Sitting in my English class reading stories from Henry David Thoreau, I kept thinking about plans to runaway from the world that never understood me. I must have been interested with my own mind because I had not heard Mr. Peterson ask me a question. I looked up to see everyone's eyes staring at me. Mr. Peterson was leaning on his desk, crossing his arms while unconsciously showing off each muscle that tightened around his white shirt. His deep blue eyes stared back into my brown eyes and he kept waiting, with patience and silence. I hate that I notice how he looks, and I knew I blushed, yet I was still polite and tried to cover my stare.
"I'm sorry sir; I was lost in thought, what was your question, sir?" I gave a slight nod while a gentle smile, trying to push through the awkward tension in the room.
"How old are you, Mark?"
"Even though you are nineteen and the man in this story is an aging man, what do the two of you have in common?" Mr. Peterson stared directly into my eyes and for a moment, I didn't know how to reply with an answer that he'd be happy to hear. I stuttered and sat up straight.
"Mr. Peterson, yet I do not know how I relate to this old, most likely lonely man, I do know that his mind does not understand mine. His generation will not understand mine. You will not find an old man listening to rap music. You will not find an old man playing basketball late at night in the park. And most likely, you won't even find an old man happy."
"What can an old man do to find happiness?" Mr. Peterson was cornering me, yet I was honestly enjoying the questions. I liked questions, yet I knew he would do anything to prove me wrong, or right.
"Date, find love, marry, be the most honest with the one you want in your life till you are seventy or as old as this man. You have known that love keeps a man alive. It's true Mr. Peterson. You got love at that age, you got happiness."
No one said too much because the bell rang. I stacked my books and was almost out the door when I heard his strong deep voice stop me.
"Mark, come here."
I turned around, saw his eyes lower to the floor and wondered what was on his mind. "Yes, sir?" I started walking toward him and sat down in the front row. I didn't dare stand close to him. I was afraid. I was shy too.
"Mark, I'm concerned about you. You yelled in confidence your answer to me. You also have a scar on your chest that I have not seen before. Is everything all right?"
"I'm sorry for yelling, yet I enjoyed finally giving my own opinion. Sir, why were you staring at my chest? The scar is old; I got it when I was a child." Tears started to swell in my eyes; I bent my neck down and clasped my hands together. "I have to go, Mr. Peterson." I brushed my tears away and walked briskly out the door.
I stepped out of the shower in my apartment and wrapped a towel around my waist. I put some cologne on and brushed my blonde hair. I felt too lazy to put clothes on so I ended up sitting on the couch reading a novel with my glasses on. Soon, I heard a knock on the door and wondered who wanted to see me at this hour in the night. I opened the door to see Mr. Peterson standing there in his work clothes.
"Sir, you shouldn't be here." I was in shock and my heart started to melt. I saw his eyes lower and look at my towel, and back up to my chest. He clearly saw my scar now. He stuttered for a moment and moved on to speak to me.
"Mark, listen to me. I just came to apologize for asking a personal question. I shouldn't be caring about you. I shouldn't look at your chest, you're right, but I am an English professor. I analyze things, meaning I look for things. I observed you. I am sorry, Mark. Have a good night." With that, he turned around and started walking away.
"Mr. Peterson, stay, please. As you see, I'm alone. Why did you really come here?" I stood leaning on the door with one hand holding up my towel. I opened the door more and showed him a place to sit down. I went into my room, put on some long flannel pants, and walked out to see him looking at a few pictures. I watched him move across the room, oblivious to my presence. He was a beautiful man. He was an untouchable.
"That is my mother. She died a few years ago." I commented at the picture he was observing.
"Oh, Mark, I'm sorry. I didn't know you had come back into the room."
With some control in my voice and a constant stare I asked, "Why are you here, Mr. Peterson?"
"I never had a father Mark. I never had a wife. I couldn't relate to anyone. I will most likely be an unhappy man for the rest of my life. How is it you get a scar like that on your chest and one deep one in the small of your back?"
"Why are you so attracted to my scars?" I boldly asked.
"It's because I have some of my own, from my brother. I think you and I are alike. I may be older than you by far, yet you and I have gone through the same thing."
"You wouldn't know ANYTHING about what I've gone through!" I suddenly felt angry. He was punching me. He punched the only spot that was not hard. It hurt. I wanted to throw myself at such a beautiful man, yet I couldn't. I felt small again.
"My brother abused me, Mark. He hurt me too. Who hurt you Mark?"
I didn't get how he understood me. He knew I was sensitive. He knew my mind was troubled with fears and memories. He knew to push the limit. I admired that he cared.
"My father gave me this scar..." I caressed the mark on my neck trying to attract his eyes more to my body, "...by punching me. His ring had slashed into my skin. It's nothing really. It's not like I hadn't been punched before." I paused for a long time. He stayed silent and waited for the other answer. I walked closer to him and he stiffened so I stopped. "Sir, I am not going to do anything to you." I waited again then sighed. I softly said, "The one on my back is a stab wound. My father stabbed me in the back for not having his meal warm enough when he came home. I never belonged anywhere. All my life, Mr. Peterson, I've wanted to know where I belonged." My knees weekend and I fell into the chair. I felt embarrassed. I felt like a little boy. I could not look up to him. I put my head in my hands.
"Look at me, Mark." I shook my head no and he ordered the same command louder. I had eyes full of tears and a heart screaming out to him. I finally looked at him and watched him walk towards me. I was frightened so I stood up quickly. Why did he have to look so perfect? He had such a beautiful face, very broad shoulders that led to his extremely hard chest. I could just tell he had the perfect body, even at his age.
He now stood directly in front of me. His deep blue eyes never left mine. He kept trying to find the answers he wanted. I kept searching his and I placed my hand on his cheek. I moved slightly forward and let go of his cheek. I looked down wondering if I had made a bad move on him. I was about to back away when he placed his hand on my cheek. He moved very close to me and leaned in. Before I knew it, his lips pressed against mine. His lips melted with mine and I raised my hand gently touching his cheek. I backed away for just a moment and realized this was my chance to win what I wanted so much. I placed my mouth over his again and felt its softness. I felt his hands let go of my face and down towards my stomach. 'God, he's feeling me!' was all my mind could register. I moved on to kiss his cheek. I placed a kiss on his ears, then his chin, then neck. He raised his head and let me kiss his neck.
"God, Mark. Make love to me, please."
I stopped and stared right into his eyes. His eyes were full of lust. He yearned for me. I reached for his hand and walked him to my bedroom. "Are you sure, Mr. Peterson? There's no turning back once I kiss you again." He shook his head yes and said, "Call me Alan, please." I lunged forward with that and placed such a deep kiss on his lips. I grabbed for the buttons on his white shirt. I undid each one and brushed his shirt off his shoulders. "Mark... mark" I stopped figuring I did something wrong. "Yes? What did I do?" He turned me around and pushed my shoulders down so I was sitting on my bed. I scooted further onto the bed and hand motioned him to come closer to me. He crawled onto the bed and soon towered over my body. "Kiss me Mr. Peter- Alan." He kissed my mouth again and moved down to my chin, my scar on my neck and then my stomach. He looked up at me for reassurance that he could move on. I nodded slightly and closed my eyes. He slid my flannel pants down and uncovered my hard cock. I could feel his hot breath over my cock and I let out a soft groan. He kissed my cock, licked on the pee hole and soon put his mouth over my entire head. He licked my shaft and then sucked on it sweetly while bobbing his head up and down.
"Ooooooh, Al-l-lan, oooh!" I kept groaning and soon I couldn't help my body. I bucked my cock deeper into his mouth and grabbed his hair. I cried out for him. My body kept moving towards him, I couldn't help myself now. I felt him grab my balls and massage them. He pressed them together and tugged enough to make me groan. He deep throated me and it surprised me how pro his mouth was on my cock. Suddenly, I screamed out at him. "Ooooooh fuckkkk, Alaaannn, im cu-u-mmmi-ii-nnggg!!" I came hard and thrust my cock deep into this throat. He kept sucking until there was nothing left in me. His mouth left my cock and he moved his whole body upward towards me. I grabbed his face and kissed him and I never thought the taste of my own cum would be such a turn on. It's only great when your giver is someone you love.
"Take off your pants, Mr. Peterson!" I ordered him and saw him lie down on his back and undo his zipper. Soon, his pants had slipped down and his underwear was down at his ankles with his pants.
I got up, removed the clothes from his ankles, and looked at his body. His chest was completely hard and I saw very little blonde hair on his chest. His nipples were erect and his toned body heaved up and down while it waited for me to touch it. I moved my eyes down to his raging hard-on and I felt my eyes widen at the sight of how perfect his organ looked at me. I brushed my fingers on him and caressed his entire body except for his cock. I wanted to tease him and make the night last. I wanted him to want me so badly that he would shove it in my mouth.
I kissed his mouth again and I heard him let out a deep groan. I moved my kisses to the rest of his face and saw his scar that he referred to earlier. I kissed it, traced it with my fingers, and whispered, "Forget" in his ear. It was barely visible on his tan body unless you were as close as I was to him. I moved my head lower and placed a kiss on his happy trail. Before you know it, I plunged my mouth on his cock as he shuddered in surprise. I could tell he was afraid to force me but I took his hand and placed it at the back of my head. He pushed me down and I groaned. He groaned too. I sucked and licked his cock all over. My tongue was working magic on him and I felt it getting bigger in my mouth. He tasted so good! I pushed his cock deep into my mouth, then took myself almost all the way out and licked the underside of his head. I watched him jerk and he showed me he was in heaven. I smiled and wanted to please him even more. I did the same to his balls as he did to me. I drew a line softly from the base to the ass hole. He lifted his ass up from the feeling yet he also thrusted his cock into my mouth.
"Maarkk, oooh shiittt... I'm gonna - -!" I realized he couldn't say it. I stopped and stared at him. I gave him the look that I wanted to hear it or he wouldn't get anything from me.
"God, Mark- please! Please! I need to... I need to cum!" I was happy now. He said the magic word. I went down on him again and sucked extra hard. I squeezed his cock with my mouth and applied pressure with my tongue. He started bucking his hips into me. He was really close and on the brink of cumming. It was amazing that I was doing this to his body.
"MARKKK!!! I'm close... I'm sooo close. Please suck me. Make me cum!" His words turned me on and I was glad he forced himself to say such dirty words. I figured since he was being so good I'd taste him. His balls raised and there you go! He came so hard into my mouth. I swallowed jet after jet of cum. His body was spasming on the bed and he was groaning so loudly. He kept saying my name and bucking his hips hard into my mouth. He couldn't help it. He was feeling great. As he watched me suck him, he shot his last load into my mouth while I blushed, raised my head and he brushed his fingers through my hair. I lay next to him and stared up at the ceiling with my arm raised above my head and my legs bent. I was ready to go to sleep.
"I love you Mark." I didn't move a muscle. I was shocked to hear my teacher saying those words. Why was he expressing love to me? I hadn't done that much for him. I got that sharp feeling in my heart that expresses love back. I was too scared to say it back. Was he messing with my mind? I dared myself and looked into his eyes. He was smiling and serious.
"I love you too. I always have." I gave him a gentle kiss with that and held him. "Don't go, please. Stay the night. You can wake up early to get back to your place. Just stay with me right now." I rested my head on his chest and wrapped my arms around his waist. We fell asleep completely naked and I wasn't about to let him go for good, not after expressing such love. No way! He was mine forever. He was going to teach me all he knew. I was going to teach him everything I knew, even if it was about my life.