Student no longer. A story in 10 chapters.
Disclaimer: This story contains passages of explicit description of sexual activity between boys of 18+. There is also strong language. If you are likely to be offended by these, please read no further.
Chapter 1: Obsession
I don't think all the events of those two weeks would have happened if I had not been emotionally fragile at the time....and no, it wasn't anything to do with sex...sorry to disappoint you...it was just that I was paralysed by homesickness.
I was just two weeks into a new life at London University and found everything tough. I had been used to a cosy family life in the north-east, and hated making my way every night on the dilapidated underground to the lonely one-roomed flat I rented in South London. No-one knew me there; I doubt whether anyone would have realised if I died in my sleep one night. And the studies were difficult. I felt out of my depth all the time. Certainly I couldn't concentrate when I got back to my flat. I missed my Mum especially and my younger brother and sister, no matter that we always used to be shouting at each other.
The only bearable time in those early days was after lectures had finished in the afternoon and a group of us freshers congregated together in the Union bar and had a scanty meal and a drink or two before heading home. That's where my story starts. I headed down, one Wednesday afternoon, to the bar with Jake, a fellow English student, who was explaining to me a difficult linguistic concept in his dry, superior drawl. I was yawning with boredom and tiredness, irritated by his superior manner and more keen to join the knot of guys who had already ordered their pints, pies and chips. I still also felt that deep uneasiness in the pit of my stomach, which was the anxiety of my homesickness.
The usual crowd was there ....except ...except.... in the corner was a lad I'd never seen before, a newcomer. He was sprawled out on one chair with a leg draped over another. To be honest, he was an untidy sight, a sultry, relaxed, lithe figure, with patches on his cords, a button off his grubby, checked shirt, so that I could spy his sun-tanned flesh, belly button and thin line of hair underneath, brown hair which flopped all over the place ... even his teeth were enticingly crooked....untidy, messy yes ... and utterly mesmerising. I couldn't take my eyes off him. I didn't notice or hear what anyone else said during that hour or two. Every insignificant gesture, every time he scratched himself in intimate places (which he did frequently), every time he laughed or yawned, stretching himself to reveal shamelessly more of his taut flesh, captivated me. His deep brown eyes twinkled cheekily when he told filthy jokes. His conversation, made up of coarse anecdotes of his part-time work with sluts who "were gagging for it" or of his exploits on a Greek island where on holiday, he'd spied on a couple who got up to all sorts of sexual pranks, unaware that a young teenager was watching them, seemed to me witty and daring.
His name was Bob and, from the first sight of him, my homesickness was dispelled for good! So on that occasion was any awareness of my fellow students. They might as well not have been there! It was not as though they were not better looking. Jake, for example, had classical good looks in abundance. Not a hair was out of place. His clothes fitted his athletic, perfectly proportioned body snugly and sexily. His daily jog had kept his physique in excellent shape. I could also tell, from regular observation, where his cock hung under his jeans, always at the same angle...and what's more, I could tell it was of compelling dimensions. So what was the power of this other sprawling, lazy-speaking, crude, alluring kid? I don't know, but it was sealed for me when he sauntered over to the bar for a refill. His curvaceous bum seemed to demand the attention of the whole room in a provocative, almost insolent, manner. His hand stroked it sensuously as he waited for service and as he stretched over the bar to get some crisps, he exposed a neat piece of flesh,the knobbles of his spinal cord sinking into cute buttocks and just the beginning of a lewd crack visible below his shirt. I nearly choked on my drink....and, from the arch way Jake glanced at me, betrayed the reason for my confusion ... at least to him.
The gang said they had better be making tracks. "So soon," said Bob plaintively, "I've just bought a drink."
"I'll keep you company," I said trying not to sound too eager. I felt Jake's disapproval beside me. "I've just got to go to the bogs first."
I slipped out, as red as a beetroot and stood shaking at the urinal. I heard footsteps following me and, trembling with excitement, envisaged Bob coming through the door. No such luck! It was Jake. Solemnly he stood beside me, unzipped his flies and drew out his thick cock. In spite of myself, I glanced down, but he edged it prudishly out of my sight. He looked me straight in the eye.
"Hey, Little John," he said in his patronising voice. "Just a friendly word of advice. "That kid that you're drooling over is bad news. Keep clear of him."
I hated the nickname they had given me. "Little John" emphasised my small size, young looks and northern naivety.
"What do you mean?" I stuttered.
"You wouldn't understand the details. You're too young and innocent,"he said maddeningly. "Just trust your Uncle Jake. If you've got any sense, you'll give him a wide berth."
I shook the last drops from my cock and proudly walked out without saying goodbye. With any luck, I'd have a new friend, an exciting friend, a dangerous friend, and not have to rely on that pompous twit and others like him for company.
I returned to the bar. He had nearly finished his drink and was quite tipsy. That made him even more attractive to me. "You and me...we're both outsiders," he slurped. "We would make good mates. Let's look out for each other." He put his arm round my neck and planted a mock kiss on my cheek as we went our separate ways.
My smile on the tube as I did the homeward journey to Clapham must have amused the other passengers, but it slipped away as I remembered Jake's sneer. Bloody Jake! What right had he to appoint himself moral guardian over me? "Fuck you Jake," I muttered to myself.
When I got into my room, I threw my bag on the floor and caught a glimpse of my image in the full length mirror opposite my bed. Yes, Jake and the others were right...I was very young looking. I did actually shave every few days, but my face looked fresh and boyish. I had fair hair and blue eyes and a brightness in my looks which matched my innocence. I was smallish...omly 5 foot 8. But there was one thing they were wrong about....I wasn't all small....down there between my legs was a monster! It stuck out now ...downwards ... pressing against my trousers at an angle of 45 degrees. I leaned forward and let it press against the smooth coldness of the mirror and I rubbed against it, backwards and forwards, enjoying the thrilling sensation it gave me. I pressed my lips against the glass and kissed myself aaaaaah. "I love you, Bob," I whispered.
I grinned cheekily at my reflection. We both knew what would happen next, didn't we? I winked and posed erotically, putting my weight first on one foot and then the other. I slowly moved back to the bed, took one of the pillows and stuffed it beneath my throbbing genitals. Then with my face buried in the other pillow, I slowly and slyly made long, gentle pelvic thrusts, feeling my cock scraping against the bedding. It was heaven!
Now in my imagination, Bob's face was on the other pillow and I was kissing his sweet, sensuous mouth and caressing his mop of untidy hair and we were grinning together and laughing with pleasure. I fucked the pillow more passionately now. I was in him! I was fucking him like he had never been fucked before! ... "Love you, Bob." ... In the mirror, I could see myself, feverishly humping up and down, my face getting redder, glistening with sweat, my hands, white-knuckled, gripping the sides of the bed, in a fury of lust... "Fuck you, Bob."
Oh hell I was nearly there. I pulled at my belt to free myself of my trousers and pants. Somehow, I managed to get them down to my knees and, encumbered by them, tripped and staggered to the linen basket to get some dirty towels. I draped them over the pillow and feverishly shoved my pants down further to my ankles. My white arse bobbed up and down athletically. I was working myself up again to where I needed to be. I saw myself in a frenzy, my hair sticking to my forehead.
"Love you, Bob" I yelled furiously to the pillow. "Fuck you, Jake," I screamed. Love you Bob...Fuck you Jake...and then interchangeably in complete delirium....Want to fuck you Bob....Fuck me Jake.....Love you.....Fuck you... Love..... Fuck....... Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuckkkkkkkkk
I spasmed. Once , twice, three times, four. Gasping, I collapsed in a tangle of bedclothes and sobbed, "I love you Bob, I love your fucking, pretty face." My feelings for Jake, that my subconscious had articulated in the heat of passion I pushed from my mind altogether.
Shakily, I sorted out my clothes and nudged the soaked towels to the floor. The aroma of the strings of hot spunk pervaded the room but clearing up would wait till the morning. It had been an eventful day. Soporifically, I murmured, "Love you, Bob", curled up, hugged the pillow and dropped off into a heavy sleep.
To be continued..... If, in the meantime, you could spare time to give me feedback, please e-mail me at krisjon40@hotmail.com. I would really love to hear from you and will try to reply.