Student No Longer

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 2: A Friend in Need

I crept into my first lecture a quarter of an hour late, the next day. Normally, Jake kept a seat for me beside him, but, this time, he was sitting surrounded by other students. He stared at me with a sort of smirk on his face as I shuffled to a spare bench at the back of the classroom. I blushed as the professor directed a sarcastic comment in my direction.

At the end of the session, I moved towards Jake, but he turned his back on me pointedly. I smarted at this display of petty-mindedness, but resolving not to let myself be troubled by it, went in search of Bob.

Despite asking around students who were on the same course as he was, however, I couldn't trace him. No-one appeared to have seen him. Most seemed not to want to have seen him. Suddenly I felt friendless and lonely.

I went reluctantly to my next class, a seminar discussing Blake's "Songs of Innocence and Experience". It was during this session that I saw a most extraordinary sight. There was Bob in a yard outside, screaming at the top of his voice and hurling some builders' stones at four other students. They were taunting him as they dodged his missiles. He was quite a long way off, but, though I couldn't hear anything, the massive aggression on both sides was startling.

When we were dismissed, I sped from the room to look for him. When I heard furious shouting, I just knew it had to be him. I flew in that direction in time to see him, a mad, wild, lithe figure, poised crouching as though ready to pounce - like a wild cat spitting and snarling. The lads he was screaming at were mocking him with flushed faces. Sheepishly, when they saw me, they sniggered and sauntered off.

"Well, fuck you!" he spat. "Fuck you! You soon find out who your true mates are!"

"That's right. Not us! You can be sure of that," said one of the bolder ones as a parting shot.

"Shove off! Wankers!" he screamed and then sank into a pathetic heap alongside the cleaners' brooms and mops which were stored in that quarter of the building.

There was a silence, broken only by a sob or two as he sat, with his head in his hands. Even then, I thought how magnificent he was. At full throttle, he was like a demon, a wild spirit, a dark, savage flame. As he slumped down there, my heart leapt out in response to his vulnerability.

I reached out to him and touched his shoulder. Instantly, he was on his feet, pumped full of aggression in a split second.

"Hey!" I put my hands up in a surrender position.

He flushed. "Sorry pal," he said hoarsely. "Bit nervy."

Then I gulped. His eyes were red as though he had been weeping and above his right eye was the ugliest bruise I had ever seen. He had a cut on his left cheek. His neck showed signs of bruising all the way round, as though someone had tried to strangle him. His clothes, always torn and untidy, were in an even more dishevelled state, as though he'd been hauled through dust. He'd been well and truly roughed up!

"Hell, Bob!" I said. "What have that lot done to you?"

"No...no...it wasn't them. They're a lot of pussies. They couldn't hurt me." Then instantly, he got fired up again, this time at me. "Hey why don't you just get lost? Who gave you the right to pry into other folks' business."

I retreated, hurt at his treatment of me. Where was this notion of us looking out for each other now?

Before I had gone very far, however, he repented: "Sorry pal. Like I said, I'm a bit nervy. Please wait. I need help. I'm desperate"

There was no need for a second invitation. I swallowed my pride and crouched by his side, pathetically eager to be of assistance.

"I've nowhere to sleep tonight. Could I doss down on your floor? Just the one night till I get fixed up."

My whole body pulsed with delight. What a simple way to help! One night? It could be a thousand!

I pretended to consider it deeply for some reason, not to show I was too keen. "Weeeeeelll OK, for one night only. But you'll have to sleep on the floor. What's happened to your place?"

"My Uncle Ted's thrown me out," he mumbled. I knew better than to ask any more questions at that point. I didn't want to face his aggression again. There was clearly much sensitive business going on. No doubt, I'd find out in time.

We agreed to meet together at 5 p.m. after our lectures had finished.

At my next lesson, Jake passed me a note:

WORD HAS IT BOB IS TRYING TO BARGE INTO SOMEONE'S PLACE TO SLEEP. WARNING: YOU'D BE A FOOL TO TAKE HIM IN. DON'T!!!

I ostentatiously put it in the bin when Jake was near me. He shrugged his shoulders. "On your head be it," he muttered under his breath and stalked away, upright and self-righteous as usual.

I was tense when I caught up with Bob at the end of the day. He was now looking a bit tidier and cleaner and had a ragged old bag with his personal belongings by his side. We made our way to the tube.

Funnily enough I felt a bit ashamed of my dingy old flat when we arrived at my address in Clapham. But Bob was grateful enough and settled himself in. We got some fish and chips and a bottle or two of ale. It was cosy, but his sheer physical presence made me edgy and excited. I remembered my fantasies of the night before, and the delicious climax when I'd made love to him.....or to be more exact to the pillow. I was also aware of how small my flat was. Once you'd taken out the bed, table and chairs space, there was barely a square yard left for both of us. We kept on tripping over each other, both a bit shy in this new, close situation.

You, who have read these two chapters so far, think perhaps you know me by now but believe me you don't. At that time in my life, I was almost pathologically shy in some respects, a very private sort of person. When I was by myself and alone with my thoughts and feelings, I was as bold and outrageous as the brashest, but I was still coy in the company of others and not only technically a virgin, but totally inexperienced in any sort of sex except masturbation - in that I was an expert! I think it was because I was such a late developer I was so self-conscious. I had this excruciatingly young body with underdeveloped muscles and very little pubic hair, though to compensate, I did have an exceedingly long, thin cock. No-one, but no-one, had seen me naked since I was about ten. I had made an art of avoiding school showers after Games. And not only I, but my whole family was private. I never saw any of them nude, even my little brother.

All of this made me nervous. I dreaded the whole process of changing to go to bed. The prospect of two near naked bodies ( one of them Bob's which gave me instant hard-ons even when fully dressed) in that square yard made me quiver both with excitement and apprehension. If my cock got out of control and disgraced me, it could spell more than the end of a promising friendship. I may not have been able to hold my head up in the university ever again.

We had our food and drink and sat chatting. Bob was much more solemn than yesterday....understandably after his trauma - whatever that had been.

"Look," he said. "I'm done in. I think I'll head for the bathroom and splash a bit of water on my intimates, and then turn in, if that's all the same to you."

Very subdued for Bob. The bathroom was a shared one down the corridor. This was my opportunity! When he was out, I rushed to my bed, peeling off my clothes as I did so, dumping them in a corner, and scrambling into my pyjamas. Great! The deed was done before he came back. No need for embarrassment!

But I didn't expect his reaction on his return. He doubled up with hysterical laughter. "Little Johnny....what do you look like?" I flushed. "I thought that type of pyjama went out with the Second World War. Winston Churchill was probably the last bloke untrendy enough to wear them. "Look. A cord tying them up!"

He flicked it. I was painfully conscious that his hand was only a piece of fabric away from my knob. I retreated a step. "Well, it gets cold here at night," I mumbled incoherently.

He saw my discomfort and didn't pursue it, although the grin didn't leave his face. Inwardly I cursed my Mum for buying them for me, though I had worn this sort of nightwear all my life.

I lay down on my bed miserably and drew a blanket over me. Bob started to peel off his shirt, and tried to make himself comfortable on the limited space he could clear on the floor, but he winced when he lay down. Then I caught sight of his bare back. Oh my god! If his face looked gruesome, this looked even worse. The bruises looked angry and vivid. I was frightened of saying anything to suggest curiosity in case it annoyed him as it had earlier in the day. But my face registered how shocked I was.

"Do me a favour," he said. "Don't ask."

"And don't act helpless either," he added roughly. "Give me a hand. Rub some ointment into my back where I can't reach."

"Sure."

He lay, face down on the floor, and I knelt beside him, taking the jar of ointment in my hand. Suddenly, I was tense again. So close to this exquisite body! The beautiful, brown flesh! The wonderful curve of the spine. And I was expected to touch it, to massage it! Could I maintain control over those primitive urges that always haunted me?

I resolved to be clinical and professional, like a nurse or doctor. I put a dab of ointment on his right shoulder. He shivered and tensed. I noted the pain registered in his eyes.

"Sorry!" I said.

"No worry," he replied, "but go gently."

I did so, keeping an eye on his face to see if I was doing it to his taste.

Gradually I saw his face relax and a smile of pleasure replace the frown. I rubbed more firmly and saw that this satisfied him more. I transferred my attentions to another spot in the small of his back. This time, he sighed sensuously, stretching his arms above his shoulders and nestling his head on them as on a pillow. I could see the thick hatch of hair under his arm-pits.

Otherwise, the top part of his body was hairless. The sight of the hair aroused me. I concentrated on my task more intensely. There was a thick silence in the room, punctuated only by Bob's moans now and again, sometimes of pain, now more often of pleasure.

Now I came to a bruise which began just above his pelvic bone and extended to just under the top of his corduroy pants. Gingerly and with stiff, throbbing fingers I started with circular motions at the upper end of the bruise. I was so moving ever closer to that curvaceous bottom the sight of which had blown my mind yesterday afternoon in the bar. I felt the contours of his flesh under my working fingers. My hand crept underneath his cords, gently ... so very gently ..... massaging .... firmly kneading his poor, young, bruised flesh. All my mind and spirit concentrated on the feel of the skin under my hands.

"That's just perfect, oh just perfect," cooed Bob and the praise excited me even more. "Just a mo," he whispered and unclipped his belt. "Slip them down," he said, with just a hint of excitement in his voice.

Breathlessly, I tried to control myself. I tried to be clinical and professional once again. I drew his trousers down to his knees ... and then his ankles. I was flabbergasted to discover that he wore no underwear so his bare bottom was exposed unexpectedly to my gaze. Breathlessly, I placed my palms on it, feeling its dimensions and shape. Then, I started working on a bruise on his right buttock. His muscles tensed sharply at my touch and cute dimples formed at each side of his bum cheeks. I nearly sobbed at the sight. Unable to stop myself, I traced their shape with the tips of my fingers, then recklessly, bent over and kissed the centre of the bruise gently with puckered lips. I scented the aroma of his sweat as I grazed his skin with my lips.

Then, conscious of my failure to retain a professional, detached attitude, I quickly moved on to administer to his legs. I worked my way up from his knees, up his thighs ... along his inner thighs .... feeling more excited all the time as I drew nearer to his forbidden areas. "Aaahhh," he moaned, "higher, Johnny....just a bit higher.....that's it ... ....wonderful.....aaaahhh".

And he spread his legs and eased himself up so that I could not help but look right into his hole. It was the neatest thing about him, in total contrast to the waywardness of the rest of his body. A neat, clean, little puckered entrance to unknown mysteries. I had never seen this part of anyone's anatomy, including my own..... and I was transfixed. I momentarily stopped my massage.

Then my silent heaven collapsed. I glanced up to the mirror just opposite and was mortified to see that my cock had, in its excitement, disengaged itself from my pyjamas and was waving obscenely, red and fully engorged straight up in front of me for all the world to see. Worse still, Bob's eyes were obviously fixed concentratedly on its image in the mirror; how long he had been so engrossed I couldn't guess, but probably for an age!

Horrified, I stuffed the monster away, and recoiled on to my bed as though I had had an electric shock. I willed the Universe to cease from that moment. I was so ashamed. Homosexuals in my part of the world were the subject of ridicule, contempt or loathing. I had been trapped into showing my baser feelings for Bob and revealing my sexuality at the same time in the most disgusting way possible. I pressed my body against the wall, wanting to merge with the bricks and mortar and trying to deny the existence of my still lively genitalia. I sobbed, red-faced and mortified.

Soon I could sense Bob lie behind me on the bed. He started stroking my side gently.

"Hey. What's wrong, little fellow?" he murmured, in a soft, concerned voice.

I felt the comforting motions of his arm. But it didn't console me. I felt cornered, trapped. His presence tortured me. Gradually, however, his caresses soothed the bitterest edge off my anguish and the comforting sexiness of his voice relaxed me to some extent.

But this led to the second catastrophe. It embarrasses me even now to recall it. I see it taking place in a sort of slow motion. Yet even now, I cannot admit whether he moved his hand forward to touch my cock or whether my cock pushed itself into his grasp. Whoever took the lead, on the instant the two found each other, my body stiffened and spunk gushed out uncontrollably. It spurted over everything, the first ejaculation on his hands, the next his chest, then my pyjamas and bed-linen. Helpless in a wave of overwhelming sensation, I could only watch, paralysed as a rabbit in headlights.

"Shit, Johnny! What did you have to do that for?" exploded Bob.

I was stung by his anger and when I had powers of motion again, I scrambled from the scene of the atrocity, scrabbled frantically for tissues and towels. I felt the same as on an occasion when I was seven; I had wet my bed in my sleep and my mother had made me stand naked in the corner of the bedroom where my brother and I slept, while she changed the sheets, continuously scolding me, while my brother stared up from his bed in alarm. Now, I was sobbing apologies to this lad I adored and trying ineffectually to clean him up.

He pushed the towel away and licked his fingers instead. "Hey. settle down a minute, for hell's sake," he urged. "Look," and he put his arm, round me.

"I'm sorry I snapped. I was just a wee bit disappointed. I didn't expect a premature ejaculation. But there's no harm done."

A premature ejaculation? Wasn't that an old man's disease?

"Hey, let's get cleaned up if you want and then we'll lie down quietly and calmly in the dark and discuss what went wrong."

I cannot tell you how stupidly naive I felt. But Bob was sensitive. He knew that the dark would spare my blushes. He lay back down on the floor, leaving me the stained, damp sheets to myself. I didn't talk much, but I listened closely to what he said and was limply grateful for every word.

"Look, John. We've had a full and tiring day, with new experiences for us both... but tomorrow's another day. I reckon, Little John, that I can teach you a few things which might prove more important to you in life than all that guff we learn at college. But let's leave the first lesson till tomorrow ... we're too tired now. We could bunk off early and come back here. I guarantee that you'll enjoy what you learn....and, listen, the practical lesson won't just last a nano-second; it will last at least an hour," he added with what I intuited was a grin. "Mind you, Little John ..... I might have to tell your mates at university that your nickname is not entirely appropriate. You are certainly not little in one particular." And here there was definitely an audible chuckle!

I lay back in my bed relieved at his considerate reaction to my ineptitude and surprisingly more at ease with myself than I had ever been since coming to London. I couldn't wait for the night to pass and be forgotten and a bright new dawn with my friend to break.

My pal langorously continued. "I can see I'm going to have to take you in hand.... and in mouth.... and up my ...." and he giggled himself into sleep.

PS As I heard Bob's light snores, I realised (a) that I still had no idea what the quarrel had been about between Bob and the four lads earlier in the day, (b) that I didn't really care (c) that in all that had happened, that evening between us, unbelievably, I had not had a frontal view of him - to put it crudely, I hadn't laid eyes on his cock yet - had no idea at all what it looked like - and (d) that I did care about that......

but there are a few more chapters to go yet....I've much appreciated readers' responses so far....and will try to reply to any more: krisjon40@hotmail.com