Date: Fri, 28 Nov 2008 21:50:05 -0800 (PST)
From: Mark Arbour <markarbour2000@yahoo.com>
Subject: Chronicles of an Academic Predator - Chapter 30

CHRONICLES OF AN ACADEMIC PREDATOR

	Before you read this story, there are a few things you should consider:

1. It contains graphic descriptions of sex between men.  In some cases,
these depictions may get kinky, and include borderline S&M.

2. It is set in the early 1960s, an era before the Civil Rights Act of 1964
when segregation and discrimination were the norm.  African Americans were
referred to as Negroes or Coloreds, although the "N" word was offensive
then as it is now.  I have retained the language of the era because it
reminds me how far we have come on race relations.

3. Be aware that the effects of inflation have been profound.  A good rule
of thumb is to consider that $1 in 1962 is probably similar to $10 in 2008.
So just add a zero at the end of any number.

4. Some authors are good enough to create a mood through their words.  I
need help, so I'll be posted recommended musical selections throughout the
story.



CHAPTER 30

Musical Recommendation: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5O1sXdfzmms&feature=related
"I Can't Stay Mad at You" by Skeeter Davis

December 31, 1962

	I slept in again.  No reason to get up.  No one I wanted to see or
talk to.  I figured I'd go to Dino's tonight for the New Year.  Or maybe
I'd just stay home.  I lounged in bed, refusing to expend the effort to be
active.  Everyone would be so much more comfortable if I just stayed locked
away, out of sight and out of mind.

	When Jason came home, I'd talk to him about flying back.  If I
could get him to do that, I'd bail today.  I was sick of this place again.
If I ever decided to come back again, I'd need to make sure it was for very
short visits.

	There was a knock on the door.  I got up and opened it.  It was my
mother, of course.

	"I'm sorry about last night." she said.

	"It's not your fault mother.  You're just stuck in the middle.  The
sooner I'm gone, the sooner things will be easier for all of us."

	"You are probably right JP, but I like having you here."  I smiled
at her.

	"Well I have a solution.  Instead of me coming here, why don't you
come to Chicago?  I'd wait until the weather gets nice though," I joked.

	"I may just do that," she said.  She patted me gently on the cheek
and left.  I followed her to the door and locked it.  I wanted to control
my environment.

	I took a shower, which should have been refreshing, but for some
reason it just made me want to sleep again, so I hopped into bed and went
back to sleep. I was awakened by a hand stroking my chest, flitting over my
nipples and making them hard.  And that's not the only thing.  I opened my
eyes to find Jeff staring at me.

	"Hey," he said.

	"Hey," I responded.  Then I just looked at him.  It was up to him
to talk.

	"I'm sorry about yesterday," he said.

	"Yeah, well you were a big dick."  I responded, unrelenting.

	"I've been told that," he said, joking, but I didn't laugh.

	"So what the fuck was wrong with you?"  I asked.  He climbed in bed
with me and laid his head on my chest.  Goddammit.  He was just so cute.
How could I ever stay mad at this guy?  I found my hand moving and my
fingers running through his hair in direct opposition to the intentions of
my brain.  He smiled up at me.

	"I'm too cute for you to stay mad at me," he said cockily.

	"Oh yeah?  Well you may not want to test me on that, especially
today."

	"What do you mean?"

	"Don't change the subject asshole.  You have some explaining to do
first.  Then, if I decide to forgive you, I'll tell you my latest tale of
woe."

	He lay there silently, snuggled up against me.  "I think I'm a
fag," he said.  Another long pause.  "Remember how we talked about types of
guys.  Well at first I thought I was a normal guy, just horny, looking for
a hole, any hole.  That was the easiest to deal with.  But after awhile I
figured out that wasn't it.  I loved having sex with you too much, and I
liked doing faggy things, like sucking your dick."  He smiled up at me and
I stroked his cheek.  He played me like a flute.

	"Then I figured that maybe I was one of those guys who likes both
girls and guys.  Bisexuals you called them.  And I play around with Carol,
kiss her, play with her boobs, feel her up a bit, and that's fun and all,
but nothing like when I'm with you.  Then when you fucked me, well, guys
don't do that unless they're queer."  I decided not to interrupt him to
argue about that.  "That's when I realized that I'm a full-out faggot.  I
thought that when I noticed guys in the locker room it was just normal
curiosity.  I should have known when I jacked off thinking about them it
was more than that."

	"So anyway, that just kind of brought the whole thing crashing in
on me.  And it was a lot easier to blame you than to deal with it myself.
Especially seeing how your Dad's dealing with it, freaking out and shit."
He looked back up at me, those violet eyes staring into mine.  "So will you
forgive me?"

	"Yeah, I'll forgive you, you stupid asshole," I said as lovingly as
I could.  He smiled big and then our lips met.  I turned over, exposing my
ass to him.  "Why don't you re-assert your masculinity big guy?"  I asked
teasingly.

	"Gladly," he said, and took off his pants, lubed his pole, and
entered me.

	After we made love and were laying there enjoying the denouement, I
explained my confrontation with my Dad.  This time I was lying on his soft
chest and he was stroking my back.  I told him about my dilemma with Jason.

	"I've got an idea," he said.  "Why don't we get up, shower, and
head to Chicago?"

	"Now?" I asked.

	"Yep."

	"What about Jason?"  I asked.

	"He can drive my car back when he's ready.  Hell, he can even bring
Vivienne with him and she can ride back with me.  School doesn't start up
again until the 14th.  Come on, let's go," he said, almost begging.

	I got up and headed to the shower.  "Car's already packed.  I just
need to clean up and talk to Jason."

	He followed me to the shower.  "Might as well save some water," he
said.

	Cleaned up, refreshed, and golden with a plan, I tracked Jason down
in the kitchen.  "So Jason, here's the plan.  I'm leaving for Chicago right
now.  Jeff's riding with me and he's leaving you his car.  You can come
back anytime as long as you make it by the 12th.  Then he'll drive his car
back."  I saw Jason digest this new plan.

	"Oh, and Jeff says that if you want to come back earlier and bring
Vivienne, he'll drive her back with him."  That sealed the deal.

	"Sounds good JP.  Thanks a lot."  Jeff walked in with his bag and
tossed his keys to Jason.  I headed to the living room to speak with both
of my parents.  I explained the plan to them.  My mother just nodded.

	"I'm not sure that I like that idea," said my father.  "That's a
lot of driving for Jeff."

	"I don't recall asking for your input or permission.  I was merely
informing you."  We just glared at each other.  Then I left.

	We stopped at Tonto's and spent a decent amount of time talking.  I
told her all about my latest confrontations with my father, and she urged
me to be patient.  Whatever.  Around 3pm we were on the road heading to
Chicago.  I was in a great mood.  I thought it was because I was getting
the fuck out of Claremont; I hadn't paused to consider that it may be
because Jeff was with me, but deep down I knew that was the real reason.

	The drive was great.  It seemed like so long since we'd done this.
I'd forgotten how easy it was to be with him.  How we could be calm and
quiet, and it was OK.  Comfortable.  Pleasant.  We made it to Chicago at
11pm and grabbed a couple of pizzas downtown at a place that was always
open.  We got to the condo, unloaded all of our shit, and sat down to eat.
I flicked on the television just in time to see the ball drop (again, for
central time) I leaned over and gave Jeff a big kiss.

	"Happy New Year," I said.

	"Happy New Year to you," he responded.

Musical Recommendation: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5GwX-IuACEc
"Stuck On You" by Elvis Presley

January 11, 1963

	The past ten days had been a dream.  Having Jeff back in Chicago
and having the condo all to ourselves had been unbelievable.  The weather
was shitty so we really didn't want go out, but that was just fine.  We
stayed in the condo and fucked like rabbits.  I was once again reminded of
our nine year age differential, and how the body of an 18 year old could
rebound about every 20 minutes.  It's a good thing that he decided that he
liked to be fucked too or I would be too sore to even walk.  Not that I
cared about that.  If I had to label the last ten days the word I'd use
would be "euphoria."

	Jason had called yesterday and said he'd planned to get in tonight.
He planned to leave Claremont around noon so we planned for him to get in
around 8pm or 9pm.  He was on top of the world.  I was surprised he wasn't
bringing Vivienne with him.  Apparently they'd been inseparable.  He told
me that as soon as I left things had pretty much settled down at home.
That didn't exactly make me feel terrific, but I was glad for my mother's
sake.

	I watched the weather report on the news.  So far this was shaping
up to be one of the coldest Januaries in history.  It seemed that the
furnace was on constantly, but with the wind whipping around the windows it
was still cold.  I'd taken to keeping the drapes closed and that helped.
At least it seemed cozier.  That and it started snowing again.  We'd gotten
three inches last night and they were predicting another inch tonight.  (I
smiled to myself.  I'd gotten about seven inches last night.)  Chicago in
the winter blew chunks.  No one would live here if the summers weren't so
spectacular.

	Finally, about 11PM, an exhausted Jason came staggering into the
condo.  "The fucking weather sucks," he said bitterly.

	"Glad you made it back safe and sound!"  I said.  Jeff went over
and put an arm around his shoulder and gave him a 'man hug'.  "So how were
things in Claremont?"  I asked.

	"Shitty."  I just waited for him to continue.  "Things around the
house were quiet after you left.  Your parents were great.  I think I'm
going to adopt them.  Your father still refuses to even talk about you, but
your mother makes up for it.  I think she talks about you all the time to
either piss him off or remind him that you're still around."  He chuckled
at that.

	"So what made things so shitty?"

	"Fucking women.  Vivienne.  We had a great time.  I really liked
her.  A lot.  Then yesterday, my last day in town, she blows me off,
cancels our date.  I decided to go down to Dino's, just to get out of the
house for a bit, and you know, to drown my sorrows as it were.  And there
she is, sitting on some other guy's lap.  Fucking whore."

	"Sorry about that Jason.  I hate to say I told you so..." I tried
to joke, but he didn't smile.  "Sorry.  But you had a good time with her
while you were there, right?"

	"Yeah, I did.  Finally lost my cherry.  Man, sex was great.
Awesome.  I really have to do that more often!"  Jeff and I cracked up at
that.  With that, we all headed to bed.

	As soon as we got to my room and closed the door, Jeff and I shed
our clothes.  It was automatic, the need to connect, to be together.  For
me it was way more than just hormones, and I hoped it was that way for
Jeff.  We made love with a slow passion, savoring each moment.  It seemed
like we'd finally repaired the disconnection that happened when he fucked
Stefan.

	"It's our last night together," I told Jeff as we lay in bed
enjoying the afterglow of our recent round of sex.  "I'm really going to
miss you."

	"I'm going to miss you too baby," he said as he snuggled up behind
me.  My teddy bear.  I sighed contentedly.

	"So what's gonna happen with you and Carol?"  I asked.

	"Guess we'll still go out," he said.  "I mean, it's senior year,
there's the prom and everything.  It will be nice to have a girlfriend.
You OK with that?"

	"You don't have to ask my permission to date someone.  You do your
thing and I'll do mine."  The words pained me as I said them, but how could
I trust my fragile psyche to an 18 year old high school senior.  I mean,
Jeff's a mature guy, probably even more mature than me, but I didn't want
to have to compete with his hormones.

	"OK," he said, but sounded kind of sad about it.

	"What's wrong?"  I asked, turning around to face him and look into
those violet eyes.

	"I'm in love with you, and I don't want anyone else."  God, he was
so sweet.

	"I love you too Jeff, more than I can say.  But if we make some big
commitment now, well, what happens if one of us has too much to drink and
fucks up, or more to the point, fucks someone else?"

	"I won't do that.  I promise."  He was so sincere.

	"Baby, I know you wouldn't hurt me on purpose, but I'm just an
emotional wreck these days.  I can't risk it."

	"You don't trust me?"  He was offended.

	"I trust you.  If you were here, or I was in Claremont, I'd say
let's go for it.  But there's 400 miles between us.  And I know how horny
you are," I said with a wink and reached down to grab his hardening pole.

	He grinned at me.  "OK.  You know the key to my heart."  We made
love again, only this time I entered him.  The feeling of ecstasy visible
on his face while I fucked him was one of the coolest things.  To have this
massive stud, this gorgeous hunk of man, thriving in delight just because I
was penetrating him, short little me, was just amazing.

January 12, 1963

	I woke up that morning with a cock up my ass.  Jeff had snuggled up
behind me and moved into me while I was sleeping, so the first feeling I
was conscious of was his dick passing through my ring and then rubbing into
my hole, right against my prostate.

	"Morning baby," he cooed in my ear.  "I wanted to be inside you one
more time before I go."  He gently plunged in and out of me, driving me
nuts.

	"Fuck me harder!" I cried.

	"No baby, I want this to last.  I want to feel you as long as I
can.  Then when I blow, I'm gonna fill up your ass."  He continued to move
slowly in and out of me, keying me up so his head seemed to slowly plunge
into me, not missing a single spot inside me.  He picked up his pace.  "You
wanna feel me explode in your ass?"

	"Oh yeah," I said, almost incoherent with passion.  Then he came,
thrusting and thrusting and shooting and shooting.  I wasn't there yet,
which was great, because I was close and my senses were so stimulated it
seemed like I could feel each pulse of his dick.  Then he pulled his cock
out of my ass, leaving me with that empty feeling, and rolled me onto my
back.

	The next thing I knew, his mouth was on my cock, and his finger
penetrated my hole to take the place of his cock.  There was no way I could
hold off in the face of that overwhelming combination, nor did I want to.
I blasted into his mouth and he swallowed my load, not losing a drop.

	I pulled him to my chest and stroked his strong shoulders.  "I have
to get up baby," he said, pulling away.  I tried to hold him back but he
just grinned at me.  "Come on, you know I have to hit the road.  I've gotta
make it back by Monday and the roads are shitty."  I let him go and
followed him into the shower.  I kissed him under the running water, felt
the water spray between us.  Then I made him lean back while I washed him.
I soaped his arms, those bulging biceps and firm forearms, that broad
hairless chest with the soft, padded skin covering it, those dime-sized
nipples that I loved to suck on.  His abdomen, padded just like his chest,
with his sexy as hell treasure trail.

	I turned him around so his front got rinsed off while I washed his
back.  Those massive shoulders and strong back muscles that curved down to
his cute ass, the soft padded sides that didn't show a hint of love
handles, so fit was he beneath his coating.  His ass, so smooth and soft
until he tensed his muscles when it turned into two solid rocks.  I bent
over and washed his legs and feet, admiring his huge thighs and bulging
calves.  He turned around, sporting that 18 year old hard-on that never
went down.  I took him into my mouth and sucked him until he rewarded me
with an early breakfast.

	I watched him get out of the shower and dry himself off, and he
smiled at my open admiration.  I could spend my life looking at this guy,
being with this guy, loving this guy.  But what about him?  Why would
someone that looked like him want someone as skinny and short as me?  I
swallowed my insecurities before they destroyed my mood.

	We came out of the bedroom to find Jason camped out at the table
looking glum.  Still mooning over Vivienne probably.  Jeff grabbed his bag
and got ready to leave, and then he did something that really shocked me.
He leaned over and gave me a kiss, not just a peck, but a long, deep,
tongue-wrestling kiss goodbye, and he did it right in front of Jason.  Then
he opened the door and he was gone, headed back to Claremont.

	I looked at Jason, who was wearing a shit-eating grin.  "JP's got a
boyfriend, JP's got a boyfriend," he taunted, sounding like a little
schoolgirl on the playground.  I just laughed at him and blushed.

	"Let's get something to eat and head up to campus.  See if there's
anything we need to know before Monday's classes start."

	"Whatever you say boss," he said amiably, and we headed out into
the winter frost.

	Later that night, alone in bed, was when I missed Jeff the most.
I'd be lying if I said it wasn't the sex I missed.  We had so much fun, and
when he left I felt drained.  Yet just an hour later I'd think of him and
get horny all over again.  But that wasn't the only thing, or even the most
important thing.  I missed having him here, him, the man, the person, the
one who was so comfortable for me to be around that I never wanted him to
leave.  The one who I could snuggle up to in a way that made me feel like I
had melded my body into his without sex, just contact.

	I'd sworn I'd keep my guard up and I wouldn't let him in.  I knew
that if I did I'd risk my sanity, my psyche, and any chance I had at
happiness.  I struggled hard to keep him out, to keep the castle walls
intact, but his battering ram had turned them to rubble.  I was hopelessly
in love with him.  Please God, if there is one, don't let him hurt me.

January 14, 1963

 	As I headed to campus with Jason I was in a surprisingly good mood.
He seemed confused by that, since I'd been pretty somber yesterday.  It
made me smile to think that he didn't know me as well as he thought he did.
If I couldn't impress him with my strength and ability, I could at least be
quirky.  But he didn't seem to get how much I loved the first day of
classes, meeting the students, setting the stage for the semester, and just
the general commotion and newness of the whole thing.

	I consented to teach the American History lecture hall class,
primarily to earn brownie points with both Dr. Peterson and Dr. Broughton,
who was supposed to teach it.  I really didn't mind.  It was a fun class,
and I usually was able to make it interesting enough to pull in some
history majors.  The other class I was teaching was a senior/graduate level
class on Decolonization.  That was really exciting for me because it was
entirely new, and because history was happening here and now.  In the last
six months several nations had won independence from their colonial
masters, including Trinidad and Tobago, Uganda, Tanzania, Malawi, Jamaica,
and Algeria.

	I felt strong academically, and more importantly, emotionally.  My
vow to avoid entanglements, to avoid caring, was empowering, and besides
Jeff, who was safely back in Claremont and conveniently out of my daily
grind, and Jason, who was an employee and friend, but not a love interest,
I was free of that bullshit.

	The first class, starting at 11am (I hated early classes, and I'd
won that concession when I agreed to teach it) was the American History
class.  I always started my classes with a discussion of what was happening
in the news.  Today's news was pretty bleak.  George Wallace became
governor of Alabama and declared his motto: "Segregation now, segregation
tomorrow, and segregation forever!"

	There was a big guy, a hulking kind of guy, who decided to impress
the class with his insights.  "What's wrong with whites and niggers staying
in their own neighborhoods?"  He had a decided southern twang to his voice.
One of the guys next to him chuckled.

	"And who might you be?"  I asked.

	"Ronnie Boyd," he said proudly, like that had some significance.
Everything about his face was round, his head, his eyes, his nose, and even
his mouth.

	"Well Mr. Boyd, I encourage free speech in my class, but not
offensive speech.  In the future, please refer to Negroes in that way, or
as colored people.  The term you used is not acceptable."

	He looked at me like I was some kind of prude and just shrugged his
shoulders.  This boy was going to have a tough semester if he kept this up.
After class I checked my rosters and found that he was on the university
wrestling team.

	I was sitting in my office, pondering all this, when Jason came
breezing in.  "What did you do to Mallory?  I saw him this morning and he
was nice to me."

	"I fucked him," I told him casually.

	"Really?  Well that worked.  I've got a few other guys lined up for
you this semester."

	"Let me guess.  One of them is Ronnie Boyd."

	Jason looked surprised.  "Yeah, how did you know?  And his buddy,
Willie Jackson.  Both from the South, both wrestlers, and both with big bad
attitudes."

	I looked at Jason carefully.  "You get me something on them, and
we'll make them our slaves for a night or two and that ought to straighten
them out."  I expected him to give me some ethical argument, but he just
nodded.

	"I'd like to see both of those bastards squirm.  Hell, maybe I'll
fuck them myself.  That ought to convert them."  I started cracking up, not
just at the thought of Ronnie's face when Jason whipped out his monster,
but at the confidence Jason seemed to have discovered in himself.

	My second class was much smaller.  There were only 15 students in
that one, and since they were higher level classes, the students were more
serious and more dedicated.  And if they weren't, they'd been in school
long enough to know the routine.

	There was one guy in there that immediately attracted my attention.
He would have caught my eye anyway, just with his looks.  He didn't have a
football-player's build like Jeff, or an athlete's build like Andre.  From
what I could tell, he was in shape but average.  What attracted him to me
was that he reminded me of, well, me.  He had this normal body, and a
really handsome face.  His face had almost a James Dean look to it, without
the rebel attitude, and he had thick brown hair.

	So I would have noticed him no matter what, but he sat in the front
row and asked two or three questions, very intelligent questions that
showed me he was interested enough in the subject to actually read up on
his own before the class.  There is something incredibly exciting about
teaching a specialty class like this one and finding a student who seems to
share your passion.  His voice was sexy, not in a deep masculine kind of
way, but in a smooth, cultured kind of way.  He reminded me of the
North-Eastern aristocrats I'd met at Harvard and Princeton, but all I
really knew about him was his name, Tom Hartford, and that he was a
first-year grad student working on his Master's Degree.

	At the end of the day, my excitement had faded into exhaustion, and
Jason and I both made it an early night.  This looked to be an interesting
semester.  Once again I lay in bed and thought about Jeff.  Was there any
hope for us?  How would we handle the next six months apart, not to mention
the years beyond that?  Would he go to school in Columbus?  Would we still
be hundreds of miles apart?

	And even if he was around, how long would he want to be with some
scrawny guy that was nine years older than him?  What would happen when he
was 25 and still hot as hell, and I was 34 and starting to look like an old
man?  Would he even want to spend that many years with me?  The
uncertainties and insecurities gnawed at me, and I spent most of the night
tossing and turning.

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