Date: Sat, 24 Dec 2016 17:00:11 +0000 (UTC)
From: short_guy@yahoo.com
Subject: Play like a man-2

Play like a man-2
by Short Guy


One of my readers rightly admonished me that if any story ever needed
another chapter, this one was it. I know exactly what he meant (I think)
and it seemed that our guys needed to take the next and final step. So here
it is.

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Play like a man part 5

I was a high school senior now and preparing for my audition to the
Julliard School of Music. Mr. de Luca had improved my skills enormously
over the last two years. My tone was clear, my intonation was right on, my
phrasing showed emotional maturity. And I could suck cock like a
champion. But I still had some stage fright and the audition made me
nervous. I had confessed my nervousness to Mr. de Luca at the end of the
last lesson. I was on my knees before him looking up into his beautiful
eyes with those muscular hairy pecs towering above me. I had just completed
my breathing lesson and his hot thick cum covered my forehead, my nose and
my lips. Looking up at him, I saw him smiling, content with his student,
his cum-covered boy. As his cum dripped from my lips into my mouth, I told
him I was nervous about the auditions.

"We can cure that, son," he said. "Next time."

Well it was next time now and I had no idea what to expect. Mr. de Luca had
corrected my posture while groping my dick. He had taught me to breathe by
sucking his gorgeous manly cock. He had taught me to play with feeling and
love by getting me to fall in love with him. What possibly could happen
now?

Fuck me, I had an inkling. There was one thing we had not done. There was
one thing he had not done with me or to me. Fuck me, I thought. He's going
to fuck me.

The thought made me jack off at home imagining what it would be like. But
it also scared me. I had put my finger up my ass, sure, but I could not get
two fingers up there no matter how much lube I used. I worshipped Mr. de
Luca and I fucking worshipped Mr. de Luca's cock. But how the hell was he
going to fit that beer can of a cock, that baseball bat of his, up my
teenage ass? He was going to rip me to shreds.

Fuck it, he said he was going to prepare me not to be scared at my
audition. But I was fucking terrified of watching thim try to shove dick up
my tight little butt. This wasn't helping my anxiety; it was increasing it.

Well, there was nothing for it. I was at Mr. de Luca's door. I was nervous
as hell. It was time to learn how not to be nervous.

I rang the doorbell. A few seconds later, Mr. de Luca opened the
door. Fucking hell, instead of wearing skimpy gym shorts like he usually
did, he was totally naked. And he was already hard as a log in winter.

I gaped at him. He was fucking naked standing at his front door. Shit I was
standing in front of him but if I moved just a little the neighbors could
see everything.

He stood there calm as if this was totally normal. He said nothing. I said
nothing. I just stared at him taking it all in. The high round muscular
pecs covered in his soft fur.  His huge nipples that I Ioved to suck. His
tight six pack abs. And that beautiful erect penis, proud, thick, strong,
the source of my protein, the manhood I loved to swallow.

He waited.

It was up to me to do something.

I stepped forward. He did not move. I looked up at him. He looked down at
me and smiled. We were in the doorway of his house. He wanted me to do
something before he would step aside. He moved slightly toward my face. I
knew what he wanted. Oh God I knew it now. He wanted to kiss me in his
front door where anyone could see. He wanted me to realize there was
nothing to be afraid of. He wanted me to accept the fact that I was his
boy. He wanted to teach me that there was nothing -- nothing -- I would not
do for him. He wanted to teach me that there was nothing I could not do. He
wanted to teach me to be brave.

You have to remember this was before gay rights were popular. You have to
remember that a grown man kissing a 17 year old boy might very well have
been classified as a crime. Many states still prohibited same sex
relationships.

It was risky. It was foolhardly. It was stupid.

But Mr. de Luca cared about me so much that he was willing to risk being
found out, being arrested, having a neighbor call the cops because of his
almost public nudity or because they saw him kissing a child, molesting a
vulnerable young boy.

He's not afraid of anything, I thought. He's not afraid.

But then I realized, maybe he was afraid. Maybe he was terrified. But he
did it anyway. He did it to teach me how to open myself up, how to be
vulnerable, how to confront my fears and walk right through them. He was
teaching me that I could be naked before the world and that I should not be
worrying about what the world thought of me. No, I should be forcing the
world to see me, to see me for who I am, to participate in my
vulnerability, my openness, my yearning. I should stand proud. I should
stand relaxed. I was a boy. I was a boy. But Mr. de Luca was teaching me
how to stand like a man.

So I did it. Right there in his doorway where his neighbors on the left and
right could see it. I put my head back, gazed into his eyes, watched as his
face descended, and I kissed him. I kissed him. I kissed my Mr. de
Luca. And as he kissed me, as I felt his tongue in my mouth and his hard
cock touching my stomach, I realized something.

I was no longer afraid.


Play like a man part 6

"Come in son," Mr. de Luca said. And I came in.

I had trouble not staring at his raging cock and his muscular torso. I had
trouble not being caught by his electric blue eyes. But I walked to his
bedroom where he gave me my lessons in music and cocksucking and felt the
excitement and awe from kissing my naked teacher in his front door.

I took the instrument out and turned around.

"No," he said, taking my violin and putting it back in the case. "Today you
learn to be vulnerable."

He leaned over and kissed me again and as he did so he started to unbutton
my shirt. He kissed my lips tenderly, gently. His touch on my buttons was
equally gentle. Gentle but relentless. He took off my shirt. He kneeled
down and looked me straight in the face as he removed my shoes and then my
socks. He picked up my right foot, looked me in the eye and brought it to
his mouth. I couldn't fucking believe it when I saw him lick the bottom of
my foot from the heel to the toes. He licked it several times and then he
took my toes in his mouth and began to suck.

He was looking at me the whole time. Sucking. Licking. Sucking. Licking.

He stopped and reached up to undo my belt.

Holy God. As he was sucking my toes, he was undressing me. He opened my
zipper and slid down my pants. He made me step out of them.

He looked in my eyes. His face approached mine. He put his lips on
mine. And then he said it.

"There's nothing to be afraid of."

And with that, he slipped down my white briefs, slipped them off my feet
and moved back leaving me standing naked before him.

"Now we are ready," he said, in his gruff, masculine voice. "Play. Play
like a man. Play with power. Play with intensity. Play with love. Play the
Beethoven as if it were the last thing you would ever play for me. Nothing
else matters. It's just your fiddle and Beethoven. Play for me. It's just
you and me. I am naked before you. You are naked before me. You have
nothing to hide. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You have nothing to
lose. Do not be afraid that I can see you standing before me naked and
trembling. Do not fear others seeing you for who you really are. You are an
angel. You are my angel. You are naked and you are beautiful. I am your
teacher. I am your man. I see you Guy. I see you for who you really
are. And I love you. I love who for you are. I love you Guy."

He paused. And then he whispered, "Play like a man."

I took up my violin. I was naked. I was vulnerable. I was on stage. But I
was also in a private house. In a bedroom. Mr. de Luca's bedroom. My violin
fit under my chin. It kissed my shoulder. I looked at him. My teacher. My
idol. My stud athlete musician. My manly, gentle, powerful, tender, loving
role model. I looked at his rigid cock. I looked at his protruding
nipples. I looked into his eyes.

And I played. I played the music. I played like a man.


Play like a man part 6

When it was over, when the last note has stopped reverberating in the air,
I put down my violin. I walked over to Mr. de Luca where he sat on the
bed. I put my face right up to his, my lips an inch from his own.

"Well?" I asked. "Did I play like a man?"

He smiled. He smiled and said nothing.

"Was it OK?" I asked again, nervous.

"Yes," he said. "Yes, but..."

I was flustered. It was good but, but, but, there was a "but"... OK, that's
not a problem, I thought. I'm here for lessons. I'm here to learn. I'm here
to practice. And so I said it.

"There's a but... right? So please sir. Please Mr. de Luca." I saw him
smile. I saw him revel in the way I called him sir, the way I used his last
name. His chest swelled at how I looked up to him, how I treated him like
my master, my teacher, like a grownup rather than a friend, as someone
above me, a superior, an idol, someone I owed deference to.

"Teach me sir." I put my lips on his and repeated it. "Teach me Mr. de
Luca, sir. Please."

His tongue entered my mouth. I had said what he wanted to hear. I was
open. I was eager. I was ready to learn. I wanted whatever I needed. I
wanted whatever he would demand of me.

He released his lips from mine and spoke.

"It was strong. It was passionate. It was heartwrenching," he said. "But
there is somethinge else, something more."

He looked at me.

"The music should penetrate the soul of the listener. You should make him
feel as if you are inside his very skin. But to do that, to penetrate the
heart and soul of the audience, you must know what it is to be penetrated
yourself. You must know what it is to be vulnerable. To be vulnerable and
open to receiving the gifts that others offer you. To be vulnerable but
unfraid. To be afraid but willing to yield, to receive, to be open."

As he spoke he had reached for the side table and put lube on his left
hand. He had reached behind me. And the exact moment he uttered the world
"vulnerable" he had penetrated my ass with his finger. He was stroking my
prostate gland as he spoke and looked at me. And then he repeated it.

"Vulnerable but unafraid. Afraid but ready to yield."

And with that he lifted me up, put me on his lap, removed his finger from
my asshole, and sat me down on his cock.

At first it would not go in. I was a virgin. I was tight. I was nervous.

Mr. de Luca kissed me and penetrated my mouth with his tongue. His tongue
was strong. It was relentless. It was long. I sucked on it. I sucked like
it would give me the elixir of eternal life. He fucked my mouth with this
tongue. He pushed against my boy hole. He fucked my mouth. He pushed his
cock upward. He fucked my mouth. He pushed over my threshold. He entered my
inner sanctum. He penetrated my ass.

I cried out. He was thick. He was big. He had a baseball bat of a cock. It
hurt. I cried. It hurt. I cried. But then it slipped in further. It was
past my door. He was in the room. He was sliding in. He was sliding in. I
was sitting down. Further, further, further. I was impaled on Mr. de Luca's
cock. His rigid throbbing penis filled my bowels. The pain subsided. The
pain receded. He started kissing my cheeks. He started licking my tears
away. He started moving me up and down. He started fucking my ass.

There was no more pain. There was no more anxiety. There was no more fear.

But my tears would not stop. My tears kept coming. But they were not tears
of pain. They were not tears of fear. They were tears of joy. They were
tears of love. They were tears releasing the frustrations I had had all my
life. I was where I wanted to be. I was who I needed to be. I was open. I
was receptive. I was relaxed. I was joyful. I was in love.

Mr. de Luca stood up. I was speared on his baseball player's cock. He
continued to fuck me. He continued to kiss me. Gently he laid me down on
his bed. My head was on his pillow. I was in his place where he slept every
night. His tongue was in my mouth. His penis was in my ass. He was
penetrating me in all the ways he could.

He lifted his face from mine. He continued to fuck me. Gently but
deeply. Tenderly but insistently. His cock was long. It was thick. And it
filled me up. Again. And again. And again. And again.

"You feel it? You feel it son? You feel what it is to be vulnerable? To be
open? To be penetrated? To be loved?"

He fucked me and fucked me and fucked me and fucked me.

"Yes, Mr. de Luca," I croaked, overcome by lust, by love. My chest felt
warm; it felt full. My ass felt warm; it felt full; it felt as if each pass
of his penis over my prostate gave me a glimpse of heaven.

"If you were a girl, my sperm would make you pregnant," he said.

What the hell was that about? What did he mean?

"If you got pregnant, I would have to marry you," he said.

I looked into his eyes. He looked intently into mine.

"Think carefully little Guy. If you were a girl, would you let me make you
pregnant?"

I gasped at the question.

"Right here. Right now," he said.

He continued to fuck me and fuck me and fuck me.

I looked up at him.  I looked at his handsome masculine face. I looked at
his muscular grown man who wanted to know if I would want to be his boy
forever. His pulsating throbbing cock was in me, it was penetrating me, it
was fucking me. Right here. Right now. Did I want this to last forever? Did
I want to give myself over to him? To let him fuck me every night? Every
fucking night of my life? Could I give myself over to him?

"Yes," I said. "Fuck yes."

And with that he shot his load into me. He shot and shot and shot and shot
and shot and shot and shot.

And so did I.

When it was over, when his penis started to relax inside my asshole, he
licked the tears that had fallen on my face when I came.

"Mr. de Luca..." I began to say, but he interrupted me. He put his muscular
finger gently on my lips to stop me from saying anything else.

"Son," he said. "It's time to stop calling me by my last name. I just made
you pregnant after all..." He chuckled.

"Yessir," I said. "Yes, Mr. de Luca, sir."

"My name is Joe," he said.

"Joe," I repeated.

"Say it again," he said.

I hesitated. "Joe."

"You are a good learner, son," he said.

"You are a good father, Joe," I said.

"Father..." he said, smiling. "I do call you son, don't I?"

I hesitated. I was afraid to say it, the thing I wanted to say. I felt
vulnerable. I felt nervous. But Joe had taught me to open up, to let myself
be penetrated by love, by a full throbbing cock. And so I said it.

"Yes Daddy. Yes, you do."

He laughed. And it was the first time I had seen him smile that
broadly. His cock was still in my ass. My tears were on his tongue.

"OK son. As you wish. Call me Daddy."

I shivered with delight. I shivered with satisfaction. I shivered with the
magic of what had just happened.

"Now," he said. "Play it again. Let yourself be vulnerable. Let yourself be
penetrated by the music. Play it as if you had to penetrate someone
else. You know now what it takes to penetrate someone else."

He looked at me. "Do it."

He slid his cock out of my ass. I got up from the bed. And I played the
Beethoven.

I remembered to play with power and intensity. I remembered to play with
love and tenderness. But now I made the music vulnerable. I made the melody
focused. I aimed. I pushed. I teased. I I penetrated.

And when it was done, when it was over, when my cock was again hard and
throbbing, I walked to the bed where Joe was lying on his back. I watched
as he spread his legs and brought them to his shoulders. I saw how
vulnerable he was. I saw how open. I saw his eyes beckoning. I saw my Daddy
ready to give me the last true lesson.

I climbed on top of him. I kissed his thick manly lips. I placed my cock at
the entrance to his asshole slippery from lube he had put there. And I
slipped inside. I slipped inside.

And I fucked him. And fucked him. And fucked him. And fucked him.

"I love you son," he said. "I love you son."

And as I was about to fill him with my boy cum, my teenage sperm, I put my
finger on his thick soft lips. I stopped him from talking. I made him look
into my eyes.

"I love you too Daddy."

And at that very moment, I climaxed. I shot my load inside him. I shot my
load. I shot my load.

I made him pregnant.  I made him my man.

I was his boy. I was his son. But he had taught me to play. He had taught
me to play like a man.

And like a man I filled his ass with my semen.

Daddy Joe had taught me well. I passed the audition and got into Julliard.

I continued to take lessons from him until I left. We saw each other when I
had breaks from Julliard and he continued to give me lessons. But he
stopped charging me money. All Joe wanted was my mouth. All Joe wanted was
my ass. And me? I was happy to give it to him. I wash happy to be with my
Daddy. I was happy to be his lover.

And you know what?

I still am.


Short Guy Stories

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/driving-instructor

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