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 7: Sunday Penance
I felt no better the next day. I needed to be on my own to assess what was happening to me. I had within a week had my first sex with a boy, one I felt I loved very much, and had been unfaithful twice. What sort of slut was I?
I decided to go for a walk. Bob was not up yet, even though it was nearly noon. It was a nice, but chilly day and I wrapped up warm. As I went down the stairs of the flats I felt a creepy feeling in my stomach, and looked round to discover Mark, the serious looking guy with the icy blue eyes whom I met in the pub, trotting down behind me clad only in a sexy singlet and very skimpy running shorts.
He greeted me coldly in a broad Glaswegian accent and scornfully ascertained that I was going for a walk.
"You mus' be kidding," he scoffed. "Are yer a geriatric or something?"
I didn't like his tone.
"Come for a run wi' me," he suggested - or rather ordered, because I didn't feel that declining his offer was an option.
"But I haven't any shorts," I said feebly.
"Borrer some of mine," he said and headed back upstairs without waiting for anything as irrelevant as a reply from me.
I followed him into his flat. It was built to the same specifications as ours and Andy's but he had had fitted an amazing home gymnasium, containing wall bars, horse, weight-training equipment, a rowing machine, a treadmill and so on.
I was nervous. His body was awe-inspiringly beautiful. He was well toned, with an embarrasingly large protuberance between his sinewy legs, hardly disguised by the white, cotton fragments which were his shorts. It spelled power. It left almost nothing to the imagination. He tossed me a spare pair of running shorts and a singlet like his. Under his penetrating gaze, modestly taking care not to show my privates, I changed into the gear.
Then we set off. He strode into the lead, with a steady, quite rapid pace.
I must admit I loved watching his figure as he jogged down the road. He had a runner's physique. His legs were slim, sinewy and pale. His bum was firm and rounded beacuse of his muscle. He was clearly not ashamed to let the whole world marvel at the evidence of his endowment as his cock swung to and fro. I suppose the same could be said of me in his spare pair. I loved the freedom of movement they offered and the sexiness of the feel of the cool air on my thighs.
We swung into the park and he slowed down a bit as I began to pant.
"You're no bloody fit" he shouted at me in his rough Scottish brogue.
"No," I agreed and stopped to catch my breath.
After another mile, we agreed that he would do an extra mile and I would head off home. Just as I was approaching the flats, he wheeled round the bend to meet me, his long, thick cock outlined in his sweaty shorts, his face now flushed with the air and the exercise and his singlet dripping with perspiration.
Both of us were panting as we headed up to his flat.
It had been good, but the guilty feelings at the way I had cheapened myself with Candy and Game Boy took hold again and, when we got in, I just sat for a while despondently on the sofa, while Mark did some exercises on the apparatus in the room. He started swinging on the horse, hung on the wall bars and lifted some weights...and all the time, I tried to avert my eyes from the movements of the apparatus inside his shorts, equally impressive.
Finally though, I put my head in my hands and stared at the floor. It was then that I was aware of his presence standing above me. His powerful figure stood astride my knees and I looked at the level of his belly button.
I could smell a potent mixture of body fluids.
He was an awesomely strong physical presence, with those muscles and that penis announcing itself so close to my face. I was overwhelmed.
"I take it ye're not pleased with yersel',"
I don't to this day know why - perhaps it was because of his strong authoritarian presence - but I started to make a confession to him of all my recent sins.
He heard me out without making any comment at all.
Then, when I'd absolutely finished abasing myself, he said with a blood-curdlingly quiet voice, "Seems to me laddy, ye deserve a bit of punishment and you willnae find any peace o' soul wi'out it."
The thing was that I knew he was right. Self-flagellation was all very good, but it was not like being punished by a cold executioner for my misdeeds.
Ye'd better fucking stand up then," he whispered menacingly.
I obeyed while he drew from a cupboard an old gym-shoe. I stood there helplessly frightened at what might happen, but experiencing a strange sort of thrill as well. When I was at school, older pupils were allowed to keep discipline by "whacking" younger ones. When my class mates bent over the master's desk, their cute bums displayed to the whole class , I inevitably got an instant hard-on, for reasons I couldn't really explain. Once when I was "whacked" myself, I felt a sexual thrill which I still remember with excitement. Was it the pain or the idea of the exposure of a backside to an unpredictable force. I still don't know.
But now, Mark was swishing his slipper in the air, practising his shot, and I thrilled to hear the sound it made.
"Stand right here on this spot and bend over to touch yer toes," he ordered.
I parted my legs slightly but it was still a strain. I placed my hands on my knees. The fabric of my shorts stretched tight over my pert bum. The blood rushed to my head. There was a terrifying silence.
He stood adjacent to me, still swishing his slipper. I peeped sideways and saw him inspecting his target, felt him placing the slipper on my bum, the easier to take aim. I could feel the spongy hardness of the rubber on my bottom. Then he stood back and swung and SLAP, he hit me hard and my bottom was on fire....and my cock was rampant under my shorts....and oh, as I looked sideways so was his...sticking out at an angle of ninety degrees from his shorts....betraying the fact that he was enjoying this encounter as much as me!
Down again....and again the quiet moments as he took aim and SLAP and another thrill as I yelped, snapped back up and felt my backside with the palms of my two hands. "AAAAAAhhhhhh"
Mark came closer and I could feel his erection scraping against my arse. The next two, wee laddy, will be with your shorts down, on your bare bum, " he adjudicated in his low voice.
"Pull them down," he ordered, and I haplessly obeyed letting them pool around my ankle, reddening as my erection swung into view, feeling exposed and as vulnerable as a little boy.
"Oh you are a naughty, randy young laddy, i'nt ye?" he said, and he took my penis between his forefinger and thumb as though to inspect it.
I didn't dare to say that the same was true of him as there was an even bigger lump under his shorts now. His face was flushed with the effort of punishing me and his sexual desires.
"Bend over the horse this time,"he ordered and grip the handles. Tuck your dick underneath. We must tek care not to damage that precious piece of equipment."
I wasn't clear whether he meant the horse or my dick. I felt even more vulnerable now, with my penis scraping against the hard leather of the horse and my bright red bum the Scot's target once again.
The familiar swish and the slap again...and again... and again....and my hard-on throbbing under me, with precum now staining the leather.
Then I was aware that Mark was slipping off his shorts and singlet and was standing totally naked behind me. He came closer. His cock was now rubbing along the crack of my bruised bum and he was hot-breathing into my neck.
Stay bending over the horse," he whispered, and I did as I was told, trembling with fear and desire.
I glanced back and saw him swagger to the cupboard where he had found the gym-shoe. His eight inch, circumcised weapon was in his hand, poker-hard with a deep vein running its length. He found a condom and slickly sheathed himself up. He then found a tube of KY and stood with his eyes closed, lubricating his thick tool, oiling it up for the job ahead. Then he sauntered over to me. I quickly went back to position over the horse, and he jerked two fingers up my arse, coolly smearing the cool jelly around my passage. I could feel his cock pressing into my back. We enacted all this as a sort of ritual, dead silently.
He sauntered back to replace the lubrication weighing his prick in his hand as he did so.
Then back to me trembling in position over the horse, pretending not to look his way. His hand gently felt his target and then WHAM his cock thrust up my back passage. It was like being raped, but his aim was sure and I had got used to the pain he inflicted. AAAAAAH. And he was in and jerking up and down and I felt a huge iron-like bar inside me filling the orifice totally.
He roughly thumped up and down on top of me and I gasped with the strain and with pleasure. Relentlessly, he pumped in and out, in and out, his hands grasping my shoulders so he could invade my body completely. One hand crept round to one of my nipples which he squeezed and twisted so I was in agony. We were beside ourselves in the throes of an uncontrollable passion.
"Oh fuck me hard!" I screamed. "Harder still. Fuck me to death."
Then he stopped. Ignoring me the while, he strolled over to a rowing machine, his condom protected cock, swinging from side to side.
"Come!" he commanded, sitting himself on the machine.
Not knowing what to do, I joined him.
"Face me!" he ordered. "One leg each side."
I stood over him, tingling with anticipation. He drew me down to sit on top of his rampant tool. He eased me over it and then with a quick jerking movement, he stabbed my arse again and I sat abruptly, pierced by his weapon, once more. I felt the iron of the hand-bar on the small of my back. Then came the most thrilling ride I have ever had. He started rowing, in and out of me. His calf and thigh muscles were flexing, showing rigid under his pale, hairless skin. His face showed the effort he was putting into it, the pain and pleasure combined. I stroked his pecs and his tiny pointy nipples.
I tried to imitate Candy, teasing his cock with all the muscles I could find in my arse, and, as I discovered what it was to be fucked, I discovered how to reciprocate by being an active bottom. We discovered a rhythm together. Then he upped the stakes and we rowed swiftly - in/out, in/out as a cox would say, until we nearly reached the finishing line and, gasping now, he disengaged himself once more and wordlessly, he led me to the wall bars. Facing the wall, I was made to hold on to some upper bars with my hands and to place my legs only one or two bars below, so that my body was bent almost double and my bum protruded a metre or two out from the wall. It was like a hanging torture. Then, the muscled body of Mark joined me on the bars, his hands gripping beside mine and his legs on the same bar, and again he penetrated me, with his body hugging me closely on the bars. His forearms were parallel to mine and looked strong and sinewy as he flexed his arms and drew his cock further up my hole yet again.
This time was to be for real. His breath alonside me got shorter and shorter. He grunted in his efforts, His body was hot against mine. I didn't think I could stay the course. My arms were aching, my feet slipping.
I whimpered, "I can't hold out."
"Stay put, laddy!" he demanded.
I tried to oblige. I loved feeling him pounding into me. He was slapping my buttocks now, keeping himself up with only one arm, in the fury of his desire, riding me hard and harder.
Now he shouted in my ear, "I'm cumming, bonny boy, I'm cumming."
And I felt his body clench around me and his cock stiffen and expand even more inside me....and I knew that he was spurting uncontrollably, and I contracted my arse muscles and released my breath and....fell off the bars.....
On to a thick coconut gym mat, which prickled and scratched me as I rolled over and over with Mark on top of me, biting and hugging and thrusting....and I simultaneously released all the spunk in my balls, and lay exhausted in a heap of tears and sweat.
We lay there entwined together for several minutes. I tried to hug this Adonis, to elicit some post-coital tenderness from him, but he shrugged me off and slapped my buttocks vigorously again.
"Ye really are a slut," he sneered. "Anyone's, aren't ye? Fucking anyone's! Get yer sodding claethes on and fuck yersel' off!"
I stumbled wretchedly into my pants and shirt, red, sweaty and confused. I moved to the door.
"And mind ye haste ye back again," he called after me.
Had I misheard? I looked back and, for the first time since my meeting him, he grinned, and gave me the most wicked wink.
And that changed everything. I left with a smile on my face and a song in my heart. I would take the low road any time ... to this Scot's torture chamber. I'd get a welcome there in the hillsides.
And my bum still smarted like hell! Mmmmmmm.