Date: Sat, 5 Apr 2008 14:13:44 -0500
From: Charles Hughes <the.empty.room@hotmail.com>
Subject: HE LOVED HIS TEACHER - Part 6, the conclusion  (oral anal)

This story is fiction, depicting the relationship of a man and a young boy,
including their sexual relationship.  If you are not 18 years of age, or if
it is illegal for any reason for you to read such material, you are to
leave.

Copyright 2008 Charles Hughes, all rights reserved

I will try to answer all emails: the.empty.room@hotmail.com



HE LOVED HIS TEACHER - Part 6: conclusion



Dear Mr. Hughes:

I don't know if I can possibly get you to believe this, but I have to try.
Please, please read my email carefully, all the way through.

I am "Dillon."  I can't tell you with what amazement I began to read that
little note you posted.  I wrote it!  Dear God!  I was in tears before I
finished reading it.  You wrote "Sammy;" he wrote "Dillon."  My name is
Matthew, Mr. Hughes.  But you already know that.  Matthew is the name that
appears at the top of that note.

"Mr. Richie" was a turning point in my life.  I won't give you my entire
history.  I'll just say that I was more unhappy at home than he knew.  My
parents were unspeakably ignorant about how to raise a son.  I hated them
for years, but I've long since come to pity them.  Mr. Richie saved my
life, and that's not too strong a way to put it!  He showed me that I was
not an unloveable boy, that love is very real.  I learned that I could
love!  I owe him so much.  I have thought about him so often.  But I began
to doubt my memories.  I could have tried to get in touch with him, but I
began to wonder if that might be a bad idea, something that could cause him
harm.

I beg you to do something for me.  I know I can't ask you to send me his
email address.  Please, please forward this email to him.  Let him know
that I would very much like to get in touch with him, that my memories of
that time are as wonderful to me as his are to him.  I truely loved him,
Mr. Hughes.  Please send this to him.  And if you do -- Mr. Richie: Please
email me.  I have never forgotten!  I have never forgotten!

And, Mr. Hughes, maybe this could help you decide.  I don't really remember
how I wrote my name at the top of that paper.  But my last name is
"Dillinger."  That's why he used the name "Dillon" for me, I'm sure of it.

At the very least, don't dismiss this.  If you wish, please write me.

Sincerely, Matthew Dillinger

---------------------------------

Dear Mr. Richie:

I'm forwarding this email as the writer requested.  I'm not quite sure what
to make of it, but I decided the least I could do was to let YOU decide
what to make of it.  Yes, he is correct.  The name in the text of that note
is Matthew, and at the top right hand corner of the paper is the name
Matthew Dillinger.  (And the "i" is not dotted!)  I would only suggest that
you be very cautious.  You might want to ask this person questions that
only your "Dillon" could answer.  If this turns out to be authentic, I wish
you well.  But I do hope you will be very cautious in any response you
might make.

Sincerely, Chuck Hughes

-------------------------------

My dear Chuck:

This is nothing short of a miracle.  That's too mild a word for it!  Yes,
it is!  It is Matthew!  I wrote him.  I asked a long list of questions, and
he answered every one of them correctly.  He even sent me his picture.
It's Matthew!  I recognize his eyes, his mouth.  I can't believe this has
happened.  We've written back and forth several times, now, and I finally
realized the least I could do was write you back and let you know.  He's
coming for a visit!  Thank you so much!  Thank you!  I am more grateful
that mere words are able to say!

Sincerely, "Mr. Richie"

---------------------------------



Dear Mr. Richie:

I was very happy to get your email.  This is wonderful news for you -- and
it pleases me that I was able to play a role in this.  I wish you the very
best as you meet him again.  My best wishes to both of you!

Sincerely, Chuck

---------------------------------




My dear Chuck:

The moment I opened the door I recognized the boy in the man!  It was
Matthew's eyes, his mouth, his mannerisms.  I welcomed him in, and we spent
an entire afternoon catching up on twenty years!

He is a beautiful man; I knew than he would be.  He's 29 years old now, a
very successful businessman.  He was so insistent that I was a big factor
in his formative years, even though I only knew him for a single year.

He could spend the night in town, and, of course, I insisted he stay with
me.  We slept together.  I can't describe it, except to say I haven't been
as happy in twenty years.  My Matthew and I, again, finally, making love.

We've spent today roaming around town and remembering.  He said that he
considers my house his home, not the building where his family lived.  He
could have said nothing that moved me more.  No, that's not correct.

We were sitting in the little park near the center of town, still busy
catching up and comparing notes, and he stopped in the middle of what he
was talking about and said, "I still love you."  There was no one (except
Matthew) around to see my tears.

We're back at my house now.  He's staying a second night, and we still have
plans to make.  But I'll let him tell you about that.  He's been anxious to
write you, too.

Mr. Hughes, this is Matthew.  How can I ever thank you?  My life is taking
a whole new direction now -- a better direction.

John -- he said I could tell you his real name -- and I are sitting on his
bed, just as we did years ago.  We're naked, and I've been watching him
write you on his laptop.  He's 49 now, but he hasn't changed an iota.
Well, some of that chest hair I loved to nuzzle has a little grey in it,
but that's to be expected.  He's still the beautiful man I loved when I was
a boy.  He's everything I remember, and more.

I travel a lot in my business.  Right now, we're planning that I'll visit
here as often as I can while I travel, and John will come to Boston during
his vacations.  I'm hoping I can talk him into moving to Boston, but he
doesn't want to leave the school behind.  But there will be plenty of time
for us, whatever our final arrangements may be.

When he asked me to stay the night last night I hardly dared hope that we
could sleep together.  We'd only hugged while we were talking, but he took
me to the bedroom I remember so well, and we kissed.  His mouth awoke even
more desire in me than was already there.  It was a very long, slow, deep
kiss, so tender.

Then we began to undress each other.  We went slowly, stroking each other's
chests when our shirts were off.  He pulled back the bedcovers, and we
crawled in; we spent a long time just cuddling each other, pulling each
other close, touching, kissing.  Our cocks pushed into each other several
times, and I was eager to become naked with him.

He stroked my cock through my briefs, and I could feel my precum flowing.
When he pulled the waistband down, my cock sprang up, slapping my belly.  I
swear it was harder than it had ever been.  And why shouldn't it be?  I was
with the man I loved, even when I was a little boy.

When he caressed my hard dick with his fingers, I moaned deeply.  I wasn't
prepared for the suddenness of it, and I almost came when he engulfed my
cock with his mouth.  He went immediately all the way down on it.  His lips
were against my pubic hair, and I could feel the tight entrance of his
throat opening for my cockhead.  I'm over 7.5 inches long, and as my
cockhead slid into his throat I shuttered with pleasure.

He pulled back and off so he could lick me, sliding that tongue I remember
so well down and around my balls, then taking them into his mouth one at a
time to nurse on them.

"Oh, John," I moaned, "they're for you.  Eat my balls, John, yesss..."

He nursed on my balls for so long I was afraid it might make me cum!  But
then he began kissing my cock along the sides, all over the head.

"Matthew, my Matthew.  You are as delicious as ever.  Sweet Matthew.  Sweet
peter."

"Peter?  John," I laughed, "it's been a while since it was a boy's peter."

He kissed my cockhead again.  "It's still my Matthew's peter, just all
grown up."  He smiled.  "And just as lovely now as it was then."

As my precum oozed from my pisslips, he licked it up and smoothed it around
my cock.  My peter. Then his kisses moved through my pubes to my belly and
my chest.  He must have remembered how I loved it when he played with my
little nipples back then.  He licked at them, sucked on them, pulled at
them lightly with his teeth.

When his lips were at mine again, I could taste my precum in his mouth.

But he was still in his boxers.  I reached down and clutched his cock
through them.

"This dick, John, this cock I remember so well.  I've dreamed of it.  I
remember it in my mouth.  I remember it in my boy's ass.  I've dreamed of
sucking your cum out of it.  I've dreamed of it in my ass again -- you
called it my boybutt, remember?"

"Yes," he chuckled.  "So soft and so deep, too."

I laughed.  "It couldn't have been very deep on an eight-year-old boy,
John."

"Oh, yes, my love.  I plowed my way into the depths of a boy, and I soared
into the heights of heaven itself.  When I left my deposit, John, it was
always a love offering, a gift from my heart."

"I know that, John."  I sighed.  "I've lived on that love for a long time."
I rolled him over onto his back.  "I need more, John.  I want you to love
me for the rest of my life."

"Matthew, I told you a long time age, twenty years ago, that I'd always
love you.  And I do.  And I will."

I kissed his lips lightly and then worked my way down the body I remembered
so well.  I licked and kissed down to the soft hair at his groin, and I ran
my lips through it, as I had as a child.  No boy had ever been luckier than
I, to have such a lover, to learn from such a man.  My young lips had
tasted everything between his legs, and had loved it all.

I lifted his cock, licking at his little lips for his precum.  I trembled
inside at its taste, the taste I'd not had for years, the taste of a real
man, my first lover, the only man I've ever needed.  I licked its
smoothness over his cockhead and pressed my tongue at his pisslips for
more.

"Ahhh, yesss, Matthew..."

I was too eager, I suppose.  I wanted it to last forever.  But at the
moment I needed nothing as much as I needed his mancream.  I had swallowed
so much of it as a boy.  It had warmed my belly, though sometimes he had
shot his cum on my chest or face so we could both play with it.

I fingered his balls as I sucked for it.  He groaned.  I could tell it was
building inside him, and I had a sudden flashback, remembering how thrilled
a little boy had felt when he was anticipating his manlover's cum.  I was
still that little boy.  I needed it.

"OH, Matthew... Matthew...I'm going to... OOOOOOOOoooooooo..."

His cum hit the back of my throat hard.  I pulled away just slightly as I
continued to suck so more of it would fill my mouth, so I would have all
the taste of it.  He shot hard, and then again, just as hard.  I swirled my
tongue over his cockhead as he continued to cum for me, and then I held it
carefully as the last of his cream oozed from it.  I held his cockhead in
my mouth, loving the heat of it, the taste of it.

I had been carefuly not to swallow anything past that first shot.  I let
his cock fall from my lips and moved up to his head.  I let him revel in
the pleasure only men -- and boys! -- can know; he savored the afterglow of
being sucked by his little boy/man.  Then I kissed him lightly, opening my
own lips only very slightly.

It was enough to allow just a few drops of his cum out and down onto his
lips.  I raised my head and opened my mouth slowly, letting only just a bit
more slide over my lips.  A string of cum left my lips and slowly fell to
his.  He opened his mouth to receive it, from his cock to my mouth to his
mouth.  He was eating himself as I let a little more cum trail from my
lips.

For those few moments we were attached as only lovers can be.  Two bodies,
one continuous stream of cum.  Two mouths, one eating and one having eaten.
I used my tongue to move the remainer of his cream outward and downward.
And as the string of it thinned between us I lowered my face.  We kissed,
exchanging the cum between us.  We kissed deeply and for a long, long time.

As I lay next to him then, we held hands.  Such a simple thing, holding
hands.  I remembered some the sexual adventures I'd had after we moved, all
of them with boys my own age.  There was no love, but there didn't need to
be.  I didn't expect any.  All I expected, and wanted, was pleasure.  And
through the rest of grade school, then into high school, I had many
partners in pleasure.  And in college, as well.

But had I simply held hands with any of them?  I don't think so.  I lay
there with John as our hands gently moved together.  How can holding hands
be such an exchange of love?  How can simply holding the hand of your lover
be so erotic?

Later, I asked for something I'd never gotten from him.  I wanted the
privilege of melding with his body as I fucked him.

He smiled when I said that.  "You remember how you tried once?"

"Oh, yes!"  I laughed.  "My poor little two inches just weren't up for the
job."

"Well, that's not fair, Matthew," he said.  "Your pretty little peter was
certainly up, no question of that!  Beautifully up!  A gorgeous little
boy's stiffie!"  He smiled.

He reached for my cock, circling his thumb and forefinger around it at the
base of my shaft and then slowly pulling them up to my cockhead.  "You
think you're up to it now?" he asked with a grin.

I rolled him over.  Yes, this was my lover when I was a boy.  No more than
a child.  But this was the man's ass I loved to touch and play with, the
broad, muscled back, the strong thighs.  I caressed the tiny hairs on his
ass as I moved down, then I spread his cheeks with my hands.

I gave him a long, loud, and hard raspberry.

"AH!  Oh, oh, oh..." he laughed.  "You little fucker, stop... stop..."

I had to stop because I was laughing, too.  "You remember?"

He smiled.  "Of course, I remember.  Your sweet little boybutt was the
perfect instrument, and I played it well and often!  And you always giggled
so sweetly..."

I cut him off my pressing my face into his crack.  Oh, dear god, yes, my
John, my wonderful teacher, my man lover... such a heady musk!  And I
remembered!  I had inhaled and tasted him so many times!  I hadn't been
able fuck him, but I had been able to lick and suck and taste him.  To
"eat" him, he'd said.  Yes, I'd been a little boy eating my man and loving
every taste and every moment of it!

My tongue raced around his hole, the hole that a boy would have loved to
enter.  I moved his pucker with my tongue, pointed and pushed.  So hot,
wet.  I lapped at his hole and then pressed my tongue into it.  He opened
for me.  For me, his little lover.  For me, his little boy.  For me.

I ate him.  For that wonderful year, I'd been able to eat everything else
that made him a man, and now I was eating him as deeply as he'd eaten me.
And I remember loving it so much!

I wet him well with my tongue and then, without even thinking, I reached
over to the bedtable drawer and found the lube.  I smiled.  Yes, he was the
hottest man I'd ever known.  Why shouldn't he dream while he lubed his big
dick and stroked?  Had he dreamed of me in all these years?  He sighed as I
smoothed some on his asshole.  I lubed my cock as well.

"Fuck me, Matthew."

It was a simple statement, but I looked at his face as he turned around to
watch me, and it was the invitation I'd been ready to accept long before
I'd been able to accept it!

My cockhead was at his hole.  My lover opened for me!  It was the most
natural thing in the world for my cock to slowly sink into the depths of my
teacher, my lover.  He was tight.  He may have jacked off a lot in this
bed; he may have fingerfucked himself often.  But he clearly had not been
fucked by a cock in a very long time.  But as I slowly pressed inward, he
relaxed and welcomed me.  There was more pleasure in those few moments as I
entered him for the first time than there had been in all those years of
sex in high school and college.

I watched my cock disappear into him.  The lips of his hole spread wide,
circling my dick, almost eating it.  And my cock slid down his tunnel like
it belonged in him!

I lay on top of him, then, my cock fully impaled.  My cock flexed inside
him when I realized, my head lying on his shoulders, that I was inhaling
the scent of his aftershave, that aftershave I had smelled and loved in the
classroom twenty years before.  How I had idolized him in the classroom!
When he first touched my leg, that day when I had fallen, I desired him.  I
yearned for him.  I wanted him so very desperately.  Can a boy desire a
man?  Of course.  I know.  I had.

My cock throbbed.  I simply could hold still no longer.  I put my weight on
my hands, placed on either side of him, and I raised my hips up and with
them my dick.  Oh, yeah, so sweet and smooth and tight.  I slowly lowered
myself.  I kept my body straight.  I was doing pushups into my lover.

I admit that I love looking at myself when I feel sexy.  I looked down at
my chest to see my pecs standing out nicely when I raised and lowered my
body.  The biceps in my arms carried my weight easily.  My stomach is
tight; I've always kept my abs in shape.  And my dick?  It was really
strange.  I watched my dick move in and out of him, and I was taken back to
those days back then, when an eight-year-old boy was so proud of his little
peter

It's odd.  There hadn't been a hair on it.  So tiny, though I thought it
was big when I got it hard.  Smooth.  You could run your finger down my
belly, over my pubic bone, and right on up my hard little peter, and it
would all be smooth as a baby's ass.  My tiny balls were just as smooth.  I
loved fingering them, and I loved it even more when John would lick them,
suck on them.  I'm sure all little boys love their peters.  I hope they all
learn how to pleasure themselves with that little tube of meat between
their legs.  But one boy was luckier than so many others.  One boy found a
man to love his dick as much as the boy himself did.

That little boy's peter has sure grown up!  It's a dark red now, shiny with
both lube and John's juices.  I watch my blue veins pumping blood into my
cock, keeping it hard.  They pulse with my heartbeat.  Up and down.
Fucking my teacher so nice so smooth in him loving him my teacher fucking
loving...

I begin to move faster, and John pushes back at me.  God, I feel my balls
slapping into his ass as my cock thrusts into him.  And hear the sound of
them!  The slap comes just a split second after my cock bottoms out in his
ass then up again so slick and down slap oh fuck slap feel my balls hitting
him oh god yeah fucking fuck fuck fuck...

John's deep moans are getting louder.  I know that sound.  I remember it.
A little boy learned to recognize it and know that his teacher was getting
close to a great cum getting ready to blow his wad shoot his cream fucking
oh god john i love you yesssss...

"ARRRRRRRRRRhhhhhhhh..."  John roared at his first blast.

My cockhead must be assaulting his prostate!  He was cumming with his cock
pressed into the bed beneath him.  I pumped faster and faster almost losing
control of myself having to get inside so deep my cock throbbing needing to
cum needing to fill him fuck yesss... fuck yesss...

"OOOOOOOhhhhhhhhhh..."  I exploded!  My cockhead must have swollen more; it
was so tight as i came hard inside...

"OOOOOO fuuuuckkkkkk Johnnnnnnn..."

My cum raced through my cock and blasted into his ass a second time, then a
third.  I know my face was contorting; it had been a long time since my
orgasms were so intense...

Again!  Again!  Oh fuck Johnnnnnnnn...

We lay on our stomachs, side by side, for a very long time.

Later he led me to the bathroom, and we showered together.  Our lips and
fingers touched everything.  Then we went into his kitchen and fixed a
light meal.

He drove me around town this morning, and I revisited some places I
remembered.  But a lot had changed, and I suppose the memory of a little
eight-year-old boy might not always be accurate.  But one thing I remember
so very well.  Our love.

When we came back a while ago, we had sandwiches.  Neither one of us was
really hungry.  Or, as John put it, we were too hungry for each other!  We
went into the bathroom and pissed together -- that was such fun for a
little boy, to piss with a grown man!

And now we are here, naked and on his bed.  It was his idea to write you
before we return to our lovemaking.  And to thank you.  I've found, again,
the love of my life.

My dear Chuck: John here again.  Matthew is teasing me.  I think he's
rediscovered the little boy inside the man! He is on his knees behind me,
rubbing his cock on my shoulders and back -- I can feel his precum!  He is
just as much a boy as he ever was.  And I am hard for him already.  So I
must conclude, but with my -- our -- eternal thanks.

Sincerely,
John and Matthew
("Mr. Richie" and "Dillon")

-----------------------------


Dear John and Matthew:

You're wonderful pair, and a wonderful example that life does have happy
endings!  Bless you both!

Sincerely,
Chuck