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Ph.D.: I was teaching a class at the college senior level, and, it was also approved for graduate students, and, it was in the evening, met once a week, for three "contact hours" which was the equivalent of three 50-minute classes. It averaged about 60 students, most undergraduates, a few grad students. (And, something about me, then, so you can form a picture, 6', 180, mostly muscle, swimmer build, shoulders and back and arms, small ass, big cut cock.)
Mark: And, I, was a student in his class. He was really a good teacher, and really cared more about his students learning something than doing research. And, he was hot, at least as hot as a 40-year-old, very straight appearing guy could be. He clearly worked out. In this casual university environment, in early September, it was hot, the coat and tie came off before class started, he was wearing a form fitting golf shirt that showed his pecs, and his nipples when he stood up straight, which he did often, to write on the whiteboard. (And, something about me, back then, 5' 10", 185, bulky, mostly muscle, bubble butt, thick cock, uncut, on varsity hockey team, but not headed for the NHL.)
Ph.D.: There was this kid in the front row, eventually I matched most names to faces/bodies, he was Mark. He participated in class, stayed awake, sometimes tough in an evening class (I recommended a dose of caffeine, tea, coffee, Coke, or something similar before class.). "What if I am a Mormon and can't do caffeine?" he asked.
"Take a nap before class," I responded.
"Been there, done that" he countered "-- nice couches in the Student Union."
He was clearly interested in the subject matter, got good grades on the short quizzes, and seemed to be making progress on his term paper. He also wore white Levi's, very tight, and had a very pronounced full basket. He usually sat there with legs spread, basket on display.
Mark: I wondered if I could get into his pants. I was no neophyte to gay sex, I'd had a dozen or so partners, and one almost-lover, since my Freshman year, but never with a faculty member or an older guy other than having older guys blow me in the bushes in the local park who I don't count in the dozen or so partners.
Ph.D.: As the semester rolled on, he stayed in his front row seat, showing up early, I figured, maybe so he would be sure of the seat right in front of me at the lectern. I taught behind a free-standing speaker's stand, just a pole underneath the slanted top where I put my notes and my copy of the text so I could direct the students' attention to it. We sometimes spoke, typically not about the subject, but about sports, the University teams, which I followed, and I went to many games, the faculty got free tickets to football and basketball and hockey, the rest were free to everyone.
My crotch was well below the top of the lectern, and I caught him looking that way, as often as he caught me looking at his package. Although I was certainly turned on by younger men with good bodies, I had never acted on it with a student. Younger guys in the nearby city were another thing, and not being my students, were not off limits to me.
In early May, with only two classes to go, instead of wearing briefs I went commando with light weight cotton trousers, I am cut, and, I knew my cock head would just barely show, soft, and if it chubbed up, it would be obvious to the students in the front row, who other than Mark, varied from week to week. If I groped myself, it would be very obvious to Mark, and maybe to others, but I thought I would try it during the last classes to reciprocate what he was doing for my benefit.
Mark: It was the next to last class. Term papers had been turned in, instead of an exam there was a take home due the next week in the last class. Some of it was multiple choice, there were three short essay questions, and one longer essay question. The longer one involved an "unanswerable" question about which there were at least two, if not more, opinions. The task was to identify the issue, comment on the reasons the answer might be A, or B, or C or whatever, and then argue whichever one we wanted to. There was no "right answer", the grade was based on what was known, and unknown, and the depth of the argument.
The opportunities for collaboration were many, in fact, he recognized it, and stated he did not mind if we worked together, but the answers, except to the multiple choice, better not match.
Ph.D.: Sex between students and faculty was a big no-no. It could result in being fired, tenure or not, although if the student were over 18 it was not a criminal act. But Mark really turned me on, and, it was clear, he was making a very subtle play for me. Temptation was high, he played hockey, had played football and baseball in high school, was not good enough for college level except hockey, and had a hockey player's build -- stout, broad, heavy muscles, 5' 10", 185 pounds (How do I know this? The program passed out at hockey games with the hometown player's stats and visual observation.)
I had written three recommendations for him for three grad schools, including the one we were now in, and so, if he were going to be here, nothing was going to happen. So as not to single him out, during the last class, I polled the class about their plans for the summer and the next year. ROTC people were off to the military right away, other answers varied. Mark was spending the summer in the apartment he and buddies had rented during the school year, and working as a landscaper, then off to another university for grad school.
I collected the take-home exams, passed out the term papers, volunteered to stay until after the usual class end if anyone wanted to talk about anything, and dismissed the class. Most left, the two usual whiners who wanted me to raise their grades were first, some others with legitimate questions were next, Mark just stayed in his seat, rubbing his well filled out white Levi's until the rest were gone.
Mark: It was now or never. The ass suckers were gone, the whiners were gone, it was just the Ph.D. and me. "I'd like to talk to you about grad school," I started, getting up from my seat with an obvious boner. I looked at his crotch and he had at least a 7" semi, going horizonal in his pants, tending left.
Ph.D.: "It is almost 9:30," I answered, "and I have to meet my TA and get her started on helping to grade the exams. How about Tuesday or later?" figuring by then the grades would be posted, he would no longer be my student, and the forbidden actions would no longer be forbidden, should I be so lucky.
He said, "OK. Evenings or weekends would be best, I start my day job on Monday. Where?"
"How about the Untidy, a local diner not known for its cleanliness, but the food was good, and inexpensive, at about 6:30, it won't be busy, lots of folks have already left town."
I left, met with my TA who had no exams to take herself, and got her ready to start helping grade the exams. We would work on them on the weekend, and be done to post the exam grades and final grades on Monday. I carefully put Mark's work in her pile to avoid any complications later.
Mark: Whoa! I did it. He is going to meet me, off campus, out in public, no shame in that, to "talk about grad school". I wonder what else we will talk about and will we get in each other's pants? But where? Not my place, roommates still around since exams are not over for everyone. And his private life is pretty private, but he has a big cock, and probably cut, or his foreskin retracts, or he has a mushroom head, one or more of the above, I can't wait to feel it up my ass.
Ph.D.: I wonder where this is going? We are interested in each other's equipment, that is for sure.
Mark: I showed up at the Untidy a few minutes early and took the table the furthest in the back, away from the few customers that were already there -- oh, by the way, I got an A on the exam, which I did all by myself, and an A for the course.
Ph.D.: I showed up about 5 minutes late, Mark was already there at a table in the back. He thanked me for the grade, I replied that the TA had graded his paper and his exam, that I had stayed away from it, along with about half the others, only to do some random checks to see if the TA and I were being consistent. He was wearing a tank top, which showed his upper body, a magnificent upper body, all muscle, big nips, poking the fabric, and his tight white jeans, showing a grand bulge. Now, his thighs were so big that they pushed his cock and balls forward, when his legs were together, since there was no room in between, but even adjusting for that, his package was as monumental as his chest. "Sit next to me," he said, "so we can look at the course catalogue. I have a week to pre-register for what I want to take. And, then we can talk about the social life there."
Mark: Ph.D. was dressed in his usual cotton pants, commando again, button down short sleeve shirt, sandals with socks (a no-no style wise but very sensible), no T shirt, his upper body showed well, he had biceps at least as big as mine but not as big a chest. I made sure our legs bumped, he did not move away, I put my hand on his thigh, he did not move it, but said, "Later Mark, let's eat, and do the thing we supposedly came here to do, and then, talk about where we might go from here..."
"Not my place," I said, "roommates are still there studying, but starting next Sunday I have the place to myself for two weeks, then a roommate again until I leave for grad school at the end of August."
Ph.D.: "My place then? It is about five miles out in the country, you have a car, you can follow me, or Google Map it just in case, or, I can drive you out and back." Cindy, the waitress, and easy lay, I am told, showed up, took our orders, I moved away a bit, Mark grabbed my cock, which was hard, I grabbed his, hard as well, and moved further away. "Serious business first."
Mark: We went over the course offerings, what would have duplicated what I'd already had, what my long run goal was (industry not academics) and mapped out the first two years which would get me my Master's, and line me up for a Ph.D. but most of the Ph.D.'s went into academia, not industry, so we did not spend much time on what would happen then. We ate. We then got down to the serious business.
"I am guessing you are gay or bi, I am bi," he said. "Tell me about you."
I told him I was mostly gay, but got turned on by females and had fucked a few, and enjoyed it. I told him my history, that I had been tested only two weeks ago for STD's and had not been fucked, or sucked a cock, or fucked anyone, in the past three weeks, but I had gotten a blow job from a buddy just before I took the tests. He told me his history, HIV pos, undetectable, versatile, enjoyed most of what two guys can do, got really turned on by bodies like mine.
Ph.D.: We went to my place, he followed me in his car. I owned a bungalow, more in place in Los Angelas than the Midwest, but all the fashion in the 1920's when the University was rapidly expanding, and just right for me, a single man. One floor, an attic, a full basement, dry, a much later two car garage, a small front yard, a big back yard, neighbors had fenced it on two sides, I did the third, and all the houses being one story in the flat Midwest, one could be naked in the back yard, out of sight of anyone on the street or next door. We came in, he remarked on the house, I offered him a G&T, or beer, or wine, he said, "Whatever you are having," so G&T it was. I didn't know how to make the first move, I was semi-hard, looking at his package, so was he.
"How about we start with the scene as if we were in class, you sit over there, legs apart, so I can see your basket, and I will stand over here, like I was teaching, but we both work ourselves up to full hardness, if we can, and watch each other, openly."
We did. It turned me on even more than the classroom scene. And it clearly was having an effect on him. Nobody moved. I really wanted to feel him up, feel that big bulge.
Mark: I thought, this is silly. We both know why we are here. Time for a move. I got up, walked over to him and grabbed his crotch. After all, this was sex, not romance. Romance starts with kissing. Sex with crotch grabbing. He grabbed mine. Some manipulation. He took off my shirt, I took off his. My pecs are rounded, his more square. My nipples are bigger and browner, his are smaller and pinker. Both of ours were standing at attention. We brushed each other's gently, it felt good. "Suck mine," I commanded, "it really turns me on. Start gentle and gradually get rougher, but save the real rough stuff until I am ready to cum." He did, and at the same time was fumbling with my white Levi's, trying to get them un-buttoned. White button-fly 501's are not easy to find, I saved these for my class with Ph.D., they turned me on, too. I could pull them on in front of my big mirror, caress my package, get hard, play a while until I had to take my big uncut cock out and jerk off splattering the mirror, and my Levi's, with cum, one hand on my cock, the other on a nipple and pec. I didn't wash them sometimes and had cum stains on them when I went to class. I was hoping the Ph.D. would notice, but, if he did, he did not let on.
Ph.D.: His chest was everything I had hoped. All muscle, nice hard nips, a six-pack, maybe eight if he hardened it up, fucking Levi's were hard to undo, but he was not objecting to my efforts, while sucking on a nipple, then as much of a pec as I could get into my mouth. Some hair on the upper chest, not much, patch around belly button, treasure trail. He finally helped me get his pants undone, we pulled them down, commando, like me, his big uncut cock flopped out, almost fully hard, but not up enough to be parallel to the floor. "It is too heavy to stick up like it did when I was little," he said. "But it is hard enough to fuck any asshole that wants it." His balls were relatively small, and, it turned out, when he was fully hard and ready to cum they pulled up against the sides of his cock and almost disappeared. His package, which had turned me on so much, was mostly cock, not balls. He was shaved, which really turned me on. If he pushed his thighs together, it pushed out his cock and balls, and he got his cock parallel with the floor. The shaft was medium brown, like a good tan, darker than the rest of him, the foreskin was pulled back half way when his cock was hard, underneath his cockhead was red, where mine was pink, its diameter was about the same as the shaft, where I have a real mushroom head on mine.
Mark: I got his pants off with no problem, undo the belt, undo the button, zip down the fly, and they just dropped to the floor. His cock was a bit longer than mine, very white, a bit thinner, and stood right up at a 45 degree angle, and was already leaking precum, big head, white shaft, pink head, big balls, hanging low, shaved like mine. We jerked each other, slowly, felt up each other's balls, he was still sucking my nips, alternately, making me moan. Two things make me moan, my nips being sucked and my ass being eaten. The moans are involuntary. They just happen.
Ph.D.: Wow, I have had women whose nips turned them on as much as Mark's did him, but never another guy, and believe me, I have had my share of guys in my 40 years, well, 28 or so since puberty. He told me to stop, he can cum, sometimes, by just having his pecs and nips worked, but it is not a satisfactory cum, like a wet dream, it is much better if his cock and prostate are worked at the same time. "69?" he asked. "I'd like to explore you down there."
"Likewise," I said. "I've been curious about what was in that big package all semester, now that it is unveiled, well, it is time. You don't know how many times I have jerked off thinking of what you were showing off down there."
We assumed the position, side by side, I was taller than him, 6' to his 5' 10" but our torsos were matched, I had longer legs, and I looked before I touched. Meanwhile my cock was in his mouth, just a little bit to start.
I reciprocated, having sucked a lot of cocks, I had no trouble accommodating his, I was working it gently, and, suddenly, I felt the head of mine being gripped much harder, and felt my pubes up against his lips. He had taken the whole thing!.
Mark: Wow, I took his whole cock down my throat, well, as much as would extend beyond my lips. Guess I was really turned on, and, his cock, although long, except for the head, is thin. And, I guess, the head compresses some. In any event, I remembered to try to breathe through my nose, I could do it for maybe 30 seconds, but my nose was filling up with stuff, and I could not breath that way either. So, I had to back off. Meanwhile he had deep throated me, without any obvious distress.
Ph.D.: I felt him back off of my cock, and cough, and blow his nose, and then start over, but not so deep. Meanwhile, my well-trained throat stifled the gag reflex, and I was breathing through my nose, and all was well. I moved a hand to one of his nips, and flipped it a bit, then clamped down on it, he moaned and began to fuck my face. "Hold it, too close," he said, and pulled out of my mouth. "We need to go a little slower, this is as fast as a quick blow job in the woods." He blew his nose some more, and coughed up some more phlegm. "I liked your cock, and I took it all the way, but I am not very good at it."
I told him he did a really good job, and, with practice, I was sure he would be able to do it longer.
Mark: We had gotten so far, so fast, I was concerned about where all of this would be going. Not in the long run, I had no expectations that this would be more than a one-time thing, or, maybe a summer thing. So, being forward, I asked. "Where are we headed with this? I need to know so I can time my orgasms -- I can do two for sure, and three most probably, but number 4 usually takes a long time and can result in raw spots on my cock."
His response was that we should plan on two for me, and one for him, and try to make it last at least 90 minutes, in which case we needed to slow it down.
Ph.D.: Mark is very mature, asking where we were going with this, in order to make the best of it. Was he asking about a longer run than just tonight and when we would get it off, or something further into the future? So, clearly tonight was a concern, and I answered for that. But, he had been trying to get me for most of a semester, so our relationship, such as it was, was already pretty long term. But again, no kissing, just sex, so no romance, just sex, at least that is what I thought. And that was fine with me, we might keep this up all summer, but then we would be 1000 miles apart, and we were both reasonably promiscuous in our lives up to that point.
We disengaged, and cuddled for a few minutes, stroking each other's spit-soaked cocks, tweaking nips, but no tender ministrations to the other's faces, moving hair out of the way, or similar moves that lovers often make. And, no kissing.
Mark: We had not kissed, now was the time, if we were going to do it, but, I didn't know. So, I went for it. Mouth to mouth, easy, Ph.D. responded, but initially without enthusiasm. Then, suddenly, he responded, and wow, he was a good kisser, it got my cock harder, right away.
Ph.D.: Most of the time, I experience kissing as a romantic thing, part of "making love", not as part of sex, per se. I did not know what this was. Mark kissed well for a 22 year old, I could teach him more, but it was satisfactory, and, got me harder, so it was working.
I was hugging him, feeling up his great back muscles, his great ass muscles, and let a finger wander down to his hole. He did the same to me. I wondered who was going to fuck whom, and, were we going to fuck on the first date? But again, we had known each other, after a fashion, for weeks.
I really wanted to fuck this stud, and, be fucked by him, too. I did not know which I wanted most, or first. And, again, it was fucking, pure sex, not romance. Lust above all!
Mark: He had a finger on, then in, my hole. I really wanted to fuck him, but, if he wanted to fuck me, that would be OK, but HIV non-detectable or not, a condom would be required on him, in my ass. And, who knew what I might have picked up in my one blow job since my STD tests, so a condom on me if I were going to fuck him. Meanwhile we were probing each other's holes, and, it appeared that we were both enjoying the sensations.
He said to me, "Mark, are we going to fuck?"
I said sure, he told me that we ought to clean out, he had a butt cleaner nozzle in his shower, we went in to the bigger than normal shower, he got the water lukewarm and put it up his ass, let it run a few seconds, then got out and dumped a few balls of shit and the water in the toilet and flushed it down. He then took another rinse, let it out in the shower, just a little brown, and did it again, and it came out clear.
He offered it to me, I had douched before I came with my handy-dandy bulb syringe. My first round, which I let out in the toilet, was just some faintly brown water, the second and third I let out in the shower, they were clear.
We then showered, washing each other slowly and carefully, cocks fully hard.
Ph.D.: I was in my element, a very hot muscular hockey player in the shower with me, and a reason to touch every one of his muscles. He posed for me, showing definition and I felt them all, or as many as I could find.
Meanwhile our cocks were fully hard, and then he did the same for me, spending more time on my cock and balls than the rest of my body. "This guy is as gay as me," I thought, "he is just more into cock, and I am more into muscle."
I knew if we fucked he would want me in a condom, given my HIV status, even though being undetectable, in theory I could not transmit it. And, I suppose, I would want a condom on him given his experience since his STD test. So I got them out of my drawer, along with lube, and poppers, and, being direct this time, I asked, "Who fucks who first?"
Mark: "Me," I spouted.
"Me what?" he asked.
"Me top," he responded.
"OK," I said, condom up.
I condomed up, lubed up, told him to turn over on all fours, lubed his ass. I was treating him as an equal, or maybe more, as his master for a few minutes, or an hour. He seemed OK with it, it certainly turned me on to be in control of my older teacher. From my vantage point facing his ass, it was remarkably lean, not much ass at all, an even narrower waist, tapering up rapidly to wide shoulders. Getting my thick cock in was easy. He moaned, and groaned, and pushed back at me to get it all. Amazing how fat asses are sometimes really tight and narrow ones can be easy.
I fucked slow and easy. I wanted it to last. He seemed to be OK with the pace, he was certainly not uncomfortable, I would vary the angle a bit, he would tell me to do that again, or, go back to what I was doing.
Ph.D.: Like his kissing, his fucking was certainly pleasurable, and given that he was 22 and not very experienced, it was fine. I could teach him a lot, and if this were going to continue forward, I would, for my pleasure and the guys who would follow. Suddenly he said, "I'm going to cum."
I told him to fuck me hard and go for it. He did, maybe four hard strokes, and then he just said, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, so good, fuck that was good, fuck, fuck, fuck." And then, after a minute or so of silence, "How about you? Did you cum? Was it OK for you?"
I told him I did not cum, it felt good, I was ready to fuck his ass when he had recovered from this, suggested another G&T with more T and less G, the G to get the edge off, the T to rehydrate. The lime for nourishment. And, I suggested, a quick rinse in the shower to get rid of the cum and the ass juices before we sat down. I hate the smell of ass after fucking one, and hate even more the brown slime, which they never show in porn but which is often a byproduct -- shit happens.
He pulled out, took off the condom, wiped my ass with the paper towels put the condom and towels in the trash, I got up and went in the shower, it was my ass and legs that were the grungiest, dried off and made the G&T's while Mark showered. We sat back down on the bed, naked, and drank them slowly.
Mark: He had asked where was this all going. Damned if I knew. I want to hook up with him, he wanted to hook up with me, we are in the middle of a hook up, but I had not thought any further. Presumably he would fuck me in a while, we would both cum, and I would go home. That is as far as I had taken it.
Now, I would not object to hooking up again, he was good at everything we had done, and, I suspect he would be just as good at topping my ass. And he is a nice guy. Maybe we can have sex off and on all summer. I guess we should talk, I mean really talk, but then again, maybe for him and for me, this is just a one-off fuck. We did kiss, but, it was a lust kiss, not a romantic kiss.
Ph.D.: A break. At least it is a mid-fuck break, my turn to top, then I will cum and I bet he will cum again, being 22 to my 41. I might be the best top he has had, but what does that mean? Will we get it on again this summer? Certainly not later, we will be 1000 miles away, I will be teachng and doing my research and he will be trying hard to get his Masters. Maybe we should talk about the academic life and the Ph. D. process. That is a safe topic. I could fall for this kid, but that would not be a good idea.
Mark: After we had talked some more about grad school, and careers, and why he chose academia, I put my hand on his cock, we were both lying there bare assed on his bed. He put his hand on mine. "Ready to be fucked?" he asked.
"Absolutely," I answered. "How do you want me?"
Ph.D.: I told him I wanted him missionary, so I could play with his pecs and nips as I pounded his ass. He did as I asked, I condomed up, I put a pillow under his ass, lubed my cock and his hole, and he helped aim it. He had not been fucked in a month or so, so it did not go in easy, but, in it went. "Go easy to begin," he asked, "and I will tell you when to pound, when you get the angle right. And you will know since I will really get rough with your pecs when I am ready."
Mark: Ph.D. talked to me more about how to make each other feel good than anyone else I had had sex with, even my almost lover guy. I have not recited all the dialogue here, but he was really trying to teach me how to have great male/male sex. And, it was working. I started slow, he pushed back against me, we got into a slow pace, then sped it up, a little at a time. He varied the angle and then, all of a sudden I exclaimed, "That is it, do it, don `t change it," and my whole body shuddered.
"Now," I said, "give it to me, harder, harder, fuck me, fuck me," and he put one hand on each of my pecs and twisted and pulled and was reasonably rough with them, and it turned me on so much that I was ready to cum, and, a few more "fuck me, fuck me's" and I came, hard, he pushing his cock as far up my ass as it would go.
Ph.D.: What a fucking turn on this fuck was. An incredible young man with an incredible body, me slamming his hole, full force, me working his monumental pecs, and then dropping one hand to his cock, and putting my mouth on one of his nips plus as much pec as I could get into it, I came, and came, and came and so did he: fourteen shots, all over our faces, necks, chests, bellies, and, drips and drabs on our hairless pubes. Meanwhile, I was cumming in his hole, or the condom in his hole, and spasming with my whole body. "Fuck," I said.
"Fucking yes," said he.
We uncoupled, mopped up, rested a bit, then the showers again. Back to lying there, and again, I wondered where this was going, but sort of did not want to ask.
Mark: Fuck, I thought, that was good. Where is this going? And he is not saying anything. Guess I need to bring this up. "Ph.D.," I asked, "where is this going?"
"Where do you want it to go?" he responded.
"I don't know," I said. "That was about the best sex I have ever had, so I would like to do it again, at least twice more, since the third time is usually the charm."
Ph.D.: I didn't know either, but twice more seemed to make sense to me, at the least. But in the long run there was an age difference and a geographic distance and we were both used to being promiscuous. So, I suggested, "Let's meet up a few times before you go to grad school, the sex is great, I enjoy your company, and, to tell the truth, I could fall for you, but, that is not rational given the reasons of ages, distances, and that we are both into being pretty promiscuous."
Mark: I said OK, I was some disappointed, since I wanted more, but, he was older, had been around, and, his answer was logical.
Ph.D.: "But," I said, "let us keep in touch, tell each other what is going on in our lives, and meet up from time to time, maybe with sex, maybe not, depending on what is going on in the rest of our lives." And so, we did.
Epilogue:
Mark: It is ten years later. Ph.D. is 51, I am 32. I got my Master's, am working in high tech, making the big bucks, and single at the moment. Ph.D. is still treachin the same courses he taught ten years ago and is a full professor. We met off and on again over the years, with sex when neither of us were attached, without when one or both of us were, and on two occasions three ways with a partner of mine, and Ph.D.. Some of my muscle has gone to flab, as has his. The cocks are the same, but mine hangs even heavier when hard, but still can penetrate a tight hole. His now stands parallel to the floor, instead of pointing at the North Star. We are good friends, more than sex partners now, but he is depressed, I think, but can't, or won't tell me why.
Ph.D.: Ten years, it has gone by so quickly, we are both still horny, and able, and maybe could have had ten years together, but, we did not. I am often reminded of the tune from South Pacific (OK, Google it!) being "Some Enchanted Evening", with the endling line, "Once you have found her, never let her go." We let each other go, probably, for the good of both of us, but we will never know. The HIV meds, that left me undetectable, for so many years, and theoretically not transmissible, have lost their efficacy, and I am still POS but detectable, and, headed towards full blown AIDS, unless a new med is developed. We shall see.
Not all stories have happy endings.