Date: Wed, 16 Oct 2002 18:06:09 +0000
From: krisjon40@hotmail.com
Subject: Student-no-longer Part 3

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 3: First Lesson

	I don't want to write anything about the next day up to 3 o'clock.
It was instantly forgettable, a grey day in all senses of the word.

	Allow me to skip to the technicolor of 3 p.m. onwards, which I
could never erase from my memory, nor would ever want to.

	Bob and I met up to play hookey, twag it, play the wag, bunk off,
take a sicky .... or whatever term you apply to the universal practice of
escaping the humdrum routine of work or education. Bob was well on
time...tapping on his watch, skipping from toe to toe in his impatience to
be off.

	He was in a wild and unpredictable mood, so unlike yesterday. We
marched brazenly, jauntily, along the Embankment by the Thames, as pumped
full of testosterone as any two straight teenage kids making for their
Saturday afternoon footy match.

	"So did you excuse yourself from the afternoon class?" I asked.

	"Oh yes, sure," he said ironically. "'Oh, Dr Gilbert,'I says, 'I
can't come to your lecture on The Most Boring Aspects Of Fifth Century BC
Athens because my horny mate is gagging for a shag .... and obviously I
have to be aware of my priorities.'"

	His humour was infectious.  A smart lady in her fifties was
dragging a pekinese on a lead behind her. He looked her straight in the
face and exclaimed loudly, "What a beautiful bitch!" then bent down to pet
the dog.  The dog didn't appreciate the joke any more than she did and
snapped at his fingers.

	"Come along, Berty," she said sharply, yanking it sharply to her
heel, and haughtily increasing her pace.

	"What have I said?  What have I done?" wailed Bob innocently.

	"I'll disown you," I said, secretly exulting in the mischief he was
bent on making.

	On the escalator into the tube ... and, yes, he had to make an
exhibition of himself again.  He stood facing the down-travelling
commuters, pretending to play a guitar, Jimi Hendrix style, and carolling,
"Glad to be Gay!"  with no shame whatsoever.  I wanted to crawl away at
this point. What did he think he was playing at?

	A city gent, complete with bowler and umbrella, was trying to force
his way by but Bob wasn't budging.  "Oh for heavens sake," he
snorted. "Some of us have to work for a living, you know.  We're not all
layabout students."  So bugger me if Bob didn't do a funny walk behind him
as he moved to the platform, John Cleese style: "Oh bless my bowler and
brolly, how some of us gents have to work for our living! Oh John,
(mincingly) you are such a layabout."

	Looking back, it was tedious and immature, but not then, it wasn't!
It was part of the anarchy of Bob that so sexed me up .... and he knew it.
His humour was an aphrodisiac.

	By the time we got to Clapham Common, I was as unruly as him.  We
pinched a couple of apples from a market stall, right under the vendor's
nose, and charged over to the common, full of unleashed energy. I raced
giddily in circles, then showed off my party trick to Bob - walking on my
hands.  He grabbed my knees and nuzzled his face in my crotch. I could feel
his warm breath penetrate my pants.  I collapsed with laughter on to the
grass, and then, as he strode on, raced after him and threw myself on to
his back.

	"Aaaaah!" he screamed. "Get off yer bastard! Hell, get off!"

	At first, I thought he was continuing to play the fool, but when I
saw his face contorted in pain, I recognised what should have been
blindingly obvious, that he was still suffering from the pain of the
bruises he had incurred the day before.

	"Oh Bob," I said, almost crying at my stupidity," I'm sorry.
Please ...  I forgot. Are you OK?"

	Bob was not gracious.  He stalked away, gruffly grunting,"Let's get
home."

	I kicked myself that I had been responsible for changing his mood
so decisively, and miserably fell into step behind him.  We entered the
flat silently, and I fixed us up a cup of tea.  He took off his jacket and
shoes and sat on the bed, staring straight ahead. I gave him a cup and sat
down beside him, deflated.

	After a minute or two, his eyes twinkled again and he began to
recover his humour. "Very sensible of us to bunk off lessons just to end up
sitting in a grotty bed-sit supping tea."

	I grinned sheepishly.

	"Why don't you close the curtains?" he whispered huskily.

	I thrilled at the suggestion. He was thawing. The lesson was not to
be cancelled, it seemed.

	I plunged the room into semi-darkness and bounced back to join him
on the bed.  We took off our jackets and jumpers and lay out fully
stretched, side by side, dressed only in our shirts and trousers.

	He grinned cheekily.

	"First part of the lesson is the theory....so pay attention ... and
keep your mitts off me while I'm lecturing!"

	"Do I have to take notes?" I said sarcastically.

	"You won't need to because we'll have such an effective practical
lesson afterwards that the theory will be for ever and ever imprinted on
your memory."  He gave me a lascivious wink.  My knob stirred in reponse.

	Solemnly, he announced: AN EXPOSITION OF BOB'S TWO LAWS OF
SEXODYNAMICS.

	I giggled but he hushed me.

	"The first law states that in good sex, you should aim to give
maximum pleasure to your partner and he to you.  Your pleasure will come
from seeing him writhing in the ecstasy you've created and vice-versa.  It
therefore follows (again I giggled at his wonderful parody of his
professor) that you must be alert for his every gasp, every tightening of a
muscle, every dreamy smile of delight, every suppressed moan and
contrariwise, you must allow your partner to be aware of your own pleasure
by breathing extra heavily, by murmuring, "ohhh that's so gooood," "you're
sooo good at this!", by stretching to allow access to your most sensitive
parts, by making little shrieks of delight, nudging gently his hand or his
head in the direction you want it to go....just exaggerating a little so he
cannot possibly miss what turns you on.

	"And the second law?" I asked, already thoroughly aroused by the
first.

	"The second says: "Correct judgement of PACE is everything in sex.
Don't rush things forward.  Live for the present sensation.  Concentrate on
each feeling as it comes, rather than hurtling precipitously on to the
final orgasm. Once that comes (forgive the pun) it's virtually over."

	I knew that this law was the one he was applying particularly to
me, and resolved to put his teaching into practice.

	He winked at me again.  I thrilled inwardly, knowing that the real
show was about to begin.

	Slowly he unbuttoned my shirt, and I felt the coolness of the air
on my upper body.  He snuggled up to me and started to kiss me as I had
never been kissed before.  His lips met mine and he forced his tongue
forward so that it penetrated into my mouth.  I was instantly fired up,
every cell of my body seemed to be supersensitised and I clasped him
hungrily to me, pressing my stiff cock against him and thrusting forward
eagerly.

	"Hey, tiger," he hissed, disengaging himself from my clutches. "For
fuck's sake, Johnny, what have I just been saying. Bob's Law Number 2!!  At
this rate, neither my bruises nor your semen control are going to survive.
Relax.  Take it easy.  Take it slowly.  Enjoy the sensation of the moment."

	So I lay back and his mouth drifted against mine again.  I let my
tongue contour round his mouth this time, and he murmured his delight
softly. This gave me confidence that I could pleasure him further and we
drifted into idyllic, sensuous kissing with tongues playing around each
other's and saliva running freely.  He eased my shirt off my shoulders and
ran his palms up and down my torso.  I felt the thrill of each touch, and
extended my arms so he could caress every square inch of my upper body.
His fingers twisted my nipples and I gasped as they stood erect, aroused.

	I then started to undress him, starting with his shirt.  The front
of his body had escaped the beating and its nakedness was perfect and
beautiful.  I gazed at it, slim and lithe, brown with nice flat nipples,
not over-muscled, but fit.  I nibbled his nipples with my lips and he
squirmed with delight under my administrations.  "That's so good, John," he
murmured, " I love my nipples being stimulated...go on."

	Leaving my left hand playing with a nipple, I proceeded to his
belly button and the thin line of hair extending downwards.  I nuzzled into
it with my lips, then proceeded slowly ...ever so slowly to his heavy
leather belt.  I unbuckled it and unclipped the top of his cords.  Then,
with my heart in my mouth, I pulled down his zip. I watched his face, to
savour his every reaction and he stared back at me, so that I felt we
conspired together in this wonderful, tense moment of discovery. Yet again
he wore no underwear, and to my excitement, in front of my eyes was his
penis ... his tool ... his weapon .... his prick ... his cock - call it
what you fucking well want - it was there in front of me.... rigid as a
poker, pulsating, alive, twitching at an angle from its nest of wiry, black
pubic hair, begging me to take control of it.  I nursed it in my hands,
dabbing it with my lips, admiring it, stroking it.  It had a kink at the
end, so that its tip leaned markedly to the left ... and this, like all
Bob's individual peculiarities just served to make it sexier and
sexier. The foreskin was peeled back, though not fully and its helmet was
shiny and purple.  It was slightly thicker than mine and slightly shorter.
It twitched in the air and was entirely beautiful.  I was in awe.

	"Like him?" whispered Bob.  "He likes you.  Look, he's starting to
leak cum for you."

	Then tenderly he laid me back and started to undo my trousers. I
lay back to enjoy the sensation of my private parts being exposed to his
gaze.  He unzipped me, slipped my trousers down to my ankles and then off
completely.  Then he let his hand wander lovingly up my thighs. They crept
up the legs of my boxers, to my balls.  He cupped them in his hands
fondling them expertly for a moment or two and then drew down my boxers to
reveal my engorged cock.
  He cradled it against his right cheek moving his lips to nuzzle against
it now and then.  My tool felt it belonged there. It felt the softness of
his face, sometimes the tickle of his eyelashes.  I wanted the moment to
last for ever.

	Suddenly the excitement got to me again.  Impatiently and urgently,
I escaped from his grasp and lay on top of Bob, pressing him deep into the
bed and fucking against his belly furiously.  I just needed to cum now; I
was overwhelmed by animal passion.

	Gently this time, he wrestled me off.  "Hey, you've been great so
far.  Don't spoil it." He set me back on the bed and sat astride me.  I
loved the feel of his weight on top of me and the bareness of his bum on my
belly.  I pinned his cock flat against my abdomen with my palm and he
gently thrust against it.  I watched.  I felt the rigid member screwing
between my palm and belly and stared at the look of blissful concentration
in his eyes.  He felt behind him and flattened my long cock against the
knobbles of his spine.  My eyes glassed over.  I was in heaven. "Oh, Bob,
that's so good."  And I bucked against his palm catching the same rhythm as
his as he closed his eyes and rocked backwards and forwards.  His movements
became more athletic, as he gained leverage at his knees, and his breathing
became heavier and more guttural.

	"That's right," he murmured in ecstasy.  "We're together
now...absolutely in harmony....together."

	He kissed me gently on the forehead.  Then, shaking himself out of
his trance, said in his mock lecture style: "Today, to climax your first
lesson, I aim to demonstrate a perfect, mutual wank. I am going to bring us
off absolutely at the same time."

	With that, after putting some grease on his two hands, he lay by my
side on the bed, drew our two dicks together and cupped his two hands round
them.  The kink at the top of his cock nudged against the place where the
head of my cock emerged from the shaft - a most sensitive area for me.  As
he rubbed us both, I was conscious all the time of this wonderful bend in
his equipment prodding and exciting me.  We were both so aroused by this
time, that we knew that it could only be seconds rather than minutes before
we would reach our climaxes. The stiffness of our muscles, the rapidity of
our pulses, the blotchy redness of our faces and chests all indicated the
same thing.  It was a glorious time, a rapturous time.  Gradually and
subtly, Bob increased the pace of his administrations.  He rung in the
changes with his grips as well, sometimes tight .....Oh what ecstasy! ....
sometimes looser;
  sometimes he let his forefinger draw a circular caress on our helmets,
sometimes, I felt around Bob's balls and fingered the entrance to his bum.

	We could last no longer.  With a strangulated voice, Bob announced:
"Oh, prepare for lift-off!  Five, four, three, two, one...." And
oooooooohhh we arched our backs and we ejected our fuel, both of us
together.  All over the fucking place! It mingled so we could not tell
whose was whose, although I think Bob's was slightly thicker and creamier
than mine. Yes, yes, yes ...  we had lift-off and how!  A runnel of spunk
dribbled along the channel between my pecs and Bob caught it with his
finger and sucked it greedily.  I flung my lips against his and caught the
sweet taste of cum in my mouth.  I swallowed.... mmmmm.

	Then we kissed again, lingeringly, lovingly.  My body felt relaxed
and I was completely at peace.  So, seemingly was Bob.

	But after about five minutes, when soaked in our juices, we did not
move or speak, he suddenly, after doing a quick wipe of his chest and
loins, said he would take a shower and then had to be off!

	I couldn't speak to start with.  What a surprise and a
disappointment!  Surely he was going to stay the night?

	"I've got work to do," he said.  "Mustn't be late!"

	At this time of night? He disappeared for his shower.  On his
return, I plied him with questions, as you can imagine.

	"Hey, little John.  Just because we made love together, it doesn't
mean you own me," he said cuttingly.

	Deflated, I shrank beneath the bedclothes.  I felt deserted.

	"See you tomorrow," I said in a subdued tone.

	"Hey," he said. "We'll have plenty of time together.  Remember that
was only one very basic lesson ...  I've got to teach you sucking and
fucking yet and he grabbed me playfully in his arms and tickled me...plenty
to look forward to," he grinned. Ant then more quietly and sincerely: "Come
on John, I'm crazy about you.  I'm not going to let you go!"

	He closed the door.  I didn't want to wash myself.  I liked his cum
on me.  Besides I was tired now.  I drifted into sleep.

	        *           *               *

P.S.  At 4 a.m., I woke up for a while. He still hadn't arrived back. Can
you believe that I had to have another wank?  It would be an anticlimax to
describe it here, except to say that I relived the whole experience of the
night . My balls still found plenty more cum to release..... teenage
hormones, eh?  Imagine it for yourself. Write to me about it if you want, or
your reactions to any of the rest of this chapter.  I love hearing from you
and, though the general pattern of my story is set, I do try to incorporate
your suggestions as far as possible.  Next chapter is called: "Sex and
Surprises".  There are plenty of both!!!