Date: Thu, 30 Sep 2004 18:34:41 -0700 (PDT)
From: alton free <altonfree@yahoo.com>
Subject: Pressure Part 3

Disclaimer:  This is a work of fiction.  No actual psych majors were
harmed in the telling of this story.  If you are offended by homosexual
situations or homosexuality in general, loosen up.  Failing that, stop
reading and go do something else.  If you are underage or it is illegal
for you to be reading this where you're at, grow up and/or move.  Also,
stop reading.

Author's note: Thanks again for all the feedback, guys, particularly
those of you with questions and/or suggestions; you've given me lots to
think about.  Please note that I'm going to continue the slow pace of
this story, but for those of you itching for "the good stuff" (as some
of you put it), check out my new one in the Encounters section called
"Fun at the Company Picnic".  It's a stand-alone story that gets down
and dirty in a relative hurry.

Feedback and/or criticism cheerfully accepted at altonfree@yahoo.com.
Please put "Pressure" in the subject line so it isn't automatically
deleted.  Enjoy!

Pressure Part 3

By Alton Free

I spent a fun weekend deciding what kind of underwear would look best on
Travis' shapely body.  I still didn't have a great idea of what his ass
was like (although it was damn near perfect in the naked striptease in my
masturbatory fantasies), but I was sure he had a nice firm set of melons
back there.  In the end, I decided on a crisp new pair of white CK
briefs.  The premise of this little experiment was the old
I'm-at-school-in-my-undies nightmare, and I'm sure that's what my
little hottie wore back in grade school.  If I wanted to make it as
realistic as possible, I probably should have gone for Hanes or Fruit of
the Loom, but I AM a gay man after all.  Form over function in all
things.

I debated briefly (no pun intended) about putting him in boxer-briefs,
figuring that the hybrid might help ease his transition out of those
baggy old man's drawers and into a more flatteringly form-fitting
garment.  But this was MY show, and I wanted him in as little as I could
get away with.  Besides, thinking back on the boner he'd popped through
his boxers, I was starting to get the impression that Travis was getting
pretty comfortable with me calling the shots.  He'd hardly voiced a word
of protest when I suggested a different underwear style, and had even
agreed to let me pick it.  For that matter, he'd agreed to the plan
itself rather quickly.  I wondered where this agreeability was coming
from.  Did he trust me that much?  Or was this whole exercise turning him
on to the point where he'd pretty much do anything I said?  I decided to
test that theory a little at our next session.

Monday finally arrived.  I walked to my office after my last class with
Travis' briefs in my pocket; they'd been there all day.  I'd been
semi-hard ever since I put them there, knowing that in scant hours
they'd be on intimate terms with all Trav's best features.  When 3
o'clock rolled around, and I heard the knock at the door, I swear they
twitched on their own.

He came in already blushing, and already boned, too, from what I could
make out through his jeans.  "Hey," I greeted him.  "Any quizzes today
in Abt's class?"

"Nope," he said, not looking me in the eyes.  "This'll be my first
test today".

I wasn't sure if he was talking about the practice test he was about to
take, or stripping down to butt-hugging briefs in front of a gay TA, and
suspected he didn't either.  If the latter, I was determined that he'd
pass with flying colors.  Although I suspected the colors would all be
shades of red.

Time to show him what he'd be wearing for my viewing pleasure today.
Pulling them out of my pocket, I extended them to him.  "Here", I
said.  "I had to guess at the size, but I think they'll fit all
right."  Actually, I knew they would.  I was sure Travis was a 32"
waist; the briefs were a 30".  They'd fit JUST right.

He looked at the white cloth as if I were offering him a live snake.
Reaching out with a trembling hand, he asked me, "Sure this is
necessary?"

I debated telling him about the sticky surprise he'd left under the desk
last Friday, but just said, "Well, the whole point is to make you
uncomfortable, and I'm sure these will do a good job of that, since
you're used to boxers.  And this way, you don't have to worry about
anything...er, popping out."  He blushed harder at this mention of his
Friday boner, which he still didn't know I'd seen, albeit in
translucent reflection form.  He took the wadded-up briefs and opened
them up, dismayed at the lack of material soon to be covering his crotch
and ass.

He stood there for a few minutes, apparently waiting for me to tell him
where to go change, or at least for me to turn my back.  I just stared
back, until he finally heaved a deep sigh, and began to toe off a
sneaker.

"Yes!" I thought.  "Christ, he's ready to do this right in front of
me!"  I had other ideas, however.   I had a hunch, and wanted to see if
it panned out.  "Hey," I said, before he could get his shoe off,
"There's a janitor's closet right next door...why not change in
there?"

He looked at me with gratitude more naked than he'd be himself in the
next few minutes, and said, "Good idea.  I'll be right back".

"I just wonder," I thought to myself as he left the room.

I'd been thinking about his bulging shorts: if I had a boner that I
didn't want to have, and I had the opportunity to maybe get rid of it,
wouldn't I take it?  I didn't think the briefs would have a negative
effect on Travis' rod; quite the contrary.  And if he found himself
naked in a storage closet with a hard-on, knowing that in a few minutes
he'd be wearing nothing but a crotch-enhancing pair of shorts, I didn't
think he'd pass up the opportunity to tap the keg.

I willed myself not to follow discreetly and listen at the door in hopes
of catching an audible sign that my hunch was correct and instead settled
into my chair, my dick growing longer with each piece of clothing I
imagined was coming off the Greek statue behind the wall.  I did glance
at the clock before I sat down, though: it shouldn't take too long to
drop trou, slip on some underwear, and put your pants back on.  Then
again, if Trav was ready to rumble, it probably wouldn't take him too
long to shoot his goo, either.  Still, I figured I'd be able to tell if
he'd taken more time than strictly necessary to change clothes.

It was getting near the five minute mark when I thought I heard a muffled
moan from the wall behind my head.  Probably wishful thinking on my part,
but I did turn to stare at the spot he'd be in, willing my x-ray vision
to finally kick in after years of disappointment.  Sadly, it again
refused to comply, and I had only my imagination to guide me through the
Travis Moylan sex show I hoped was going on next door. Shortly, however,
I heard the unmistakable sound of plumbing in the wall, and smiled.  I
would bet my tuition that Travis was washing the evidence of his cardio
workout down the sink.  Such a waste.  A glance down at my khakis
revealed that Trav's wasn't the only fluid in the immediate vicinity,
however; I was leaking like a dairy cow.  I'd better start concentrating
on business fast...I was about ready to burst, and I hadn't even seen him
in his briefs yet.

A few minutes later, he walked back in the room, carrying his Abercrombie
boxers in one clenched fist.  I'd known he'd never dare leaving the
closet without his pants on, no matter how short the distance to my
office, but I'd thought he might have taken his shirt off in there, to
spare himself the feel of my eyes following its departure from his body.
However, he was fully clothed, if walking a bit funny.  And the front of
his pants revealed nothing more than his naturally generous package.  I
wondered if he could make it through the entire test without sporting
wood; I looked forward to finding out.

"How do they feel?" I asked, cruelly drawing attention to the
ball-hugging briefs I'd be looking at shortly.

Again with the red, he said, "They're a little tight.  And they feel
real weird...I haven't worn briefs since I was ten."

"I'm sure you'll get used to them in no time," I said cheerfully,
thinking that he'd have lots of opportunity, if I had my way.  Wasting
no more time, I said, "Shall we get started?"

In order to avoid endless repetition, it would be safe for you to assume
that Travis continues to blush while in my presence throughout the
remainder of this tale; I'll be sure to let you know if that's not the
case.  Notice my lack of information to the contrary as I watch him take
off his sneakers and slip off his socks.  He's moving a lot slower this
time: those briefs were really making him nervous.  Impatient for the
main event, I was nonetheless enjoying the slow strip-tease going on
right in front of me.  It gave me time to focus on attributes I'd
overlooked before.  For instance, I'm not one to notice extremities, but
Travis had really nice feet.  My gaze followed his hands as they left his
socks and traveled up to his t-shirt; the hands were nice, too, good
solid wrists and long, graceful fingers.  Imagining those fingers wrapped
around his shaft just moments before, I watched as they took hold of the
hem of his shirt and began to lift.  The first thing I saw was the
waistband of those sexy briefs, peeking out from his saggy jeans,
intersecting his happy trail, which was being slowly revealed inch by
furry inch, along with a stomach you could wash clothes on.  Then his
pecs, well defined without being too massive, a quarter-sized nipple
placed pertly on each one.  I loved the groove at the base of his neck
leading down to those bricks...what I wouldn't give to just lick him
there while he stood with his head thrown back.  I had to settle for
watching his t-shirt make its dramatic exit from his godly torso.  He
tossed it carelessly on the window sill, then reached his hands down to
the button of his jeans.

Glancing at me furtively, he made a clumsy show of trying to subtly turn
his back while he worked on his pants.  This was more than fine with me.
For one thing, I could have stared at that naked back all day; there was
serious V action from those massive shoulders down that trim waist.  More
importantly, I was finely going to get to see that ass just about as
naked as it could get; every smooth curve enhanced to white cotton
perfection.  As his hands left his zipper and moved to his waist, I held
my breath; when the jeans began to slide down, I nearly moaned.  As I
watched those brilliant white buns slowly make their appearance, I
realized my imagination had seriously underestimated Travis' rear.  If
bubbly butts are good...and they are...this was the Lawrence Welk of
butts.  The too-tight material was stretched taut over those shapely
mounds, and I could almost make out the dark crevice between them through
the new material.    "God bless Calvin Klein," I thought, as the jeans
passed over the last of the white and on down the legs.  It was a
criminal shame that this butt wasn't on a billboard in Times Square, not
to mention being hidden daily under baggy boxers and baggier jeans.  It
was then that I had my first real doubts about my ability to keep these
sessions professional (well, as professional as they'd been, which I'll
admit isn't saying much).  I knew there wasn't much I wouldn't be
willing to do to get my hands on that ass.  I also knew I'd be testing
the limits of Travis' compliance soon.

And, oh...there they go.  With his gorgeous butt bent over practically in
my face, the considerable bulge of his sack not quite hidden between his
legs, Trav slid the last bit of denim off his legs.  Slowly standing
erect (as was I, naturally...well, not standing), he began to fold his
jeans, taking more care with them then he had with his shirt.  I realized
he was trying to avoid giving me a frontal view, and wondered if he was
already stiff again.  Still giving me nothing but the back end (fine with
me!), he walked over and laid his jeans down next to his shirt on the
sill.  It was only a few steps, but I knew I'd be replaying that walk in
slow motion in my head for many nights to come, watching his buns shift
in all their musclely glory as he moved those few feet.

Finally, the clothes were stowed, and he had to face the music.  He
turned his head to see if I was still watching, and grimaced slightly to
find my eyes glued to his body.  I could almost see him turning over his
options in his mind; hand cover or no hand cover?  To cover would seem
childish and self-conscious, to not cover would be...problematic?  His
modesty won out, and he placed his hands in front of his crotch as he
turned to look at me sheepishly, and almost scurried back to his seat.
He was so adorable!  He was doing a masterful job of hiding his bulge; I
couldn't make out a single detail.  However, when he began to lever
himself into his desk chair, his hands did come off long enough for me to
confirm at least a woody-in-the-making within his cotton prison.  Christ,
but this kid was turned on by taking it off!  And hating every minute of
it, too!

Opening the folder on my desk, I quickly scanned the class notes I'd
obtained from Dr. Robert's TA.  Then Trav and I ran through the subject
matter that would likely be on the test he would be taking Wednesday.
This stuff was old hat to Travis, but he required prompting for every
question and his answers were slow and unsure.  It wasn't hard to figure
out what was breaking his concentration.  What WAS hard was somewhat
obscured by his table-top, although I was getting a lovely view of his
big cotton-covered balls, and the base of his unmistakable erection.  I
refrained from staring, although I couldn't help a glance every now and
then.  Travis seemed unaware of just how much of him I could see; when he
looked down, he saw a table-top, and was therefore able to convince his
desperate mind that that was all I could see, too.  Pretty big stretch,
but his dignity had only two lifelines left: the table-top, and the tiny
white briefs.  Given Travis' mindset, the table-top was definitely the
rope to go with.

Still, having his torso and legs completely exposed to my view was more
than enough to rattle him, although he was performing better verbally
than he had with the written test he'd taken on Friday.  Our
conversation was taking a bit of the tension out of the situation,
forcing him to concentrate on something other than his near nakedness.
All too soon, though, the sound would stop, and he'd be left with the
written test, his own thoughts, and a gay TA silently staring at his
almost completely displayed body.

Finally, we completed our run through, and I reached over to set the
alarm.

"Ready?" I asked.

"As I'll ever be," he muttered.  I set the alarm, and told him to
begin.

This time, he started sweating almost immediately, and with more force.
Knowing just what all that moisture was going to do to those cotton
briefs, I watched enthralled as the beads appeared on his forehead and
chest.  As appealing as he normally was, glistening, he was
irresistible.  I couldn't have turned my head from his body if the dean
had walked in the door and offered me tenure.  I cursed my erection,
wishing I could get up and walk casually around the room to take him in
from all sides.  Every now and then, he'd reach up with one magnificent
forearm and wipe away the sweat flowing into his eyes, giving me a lovely
view of the patch under his arm.  I've never been into armpits, but I
could have stared at the beads of dew in that light brown meadow for
hours on end.

As expected, the free-flowing water was taking its toll on his lower-half
as well.  I watched his bulge gradually go from solid white to nearly
transparent.  His luscious plums stretched the wet cotton even as they
were squashed together. The base of his shaft was thick and pink through
its translucent veil; if it hadn't been for the extra layer of cloth
where the material overlapped to create the fly, I'd probably have been
able to make out individual veins.  I couldn't wait to see the rear
view.

Travis never took his eyes off his paper, and I never took my eyes off
him.  We seemed to be frozen in time, the nearly-naked stud and his
clothed admirer, no movement but the scratching of the pen and the
occasional swipes at his brow.  If this was all there was ever going to
be, it would have been an image I could treasure forever.  However, the
best was yet to come, and I wanted the test over as badly as Travis did.

After an eternity, the buzzer sounded.  Travis jolted in his seat,
startled, droplets flying from his short sandy hair.  Then he sat there
frowning down at his test.

I cleared my throat to drag him out of his reverie, and held out my hand
for the paper.  This was the moment I'd been waiting for.  Learning from
my previous mistake, I'd positioned his desk several feet from my own.
One of us would have to get up to make the exchange, and I had no
intention of doing anything of the sort.

He looked up at me, saw my hand extended, and did some quick mental
geometry.  Realizing I expected him to get up and hand me the paper, he
seemed about to protest, but instead, placed a hand on the desk top and
started to rise from his seat.

If there was any one moment that clearly signaled his slide to surrender,
that was it.

He got up, one hand clutching the test, the other cupped over his groin.
However, as has often been said, it takes two hands to handle a whopper,
and Travis proved it to be true.  While the majority of his package was
concealed, it was readily apparent to anyone in the room (and I had that
privilege) that he had a big ol' throbbin' boner.  The tip was neatly
outlined over his left thigh, straining his underwear so much that the
waistband had pulled slightly away from his body, the mingling of sweat
and pre-cum giving me an almost naked view of that thick mushroom head.
He looked ready to explode.

He speedily, if awkwardly, covered the distance between us, and handed me
the test.  As soon as my fingers grasped it, he shoved his other hand
down over his bulging dick, and turned towards the window sill to get his
clothes.  Now was as good a time as any to see how far I could push him.

"Just wait right here; this won't take a second," I murmured,
pretending to study the paper on my desk.  And he immediately stopped.  I
glanced up at his eyes, which were pleading with me to let him get
dressed, but I was merciless.  I took my time grading the test, all too
aware of the embarrassment flowing off him in waves.

He'd failed it, of course.  It remained to be seen how he'd do wearing
pants in a classroom, after having been subjected to this humiliation,
but unless other measures were taken here, in our sessions, I had no
doubt he'd fail each one he took for me.  These weren't results I was
willing to live with.  I had another motivational tool in mind for
Travis, but I wanted to hold off on introducing any new twists until
he'd been able to take a real test, so I could see if just the act of
wearing clothes improved his comfort level.  After he took Roberts' exam
on Wednesday, I'd know if he was ready for the next step.

Finally, I looked up at him.  He was standing there with his eyes closed,
still cupping his groin, muscled arms framing his moist chest.  I knew
that he didn't give a shit about the results; the only thing on his mind
at this moment was cover, sitting miles away on the window sill.  And
yet, I was sure that he'd be running through this scenario over and over
in his mind when next he spanked that big, thick monkey of his; I doubted
it would be too long before that happened, either.

"Not so good," I said, meaning the test.  Travis' eyes opened, and he
looked down at me glumly.  "Let's see how you do on Wednesday.
Remember, whenever you come up blank, just remind yourself you're fully
dressed.  That should go a long way towards helping you relax."

He didn't look like he'd ever relax again, but he nodded.  "Can I get
dressed now?"

"Sure," I said graciously; the word was barely out of my mouth before
he was off to the sill.  Another view of that incredible bubble butt,
enhanced by the sweat-induced transparency that rendered almost all his
rear completely visible.  His twin mounds of hard-muscled flesh shifted
gorgeously with each step.  No, I didn't think there'd be any way of
keeping my hands off that ass.  Luckily, the plans I'd already made
would allow me closer contact in the not too distant future.  So much
depended on how he did Wednesday in Roberts' class.

He stopped in the act of picking up his jeans, and, glancing back over
his shoulder and, gesturing in an unintentionally inviting way towards
the seat of his briefs, asked "Do you...need these back?"

That threw me for a loop.  I'd never considered just what the
arrangement was going to be, underwear-wise.  Did I keep them and present
them to him at the start of each session?  Or did he wear them home,
presumably wash them, and wear them when he came back in two days?  I was
VERY interested in getting my hands on those sweaty briefs, and even more
interested in what else might go on in the janitor's closet if he had to
take them off.  However, as much as I was getting off on how embarrassing
wearing them was for him, I DID want him to get somewhat used to them.
And it was very erotic to imagine him walking across campus with them on
under his jeans, convinced that everyone he met would know what he was
wearing, when, in actuality, no one would.

"No, hang on to them.  I bought them for you...they're not my size," I
laughed.  "Just be sure to wear them Wednesday."

"Okay," he sighed as he picked up his jeans.  I was mildly surprised
when he didn't slip his boxers on over the briefs; he just put his jeans
on, pulled on his shirt, and stuffed the boxers into his bag.  Perhaps he
was getting to like the feel.  More likely, he'd done it unconsciously.
Whichever, I loved the fact that there was nothing between the denim and
those marble globes but that tight white material.

"How do you think it went today?" I asked him when he'd finished
dressing.

He shrugged.  "I dunno," he said.  "I felt really stupid sitting there
in just those...things.  Definitely couldn't concentrate on the test.
But I can't imagine not being more relaxed when I take a test with my
clothes on."

"That's the idea.  Wednesday, we'll go over how you did on Robert's
exam.  There might be a few things we can do to improve your performance
in here, too."

"Okay," he said, not a trace of alarm in his voice.  If only he knew
what I had planned.  He thanked me, and left.

"Oh yes," I said softly aloud, after the door had closed.  "We'll
definitely be trying a few things next time."  Standing up, I walked
over to the cabinet in the corner and opened the door.  Unzipping my
khakis, I placed a hand inside and idly rubbed my aching cock as I looked
up at the top shelf, where my frat paddle was waiting.

End Part 3

Next: Travis goes into show biz.

Like it so far?  Shower me with kudos at altonfree@yahoo.com.  Think it
sucks? Let me know at the same address.