastry expanding in the oven.

"And this is where it tells you the miles and how fast you're going,"
Mr. Bruno said, looking into my eyes as his hand moved up toward my
crotch. "At least starting out you want to always watch the speed limit,"
he was saying, as that muscular hand kneaded my thigh. Oh God it was just
next to my nuts...

"And you grip the wheel like this," Mr. Bruno said, lifting his hand from
my leg. He took my hands in his and showed me where to hold the
wheel. Goddam it he kept his hands cupped over mine caressing them as I
gripped the steering wheel. His big thumbs moved up and down gently
stroking my own. "Some people like it here at 11 or 12 o'clock," he said
sliding my hands down, "but most put them up here at 10:00 o'clock." Goddam
it, he was holding my hands, caressing them, stroking them, showing me
affection, attention, making me the object of his rapt attention. His face
was right near my own. He turned to me still holding my hands. I felt his
breath on my face. His lips was only inches from mine. "And always keep
both hands on the wheel; it's safer that way."

He looked into my eyes. He lifted his hands off of mine keeping his face so
near mine that I could count his long brown eyelashes. I remained gripping
the steering wheel. I felt him putting his hands on both my legs now right
near my crotch, his thumbs pointed down, slowly inserting themselves
between my legs and my balls. He was caressing my thighs now, his breath on
my mouth, his thumbs moving, moving, now kneading my balls. And then-- and
then, they were over my hard cock. They were stroking up and down, up and
down. God oh God, he was masturbating me. Was I supposed to notice? Was I
supposed to react? Was I supposed to think this was innocent? Just idle
twiddling of thumbs. But oh God they pressed against my throbbing dick
erect in my boy jeans. They stroked, they stroked, they... What the fuck
was happening?

"You're gonna drive me around, son, and I'll make sure nothing happens to
you." He was stroking my erect cock now. It stuck straight up inside my
pants. It was throbbing with the feel of those enormous thumbs. I was
breathing hard now, pushing against his massive digits. There he was,
Mr. Bruno, with his gorgeous deep, dark eyes, his black hair, his full
lips. "We'll wait until you're ready son." Oh God, his right thumb
continued to masturbate me inside my pants. His left hand was now caressing
my hair. "Take your time little buddy, take your time. Take as much time as
you need." God his finger was moving faster, up and down the center of my
throbbing penis. His finger was so thick, so muscular, so dexterous.  "I'm
gonna take you for a ride. Do you want that son? Do you want me to take you
for a ride?"

Oh fucking God, what was he saying? I was gonna drive so wasn't I gonna
take him for a ride? His lips were inches from my own now, his thumb
manhandling my teenage cock. I was about to shoot my load, but he kept
going. He wanted an answer. His thumb was moving faster and faster like he
knew, like he fucking knew I was about to shoot my hot cum straight
upwards.

"Tell me. I need to hear it. Do you want me take you for a ride?"

Fuck he had taken his left hand from snaking through my long hair and
brought it down to massge my cock. His left hand was now behind me. Jesus
fucking Christ he was slipping it under my jeans, between my white briefs
and my ass. Oh God in heaven, his middle finger was pressed against my
asshole. He was massaging it, tenderizing it. His left thumb continuing
tracing the sperm tube running along the underside of my penis. His right
middle finger was pressing against my goddam asshole. Holy shit, what was
happening? Oh fucking hell, his finger pushed inside my asshole. He entered
me, he fucking entered me. He was pushing his finger farther up my
asshole. His lips were now against my ear. His tongue flicked out and
licked the inside of my ear.

"Do you want me to take you for a ride son?" he whispered. "Tell me
yes. Please tell me yes."

He was finger fucking me now. His breath, his lips, his tongue licking my
inner ear, his thumb groping my throbbing cock.

"Oh God," I said. "Yes, yes yes. Take me for a ride. Oh God Mr. Bruno, take
me for a--, take me-- oh God, take me........." I fucking blew my load
right in my pants as he his left thumb moved up and down on my spasming
dick and his right hand middle finger stroked my prostate gland.I spasmed
and spasmed and spasmed and spasmed and spasmed... until there was no more
cum to shoot. His finger was still in my ass touching me in that secret G
spot that every boy has whether he knows it or not.

"I thought so," Mr. Bruno said, looking at me, as I sat impaled on his
thick finger. "I thought so."

My pants were wet with cum. My ear was wet with the saliva from his
tongue. He removed his hand from my crotch and he slipped his finger out of
my ass. He fucking wiped both of them on my thighs, cleaning the cum that
had pressed its way through my pants onto his left thumb and whatever moist
stuff was inside my asshole that has coated his thick middle finger. My
pants were wet with my own juices. He was using me as a cum rag. He was
looking at me. He was smiling like he knew a secret and it had made his
day.

"That's what I thought," he said. "Now let's go for that ride."

Driving lessons part 3

Fuck me what just happened? Mr. Bruno had introduced me to driving by
massaging my cock with his muscular thumb and impaling me on his middle
finger, looking into my eyes, stroking my cock and massaging my prostate so
long and so thoroughly that I had blown my load right there in the car with
his tongue in my ear. I was confused and turned on more than I had ever
been. My handsome Italian stud of a wrestling teacher had just penetrated
me and manhandled me into the best orgasm of my life. And now he was
climbing into the passenger seat next to me.

Damnation, how was I supposed to pay attention to driving now? But fuck it,
I had no choice. He taught me how to put my foot on the brake as the car
started, how to slowly go in reverse. We drove around the parking lot
several times slowly. I was getting more adept at it. And then he said it.

"OK, time to try the open road, son." I shivered, partly because I was
nervous about hitting the streets for the first time and partly because he
had called me son. Oh and partly because I could still feel the wet of my
cum on my teenage cock. And God, the "son" thing. The idea of him being my
Dad and me his son put me into a frenzy of lustful thoughts.

Somehow I controlled myself. I even tried to ignore the wet cum in my pants
as I eased out into the road.

I don't remember much about that first lesson except the ending.

"Turn here," Mr. Bruno said. "Good, and right here. And, yeah turn right
into this driveway."

I had done OK for my first lesson and he told me so.

"What is this place?" I asked tentatively.

"It's my house," he said, calmly. "There's something I have to get
inside. Why don't you put on the emergency break, turn off the car and come
in with me. I'm not allowed to leave you alone in the car."

Holy mother of God, I was going to see the inside of Mr. Bruno's house!
What could he possibly need here that would cause him to bring a student
home in the middle of the day?

I exited the car and walked around to the front.

"You did a good job today, son," he said, putting his arm around my
shoulder. "You should be proud of yourself, Guy." Fucking A, he was holding
me in his muscular arm like I really was his son. My pants were still wet
with my cum, a fact he was studiously ignoring. We walked up the
driveway. As we got to the door he moved me in front of him. He stood
behind me searching for his keys in his pocket. Fuck it he was standing to
close that his crotch was against my ass. I couldn't breathe.

Somehow he unlocked the door, the whole time pressing his crotch against my
little ass. The door opened and he maneuvered me into the house. He led me
inside.

"Driving class was your last period, wasn't it?" he asked me. "No classes
after this right?"

"That's right," I said. "And you have all the books and stuff you need for
homework tonight in the bag in the back seat right?"

Where was this going?

"Yes," I said, nervously.

"What time do your folks expect you home?"

"Not until 6 when they get off work," I replied.

"Well good, it's only 4:00 now. I'll make sure you get home. We can use the
driver's ed car to go your place so you won't have to walk or take the
bus. That gives me some time to get what I needed to get inside here."

Mr. Bruno was looking down at me standing only a foot away. He was
magnificent. Strong, centered, manly, handsome, burly.

"And while I'm doing that, let's take care of you," he said.

"What do you mean?" I asked. He looked down at my wet crotch.

"You were a bit nervous, boy, but you did good. But that nervousness caused
you to have a little accident, didn't it?"

Fuck it, was he talking about the thumb job he had given me that made me
spew my cum in my pants? As if it was my fault? I didn't have an
accident. He fucking molested me. He had made me sit on his fucking
muscular finger. He had stroked my prostate and I shot a hot load of sticky
cum. Don't get me wrong. It was fucking great, but still it was embarassing
to have him mention my wet pants out loud.

"Now, no need to be embarrassed little buddy. You're a full blooded
American teenager and with a hair trigger on that tool of yours. It just
proves you're a grown man," he said, trying to flatter me, as if it was a
mark of adulthood that I had shot a load of hot cum under the relentless
pressure of his muscular thumb and his middle finger up my ass while he
forced me to gaze into his beautiful eyes and feel his hot breath on my
lips and his tongue in my ear. I mean, wouldn't you shoot a hot load if
Mr. Bruno did that to you?

"Back here," he said, leading me around the corner. There was a laundry
room right next to the bathroom. "Let me help you son."

And then without asking me, he fucking undressed me. He started with my
shirt and damn if the shirt tails were not wet with teenage cum. He took
off my shoes, my pants, and fuck me, he took off my briefs. I was standing
there in nothing but my socks.

"Might as well do these too," Mr. Bruno said, slipping them off, one by
one.

I was fucking naked in Mr. Bruno's house, standing before him.

Mr. Bruno looked at me. Then he moved forward and put his hands under my
armpits and lifted me up as if I were a doll and sat me on top of the dryer
that was next to the washing machine. My face was now level with
his. Dammit, I'm sitting there on the cold machine looking into Mr. Bruno's
eyes. I'm fucking naked. What would you have done? I was a teenager so I
did what any red-blooded American teenager would do. I sprung a boner so
fast it made my head spin.

Mr. Bruno ignored my raging hard on. Then he passed his muscular right hand
over his pecs and up to his armpit, raising his left hand up in the air. He
felt that armpit and I could see the sweat coming through. His caressed his
armpit with his fingers and then took them away to look at them. Mr. Bruno
looked at me and put his hand out near my mouth.

"Guess I'm sweaty, huh?" he said. "Could use with a cleaning too." And
then, fuck me if he didn't stroke my lips with his sweaty fingers, coating
them with his sweat. "Sweaty, huh?" he asked as he circled my lips with
those sweaty fingers.

His face slowly approached mine. Time stopped. His lips were right there,
approaching, closer, closer, closer. Now touching mine. Oh God, his lips
were touching my lips... His tongue emerged and licked his own sweat off my
lips. HIs tongue circled my lips three times. Then he moved back and looked
into my eyes.

"Yup," he said. "Sweaty."

I was dizzy with lust. Nothing like this had ever happened to me. Slow as a
breeze in summer, Mr. Bruno started to unbutton his shirt. It was like the
world had gone to frame by frame pace as he slowly did a striptease. When I
thought about it, he was just taking off his clothes the way I'd seen him
do in the lockerroom many times. But what it felt like was a slow and very
successful seduction. As each new part of him appeared, freed from its
fabric enclosure, my awe of him increased. He was giving me permission,
total and complete permission, to look at every part of his body. He was
allowing me, begging me, to worship him. And that's what I did. My mouth
open, my heart racing, I stared at each body party with the hunger of the
damned. I was in church and he was my lord.

What I was not prepared for was to see Mr. Bruno's fully erect man
penis. He said nothing about it, treated it as if it were perfectly normal,
but he also did nothing to hide it. Mr. Bruno was gathering his clothes and
mine, mixing them together, rubbing them together. Fuck, he must have been
getting my cum on his shirt and his pants when he rubbed them
together. It's like he wanted my cum on his shirts, his underwear, his
socks. And then he plopped the clothes (his and mine together!) into the
washer. His finger was wet. Fuck me, it was wet with my own cum! He turned
to look at me and as he gazed into my eyes he slowly put his finger in his
mouth and sucked my cum off it.

Holy shit I nearly came again watching that.

He turned the washing machine on. I was now naked in Mr. Bruno's house and
no way to escape until I got my clothes back. No way to do that until the
wash cycle was complete and the clothes could go in the dryer. It would
take almost two hours. What were we going to do for that time? What was I
going to do naked? How was I going to survive two hours naked with
Mr. Bruno? Was he really going to ...? Did he really want to...? Could it
be that he wanted...?

Mr. Bruno looked at me and smiled slowly.

"Now it's time for me to get what I came here for," he said. Looking
straight into my eyes he approached me, put his mammoth hand under my
crotch and his other hand behind my back. As he looked deep into my eyes,
his middle finger entered my asshole. I didn't know what to do. I didn't
know what to say. He was acting like this was just normal teacher/student
stuff. And then he did it. He speared my ass with that muscular
finger. Immediately after, he lifted me up, impaled on his digit, his other
hand behind me holding me close to him, holding me like a baby in his
arms. Of course there was the little issue of his finger in my ass. That
wasn't the way you held a baby. But fuck me, maybe it... maybe it was the
way you held a boy that you loved.. Maybe it was the way you made a boy
into a man? Maybe it... Oh God, he was wiggling his muscular finger inside
my ass; jesus, it was probing my prostate gland. I was leaking precum like
a sieve. And with those muscular arms, he carried me through the house.

Goddammit, he was stroking my prostate over and over and ... God, my chest
was pressed against his massive hairy daddy pecs and he was carrying me in
his thick muscular daddy arms as if I weighed nothing.

He was talking, whispering in my ear.

"I've been waiting two years for your driving lessons, Guy. Since the first
time I met you in your freshman year, I knew I would be the one to teach
you to drive. Gym class has been fun and all but to be assigned to be alone
with you, to have your life in my hands..." holy Lord he was fucking me
with his finger, my whole ass in his hands, my whole body in the air, my
whole self at his command. "Well, let's say, I've been looking forward to
this."

He was fucking my ass with his finger as he laid me on his bed. He looked
into my eyes and then down to my ass. Looking at my ass he said, "This is
what I came to get. This is it son. I came to get into your ass."

I was whimpering now. My cock was so fucking hard I thought it would burst.

"I could tell from the first moment I saw you that you were the kind of boy
that I could get," he said. "You started driving but now it's my turn to
drive."

With that he slid his finger from my ass. He took some lotion from the side
table and coated my asshole with it outside and then inside. He took some
more and coated his mancock. I felt my legs pressed back to my chest and
over his shoulders. My ass was now wide open and vulnerable.

He leaned over, his face now inches from mine, my legs pinned back to my
shoulders with my calves on top of his shoulders, his thick penis at the
door to my ass.

As he pressed his cock against my asshole, he said, "You want this, Guy,
don't you? You've wanted it from the first time you saw me? You want your
Daddy?"

I was breathing fast but couldn't say anything.

"I need to hear it, son," Mr. Bruno said. "You're a good student and I know
you know how to follow directions. And of course, you want an A in driving
right? So tell me, say it out loud. Tell me you want an A. Tell me you want
me to do the driving now."

"Mr Bruno,..." I gasped.

"Tell me to drive," he said, insistently and louder.

"I want..." I was so fucking turned on I couldn't finish the sentence. I
couldn't think. I had been dreaming about feeling Mr. Bruno's muscles, of
being close to him. But I had never thought, I had never imagined him
fucking me, not for real, not just in fantasy. But here he was, his muscles
rippling around me, his thick wet lips right above me, his pecs full and
round, his nipples large and protruding, his voice deep and grumbling. His
cock, Mr. Bruno's penis was pressing against my asshole. It was almost
in. It was almost...

"Tell me to drive," he shouted.

"It's your turn to drive, Mr. Bruno. It's your turn." He smiled as he
looked at me, waiting me for finish the thought. "Drive," I said and with
that final submission, that final urgent invitation, his cock plunged into
me all the way till I felt his balls on my ass between my legs.

"My pleasure," Mr. Bruno said, as he impaled me on his daddy cock. "My
pleasure, son. Daddy's home." And that mountain of a man, that muscular
wrestling champ fucked me and fucked me and fucked me. His cock was like
the eighth wonder of the world. It simply would not slow down; it would not
go limp. He was a man, he was a wrestler, he was my coach, he was my dad,
he was my driving teacher, and fuck if he didn't drive me for two whole
fucking hours.

Driving lessons part 4

I had now had half a dozen driving lessons with Mr. Bruno. They started out
with me driving and they ended with him driving -- driving that huge cock
deep into my ass until he impregnated me with his daddy cum. We had gotten
into a healthy routine and I considered myself lucky to have such a good
and thorough teacher. I repeat: he was a good teacher and I was a good
student. Although he looked like a brute, he had acted like a gentleman,
politely waiting until I invited him to fuck me, making me insist that he
fuck me, making me beg him to spear his son, teasing me with his beer can
cock, massaging my asshole until it relaxed and I was shouting for him to
drive when he would slowly push his man meat into me, until he would spear
me to the hilt, until my ass was gripping his beer can of a cock. And then
he would fucked me slowly, for a long time, a fucking long time, until he
could not stand it any more, when he was thrust in and out like a madman
and spurt gob after gob of his daddy milk deep in his son's bowels. He
taught me to take a cock like a man; he taught me to be a man; he taught me
by being my man. He was my driving teacher and he fucking taught me what it
meant for a guy to drive.

But then things changed and I had Mr. Madonna instead of
Mr. Bruno. Mr. Bruno told me it was not the last time he was going to drive
me. that we would figure out ways for me to practice taking a man's cock
until the day I graduated. And indeed, he did have me stick around after
gym class to help clean up the lockerroom. Since gym was right before
lunch, he had a free hour and almost every day he spent his lunch time
seducing me until I begged him to impale me on a his cock as I leaned over
his teacher's desk in his locked office.  But no more lessons drivint the
car; Mr. Bruno had to start coaching baseball after school and the car
driving lessons would be taken over by Mr. Madonna.

That time he told me that, he looked at me. My ass filled with his thick
and throbbing penis, as he told me that Mr. Madonna was a good driver
but...

"But what?" I asked.

"But he may focus on turning you into the best driver in Jersey," Mr. Bruno
answered.

Did he mean...? No, he couldn't... He couldn't mean...

Mr. Bruno laughed at the confused look on my face. He leaned over and
kissed my lips, his tongue in my mouth, fucking my mouth as he fucked my
ass. He relented and grazed my lips with his daddy lips. "Yeah boy, he's
gonna teach you to drive," he said as he thrust into me, as he emptied his
cum filled cock into my ass, thrust and spurt, thrust and spurt, thrust and
spurt, thrust and spurt until I was filled with his gym teacher sperm.

"Mmmm," Mr. Bruno said, "you're such a good boy. You've earned an A, kid."

A week passed and my next lesson was with Mr. Madonna. As tall and thin as
Mr. Bruno was short and thick, Mr. Madonna looked like Chord Overstreet or
Eric Christian Olsen. Blond, handsome, dreamy eyes, pink wet lips, and a
dancer's supple body. The first lesson went as I expected. Mr. Madonna
directed me where to go and we ended up at a new house.

I had done my best not to stare at the grapefruit size bulge in
Mr. Madonna's pants right next to me. But parked there in the driveway I
could not stop myself from feasting my eyes on that mysterious package.

"Thank you," Mr. Madonna said.

I looked up at him quickly. "Thank you for what?" I asked, confused.

"Thank you for driving me home."

"This is your house?" I asked, wondering if I knew where this was
going. Were my driving lessons going to continue, off the road, so to
speak?

"Yes," he said. "I just have to stop off here for a moment before taking
you back to school."

He got out of the car, leaving me in the driver's seat. I opened the door
and said to him, "I'm not supposed to be in the car alone, Mr. Madonna."

"I trust you," he said walking toward his front door. Then he stopped. He
did not move for a few seconds, a few more. He was thinking, he was
deciding. He was debating with himself. It was as if he wanted something,
he wanted something so bad he was shaking. But he did not know if he could
have it, if he should have it. Should he take it? Or should he be mature
and do the right thing? It was like I could see an angel on one shoulder
arguing with a devil on the other.

His ass was incredible. It was round, high, fluid, flexible, taut. I was
about to cream my pants looking at its round curves in his tight pants. Was
he really going to leave me in the driveway while he went inside? I wanted
him so bad my heart was racing in my chest. Was he having second thoughts
about "driving" with me? Did I get the message from Mr. Bruno wrong?

He moved toward the house. He was getting away. I got desperate. In fact, I
got brave.

"Please Mr. Madonna," I begged. "I want to come inside."

He turned around to look at me. I was standing outside the car now licking
my lips, so attracted to him it hurt. His grapefruit of a package was
bigger than ever. It was like a hard on pointed right at my soul. I stared
at it for a few moments. Then I looked up into his eyes. I looked at him in
longing, in wonder, in lust. He was so fucking beautiful.

"I want to come inside," I repeated. "I want to come inside with you. Don't
leave me alone. I want to be with you. I want to be with you."

Mr. Madonna's mouth opened as if were astonished. As if he had just won the
lottery. As if he could not believe his luck.

"Do you really want to?" Mr. Madonna asked, as if in wonder, as if not
ready to believe it. "Do you really want to be with me?"

I knew what he was thinking. He had longed to fuck a student. He had
dreamed about it for years. While the students were lusting after him, he
was fucking lusting after us. I wanted to get in our pants. But he had
never had the chance. And now here I was, standing before him, a short
horny junior, gazing up at him, lustful and needy, begging to be allowed
inside, begging to be with him. He didn't believe, he couldn't believe,
that it could happen, that it was about to happen. He had trouble
understanding that this good looking horny teenager was begging to have sex
with him. He had wanted to be inside my pants for so long and here I was
begging him to fucking molest me already.

"Yes," I said. "Yes I do. I really really do."

Suddenly I realized what Mr. Bruno had tried to explain to me. This was
Mr. Madonna, not Mr. Bruno. Mr. Madonna had that mystery package, sure, and
he probably was sporting a fucking huge penis. But now I knew that I was in
the driver's seat. It was Mr. Madonna who was nervous. It was Mr. Madonna
who could not believe I was attracted to him, a grown man. It was
Mr. Madonna who had harbored a secret lust for the boys under his care. It
was Mr. Madonna who was slowly coming to realize that this boy standing
before wanted more than anything else in the world to fuck his dancer's
ass.

"You know, Guy, you're my favorite student," Mr. Madonna said. "I don't
want to do anything to make you feel uncomfortable. I've admired you from
the first class. And it means a lot to me to be able to teach you. I can't
jeopardize that."

It was adorable. This tall grownup was the one who was nervous. He was the
one terrified of being found out. He was the one who did not want to
jeopardize his job. He did not want to warp a boy in his care. He did not
want to hurt me, to make me do anything I did not want to do. It was
obvious now. He wanted me so fucking bad his head was splitting open and
his jeans were about to split from the hardon that would not stop getting
bigger. But he was trying to be noble, to be mature, to be the grownup.

It was up to me to put Mr. Madonna at ease. I knew that know. I fucking
knew it.

I walked up to him and stood before him. He was so much taller than me. I
slowly put my hand up until it was resting on his chest, those sinewy
muscular pecs right at my face level. His nipples were right in front of my
mouth. I gently held my hand over his heart.

"Yes, Mr. Madonna," I said softly. "I want to see where you live. I want to
go inside. I want to be inside. I want to be with you. Let me be with you."

I felt his chest heave and his body tremble under my touch. I was only 16
years old but this 30 year old man was trembling to feel my teenage hand on
his chest. This angel could not believe that his dream was finally going to
come true. He could not believe that his best student wanted to make love
with him.

"You want to be inside?" he asked again, trembling. "Truly?"

I turned toward the front door, let my hand drop from his chest and slide
it around him to rest on his taut ass, as I pushed him forward next to me
toward the opening to his place. My hand rested on his left butt cheek near
the crease that separated those twin mounds of wonder. My hand drifted down
between them so that my finger caressed his asshole under those dress
pants. Mr. Bruno had taught me well.

"Yes, Mr. Madonna," I said as we stood at the opening of his home, as my
finger caressed the opening to his whole being. "I want to be inside. I
need to get inside."

Next thing I know we are inside the house and Mr. Madonna has picked me up,
my legs wrapped around him, and his tongue is halfway down my throat as he
groaned and carried me toward his bed.

He ripped my clothes off, tearing my shirt in half. Fuck me, what are my
parents going to say? He had fucking ripped my shirt in two. He was like a
mad man. He had been horny for student cock for so long, he had been
fantasizing about it for so long, he could not waste a fucking second. In a
flash we were naked on his bed. He was lying on his back and I was on top
of him. My tongue was in his mouth, fucking in and out. He was sucking my
tongue as my cock moved back and forth against his stomach. And then he
pushed me down. He was so fucking tall. He pushed my cock between his
legs. He held it there, poised at his asshole.

My precum was getting him wet, my cockhead was massaging his opening. But
he was so much taller than me I could no longer kiss him, so as my cock
sought to push against his asshole I found my long sought target and began
to nuzzle on Mr. Madonna's big nipples. His cock grew and grew. He was
gasping for breath, his dancer's legs pulled back, his calves over my
shoulders, my tongue feathering his right nipple, sucking it, sucking him,
then his left, sucking on those beautiful pecs, those large pink sensitive
nipples. And that cock, that enormous, inhuman cock, it was a full fucking
twelve inches long. God in heaven as it grew to its full length I felt it
sliding between my pecs until it almost reached Mr. Madonna's nipples. It
was a foot long for God's sake. It was like pictures I'd seen of the devil
with a huge fucking prick. Fuck me I moved my head down a little -- just a
little -- and his cock, that monster penis, that cut mushroom head, that
devil cock slipped like olive oil into my mouth.

Mr. Madonna screamed with lust. And as his cock entered my mouth, my cock
slipped into his asshole.

"You're inside," Mr. Madonna said. "Oh God your boy cock is inside."

All I could do was moan. My mouth after all was filled with Mr. Madonna's
gorgeous silky cockhead. I took my mouth off it briefly to look up at
him. He was looking at me as if I were the answer to the meaning of
life. The tube running along his cock was throbbing against my throat. His
hands were caressing my face. I moved just a little so I could suck his
magnificent penis again, looking in his eyes the whole time. Those dreamy
blue eyes. Oh God his cock was big. It was throbbing against my chest. It
was pushing into my mouth. And his ass, his dancer's ass. Fuck it, my cock
was rocking in and out. I was inside my beautiful math teacher, inside
Mr. Madonna. I was fucking an angel; I was sucking the devil. It was the
most incredible moment of my entire life. Mr. Madonna groaned with such
pleasure that it felt as if the sun had just emerged from behind dark
clouds. Mr. Madonna, beautiful sexy Mr. Madonna was in heaven. He had
finally gotten what he had dreamed of all those years. He had finally
gotten a horny teenager to fuck his taut ass and lick his pisshole while
sucking on his huge mushroom cock head.

I looked up into his pretty face, his mouth open in lust, as I sucked on
that cock licking the hole where his precum was dripping like a leaking
faucet, drinking it down. And then I was fucking him like a mad
man. Sucking on Mr. Madonna's penis, his calves gripping my head from both
sides pulling me close to him, close, so close.

"Inside me," he said. "Inside me. I'm getting fucked by a student. I'm
getting fucked by my favorite student."

Years, fucking years of longing to be with one of the boys in his care,
years of looking at me in particular with lust in his heart, and it was
finally coming true.

"You're fucking me, Guy. You're really fucking me. Fuck it Guy, I think I
love you."

" Mr. Madonna," I gasped. "Oh Mr. Madonna." Dammit I was fucking like a
freight train now. He was so beautiful. His ass was so fucking tight. His
cock was so fucking hot and salty and silkly smooth on my tongue. "Oh God,"
I said, realizing what this meant, what it all meant. "Oh God
Mr. Madonna. I love you too. I love you too!"

His cock was leaking precum at an alarming rate. I was sucking and
drinking, sucking and drinking. It was salty and sweet and sweaty. It was
Mr. Madonna's essence on my lips, my tongue, slithering down my throat.

"Oh God Guy, I love you!" he moaned.

"Fuck it Mr. Madonna," I said, breathing fast and heavy. "I love you
too. But it's my turn to drive." I shoved my cock deep into his ashole. "My
turn to drive." I thrust again. "My turn to drive." I thrust and thrust. I
licked and sucked his throbbing baseball bat of a penis. His thighs gripped
my head so tightly I thought he would crack my skull like an egg. He was
frantically thrusting that monster cock in and out of my junior mouth. I
fucking loved it. Goddam it, I loved him. I was in love.

So I fucked him and fucked him and fucked him until I filled his insides
with my boy cum. I sucked him and sucked him and sucked him until he fed me
his silky nectar. He was an angel and he was in heaven. He was the devil
and he gripped my face those powerful dancer legs, forcing me to swallow
the devil's juice. I drank it all. I drank every drop. I was Mr. Madonna's
favorite student. I was his boy. I was his lover. But it was my fucking
turn to drive.

Short Guy Stories

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/college/office-hours
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/college/will-you-be-my-buddy
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/encounters/daddy-issues