The Professor & His Student

"You're gay, aren't you?"

It wasn't a question; it was a matter-of-fact statement.

I wasn't sure what to say, so I answered with a question: "Are you?"

"I asked you first," Art replied.

He grinned at me, as if he knew. For as long as I have known him, he was incredibly perceptive. I sat on the couch opposite him admiring his beauty. He was fairly tall with delicate features and a slight build. If he were a girl, he would be called pretty, even beautiful.

When Art was in high school, he used to come over for help with his writing assignments or just to chat. He and his family lived a few houses down from me, but they had never really maintained what one would call a friendship with me. They were a family, and I was single. It seems as if we didn't have much in common; I was an outspoken atheist, and Art's father was a Baptist minister.

Art came over often for help on his college essays because he believed his writing still needed work. His writing didn't need any of my help of course, but I enjoyed his company, and I know he enjoyed mine.

He was a freshman at the local college where I teach classical Greek and Roman history and mythology. His older sister was a student in one of my classes.

I replied, "I don't think of myself as 'gay' or anything else; I enjoy any kind of sex. If it feels good, I'll do it."

"My gaydar tells me you are gay; don't try to deny it."

"Your gaydar?" That was a word I had never heard before.

"Gay radar." He chuckled coquettishly. "Then tell me about the first gay experience you ever had, or the most interesting you've had."

"Well . . . if you insist. I had many gay experiences through high school, but none of them went beyond mutual masturbation. Occasionally I had taken a penis in my mouth, but no one had actually ejaculated in my mouth. That is, until one day during the summer after my friend Don and I had just graduated.

"We were at his house, and I had been helping him with his yard chores. His parents were gone for the weekend, so we weren't in any hurry to finish. Eventually we had called it a day because it was hot, and we were sweaty. He suggested that we shower together rather than take turns. I had no problem with that.

"As we undressed, he mentioned that he was horny. I told him that I, too, was. We chuckled, and we both entered the shower with hard-ons. I stared at Don's circumcised cock; I was fascinated by it. He noticed my staring, and he ran his hands along the length of it. In the shower Don offered to wash my back; as he did so, his prick rubbed against my bottom, and he held onto my hips and rubbed his hard prick along the crack of my ass cheeks. Then he reached around and grabbed my prick and pulled my foreskin back and forth. I turned around and grabbed his thick, hard cock. It was beautiful, long, and very hard. I rubbed him vigorously a few more times, but I found it difficult masturbating a prick without a foreskin. I knelt down in front of him in order to pump his cock more comfortably. As I was pumping him, I stared at the large, bulbous head. I couldn't resist taking his prick into my mouth. I took only the head in at first and swirled my tongue around it. It was a wonderful feeling, but I felt as if I would choke on it because he wanted to push his entire cock into my throat. By this time Don was moaning softly while he held my head firmly in his hands. He was trying to hump my mouth. Then I got the idea to hold the shaft in both hands and suck aggressively on the head. This was less tiring, and I loved the feel of the hot glans in my mouth.

"After sucking vigorously for several minutes, he shot several spurts of hot jism into my mouth. I had to swallow fast, but I got it all. I held his softening prick in my mouth, but I continued to exert more sucking pressure. After several minutes, I stood up, and we hugged while rubbing each other's cocks. We didn't speak; we just kept rubbing, but he was rubbing my prick with more vigor. He let go of me, and our cocks rubbed along our bellies simultaneously as we open-mouth kissed. Then I tensed up, and I came in several spurts all over his belly. He kneeled down and took my softening prick in his mouth and sucked until it was completely soft."

"Then what happened?" asked Art.

Before I could continue with the story, I noticed that his trousers stuck out in front. Mine were too, and he was staring at my crotch. He then stood up to stretch.

When he did, I said, "Well, let me see." I reached over and touched his trousers. I could feel his erection through the material.

"It's small," he protested.

"Nonsense," I replied. "With your youth and vitality, I'll bet it's strong and very hard."

"I want to see yours, then."

We both pulled off our trousers, but he was completely naked before I could get the rest of my clothing off. He was right; it was small, but it was a gorgeous treat to look at it in all of its circumcised beauty, nestled in a sparse nest of very light pubic hair. It was incredibly stiff, with an upward curl. The head had a dark purple color to it. I lunged at it, taking it into my mouth hungrily. I sucked hard, relishing the feel of it throbbing in my mouth. The entire prick was in my mouth, and I still had room to maneuver my tongue all over the shaft and head. I sucked hard, alternating between working the hard knob and sucking the entire thing along the shaft with my lips. I knew he wouldn't last long with my efforts. He suddenly grabbed my hair, thrust forward, and grunted as his scalding jism hit the back of my throat.

"You have a quick trigger," I said, as I let his still-erect cock fall out of my mouth. I held his stiff cock and his balls in my hands.

As soon as I stood up, he removed the rest of my clothing and grabbed my hard cock.

"My god, it's a gorgeous uncut cock!" He kept rubbing my foreskin back and forth, fascinated by its ability to do that. Then he licked the underside of my prick where the head joins the staff. What a feeling! He opened his mouth to take it all in and worked it tenderly and lovingly; after several more minutes, I exploded into a mind-popping orgasm.

He swallowed; then he stood up to face me. "Now who has a quick trigger?"

We both hugged each other, and then he gave me a long, lingering kiss, which I returned.

"So what happened?" He stretched out as he sat down on the sofa.

"Huh?"

"Between you and Don. After you two showered?"

"Oh, yeah, there is more."

I sat next to Art, and he began rubbing my prick. It felt good to be naked in front of a beautiful young man, who also happens to be naked.

"After the shower we both lay on his bed. We had fallen asleep; but when I woke up, Don had my prick in his mouth. I shifted around so that we were in a sixty-nine, with me on the bottom. Since we had already come earlier, this was going to be done at a more leisurely pace. We enjoyed each other's pricks. Don worked my foreskin much in the same way you had worked mine. He concentrated on trying to bring me off quickly because of the attention he gave the head of my prick. As for me, I could feel his cock at the back of my mouth, and then I would alternate sucking the head of his prick like a lollipop or like an ice-cream cone. I wanted to come in his mouth, so he accommodated me by sucking my prick long and lovingly. He took long, deep strokes of my cock followed by a strong, outward sucking on the head. I wanted to hump his mouth, but I couldn't since he was on top of me. He would pump my prick with one hand and then suck the head of my prick; he alternated these movements until I stiffened, groaned, and filled his mouth with my come, which he swallowed."

Art stretched out again. His hard prick was at full attention, begging to be sucked.

Before I could reach over to fondle his prick and balls, he leaned over and took my prick into his mouth and began sucking in earnest.

He stopped momentarily and rubbed his hands all over my chest and belly. "I'm glad you don't have a hairy chest or belly. Excess hair turns me off."

"Me, too." I thought about his sparse nest of very light pubic hair.

He went back to sucking me and manipulating my foreskin, but soon stopped and stood in front of me with his small, incredibly hard prick sticking out.

"I need to come again," he said. "Really bad." It was throbbing again.

I had no problem with that. I enjoyed the feel of his hard prick in my mouth, and I doubt that I could ever get tired of it. His prick felt hot in my mouth, while my nose nestled in his pubic hair. I wanted this to last, this feeling of being able to do wonderful things with my tongue on the head and shaft. His prick felt even hotter and somehow longer in my mouth as he grabbed the back of my head and pulled it closer to him. He humped my mouth vigorously but lovingly, rubbing his hand on the back of my head. He lasted longer, much longer, but soon he grunted and thrust, held my head tightly, and spewed another copious amount of hot jism into the back of my mouth.

"It looks like you need some attention now," he said.

He was right; it was sticking straight up. I could have gone off easily myself. Art knelt on the floor between my legs and took my prick into his mouth while he played with my balls. He then used his tongue on the head of my prick and along the shaft.

Art then looked up at me and asked, "When did you shower last?"

"Why? Is there a problem?"

"No, you smell fine."

"I took a shower just before you came over. I had a hunch we would be doing this."

"That's all I wanted to know."

Then he did the unexpected: he spread my legs apart and pulled me to the edge of the sofa. He ran his hot tongue down my shaft, under my balls, and between my butt cheeks. Then he darted his tongue over my asshole, creating a sensation that was overwhelming, and I felt myself get even harder. Art lightly rubbed the head of my prick and returned his mouth to it, sucking the head with a passion. At that point he slowly inserted a finger into my rectum, and I came quickly in his mouth; I couldn't help it. And I had wanted this one to last much longer.

Both of us sat still for a short time. He lazily rubbed my soft cock.

This was a good time for small talk.

"Art, you've been visiting me for almost two years now, ever since you've been a junior in high school. What possessed you to ask me today if I'm gay?"

"Well, with my dad being a minister, I'm not sure where he stands on gay issues. I know for sure many in his congregation are homophobic. With the way people are, I just had to be sure. If I had been wrong about you, I wouldn't be able to face you."

"Tell me about your family."

"My dad's easy to get along with, but I keep my atheism and homosexuality from him. My mother is more liberal about what I am, although she always wants me to tell her what being gay is like. I tell her enough to pique her interest, although she wants me to go into more detail than I want to give her. You know my sister Annette; she's in one of your classes. She's two years older than I am. We're really close, and she and I confide in each other."

I brought forth the images of Annette in my class. She always wears tight, short skirts to class, and she sits with her legs spread. Occasionally she will bend over to pick up a book, and I will get a look at her beautiful cleavage.

I came out of my reverie. "Ever have sex with her?"

"Well, not really, but we often see each other naked, as we did when we were little. We often engage in mutual sex play. She thinks my prick is cute, and she has sucked me off several times. She knows that I have feelings for you and that I've wanted to have sex with you. She said that she wants to make love with you. She said that she has even rubbed herself to orgasm while in your class fantasizing about having sex with you."

"I'm flattered." My imagination went wild at this.

When Art left, we had made arrangements for another session of love-making. And perhaps with his sister, too.