The Learning Curve

I was in a real hurry to get to the library: I needed the textbooks. I was a student at the local college and my summer assignment had got way laid and forgotten about in the heady season of long summer nights. When you are 19 years old, schoolwork doesn't hold your interest for very long.

If I didn't start work today, I wouldn't have a prayer of finishing the project in time. I arrived at the library and went inside. The cool and refreshing air-conditioned interior was a godsend. I made my way along down the aisles. I reached the biology section and began searching the racks. There was no one else about which made a nice contrast from the hustle and bustle outside.

The books on the top shelves caught my eye. A whole row of books about gender studies and sexuality and stuff like that. They were of absolutely no relevance to my project but I'd always been quite interested in the subject, issues like 'what makes people gay' and 'what percentage of the population were gay'.

I remember having a discussion with a friend - well not really a friend, more of an acquaintance, about what percentage of people were gay. He had insisted that it was 1 in 10. I thought this was just a made-up figure. I'd been sad enough to look the answer up on the Internet. It said around six percent of people were gay or bi. When I mentioned this to the acquaintance he just dismissed my research with 'most fags won't admit it'. He was a complete idiot - as were a lot of boys around my age. It was kind of depressing and I sometimes longed for more sensible minds to mingle with.

It was dead quiet in the library. I looked at my watch: - 11.12am. It would take me 25 minutes to get back to my digs so a few minutes leisure browsing wouldn't upset my schedule too much. I reached up and picked up an interesting sounding book about 'the gay gene'. I began flicking through the pages looking for chapters that would interest me.

Just then, out of nowhere, a man appeared at the end of the aisle and began walking towards me. I pretended not to notice him as he got closer and closer. I focused my attention on the book but began to feel mildly embarrassed about what was in my hands. 'What if he thinks I'm gay?' I thought. Thankfully, he passed by me without breaking stride. He stopped just a few feet up the aisle and started browsing the shelf where all the biology textbooks were. 'He looks a bit old to be a student' I noted to myself.

I browsed 'the gay gene' for a few minutes more then glanced round to make sure he wasn't watching before I slipping it back onto the shelf. I edged towards the man, keeping my eyes on the bookshelf. It was awkward: he was standing right in front of the books that I wanted to look at. I edged closer trying to eye up the books in front of him, whilst pretending to look at the books directly in front of me. I could just see the textbook that I wanted out the corner of my eye. 'I'm in luck' I thought - it was the last one on the shelf.

Right at that moment, the man plucked that very book from off the shelf and made off with it down the aisle. 'Oh-no!' I panicked. My project would be impossible without that book, but I was unsure about what to do. 'Umm, err' I hesitated for a moment. I decided I'd have to ask him for the book and set off after him, jogging down the aisle, hoping to stop him before he got to the front desk.

I called after him: "Excuse me." He stopped and looked at me.

"Yes?" he asked in a confident assured tone.

"Err, yeah, sorry." I said, a little unsure. "It's just that book, I'm really stuck with a project I have to do and that book would be a great help to me. I noticed that it's the last one on the shelf and I'd really like to take it out."

"Oh" said the man, "I see. Are you a student up at the college then?"

"Yes."

"I don't suppose it would hurt me to let you have it" he replied. "It's just a bit of a hobby for me, go on you take it, I can see that you really need it." He said, handing it to me.

"Thank you so much." I smiled. "Thank you."

"Perhaps I'll look up that book that you were reading." I blushed, a little embarrassed, but smiled at the man. He made his way back down the aisle and I thanked him for the book again.

I checked the book out with the librarian and made my way back out the library into the baking hot sunlight. It felt doubly hot after coming from the air-conditioned haven of the library. The streets and shops swarmed with people. I needed to get some groceries and made my way to the local 'cheap mart'. I did my shopping and got out a.s.a.p.

I made my way along the streets laden with two heavy bags of shopping and a textbook as thick a brick. Ok, I was plenty fit enough but still struggling in the heat. I'm the slim, toned, tall, good looking type, with dark hair and eyes - the cute, boyish type, usually being mistaken for younger than I actually am. I stopped walking, put the bags down on the baking hot ground and wiped my brow.

Just then, a car pulled up alongside me. "Hello" I heard the driver call - It was the man from the library. "Can I give you a lift, laden down with those heavy textbooks?"

He seemed like a nice man and past the age where he'd be a serial killer, plus, I needed to get out of the sun, get back and start on my project - so, 'yes' I decided to get in the car with him.

"Thank you, that would be great."

He pulled over and swung the passenger door open. I climbed in and sat on the plush leather seats. "Oh!" I exclaimed in relief, "you have air-con." It felt so refreshing.

"So where do you live?" He asked. I told him. He looked across and smiled, then said "And where do you want me to take you?" He had a cheeky grin and glint in his eye.

I was a bit taken a back but smiled at the man's joke. I decided to play along for a little while and said: 'Take me somewhere to cool down,' half-thinking he would just drive me home. He put the car in gear and drove on.

He asked me about the project I was doing and I told him about it. He seemed quite clued up on the subject and revealed that he'd done a similar project on an adult learning course about 10 years ago. He introduced himself as 'Peter', then asked me about the 'gay gene' book I'd been reading. I told him that I was just curious about the subject, issues like 'what makes people gay' and 'what percentage of the population were gay'. He listened to what I said and I spoke a bit about what I'd researched on the subject. The atmosphere in the car seemed surprisingly relaxed.

"Of course when I was your age, people simply didn't talk about it, they knew it was about but nobody ever talked about it." I listened: interested in what he had to say.

The conversation flowed and he began to reveal things about himself. He told me that he'd been married earlier in life, that he'd had kids. He told me that he was now definitely sure he was gay and how he took an interest in the research coming out. After we made it out the congestion of the town roads, he suggested that we go back to his house and he'd be able to find out his old project for me to have a look through.

"You'll be cool enough there," he quipped.

I felt ok in this man's company, but wasn't sure if agreeing to go back with him was the right thing to do. I didn't want to feel like I was 'leading him on' in any way, after all, I was strictly heterosexual - or so I kept on telling myself. My interest in gay issues was strictly academic. I did like the idea of spending time with this older man: he seemed relaxed and easy to talk to, confident without the arrogance and bullshit of people my own age. I also liked the idea of having an older admirer. He sensed I wasn't totally at ease with the idea of going back to his house and offered me a get out.

"It's ok, I could drop you off at your accommodation then bring my project round later - if I can find it." This gesture made my mind up that there it would be 'ok' so I suggested the alternative.

"No it's ok, let's go back and take a look at it now." I said smiling.

We reached his house and got out of the car. Without air-conditioning, the outside can be really really hot. He showed me into his house where it was a little cooler. I sat down in his living room and he brought me an ice-cold beer. I hadn't asked for a beer, but accepted anyway: at that age alcohol was still an exciting new thing to me. 'Perhaps he was trying to get me drunk and feel me up.' I thought to myself, but immediately dismissed this idea as childish on my part: he seemed like a nice guy. I sipped the beer as he talked about the decorating work he'd done since moving in. I listened along as he talked of powertools and filler, smiling politely. We chatted for a while, and then he went off to look for the biology project he'd done years ago. He seemed to be gone a long time before he came back.

He told me that he'd been unable to find the actual document but he had a copy on an old floppy disc. He'd been to look for the disc, had found it and was now printing me out a copy.

"Thank you for that. It will be interesting to look through." I said, secretly hoping it might just save me hours of work.

He sat down on the sofa and handed me another beer. We talked for a while about news and sports that we both liked. We shared quite a lot of views, although he poked fun at my choice of football team.

I wondered if he chatted like this much: "Do you live alone?" I asked. He said that he did and preferred it that way. "Don't you have a partner or someone?" I asked.

"No" he said. I felt slightly sorry for him at this point and wondered if he was lonely, but he seemed a very friendly man, easy to talk to, so I assumed he would have lots of friends to keep himself entertained with.

He asked about my life. "Are you single young man?" He asked. "You're a very good-looking guy. The girls must be queuing up for you?"

I blushed slightly but underneath I was hoping he meant the compliment sincerely and wasn't just trying it on - I hated insincere compliments. 'Not that it matters', I checked myself inside my head. I didn't quite know how to reply to his question, and blurted out in my teenage way that I didn't have a girlfriend 'at the moment'. He nodded with a slight knowing grin on his face.

"So tell me," he continued. "You're an intelligent young man. Have you come up with any grand theories about the mysterious of sexuality? You seemed quite fascinated with the issue."

"I'm not sure really," I was hesitant about answering as I didn't want to say the wrong thing. "From what you said back in the car it sounds like you would know more about it then me."

He smiled again and admitted that this was probably true. "But I'd be interested to hear your opinion. Have you found out anything really interesting?" He asked.

"Well..." I said. " He nodded for me to continue. "I read that in tribal like societies, it's acceptable for men to have sexual relationship with other men - and most of the men do. Then as a society becomes more industrialised then attitudes change and people become more homophobic."

"That's interesting", replied Peter. "Do you think that this means men in industrialised societies are less likely to have those sexual tendencies or do you think they're just hiding them?"

"Ermmm...I don't know really".

"Well," remarked Peter, "let's look at a case study...yourself for example. Do you define yourself as gay, bi, heterosexual or what?" I was a little perplexed with the question.

"Err...Heterosexual." Came my answer.

"So you've never had any sexual contact with men." He asked rather formally.

"No."

"What about fantasies for sexual contact?" I paused before answering which kind of gave my thoughts away. "Well, I've thought about - I guess, a little bit."

"When you say thought about it; do you mean had fantasies?"

"Yeah, I suppose so. But there is a difference between fantasising about something and actually wanting to do it." I blurted - getting in my disclaimer.

"So going back to the original question: We could say that you have some small tendency - not one that you'd act on, perhaps - but some small tendency?"

"Err...Yeah. I guess." I said, blushing slightly but enjoying the risqué nature of the conversation.

"So what type of fantasies do you have?" He asked obviously intrigued. "I mean, how far do they go?"

I finished off my bottle of beer. "Oh, quite far" I answered rather cheekily.

"Really!?" His interest was definitely sparked. "Do you have ideas about men in general or about a specific person? Is there a boy at college or somewhere that you fancy?"

"I didn't. I mean, er, I don't have anyone in mind - just a man in general."

"And what kind of men do you think about?"

"Errm, I kind of like older men" I said, not thinking about the current situation until after the words had left my mouth.

My mind was beginning to race and thoughts about the fantasies popped into my head. I was looking across at Peter, wondering how far he'd go in asking me about my secret man-on-man sex fantasies - the stuff that I had never told anyone about before. It felt good to be talking about it with someone. I wondered about the experiences Peter had had - wondering if he'd actually done all the things I'd only thought about.

"So what kind of things...happen, in these fantasies that you have?" He asked.

I hesitated in answering, although I was actually thinking about what did happen in my fantasies. Imagining a thrusting naked body and hard cock. My fantasies were never romantic. 'Could this be it?' I wondered, alone with a gay man? I felt my own cock begin to stir. I was sitting in the chair desperately trying to look relaxed, even though I could feel myself swelling up with embarrassment.

I tried to remain composed in front of him, trying to pretend the conversation wasn't affecting me in anyway, but I could tell that my face was turning bright red. My penis seemed to be unaware of this embarrassment and was having ideas of it's own. I carried on trying to look relaxed and didn't want to move or put my hand in my pocket and drag my cock down, as this might give the game away - if he hadn't noticed it already.

It was strange how I was getting turned on just from the conversation, but his questions had really set my mind flying. I looked across at him and could tell he was looking at my crotch. I felt my dick harden more. There was no hiding my erection now. I tried to stay relaxed but knew the game was 'up'. Peter just sat there, not saying anything, almost as if he was letting me stew in my own emotions. I wanted him to say something to break the tension, but he didn't. I looked down at the shaft propping up my pants, then across at him. He looked back at me. I could see his eyes glazed with excitement. I felt my cock harden to it's fullest. The sensitive head rubbed against the fabric of my underwear.

Even though several minutes had passed since his question, and still hopelessly trying to ignore my stiffening, I tried to gather my composure and traced my thoughts back to his original question.

"Ermmm, well." I stuttered, my voice breaking with nervousness. He got up from his seat and sat on the arm of my chair, resting his arm around my shoulder. "Sometimes..." I continued.

"Yes..." He asked kindly, trying to relax me. He could see that I was a ball of nerves. I was surprised at my reaction to his question. "You can tell me about your fantasies, it's ok." Peter said gently. "Do they involve further than getting naked together...say for example?" He asked.

"Yeah," I replied, "usually."

"Do you think about using your hands on someone?"

"Sometimes." I answered.

"I see," said Peter, "what about sucking on another man's cock? Has that ever entered your thoughts?"

"Err, sometimes" I answered.

"It's a very nice feeling." He said. I smiled nervously and thought that maybe he would boldly take out his dick and hold it in front of my face for me to suck. If he did, then I knew I would fall on it open mouthed and suck it to completion, even though I'd never sucked cock before. I did sometimes wonder what it would be like to suck cock, what it would be like to lick the head and then engorge on the shaft. But, I held a deeper curiosity and desire for something else.

"I do think about it sometimes," I clarified, "but I have a thing about something different."

"And what is that?" He asked. I looked up at Peter. My heart was pounding and I was as nervous as hell, but somehow I decided to say it. I told him my deep dark fantasy. "I have this thing about anal".

"Anal?" said Peter.

"Yeah, butt-fucking, up the arse. I think it'd be really great to be fucked up the ass." He smiled and nodded, seeming totally at ease with what I'd just said, even though it had been a big confession for me.

He squeezed my shoulder. "I'm glad you told me that." He said, although he seemed a little nervous now. "Tell me, have you done it before?" He asked. I shook my head.

I wanted him to take charge but didn't know how to offer up my ass to him. I was on the verge of having years of surpressed, pent-up fantasies forfilled, but still, questions raced through my mind; 'Would he do it to me?' 'Did he even like doing it?' 'Was he turned off by what I'd just said?' I was nervous and didn't know what to do next, but I couldn't bare sitting here with a cock ready to explode and just wanted something, anything, to happen. I reached up to touch him.

Laying my hand on his thigh, I could feel his cock inside his pants, running down it like a truncheon under the fabric. Knowing that he was getting turned on also turned me on. I thought about the cock inside his pants. Thought about it railing me. Thought about impaling myself on it and being bounced up and down on it. I could feel a wet patch in my pants where the pre-cum was leaking out. I expected him to ask more questions but he just sat as I touched his cock through the fabric.

He looked me straight in the eye and said: "Wow, I'd really love to fuck you now. I mean it may feel a little strange if you've never done it before but..."

"Oh, yes. Please. Do it to me." I interrupted.

He quickly got off the chair-arm and knelt down in front of me. He reached forward and helped me take off my T-shirt. It was all happening at last.

I could now see the bulge in his trousers right in front of me. He undid my belt and pulled my trousers and underwear down. "Pull them right off!" I insisted.

I could feel my cock glowing and humming with excitement. It stood hard and ready. My underwear was pulled away from my feet. I leaned forward and grabbed at Peter's belt buckle. He pulled off his top as I pulled down his trousers. His dick was causing a massive bulb in his pants. I pulled those down, eager to see his cock.

It was all happening so fast, a few moments ago we were two people sitting in a room talking. Now we were both naked and hard ready to fuck. I felt so young and vulnerable like that, naked on the chair in front of this wonderful mature man with his lusting mind and hard cock. I looked down at it, more eager than ever that I'd feel it being shoved up inside me.

"You like that?" He asked, looking at me looking at his dick.

"Yes" I said, leaning back in the chair to admire him as a whole. He obviously kept himself in decent shape, a little rotund but still very manly. I placed my hands on his torso and complimented him on his body.

He smiled and began running his large hands over my tender student body. He smoothed them down my torso, down my legs, back up. It felt amazing to be touched like that. He knelt down in front of me, then held me by my hips with his hands. It almost felt like he'd be able to grab all the way around my slim waist with his grip.

I sank back in the seat as he started licking at the tip of my cock. Just with the tip of his tongue at first, but then more and more he slobbered all over it. Taking big licks up the shaft and down the shaft. He let go of my hips and grabbed my thighs just above the knees. He pushed my legs right up, now I was lying back in the seat with him holding my knees up by my shoulders. He licked and sucked on my hairless balls, then took his tongue down a little more, tickling my ass with it. I let out a groan to say 'that felt nice'.