Date: Sat, 14 Dec 2002 15:26:05 +0000
From: krisjon40@hotmail.com
Subject: Student-no-Longer Chapter 9

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 9: The Rent is Due


	I stood at a urinal taking a piss before going to have a mid-day
snack.  Beside me was Jake.

	It was almost a reflex action for me to peep down when Jake
unzipped his flies, and it was as reflex an action for Jake to edge further
into the urinal so that I should not see anything of interest.

	But, as I was peeing away, I glanced back at his face and was aware
that this time he seemed to be peeking down at me!  My reaction, having had
the openness training of the last few days was to move out a little, so
that his vision could be gloriously unrestricted.  I did so, and he flushed
to the roots of his hair and looked ostentatiously in the opposite
direction.  But I had caught him!  Straight Jake!  Was he so straight?

	We went to a dirty-looking snack-bar off Fleet Street. It was
unfashionable and uninviting, but at least it was uncrowded.  We could talk
without interruption.  We got a hamburger and chips each.  I felt glad of
his company.  Suddenly, life seemed to be more stable again.

	I tasted a greasy chip and grimaced.  He did the same and we
laughed together.

	"Not the poshest restaurant in London," I said.

	"Are you O.K.?" Jake asked anxiously. "You don't look too good."

	Tears pricked my eyes at this simple enquiry after my health.  I
had felt like telling Jake everything at one point, but my love for Bob and
Paul made me discreet.

	"I'm O.K." I lied. "But tell me, "I blurted out. "What have they
been saying about me around college?"

	Jake looked uncomfortable.

	"The tutors have said you won't last long," he replied. "You didn't
help yourself by taking time off with Bob and your reputation and his
reputation...." he faltered.

	"What reputation?" I demanded. "Come on tell me the worst. I might
as well know it."

	" I've tried to tell you before," Jake said sternly. "Bob sells sex
for money."

	My blushes told him that I knew that already.

	"And the rumours have it that you do as well."

	"What!!!"

	"Yes. That you go with rich foreign tourists and businessmen and
that you're basking in luxury...and it's only a matter of time before you
quit university of your own accord because you can earn more with your
bottom than through any other career."

	So.....so....so.... the Landlord's men had done their character
assassination with an icy thoroughness.

	I looked Jake squarely in the eyes.

	"Jake.  You must believe me.  I have never, never sold myself for
money," I said earnestly in a low voice.

	"I do believe you," he said, "though your so-called friends were
really convincing.  Why don't you get out away from there and from Bob,
before it's too late."

	The crucial question!  But my feelings were the same as last night.
I needed the warmth and love and excitement of Bob - and now Paul.  They
were my life.

	I mumbled something incoherent.  Yet I felt it would be nice if I
could continue to look Jake and other friends in the eye and deny my
enemies' allegations as simply and truthfully as I had just done.

	"I can't stand by and let you ruin yourself," Jake said,
uncharacteristically taking me by the hands, then abruptly letting go with
another wild blush.

	There followed a shock of the worst order.  Tensely, with strain
showing in every line on his face, he made his confession: "I've been so
worried about your moral welfare over the last few days that I've taken it
upon myself to write to your parents."

	I emptied my dinner in his lap at that point and screamed, "You
jerk! You fucking interfering bastard!"

	I was beside myself with rage.  What effrontery! What right had he
to act as my guardian like this?  Was I not an adult, responsible for my
own actions?  And what the blazes would my Mum and Dad think of me now,
back in the north-east?

	I rushed out, leaving him dumbfounded and abashed. A waiter was
bearing down with a napkin to clean him up as I sped down to the Embankment
and looked over the chilly Thames, dismally reflecting on the confused mess
that was my young life. I remained as still as a statue, having no will
either to go home or go to college.

	For most of the afternoon, I just wandered around, trying to find a
way through my predicaments.  I felt now that I could never look my family
in the eyes again. I pictured their miserable faces. The horror that they
would feel was unimaginable. Homosexuality was a taboo subject for them and
I had always represented all their hopes and dreams.  The two facts just
didn't go together.

	I wandered for about two hours and then came to a decision.  I
would have to go back to Bob and have it out with him.  If he had the
slightest scrap of love for me, he might come up with a solution.  We could
find a way out together.  But if he had merely abused our relationship, I
would get out of his life for ever...and Paul's too....

	On the underground, going home, I played out a dream scenario in my
mind.  I would be straight with Bob; we'd have a blazing row; he would end
up in tears, begging my forgiveness; we would end up in bed, making
protracted, heavenly love; then we would plan to run away together to a
northern town, perhaps Manchester, and I would transfer university, Bob
would get a clerical job and we'd be married in all but name.

	I turned the lock in the key to the flat.  It was silent.  I hoped
he wasn't out.  But there he was in the living-room.  The familiar, untidy
corduroy trousers produced the usual leap of recognition in my loins.  His
face and upper torso was completely covered by the broadsheet newspaper he
was studying. I did not think he had heard me enter.

	So much the better!  I could take him by surprise!

	I leaped forward with an angry snarl and grabbed the paper,
snatching it away from his face and then ....  I jumped back, astounded and
trembling .... for it was not Bob wearing the cords and sitting there
.... it was....the Landlord!

	My first and right impulse was to run.  I bolted for the door and
seized the handle, but he anticipated me.  He was on his feet in a flash
and grabbing the seat of my trousers yanked me forcibly back into the room.
I shouted and screamed, but, if there was anyone to hear, I might have
known they would not run to my assistance.

	He tilted me upside down and then sitting down, drew me across his
knee.  He gave me a sharp slap on my bottom.  I dangled helplessly against
the cords, smelling his strong male smell and feeling the blood rush to my
face.
  He gave another slap and told me to settle down.  But I still struggled.
Another slap and then a gentle, circular movement with the flat of his palm
on my stinging buttocks.  I could feel his strength.

	"Let me go!" I said feebly.

	"Only when you stop struggling," he said and gave me another
gentler slap.

	Then, to my absolute horror, I realised that my cock was not
obeying the better judgement of my brain and was getting stiffer and longer
in my pants by the second.

	"Seems as though something's giving me a welcome," said the
Landlord mischievously and he put his hand between my legs and felt up and
under me to where my traitor was flaunting its virility.

	"Mark was right," he murmured, caressing me the while. "He said you
liked a bit of a smack, a bit of masochism.  I'd never have thought it."

	His left hand was now pinching my cock while his right continued
the soothing, circular motions on my throbbing bum cheeks.

	Then I was aware of a hard protuberance pressing against my side
and he was rubbing this lump against me while his breathing was becoming
heavier.

	"You've had a hard day," he muttered. "You need a massage."

	It was in vain that I protested.  He got me up and laid me on the
bed.  I looked up at my image on the ceiling mirror.  It looked so sexy.
He stripped off the clothes above my waist and knelt over me.  He stroked
and rubbed and I felt alive under his strong manipulations.  I knew I was
being seduced by this more mature man and I seemed helpless to stop it.  I
watched as he started stripping himself.  His pecs were hard as iron and
his biceps bulged.  He had a thatch of black hair on his bronzed chest and
tufts of hair peeped out from under his arm-pits. A contrast with my own
willowy, slim, hairless torso.  He turned me over and started loosening my
pants.

	I struggled momentarily, but he pressed me down.

	"Just enjoy!" he said.  "You don't want another spanking, do you?"

	Soon his administrations reached my genitals and he took my balls
in his hand and rolled them slowly and delightfully.  He moved to my knob,
treating it with a reverence that was almost religious.  He bent over to
kiss it.

	"That nice, Little John?  Bob told me how much you liked a nice
gentle massage."

	This mention of Bob reminded me to put into practice his teaching.
I moaned with exaggerated pleasure as he touched sensitive spots with his
mature, kneading hands.  I moved to the side to let him see where the
sensitive zones were.  I was forgetting all my problems as his experience
and expertise pleasured me.

	Then he told me to strip him completely.  Trembling, I exposed his
nine inch, uncircumcised tool.  It was magnificent, with a thick bush of
coarse pubic hair adorning it. There was so much power there and it was as
hard as granite. A granite spike!  I took it in my hands and felt the huge
balls underneath.  They could have belonged to a bull or a stallion.  Cum
was gathering at the head of his proud weapon and I licked it with the tip
of my tongue.

	Instinctively now, I bent over the bed, offering my arse to this
hardman.

	"I'll be gentle, son," he said reassuringly.

	He greased my bum with his finger and let me put lube on his giant
monster.

	"Now comes the last part of the training," he said. "It consists of
four words."

	I wondered what was coming.

	"They're "SORRY NOT WITHOUT A CONDOM"

	I laughed.

	"Well, say them then."

	"Sorry. Not without a condom."

	 "Oh but I'm clean. I've never had sex before."

	"Sorry. Not without a condom."

	"Oh but I don't like it with a sheath.  It takes away half the
pleasure."

	"Sorry not without a condom."

	"Fuck off then. You've lost a customer."

	Sorry..."

	"Oh fuck it."  And with a grin of congraulation, he picked a condom
from his pocket. I was amused by this piece of nonsense and approved of his
concern for my health.  Perhaps he was not such an ogre after all. Then,
gently holding my head down on the sheets, he manouevred his weapon up my
back passage.  It felt delicious. I moaned in pleasure and tightened up my
arse muscles. He groaned.

	"Ah, Candy!  You've done an A1 job," he murmured.  "Another
first-class graduate.  Well taught!"

	I felt his body pressing down on top of me, pushing me rhythmically
into the duvet.  I felt the strength of his thighs as he thrust in and out
of my body.  I felt the hot, hot breath of his savage breathing as he
clasped my face to his.  Then he raised me slightly, but still kept up the
rhythm.  He held my cock in his massive hands and pumped me vigorously.
Then he came!  All the muscles and sinews of his body strained and
tightened.  He clutched me to him and swamped the condom in my butt with
his juices.  We collapsed together on the bed.

	After a while, he rumpled my hair and kissed me tenderly. I felt
like a small boy with a rather forbidding uncle to whom I'd suddenly become
a favourite.

	"Congratulations! You've graduated," he praised me.  "You're no
longer a student.  They'll all love you!  Little John!  You're going to
become a celebrity, a star!"

	And suddenly although I was still as horny as hell, my brain
clicked back into operation. What the hell had he been playing at?  Getting
reports from my lovers? "Mark said this?"  "Bob said that?"  "Candy'd done
a good job!"  All these encounters set up by him! What a mug I'd been!

	He continued purring: "I'm going to give you a reward now, Little
John .......  The best orgasm you've ever had in your young life."

	He cuddled me to his hairy chest and then reached down to take my
cock in his mouth. But now instead of being caressed, I felt as though I
was being pawed. His touch was repulsive to me.  His hand stroked my full
balls and moved silkily down to the opening of my arse, which had so
recently played host to his huge dick.

	"I know about your special place," he whispered sickeningly. And
his hand moved unerringly to the exact spot which Paul had discovered for
me only yesterday.

	And that, my dearest readers, completed my disillusionment.  I
realised with the greatest clarity what had taken place.  How did he know
about my secret zone???  PAUL!!!! Paul had blabbed it out to him.  Paul,
with whom I'd shed tears and hugs and secrets, had betrayed me.  I couldn't
trust any of them!  Not one fucking guy!!!

	Not Bob, not Paul, not Jake!  Certainly not this guy, who had
seemed to be so nice and fucking fatherly.  I pushed him away in a rage
and, searching for my pants to hide my indignity, but tripping over and
looking ridiculous with my half erect, half limp reddened cock waving all
over the shop. I stuttered, "I'm off to the police.  This is against the
law, this is.....you've got a brothel here....it's not legal."

	At this, the nice uncle abruptly changed his mood.  He swung into
action, his naked body towering above mine and he dashed me to the ground.

	"You ungrateful bastard!" he ground out from between his teeth. For
the first time, I saw him furious and I was shit scared.  His muscles were
taut.
  His tool still hadn't lost all of its stiffness and, believe me, I was
terrified.

	"Don't hit me!" I whimpered, but he had seized a leather belt from
his cords and was lashing into my pale, vulnerable flesh.  This wasn't
erotic at all!  I hid my head between my arms and yelped at the searing
pain.

	"I'll get the cops!" I gasped as the next cutting blow etched weals
into my back.  I had never known pain like this.  Please, please, please
don't any reader get off on this.  It was too horrible for words.

	"You've got a choice," he said grimly. "You can be eternally
grateful to your benefactor and seek to repay him in any way you can and
continue to live in palatial luxury, or you can have any number of dozes of
this!"

	At first I stayed defiant.  "Go on.  Murder me.  Lash me to
death. I don't want to live anyway.  You've ruined my life."

	But it became clearer that he would do just that.  He was kicking
me now and taking me by the neck.

	"No!" I screeched.  "I'll do what you say. Just give me a chance."

	He put his face close to my mine and threatened me: "Don't you
fucking try any funny business.  I have spies everywhere.  And if you were
so foolish as to go to the cops, just think of what I'd do to your friend,
Bob.  Want him in pieces, do you?"

	Then, receiving no answer, he crooned: "I'm really good to my boys,
you know.  They never want for anything. Just about as much pocket money as
they need.  Everything done for them."

	He put his arm round me and gave me a cuddle.  "Remember. Bob's
well-being is entirely in your hands. I don't want him to come to any
harm."

	With that threat, he left.

	I lay motionless for about half an hour.  I was exhausted and
racked by pain.

	Eventually I picked myself up and lay face down on the bed.

	I had to think.  I had to escape.

	But my mind would not go through the motions.  I lay for an hour or
so in the darkness and eventually went off to sleep.

	I woke up at about three in the morning.  Bob hadn't returned.
Where was he when I needed him most?  Probably with some fat American,
massaging his fat butt.  Or with an Italian diplomat, hairy and suave,
hugging him in a shower, engaged in a slow, tonsil-blasting kiss, or
perhaps with three young earls or princes, fresh from Eton, Harrow or
Winchester.

	I imagined them romping with abandon on a king-sized bed, their
pink, young flesh contrasting with Bob's lean, brown torso.  They were
giggling over the kink at the end of Bob's cock and he let one of them take
it in his teenage mouth.

	Now this may seem unbelievable to some people...but anyone who has
a penis and testicles and testosterone coursing around their veins and
spunk, spunk, spunk boiling around in their bloated balls will know that
when it comes to sex, nothing is unbelievable.  Aching and abused as I was,
the picture I was conjuring up in my imagination was making me stiffer and
stiffer... there had been a job left unfinished by the Landlord, a coitus
interruptus.... and I started to let my cock scrape along the sheet...and I
pushed a pillow down to receive my horny tool and I was thrusting,
thrusting, thrusting with images of Bob licking precum from a hormone
driven ex-schoolboy, while the other two were sprawled in each other's
arms, titillating, exciting each other's bodies.

	And I thrust harder, rhythmically, fiercely, in lust and in anger,
gasping as I lunged: "Fuck you, Bob ....  Fuck you Bob ....  Fuck you Bob
..... Love you Bob.....Fuck you, Bob...."

	Then Paul had joined the group, peeling off his white shirt to show
his smooth, chocolate-coloured torso.  He was smiling and rimming one of
the teenagers, whose young chubby arse was pointing up into the air.  The
boy was squealing with rapture.

	"Fuck you, Paul.  Fuck you, Paul. Fuck you Bob, Paul.....Fuck me
Paul, please, please....  I hate you Paul..... Love you Paul..... Fuck me
Paul."

	I was fucking the pillow now with all my strength and mind.  I was
nearly there!

	Then abruptly, the scene changed and Jake was standing beside me at
a urinal. He looked me straight in the eye and stood back, in slow motion
as if in a dream, to show me a stunning, erect penis.  And it was truly
magnificent and I moved forward to .....

	And: "Fuck you Jake," I yelled in fury, distraught at his
treachery..."Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you ......and then as the
first shot of spunk burst from my swollen cock....."Fuck you,
Jake......Fuck me......I love you, I love you, mate."

	And, as the last quivering ejaculation shuddered my frail frame, I
collapsed back into a deep, but troubled sleep.



	You, reader, you who have shared this rollercoaster ride with me,
look up in your imagination at the mirror on the ceiling. Look at the poor,
bruised, naked, sex-driven body spread-eagled on the bed, stained with
blood, tears and cum.

	Pity him.

				   * * *

Last chapter soon: Full Circle.  krisjon40@hotmail.com