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 9: The Rent is Due

I stood at a urinal taking a piss before going to have a mid-day snack. Beside me was Jake.

It was almost a reflex action for me to peep down when Jake unzipped his flies, and it was as reflex an action for Jake to edge further into the urinal so that I should not see anything of interest.

But, as I was peeing away, I glanced back at his face and was aware that this time he seemed to be peeking down at me! My reaction, having had the openness training of the last few days was to move out a little, so that his vision could be gloriously unrestricted. I did so, and he flushed to the roots of his hair and looked ostentatiously in the opposite direction. But I had caught him! Straight Jake! Was he so straight?

We went to a dirty-looking snack-bar off Fleet Street. It was unfashionable and uninviting, but at least it was uncrowded. We could talk without interruption. We got a hamburger and chips each. I felt glad of his company. Suddenly, life seemed to be more stable again.

I tasted a greasy chip and grimaced. He did the same and we laughed together.

"Not the poshest restaurant in London," I said.

"Are you O.K.?" Jake asked anxiously. "You don't look too good."

Tears pricked my eyes at this simple enquiry after my health. I had felt like telling Jake everything at one point, but my love for Bob and Paul made me discreet.

"I'm O.K." I lied. "But tell me, "I blurted out. "What have they been saying about me around college?"

Jake looked uncomfortable.

"The tutors have said you won't last long," he replied. "You didn't help yourself by taking time off with Bob and your reputation and his reputation...." he faltered.

"What reputation?" I demanded. "Come on tell me the worst. I might as well know it."

" I've tried to tell you before," Jake said sternly. "Bob sells sex for money."

My blushes told him that I knew that already.

"And the rumours have it that you do as well."

"What!!!"

"Yes. That you go with rich foreign tourists and businessmen and that you're basking in luxury...and it's only a matter of time before you quit university of your own accord because you can earn more with your bottom than through any other career."

So.....so....so.... the Landlord's men had done their character assassination with an icy thoroughness.

I looked Jake squarely in the eyes.

"Jake. You must believe me. I have never, never sold myself for money," I said earnestly in a low voice.

"I do believe you," he said, "though your so-called friends were really convincing. Why don't you get out away from there and from Bob, before it's too late."

The crucial question! But my feelings were the same as last night. I needed the warmth and love and excitement of Bob - and now Paul. They were my life.

I mumbled something incoherent. Yet I felt it would be nice if I could continue to look Jake and other friends in the eye and deny my enemies' allegations as simply and truthfully as I had just done.

"I can't stand by and let you ruin yourself," Jake said, uncharacteristically taking me by the hands, then abruptly letting go with another wild blush.

There followed a shock of the worst order. Tensely, with strain showing in every line on his face, he made his confession: "I've been so worried about your moral welfare over the last few days that I've taken it upon myself to write to your parents."

I emptied my dinner in his lap at that point and screamed, "You jerk! You fucking interfering bastard!"

I was beside myself with rage. What effrontery! What right had he to act as my guardian like this? Was I not an adult, responsible for my own actions? And what the blazes would my Mum and Dad think of me now, back in the north-east?

I rushed out, leaving him dumbfounded and abashed. A waiter was bearing down with a napkin to clean him up as I sped down to the Embankment and looked over the chilly Thames, dismally reflecting on the confused mess that was my young life. I remained as still as a statue, having no will either to go home or go to college.

For most of the afternoon, I just wandered around, trying to find a way through my predicaments. I felt now that I could never look my family in the eyes again. I pictured their miserable faces. The horror that they would feel was unimaginable. Homosexuality was a taboo subject for them and I had always represented all their hopes and dreams. The two facts just didn't go together.

I wandered for about two hours and then came to a decision. I would have to go back to Bob and have it out with him. If he had the slightest scrap of love for me, he might come up with a solution. We could find a way out together. But if he had merely abused our relationship, I would get out of his life for ever...and Paul's too....

On the underground, going home, I played out a dream scenario in my mind. I would be straight with Bob; we'd have a blazing row; he would end up in tears, begging my forgiveness; we would end up in bed, making protracted, heavenly love; then we would plan to run away together to a northern town, perhaps Manchester, and I would transfer university, Bob would get a clerical job and we'd be married in all but name.

I turned the lock in the key to the flat. It was silent. I hoped he wasn't out. But there he was in the living-room. The familiar, untidy corduroy trousers produced the usual leap of recognition in my loins. His face and upper torso was completely covered by the broadsheet newspaper he was studying. I did not think he had heard me enter.

So much the better! I could take him by surprise!

I leaped forward with an angry snarl and grabbed the paper, snatching it away from his face and then .... I jumped back, astounded and trembling .... for it was not Bob wearing the cords and sitting there .... it was....the Landlord!

My first and right impulse was to run. I bolted for the door and seized the handle, but he anticipated me. He was on his feet in a flash and grabbing the seat of my trousers yanked me forcibly back into the room. I shouted and screamed, but, if there was anyone to hear, I might have known they would not run to my assistance.

He tilted me upside down and then sitting down, drew me across his knee. He gave me a sharp slap on my bottom. I dangled helplessly against the cords, smelling his strong male smell and feeling the blood rush to my face.

He gave another slap and told me to settle down. But I still struggled. Another slap and then a gentle, circular movement with the flat of his palm on my stinging buttocks. I could feel his strength.

"Let me go!" I said feebly.

"Only when you stop struggling," he said and gave me another gentler slap.

Then, to my absolute horror, I realised that my cock was not obeying the better judgement of my brain and was getting stiffer and longer in my pants by the second.

"Seems as though something's giving me a welcome," said the Landlord mischievously and he put his hand between my legs and felt up and under me to where my traitor was flaunting its virility.

"Mark was right," he murmured, caressing me the while. "He said you liked a bit of a smack, a bit of masochism. I'd never have thought it."

His left hand was now pinching my cock while his right continued the soothing, circular motions on my throbbing bum cheeks.

Then I was aware of a hard protuberance pressing against my side and he was rubbing this lump against me while his breathing was becoming heavier.

"You've had a hard day," he muttered. "You need a massage."

It was in vain that I protested. He got me up and laid me on the bed. I looked up at my image on the ceiling mirror. It looked so sexy. He stripped off the clothes above my waist and knelt over me. He stroked and rubbed and I felt alive under his strong manipulations. I knew I was being seduced by this more mature man and I seemed helpless to stop it. I watched as he started stripping himself. His pecs were hard as iron and his biceps bulged. He had a thatch of black hair on his bronzed chest and tufts of hair peeped out from under his arm-pits. A contrast with my own willowy, slim, hairless torso. He turned me over and started loosening my pants.

I struggled momentarily, but he pressed me down.

"Just enjoy!" he said. "You don't want another spanking, do you?"

Soon his administrations reached my genitals and he took my balls in his hand and rolled them slowly and delightfully. He moved to my knob, treating it with a reverence that was almost religious. He bent over to kiss it.

"That nice, Little John? Bob told me how much you liked a nice gentle massage."

This mention of Bob reminded me to put into practice his teaching. I moaned with exaggerated pleasure as he touched sensitive spots with his mature, kneading hands. I moved to the side to let him see where the sensitive zones were. I was forgetting all my problems as his experience and expertise pleasured me.

Then he told me to strip him completely. Trembling, I exposed his nine inch, uncircumcised tool. It was magnificent, with a thick bush of coarse pubic hair adorning it. There was so much power there and it was as hard as granite. A granite spike! I took it in my hands and felt the huge balls underneath. They could have belonged to a bull or a stallion. Cum was gathering at the head of his proud weapon and I licked it with the tip of my tongue.

Instinctively now, I bent over the bed, offering my arse to this hardman.

"I'll be gentle, son," he said reassuringly.

He greased my bum with his finger and let me put lube on his giant monster.

"Now comes the last part of the training," he said. "It consists of four words."

I wondered what was coming.

"They're "SORRY NOT WITHOUT A CONDOM"

I laughed.

"Well, say them then."

"Sorry. Not without a condom."

"Oh but I'm clean. I've never had sex before."

"Sorry. Not without a condom."

"Oh but I don't like it with a sheath. It takes away half the pleasure."

"Sorry not without a condom."

"Fuck off then. You've lost a customer."

Sorry..."

"Oh fuck it." And with a grin of congraulation, he picked a condom from his pocket. I was amused by this piece of nonsense and approved of his concern for my health. Perhaps he was not such an ogre after all. Then, gently holding my head down on the sheets, he manouevred his weapon up my back passage. It felt delicious. I moaned in pleasure and tightened up my arse muscles. He groaned.

"Ah, Candy! You've done an A1 job," he murmured. "Another first-class graduate. Well taught!"

I felt his body pressing down on top of me, pushing me rhythmically into the duvet. I felt the strength of his thighs as he thrust in and out of my body. I felt the hot, hot breath of his savage breathing as he clasped my face to his. Then he raised me slightly, but still kept up the rhythm. He held my cock in his massive hands and pumped me vigorously. Then he came! All the muscles and sinews of his body strained and tightened. He clutched me to him and swamped the condom in my butt with his juices. We collapsed together on the bed.

After a while, he rumpled my hair and kissed me tenderly. I felt like a small boy with a rather forbidding uncle to whom I'd suddenly become a favourite.

"Congratulations! You've graduated," he praised me. "You're no longer a student. They'll all love you! Little John! You're going to become a celebrity, a star!"

And suddenly although I was still as horny as hell, my brain clicked back into operation. What the hell had he been playing at? Getting reports from my lovers? "Mark said this?" "Bob said that?" "Candy'd done a good job!" All these encounters set up by him! What a mug I'd been!

He continued purring: "I'm going to give you a reward now, Little John ....... The best orgasm you've ever had in your young life."

He cuddled me to his hairy chest and then reached down to take my cock in his mouth. But now instead of being caressed, I felt as though I was being pawed. His touch was repulsive to me. His hand stroked my full balls and moved silkily down to the opening of my arse, which had so recently played host to his huge dick.

"I know about your special place," he whispered sickeningly. And his hand moved unerringly to the exact spot which Paul had discovered for me only yesterday.

And that, my dearest readers, completed my disillusionment. I realised with the greatest clarity what had taken place. How did he know about my secret zone??? PAUL!!!! Paul had blabbed it out to him. Paul, with whom I'd shed tears and hugs and secrets, had betrayed me. I couldn't trust any of them! Not one fucking guy!!!

Not Bob, not Paul, not Jake! Certainly not this guy, who had seemed to be so nice and fucking fatherly. I pushed him away in a rage and, searching for my pants to hide my indignity, but tripping over and looking ridiculous with my half erect, half limp reddened cock waving all over the shop. I stuttered, "I'm off to the police. This is against the law, this is.....you've got a brothel here....it's not legal."

At this, the nice uncle abruptly changed his mood. He swung into action, his naked body towering above mine and he dashed me to the ground.

"You ungrateful bastard!" he ground out from between his teeth. For the first time, I saw him furious and I was shit scared. His muscles were taut.

His tool still hadn't lost all of its stiffness and, believe me, I was terrified.

"Don't hit me!" I whimpered, but he had seized a leather belt from his cords and was lashing into my pale, vulnerable flesh. This wasn't erotic at all! I hid my head between my arms and yelped at the searing pain.

"I'll get the cops!" I gasped as the next cutting blow etched weals into my back. I had never known pain like this. Please, please, please don't any reader get off on this. It was too horrible for words.

"You've got a choice," he said grimly. "You can be eternally grateful to your benefactor and seek to repay him in any way you can and continue to live in palatial luxury, or you can have any number of dozes of this!"

At first I stayed defiant. "Go on. Murder me. Lash me to death. I don't want to live anyway. You've ruined my life."

But it became clearer that he would do just that. He was kicking me now and taking me by the neck.

"No!" I screeched. "I'll do what you say. Just give me a chance."

He put his face close to my mine and threatened me: "Don't you fucking try any funny business. I have spies everywhere. And if you were so foolish as to go to the cops, just think of what I'd do to your friend, Bob. Want him in pieces, do you?"

Then, receiving no answer, he crooned: "I'm really good to my boys, you know. They never want for anything. Just about as much pocket money as they need. Everything done for them."

He put his arm round me and gave me a cuddle. "Remember. Bob's well-being is entirely in your hands. I don't want him to come to any harm."

With that threat, he left.

I lay motionless for about half an hour. I was exhausted and racked by pain.

Eventually I picked myself up and lay face down on the bed.

I had to think. I had to escape.

But my mind would not go through the motions. I lay for an hour or so in the darkness and eventually went off to sleep.

I woke up at about three in the morning. Bob hadn't returned. Where was he when I needed him most? Probably with some fat American, massaging his fat butt. Or with an Italian diplomat, hairy and suave, hugging him in a shower, engaged in a slow, tonsil-blasting kiss, or perhaps with three young earls or princes, fresh from Eton, Harrow or Winchester.

I imagined them romping with abandon on a king-sized bed, their pink, young flesh contrasting with Bob's lean, brown torso. They were giggling over the kink at the end of Bob's cock and he let one of them take it in his teenage mouth.

Now this may seem unbelievable to some people...but anyone who has a penis and testicles and testosterone coursing around their veins and spunk, spunk, spunk boiling around in their bloated balls will know that when it comes to sex, nothing is unbelievable. Aching and abused as I was, the picture I was conjuring up in my imagination was making me stiffer and stiffer... there had been a job left unfinished by the Landlord, a coitus interruptus.... and I started to let my cock scrape along the sheet...and I pushed a pillow down to receive my horny tool and I was thrusting, thrusting, thrusting with images of Bob licking precum from a hormone driven ex-schoolboy, while the other two were sprawled in each other's arms, titillating, exciting each other's bodies.

And I thrust harder, rhythmically, fiercely, in lust and in anger, gasping as I lunged: "Fuck you, Bob .... Fuck you Bob .... Fuck you Bob ..... Love you Bob.....Fuck you, Bob...."

Then Paul had joined the group, peeling off his white shirt to show his smooth, chocolate-coloured torso. He was smiling and rimming one of the teenagers, whose young chubby arse was pointing up into the air. The boy was squealing with rapture.

"Fuck you, Paul. Fuck you, Paul. Fuck you Bob, Paul.....Fuck me Paul, please, please.... I hate you Paul..... Love you Paul..... Fuck me Paul."

I was fucking the pillow now with all my strength and mind. I was nearly there!

Then abruptly, the scene changed and Jake was standing beside me at a urinal. He looked me straight in the eye and stood back, in slow motion as if in a dream, to show me a stunning, erect penis. And it was truly magnificent and I moved forward to .....

And: "Fuck you Jake," I yelled in fury, distraught at his treachery..."Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you ......and then as the first shot of spunk burst from my swollen cock....."Fuck you, Jake......Fuck me......I love you, I love you, mate."

And, as the last quivering ejaculation shuddered my frail frame, I collapsed back into a deep, but troubled sleep.

You, reader, you who have shared this rollercoaster ride with me, look up in your imagination at the mirror on the ceiling. Look at the poor, bruised, naked, sex-driven body spread-eagled on the bed, stained with blood, tears and cum.

Pity him.

Last chapter soon: Full Circle. krisjon40@hotmail.com