Date: Wed, 09 Oct 2002 16:06:47 +0000
From: krisjon40@hotmail.com
Subject: Student-no-longer 2

Student no longer.  A story in 10 chapters


Disclaimer:  This story contains passages of explicit description of sexual
activity between boys of 18+.  There is also strong language.  If you are
likely to be offended by these, please read no further.



Chapter 2:  A Friend in Need

	 I crept into my first lecture a quarter of an hour late, the next day.
Normally, Jake kept a seat for me beside him, but, this time, he was sitting
surrounded by other students.  He stared at me with a sort of smirk on his
face as I shuffled to a spare bench at the back of the classroom.  I blushed
as the professor directed a sarcastic comment in my direction.

	At the end of the session, I moved towards Jake, but he turned his back on
me pointedly.  I smarted at this display of petty-mindedness, but resolving
not to let myself be troubled by it,  went in search of Bob.

	Despite asking around students who were on the same course as he was,
however, I couldn't trace him.  No-one appeared to have seen him.  Most
seemed not to want to have seen him.  Suddenly I felt friendless and lonely.

	I went reluctantly to my next class, a seminar discussing Blake's "Songs of
Innocence and Experience".  It was during this session that I saw a most
extraordinary sight.  There was Bob in a yard outside, screaming at the top
of his voice and hurling some builders' stones at four other students.  They
were taunting him as they dodged his missiles.  He was quite a long way off,
but, though I couldn't hear anything, the massive aggression on both sides
was startling.

	 When we were dismissed,  I sped from the room to look for him. When I
heard furious shouting, I just knew it had to be him.  I flew in that
direction in time to see him, a mad, wild, lithe figure, poised crouching as
though ready to pounce - like a wild cat spitting and snarling.  The lads he
was screaming at were mocking him with flushed faces. Sheepishly, when they
saw me, they sniggered and sauntered off.

	"Well, fuck you!" he spat.  "Fuck you! You soon find out who your true
mates are!"

	"That's right.  Not us!  You can be sure of that," said one of the bolder
ones as a parting shot.

	"Shove off! Wankers!" he screamed and then sank into a pathetic heap
alongside the cleaners' brooms and mops which were stored in that quarter of
the building.

	There was a silence, broken only by a sob or two as he sat, with his head
in his hands.  Even then, I thought how magnificent he was.  At full
throttle, he was like a demon, a wild spirit, a dark, savage flame. As he
slumped down there, my heart leapt out in response to his vulnerability.

	I reached out to him and touched his shoulder.  Instantly, he was on his
feet, pumped full of aggression in a split second.

	"Hey!"  I put my hands up in a surrender position.

	He flushed.  "Sorry pal,"  he said hoarsely. "Bit nervy."

	Then I gulped.  His eyes were red as though he had been weeping and above
his right eye was the ugliest bruise I had ever seen.  He had a cut on his
left cheek.  His neck showed signs of bruising all the way round, as though
someone had tried to strangle him.  His clothes, always torn and untidy,
were in an even more dishevelled state, as though he'd been hauled through
dust. He'd been well and truly roughed up!

	"Hell, Bob!" I said. "What have that lot done to you?"

	"No...no...it wasn't them.  They're a lot of pussies. They couldn't hurt
me."  Then instantly, he got fired up again, this time at me.  "Hey why
don't you just get lost?  Who gave you the right to pry into other folks'
business."

	I retreated, hurt at his treatment of me.  Where was this notion of us
looking out for each other now?

	Before I had gone very far, however, he repented:  "Sorry pal.  Like I
said, I'm a bit nervy.  Please wait.  I need help.  I'm desperate"

	There was no need for a second invitation. I swallowed my pride and
crouched by his side, pathetically eager to be of assistance.

	"I've nowhere to sleep tonight.  Could I doss down on your floor? Just the
one night till I get fixed up."

	My whole body pulsed with delight.  What a simple way to help!  One night?
It could be a thousand!

	I pretended to consider it deeply for some reason, not to show I was too
keen.  "Weeeeeelll OK, for one night only.  But you'll have to sleep on the
floor. What's happened to your place?"

	"My Uncle Ted's thrown me out," he mumbled.  I knew better than to ask any
more questions at that point. I didn't want to face his aggression again.
There was clearly much sensitive business going on. No doubt, I'd find out
in time.

	We agreed to meet together at 5 p.m. after our lectures had finished.

	At my next lesson, Jake passed me a note:

	WORD HAS IT BOB IS TRYING TO BARGE INTO SOMEONE'S PLACE TO SLEEP.  WARNING:
YOU'D BE A FOOL TO TAKE HIM IN.  DON'T!!!

	I ostentatiously put it in the bin when Jake was near me.  He shrugged his
shoulders. "On your head be it," he muttered under his breath and stalked
away, upright and self-righteous as usual.

	I was tense when I caught up with Bob at the end of the day.  He was now
looking a bit tidier and cleaner and had a ragged old bag with his personal
belongings by his side.  We made our way to the tube.

	Funnily enough I felt a bit ashamed of my dingy old flat when we arrived at
my address in Clapham.  But Bob was grateful enough and settled himself in.
We got some fish and chips and a bottle or two of ale.  It was cosy, but his
sheer physical presence made me edgy and excited.  I remembered my fantasies
of the night before, and the delicious climax when I'd made love to
him.....or to be more exact to the pillow.  I was also aware of how small my
flat was.  Once you'd taken out the bed, table and chairs space, there was
barely a square yard left for both of us.  We kept on tripping over each
other, both a bit shy in this new, close situation.

	You, who have read these two chapters so far, think perhaps you know me by
now but believe me you don't.  At that time in my life, I was almost
pathologically  shy in some respects, a very private sort of person.  When I
was by myself and alone with my thoughts and feelings, I was as bold and
outrageous as the brashest, but I was still coy in the company of others and
not only technically a virgin, but totally inexperienced in any sort of sex
except masturbation - in that I was an expert! I think it was because I was
such a late developer I was so self-conscious.  I had this excruciatingly
young body with underdeveloped muscles and very little pubic hair, though to
compensate, I did have an exceedingly long, thin cock.  No-one, but no-one,
had seen me naked since I was about ten.  I had made an art of avoiding
school showers after Games.  And not only I, but my whole family was
private.  I never saw any of them nude, even my little brother.

	All of this made me nervous. I dreaded the whole process of changing to go
to bed.  The prospect of two near naked bodies ( one of them Bob's which
gave me instant hard-ons even when fully dressed) in that square yard made
me quiver both with excitement and apprehension. If my cock got out of
control and disgraced me, it could spell more than the end of a promising
friendship. I may not have been able to hold my head up in the university
ever again.

	We had our food and drink and sat chatting.  Bob was much more solemn than
yesterday....understandably after his trauma -  whatever that had been.

	"Look," he said. "I'm  done in.  I think I'll head for the bathroom and
splash a bit of water on my intimates, and then turn in, if that's all the
same to you."

	Very subdued for Bob.  The bathroom was a shared one down the corridor.
This was my opportunity! When he was out, I rushed to my bed, peeling off my
clothes as I did so, dumping them in a corner, and scrambling into my
pyjamas.  Great!  The deed was done before he came back. No need for
embarrassment!

	But I didn't expect his reaction on his return.  He doubled up with
hysterical laughter.  "Little Johnny....what do you look like?"  I flushed.
"I thought that type of pyjama went out with the Second World War.  Winston
Churchill was probably the last bloke untrendy enough to wear them.  "Look.
A cord tying them up!"

	He flicked it. I was painfully conscious that his hand was only a piece of
fabric away from my knob. I retreated a step. "Well, it gets cold here at
night," I mumbled incoherently.

	He saw my discomfort and didn't pursue it, although the grin didn't leave
his face. Inwardly I cursed my Mum for buying them for me, though I had worn
this sort of nightwear all my life.

	I lay down on my bed miserably and drew a blanket over me. Bob started to
peel off his shirt, and tried to make himself comfortable on the limited
space he could clear on the floor, but he winced when he lay down.  Then I
caught sight of his bare back.  Oh my god! If his face looked gruesome, this
looked even worse.  The bruises looked angry and vivid.  I was frightened of
saying anything to suggest curiosity in case it annoyed him as it had
earlier in the day.  But my face registered how shocked I was.

	"Do me a favour," he said. "Don't ask."

	"And don't act helpless either," he added roughly. "Give me a hand. Rub
some ointment into my back where I can't reach."

	"Sure."

	He lay, face down on the floor, and I knelt beside him, taking the jar of
ointment in my hand.  Suddenly, I was tense again.  So close to this
exquisite body!  The beautiful, brown flesh! The wonderful curve of the
spine.  And I was expected to touch it, to massage it!  Could I maintain
control over those primitive urges that always haunted me?

	I resolved to be clinical and professional, like a nurse or doctor.  I put
a dab of ointment on his right shoulder.  He shivered and tensed.  I noted
the pain registered in his eyes.

	"Sorry!" I said.

	"No worry," he replied, "but go gently."

	I did so, keeping an eye on his face to see if I was doing it to his taste.
  Gradually I saw his face relax and a smile of pleasure replace the frown.
I rubbed more firmly and saw that this satisfied him more.  I transferred my
attentions to another spot in the small of his back.  This time, he sighed
sensuously, stretching his arms above his shoulders and nestling his head on
them as on a pillow. I could see the thick hatch of hair under his arm-pits.
  Otherwise, the top part of his body was hairless.  The sight of the hair
aroused me.  I concentrated on my task more intensely. There was a thick
silence in the room, punctuated only by Bob's moans now and again, sometimes
of pain, now more often of pleasure.

	Now I came to a bruise which began just above his pelvic bone and extended
to just under the top of his corduroy pants.  Gingerly and with stiff,
throbbing fingers I started with circular motions at the upper end of the
bruise.  I was so moving ever closer to that curvaceous bottom the sight of
which had blown my mind yesterday afternoon in the bar.  I felt the contours
of his flesh under my working fingers. My hand crept underneath his cords,
gently ... so very gently ..... massaging .... firmly kneading his poor,
young, bruised flesh.  All my mind and spirit concentrated on the feel of
the skin under my hands.

	"That's just perfect, oh just perfect," cooed Bob and the praise excited me
even more. "Just a mo," he whispered and unclipped his belt.  "Slip them
down," he said, with just a hint of excitement in his voice.

	Breathlessly, I tried to control myself.  I tried to be clinical and
professional once again.  I drew his trousers down to his knees ... and then
his ankles. I was flabbergasted to discover that he wore no underwear so his
bare bottom was exposed unexpectedly to my gaze. Breathlessly, I placed my
palms on it, feeling its dimensions and shape.  Then, I started working on a
bruise on his right buttock.  His muscles tensed sharply at my touch and
cute dimples formed at each side of his bum cheeks. I nearly sobbed at the
sight. Unable to stop myself, I traced their shape with the tips of my
fingers, then recklessly, bent over and kissed the centre of the bruise
gently with puckered lips.  I scented the aroma of his sweat as I grazed his
skin with my lips.

	Then, conscious of my failure to retain a professional, detached attitude,
I quickly moved on to administer to his legs.  I worked my way up from his
knees, up his thighs ... along his inner thighs .... feeling more excited
all the time as I drew nearer to his forbidden areas.  "Aaahhh," he moaned,
"higher, Johnny....just a bit higher.....that's it ...
....wonderful.....aaaahhh".

	And he spread his legs and eased himself up so that I could not help but
look right into his hole.  It was the neatest thing about him, in total
contrast to the waywardness of the rest of his body.  A neat, clean, little
puckered entrance to unknown mysteries. I had never seen this part of
anyone's anatomy, including my own..... and I was transfixed.  I momentarily
stopped my massage.

	Then my silent heaven collapsed.  I glanced up to the mirror just opposite
and was mortified to see that my cock had, in its excitement, disengaged
itself from my pyjamas and was waving obscenely, red and fully engorged
straight up in front of me for all the world to see. Worse still, Bob's eyes
were obviously fixed  concentratedly on its image in the mirror; how long he
had been so engrossed I couldn't guess, but probably for an age!

	Horrified, I stuffed the monster away, and recoiled on to my bed as though
I had had an electric shock.  I willed the Universe to cease from that
moment.  I was so ashamed.  Homosexuals in my part of the world were the
subject of ridicule, contempt or loathing.  I had been trapped into showing
my baser feelings for Bob and revealing my sexuality at the same time in the
most disgusting way possible. I pressed my body against the wall, wanting to
merge with the bricks and mortar and trying to deny the existence of my
still lively genitalia. I sobbed, red-faced and mortified.

	Soon I could sense Bob lie behind me on the bed.  He started stroking my
side gently.

	"Hey. What's wrong, little fellow?" he murmured, in a soft, concerned
voice.

	I felt the comforting motions of his arm.  But it didn't console me.  I
felt cornered, trapped. His presence tortured me.  Gradually, however, his
caresses soothed the bitterest edge off my anguish and the comforting
sexiness of his voice relaxed me to some extent.

	But this led to the second catastrophe.  It embarrasses me even now to
recall it. I see it taking place in a sort of slow motion.  Yet even now, I
cannot admit whether he moved his hand forward to touch my cock or whether
my cock pushed itself into his grasp.  Whoever took the lead, on the instant
the two found each other, my body stiffened and spunk gushed out
uncontrollably.  It spurted over everything, the first ejaculation on his
hands, the next his chest, then my pyjamas and bed-linen. Helpless in a wave
of overwhelming sensation, I could only watch, paralysed as a rabbit in
headlights.

	"Shit, Johnny! What did you have to do that for?" exploded Bob.

	I was stung by his anger and when I had powers of motion again, I scrambled
from the scene of the atrocity, scrabbled frantically for tissues and
towels.  I felt the same as on an occasion when I was seven; I had wet my
bed in my sleep and my mother had made me stand naked in the corner of the
bedroom where my brother and I slept, while she changed the sheets,
continuously scolding me, while my brother stared up from his bed in alarm.
Now, I was sobbing apologies to this lad I adored and trying ineffectually
to clean him up.

	He pushed the towel away and licked his fingers instead.  "Hey. settle down
a minute, for hell's sake," he urged.  "Look," and he put his arm, round me.
  "I'm sorry I snapped. I was just a wee bit disappointed.  I didn't expect
a premature ejaculation. But there's no harm done."

	A premature ejaculation?  Wasn't that an old man's disease?

	"Hey, let's get cleaned up if you want and then we'll lie down quietly and
calmly in the dark and discuss what went wrong."

	I cannot tell you how stupidly naive I felt.  But Bob was sensitive.  He
knew that the dark would spare my blushes. He lay back down on the floor,
leaving me the stained, damp sheets to myself. I didn't talk much, but I
listened closely to what he said and was limply grateful for every word.

	"Look, John.  We've had a full and tiring day, with new experiences for us
both... but tomorrow's another day.  I reckon, Little John, that I can teach
you a few things which might prove more important to you in life than all
that guff we learn at college.  But let's leave the first lesson till
tomorrow ... we're too tired now.  We could bunk off early and come back
here.  I guarantee that you'll enjoy what you learn....and, listen, the
practical lesson won't just last a nano-second; it will last at least an
hour," he added with what I intuited was a grin.  "Mind you, Little John
..... I might have to tell your mates at university that your nickname is
not entirely appropriate. You are certainly not little in one particular."
And here there was definitely an audible chuckle!

	I lay back in my bed relieved at his considerate reaction to my ineptitude
and surprisingly more at ease with myself than I had ever been since coming
to London.    I couldn't wait for the night to pass and be forgotten and a
bright new dawn with my friend to break.

	My pal langorously continued. "I can see I'm going to have to take you in
hand.... and in mouth.... and up my ...." and he giggled himself into sleep.

                  *                    *                      *

PS  As I heard Bob's light snores, I realised (a) that I still had no idea
what the quarrel had been about between Bob and the four lads earlier in the
day,
(b) that I didn't really care
(c) that in all that had happened, that evening between us, unbelievably, I
had not had a frontal view of him - to put it crudely, I hadn't laid eyes on
his cock yet - had no idea at all what it looked like - and
(d) that I did care about that......

but there are a few more chapters to go yet....I've much appreciated
readers' responses so far....and will try to reply to any more:
krisjon40@hotmail.com