Date: Sun, 18 Jul 2010 22:52:11 -0400
From: tommyhawk1@aol.com
Subject: Traveling with the Professor

		       TRAVELING WITH THE PROFESSOR
			   By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
		      WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM

     [NOTE: You might enjoy this story a bit more if you know its genesis
beforehand. I was watching that old 1959 movie "Journey to the Center of
the Earth" with Pat Boone and James Mason, in the beginning scenes where
the Professor was showing his monomaniacal tendencies in his study of the
stone Pat Boone's character had brought him, and from that I mused upon the
difficulties a financially-strapped student traveling with such a Professor
might truly entail...and hence, my story was born.  It didn't hurt that the
second half of that movie had Pat Boone running around wearing only shorts
and boots, reminding me that I had watched this movie as a young boy and it
had formed the basis of one of my earliest sexual fantasies (something I'd
entirely forgotten about...oh, my God!  I'd had the hots for Pat Boone!!!)
Anyway, beyond that first moment of inspiration and the overall
light-hearted tone, no pirating of the movie or storyline was involved
here.  As far as seeing Pat Boone's young, near-naked body again formed
inspiration for this story...I'll take the Fifth!]

     I knocked on the Professor's hotel door. No answer. But I knew he was
in there! I got up my nerve and carefully, slowly opened the door. If he
wasn't decent, I would back out and try later.
     But he was at his table, working over the microscope. As good as I
would get. I walked on in. "Pardon me, Professor Garrison," I began, "but I
need to speak to you about this bill."
     "Johnny, come in. Take a look at this specimen, a perfect example of
the genus, don't you think?"
     I obediently looked in at the flower stamen he had under the
glass. "Yes, Professor, it is exemplary, but about the bill. You said if I
came with you on this expedition, that you would...."
     "Pay my expenses" was the next three words, but I never got them out
of my mouth.
     "The expedition, yes, now, let us make ready, we will depart in the
morning, you know."
     And the Professor proceeded to monopolize the rest of the evening, I
was kept busy packing the packs, writing his purchase lists, moving things
from one place to another, and basically obeying his every whim. And at the
end, two of his colleagues came by and I was shoved out the door, unpaid
bill still in my pocket, untouched since my beginning sally.
     "Oh, dear!" I muttered to myself. "This is going to be awkward, I
fear."
     For now, I had to go back to my own room and know what would be
waiting there. The hotel manager had said he would be there promptly at ten
o'clock and it was five minutes of, already. Either I had his money for the
room where I'd been staying the past four days or he would take action. I
knew that a scofflaw could be jailed in this country for non-payment of
debts, forced to pay a fine or face hard labor until I earned enough to pay
the debt plus interest plus the fine. And I was a poor student, I didn't
have money to pay anyone anything. The Professor had promised to pay my
expenses, he had promised. He had bought tickets for the two of us and
gotten us here, but now he was deep in his studies and planning the
expedition into the hinterlands, and in the process, quite forgotten
everything else.
     In my room, small and cramped, I looked at myself in the full-length
mirror that hung upon the bare narrow piece of bare wall the room
boasted. I was a sturdy lad of nineteen summers, with fair skin, deep brown
hair, sharp and regular features, sapphire-blue eyes and a smile that even
I found winning when I gazed at it in the mirror. My body was muscled and
firm, with a slim waist and slender hips that held a perfectly rounded set
of buttocks. Were it not my own body I gazed upon, I would be enthralled
and dazed by the beauty I beheld.
     The knock at the door destroyed my reverie, I turned to it with
dismay. It might hold the Professor, bearing the funds I needed to redeem
myself, I told myself hopefully.
     And the voice guillotined my hope. "Mr. Heath? Mr. Heath?" Only in his
lips, it came out as "Meester Hee-eeth?"
     Groaning, I opened the door. It was Mr. Mendoza, the hotel owner. A
strong, sturdy man in his mid-thirties, his skin swarthy and deep, the
color of wet sand at the border between a golden beach and a sun-washed,
azure ocean. His eyes were dark, dark brown, nearly black, and black was
his hair, his mustache, the deep weave of hairs upon his forearms as they
crossed upon his massive chest. "You still owe me the rent." he said.
     "Yes, I know." I said in a voice filled with mortification. "I have
not been able to speak with Professor Garrison about it, I fear, but when
we are ready to leave in the morning, I shall have the opportunity and we
shall pay...."
     "No more wait." Mr. Mendoza said firmly. "Payment was to be in
advance. You have not paid. You must pay. Not Mr. Garrison. You."
     "But the Professor was to pay for both of us."
     "Mr. Garrison pay for Mr. Garrison. You pay for you."
     It was hard to argue with that logic. "But I cannot pay." I said. "I
shall pay when the Professor gives me the money to pay for my lodging."
     "If you cannot pay, I call the policia." Mr. Mendoza slipped into his
native tongue for that last word, but that didn't make it less threatening,
quite the contrary.
     "Please, Mr. Mendoza, I don't wish to be locked up the very day before
we embark on the expedition, it is why I came to this country to begin
with. Isn't there something I could do to pay you for this five day stay
that doesn't involve days upon days on the road-building crews?" And I gave
him my most beguiling smile. It had worked upon my teachers in school, my
school chums throughout my studies, my professors...
     And it worked upon Mr. Mendoza, I could tell. "Well, I think there is
something we could work out." And rather to my surprise, instead of
summoning me out the door and down the hall, probably to get very dirty
doing some grunt work, he stepped inside and closed the door behind
himself.
     I had very little space, I backed up and ended up with the backs of my
legs against my bed. And when he stepped in further, all I could do was sit
upon my bed. With a smooth motion, Mr. Mendoza sat down on the bed beside
me, I had to scoot quickly to make room for him.
     And his arm came over my shoulders and the far hand came in to land
upon my thigh. His intention here was, you must admit, without a doubt.
     "Mr. Mendoza!" I said, startled. "Mr. Mendoza, please! I am not that
kind of man, I assure you."
     Mr. Mendoza released me, rather to my surprise and stood up. "You ask
what you can do to pay the rent." he said to me. "But if you won't, all
right. I shall call the policia instead?"
     He turned to go to the door and I jumped to my feet and yelped, "No,
wait!"
     He turned, and smiled again. That smile was more than the genial one I
had seen in my mirror, this smile was one of...ownership. He owned me at
this moment, and he intended to collect.
     I gulped hard and when he came to me and his arms came out, I lifted
my own so he could embrace me. His lips came to meet mine, and I did not
resist them. They tasted of cigarettes, pressing against my own which had
never yet indulged in this vice, not even a pipe. And his tongue, fat and
heavy, stabbed into my mouth and it reeked the same tobacco stench.
     But my rent had to be paid, and so I endured this kiss, let him slide
his tongue over my own virginally pristine one, taste my innocence and
seize it for his own! He smeared and slavered over my lips, my entire mouth
and beyond, like a ravening wolf, and then he let go to whisper to me
huskily, naughtily, "You beautiful, beautiful man. Your lips are as soft as
the skin of a newborn baby and I must have them, I must have them!"
     And with that, he shoved my shoulders down hard and I buckled under
the force of that thrust, and ended up kneeling at his feet. I looked up at
him, bewildered and unsure, and he gave a sort of snarl and his hands went
to his britches and began to fight them open. I stared at these movements
wide-eyed, lamb waiting for the slaughter, and his manhood flopped out of
his trousers, and the wave of heavy-smelling musk assailed my nostrils as
it rose up into turgid, angry tumescence. I winced from it and he gave that
sort-of snarl again and slapped his dong against my cheek, staining it with
a sticky-feeling slime from the tip of it. "Give me those lips of yours,
you beautiful man!" he ordered me. "Give me those lips and I'll forgive
your bill."
     What else could I do? I opened my lips and shuddered as the glans slid
across my lips, the bottom slick from his male essence as it slipped across
my tongue, leaving a strong flavor as it went, the flavor of male rut, the
flavor of sexual excitement, the flavor of...love?
     My own maleness stiffened within my trousers and I closed upon the
musky intruder convulsively, clinging to it with my lips as he shoved it in
deeper, then with the head of it brushing against my tonsils, he pulled it
back, and my sudden, urgent need held on tightly, relinquishing it only
reluctantly.
     "Ah, yes, ah, si, si, si!" he moaned as he withdrew his prick to the
glans, the foreskin a meaty wrinkle upon my tongue and then he jammed it
back into me, his hands caught my head and he began to thrust into me,
hard, fast and cruelly, not caring about my comfort or my ease, he used my
face and my mouth for his pleasure and cared not a fig that I was another
human being.
     My own desire, surprisingly, flared up under this abuse, it was as if
I were being given permission to forget my own humanity, my civilization,
in this moment, I could descend again to my animal nature and give it full
license to use my body as it would. My hands unfastened my own trousers and
I brought my manhood out and began to pump upon it, shamelessly intent upon
my delight.
     Mr. Mendoza was making loud, grunting noises rather like a pig, and I
felt that this was right as well, his passions were reverting him to the
bestial and he mauled my mouth, his organ was hot and throbbing upon my
lips and tongue, scalding my mouth with the heat of his ecstasy.
     And his grunts of the pig became the roar of a tiger, he rammed his
dong deep into my throat and he keened a long, loud moan and the hot liquid
seed gushed from his organ directly into my esophagus, there was no
question of swallowing it, I could only take it and try to get it all down
as he jetted more and more of it into me.
     And my own climax struck me and I splattered his pants, which had
fallen to below his knees in the motions of his body as he fucked my mouth,
coating them with a hot, lavish white smear of my young jism, I had
besoiled him and he finished, released me panting, as my last drops left my
maleness and dripped onto the inner crotch of his britches, and he stepped
back, panting, and he pulled his pants back up and when he did, the wetness
of my ejaculations touched his body and he understood.
     "You rutting dog of an Englishman!" He growled and his beefy hand came
out and clouted me upon the side of my head and I sprawled perforce upon
the floor and he left me like that, stained and violated and utterly
exhausted, and ashamed of myself. I shouldn't have permitted this, I should
have returned to the Professor's room and again asked, nay, demanded that
he pay my hotel bill in full and at once.
     As it was, I had paid in a coin far more precious, I had lost my very
virginity to this crude, rough man, and must now confess this breech of my
innocence to any woman that would consent to become my bride. And in that
state of mortification and regret, I took myself to bed.
     I was awakened the next day by the Professor, who demanded that I
attend him immediately, it was time for us to leave for the expedition. We
would travel deep into the jungles, in hopes of accumulating more specimens
for the Professor. He was eager, more than eager. "I was able to establish
six points of similarity with this genus of flower to the fossil records,
the fossil records!" he gushed. "This flower is as old as the dinosaurs,
older, perhaps, of an age with the very ferns, and I shall prove that
beyond doubt! Come, young Heath, we must make haste!"
     Mr. Mendoza was at the desk. The Professor stepped up, me behind him
heavily laden with the packs that we would wear into the jungle, and he
said, "Time for me to settle my debts here. And young Heath's as well, I
think."
     "Of course, senor!" Mr. Mendoza grinned and to my amazement, he had
the audacity to let the Professor pay him in full for both our rooms. After
what I had done for him!
     But what could I say? Admit my misbehavior to the entire roomful? Call
him into court and make him pay back the money because I had paid the bill
already with my own, fair body?
     We made it to the train which was to take us to the last stop before
we would have to take off on foot. At least Professor Garrison would pay
for both our tickets, I was sure, and I took care of our packs, getting
them on the train while the Professor paid our fare. This was only fair,
after all, as he was paying my way, that I should do these little things
for him. He was an honorable man, only given to becoming distracted and
undistractable in his studies.
     On the train, he encountered a wealthy planter and the two of them
retired to the smoking car to converse upon things of wealth and power,
which they both possessed and I hoped to do so one day. I stayed with our
belongings, and was beginning to fall asleep from the weariness of the ride
when the conductor came up to me. "Your ticket, please?" he said to me in
very good English.
     "Oh!" I said, realizing. "Professor Garrison will have my ticket, he
bought them both and hasn't given me mine yet. He's in the smoking car...."
     "No, Senor." the man reverted to less perfect speech as he went from
smiling to frowning. "I already checked the tickets of the gentlemen's car
and there was no extra ticket with any of them. You have to have your own
ticket, Senor." He was tall, thin, his skin a lighter brown than
Mr. Mendoza's or most of the rest of the passengers, enough that I
suspected a white parent, or at least a white grandparent, lay among his
lineage. His face otherwise was angular but in a way that made him look
dependable, solid and even regal.
     "Huh? Oh, Professor Garrison is very absent-minded about these
things. Let's go get my ticket from him now, then."
     I went with the conductor back to the smoking car, but the Professor
wasn't there. Nobody recalled seeing him, even, when I inquired. I turned
to the conductor. "Let's return to our seats, he may be there, if not,
he'll return there, and he can explain."
     "If you don't have a ticket, Senor, you must get off the train. I
could call the policia on you, too, but I am not a cruel man, I only put
those without a ticket off the train."
     This was hardly kindness under these circumstances. I expostulated
urgently, but could not sway him. Finally, in desperation, I said to him,
"Look, surely there must be something I could do for you, to make up for
not having my ticket right this minute, isn't there?" And I turned my smile
upon him as I had upon Mr. Mendoza. I had been guiltless before, but was
not guiltless now, but being abandoned in a foreign land is not something
to face without trepidation.
     And that smile worked its magic again. "I think there is." he
agreed. "If you will come with me, Senor?"
     Helplessly, I followed him in the opposite direction from the smoking
car, the dining car, toward the front half of the train, which was devoted
to shipping and such. The furthest back of these cars held a sort of office
into which he ushered me, small, barely larger than a telephone booth. "And
what is it you would like me to do?" I said hopefully as I beheld the
paperwork there to be done. "I have a good head for figures and could work
these documents for you without much trouble."
     The conductor was behind me and I felt his arms curve up from behind
and below to stretch his slender fingers toward my breasts. "No, Senor,
that is not what you can help me with." he said to me, a husky whisper in
my ear.
     "Oh, dear!" I said in lieu of a heartier oath, as my mother had
trained me in courteous language most assiduously. "I didn't mean, that is,
I didn't expect...." I was lying about this, but had recovered some hope in
seeing the office, as I said, but it appeared that Mr. Mendoza and this man
were close brothers under their skin.
     "You have a beautiful body, Senor." he said to me as he nibbled upon
one of my ears and played with my nipples through my shirt front. "I should
like very much to hold it in my arms, and more."
     "Oh, well, holding it is all right." I began.
     "Holding it, and more." He elucidated, and his hands came down and
began to unfasten my belt and then the trousers themselves.
     "Oh, well, I suppose so." I gave in. "You'll want me to turn around
now, I presume."
     "No need, Senor." he said and his hands pulled my trousers down and my
undergarments with them, so that I was bare below the waist, only my
shirt-tail providing a modicum of decency which he promptly stripped from
me by lifting it up and exposing my buttocks. His hands felt my body's
nether region with a familiarity that only a doctor had laid upon me in the
past and the doctor had not lingered as this man's hands did.
     Then he let go and I heard a jingle as his own pants were
undone. "Sir, sir, I must ask your intentions here." I gasped, though I
feared I had guessed his intent all too easily. "I am unknown to man in any
way" (a blatant lie, but I was desperate here!) "and cannot be mistreated
so."
     "You can always get off the train, Senor." he said with unassailable
logic.
     And with that, he pushed my upper body down to rest on my forearms
upon the desktop, the papers I had hoped to use to pay my fare now only
forming a minimal cushion for them and I heard the sound of him spitting
liberally.
     And then his cockhead began to quest its way through my anal crevice,
seeking out the cavern that lurks between, and I felt the result of his
salival generosity, for he had greased it most thoroughly. That helped but
did not extinguish the pain as he found his target and began to push his
prong into my body. Like him, his manhood was slim and it proved to be more
uncomfortable than ravaging. Had Mr. Mendoza attempted this, I should have
bled most unmercifully, but this thinner pud merely caused me to grunt and
grimace as he wormed it inside me.
     "Ah, you are truly a virgin, are you not, Senor?"
     "I said as much, didn't I?" I retorted and that won from him a groan
of pleasure. He liked being the first man to impale me upon his virile
man-tube, to drive this hard tool deep into me and split me like a rail is
split by an axe. He wielded the axe of his masculinity and I groaned as I
felt the fleshy invader plunge deeply into me. What this man had sacrificed
in girth, he recovered in length, it felt like a long, long tube was
working its way into me, further than any loving mother's enema
administered to her child would have prepared me for.
     And finally I felt his hips pushing against my buttocks and I moaned,
rested my head upon my arms before me.
     "Such a sweet, warm body you have." the man purred above me. "So rich
and wet and so very, very lovely!"
     And he began to hunch at my ass, driving this turgid tube in and out
of me and his hips made a slapping sound as they stole my virginity and
left me a quivering mass of soiled-dove meat in its wake.
     And again I found my traitor cock rising up to this challenge, and the
feelings in my anus became slowly more delightful and sleek and smooth
and...wonderful! I moaned again, this time in pleasure rather than pain,
and the conductor noted my reaction.
     "You like this, do you, Senor?" he cooed at me as he leaned over to
take my upper body in his arms again. "You like to have me inside you, do
you?"
     "Yes, yes, oh, yes!" I sobbed. For to have said "no" might have caused
him to stop and he mustn't stop, not now, not now! I would have spoken
curses of the blessed in Heaven to keep that dong deep inside of me in that
moment.
     And he began to preen, to show off in his motions, using all the
little tricks to wring more and more pleasure from me, and my body
responded, sending wave after wave splashing against the coastline of my
mind, until it washed away every ounce of my reserve and I was crying out
in my delight and my joy. I was being fucked, I loved being fucked, and I
knew in that moment that I would no longer rest until I could assure myself
of a steady and unending supply of this man-meat from whatever source from
this point on until my very death-day.
     And I groaned, rose up onto my hands and exploded, spraying my seed
over the papers upon his desk without ever once touching my cock, and when
the conductor realized this, he took my prong in his own hand and he mauled
it without mercy, hard pumping motions that wrung me totally dry and the
desk totally wet with my spent desire.
     And when I was done, weak, submissive, he resumed his own assault upon
my ass and he finished up with a loud roaring sound that must have
rebounded throughout the train for three cars in each direction.
     As he finished his climax and lay down upon me in a moment of joining,
the door opened and I heard an English voice say, "Ah, Esteban, there you
are, have you seen...hello?"
     I turned my head and saw a magnificent specimen of England before me,
a man wearing the khaki of the jungle, barrel-chested, broad-armed,
ponderously mighty and majestic and masculine, and he looked at me, the
fucked fellow countryman submissive beneath this man of the Latin American
lands, and he merely grinned. "You must be John Elliot Heath." he said to
me.
     "Yes, yes, I am he." I said.
     "I'm Evan Cranston, I'll be leading your expedition. Professor
Garrison was asking for you."
     "I was looking for him." I said. "He forgot to give me my ticket and I
was forced to resort to a...rather informal way of paying my fare. It was
that or be left at the next station."
     "Not the next station." Esteban, the conductor, said. "Just...off the
train."
     "They throw off the scofflaws." Evan agreed.
     "But I'm not!" I said. "The Professor was to pay my way on this
expedition and I expected him to pay for my ticket and give it to me and he
didn't!"
     "No matter. You've paid in full yourself. Come, let's go, the
Professor is waiting."
     I adjusted my clothing and went with Evan. We spent the remainder of
the trip in genteel conversation and Evan never mentioned how he had found
me in a state of dishabille.
     We retained three sturdy natives suggested by Evan to carry our
supplies above and beyond our own packs, and as it was still only early
afternoon when we arrived, we set out to make some distance before
nightfall. I was glad to rest after that day and even more glad to see that
I was to share a tent with Evan. The Professor was to have his own tent, as
he would want to keep a work table in there to continue his studies even
after dark.
     As we retired for the night, I said to Evan, "I am so glad that this
expedition has begun. I was beginning to that I was to spend the rest of my
days prostituting myself in order to survive here while I worked out a way
to get back to England."
     "You wouldn't have worked any longer than it have taken for me to find
you." Evan said and as I turned to see him after he said this, he had come
up close to me and I was unsurprised to find him taking me in his arms. I
kissed him gladly and my own organ was pressing unashamedly against his own
as we embraced not only with our arms, but with our entire bodies.
     We undressed each other and I drooled as I beheld this proud flower of
England before me, the massive chest, with the proud Anglican nipples
pointing at me like twin church spires, ready for me to worship at them,
and his stomach a ridged set of abs that reminded me painfully of the hills
of England and at his groin was there, the proud Palace of his glory and
his superiority, there it was that I was to pledge my fealty and I knelt
onto one knee to let myself be knighted with this kingly sword!
     Evan moaned as I took him down without effort, my own mouth happily
plying my saliva over his dong. I gave him every iota of the experience I
had so recently and painfully won, and was gratified to be rewarded by his
moans, he loved my attentions, but after a short time, he caught my
shoulders and stopped me. Raising me to my feet, he guided me to the rather
comfortable travel bed he had erected and I let him place me down on the
bed on my back, and he climbed on top of me. My legs rose of themselves to
enfold him and my heels rested inside his knees and his manhood found my
sphincter and imperiously knocked for admittance, which was gladly granted.
     When he drove into me, it was like a homecoming, and I sighed, held
him tight and relished the fluid motions he used to plunge in and out of
me. Like Esteban, he used many a trick to heighten my delight and I showed
my appreciation by quickly coming to my own climax, I moaned, orgasmed,
ejaculated up and splattered his stomach liberally, and Evan only laughed
as I writhed and spasmed in his clutches. He continued to fuck me and with
a joy that went on and on, I found my excitation returning! I moaned, my
ass clutched at his dong as he rammed it into me and Evan groaned, seemed
to reach climax in surprise, for his eyes widened, his mouth opened, and he
moaned and shoved his cock in hard and there expended his spunk in hot
packets that seethed inside of me and I squirted a second load onto both
our bodies in return.
     Done, he fell onto me, heavily, crushing me under him and we
panted. "I could sleep all night like this." I said when my voice returned.
     "No sleep for you just yet." Evan said.
     "No?" I said with a grin, for I hoped he was ready to go again. But
instead, he rose and donned his pants again, fastened them.
     "Are you going somewhere?"
     "Not exactly. You will be sleeping here with me but I have another
companion for you right now. Or companions, that is."
     He opened his tent flap and the three bearers he had hired filed in,
looked my bare and come-splashed body hungrily.
     "I hate to break it to you," Evan said. "But Professor Garrison
neglected to pay these men. Fortunately, rather than simply taking off and
abandoning us, they've agreed to take something in trade, each night, that
is, until payment can be arranged."
     And looking at their hungry eyes, I knew exactly what it was to be.
     "Let us begin." I said with a sigh. "If I'm going to continue working
with the Professor, I had best get used to this way of paying for our
travels."
     Professor Garrison didn't pay them until we returned from our
expedition nearly four months later.

				  THE END
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		  E-mail the Author at Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
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