CHRONICLES OF AN ACADEMIC PREDATOR
Published First at : http://groups.yahoo.com/group/arbourtales/
Before you read this story, there are a few things you should consider:
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It contains graphic descriptions of sex between men. In some cases, these depictions may get kinky, and include borderline S&M.
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It is set in the early 1960s, an era before the Civil Rights Act of 1964 when segregation and discrimination were the norm. African Americans were referred to as Negroes or Coloreds, although the "N" word was offensive then as it is now. I have retained the language of the era because it reminds me how far we have come on race relations.
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Be aware that the effects of inflation have been profound. A good rule of thumb is to consider that $1 in 1962 is probably similar to $10 in 2008. So just add a zero at the end of any number.
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Some authors are good enough to create a mood through their words. I need help, so I'll be posted recommended musical selections throughout the story.
CHAPTER 10
Musical Recommendation: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JcT7PpJro-g "Young World" by Ricky Nelson
I broke free from his grasp and rolled over onto my back so I could look at him. "Marc is your friend at the Sorbonne?" He nodded with a smile. Holy shit. I was so outed. "When did you talk to him..." he put his finger over my mouth to shut me up.
"We will talk later." He reached across me and grabbed the Vaseline that was on the box next to the bed. He had planned this whole thing and must have put it there. I was being seduced, and I wasn't sure that I liked it, at least until he took some of the gel and rubbed in on my dick. He began to stroke on ample quantities in what began as a marvelous hand job.
Then he stopped, rolled over and straddled me. Slowly he lowered himself down onto my cock, using his hand to guide it straight into his waiting hole. There was none of the caution that Peter used, no need for him to get used to it. Slowly, but steadily he sat on my cock until his cheeks were resting on my thighs.
I instinctively pushed into him, remembering this feeling when I fucked Peter, and remembering how much I enjoyed it. Stefan was nothing like Peter though. Stefan was a pro. He began to fuck me, and as he moved up and off my cock he squeezed his thighs and ass muscles, which squeezed my cock. Then as he sat back down he would relax those muscles. It felt like his ass was sucking my cock, and it was almost too stimulating. I was worried that I'd come too soon, and I did.
After what was an incredibly short but intense fuck, I felt the orgasm rise up deep in my ball and shoot into Stefan with an intensity I hadn't expected. The intensity completely clouded my concerns that I was coming too soon, it was a feeling of total self-absorption, and it was all about me. I needn't have worried anyway, because he's a 16 year old guy. About midway through my orgasm I felt something splash against my face and I looked down to see him blowing his load all over me. We writhed in pure sexual bliss for a very long moment, and then he rolled off of me, and rolled over on his side away from me.
I grabbed the towel and cleaned myself off, and then I rolled over and wiped away some of my cum that was dripping out of his ass. He moved away from me in a clear sign that he didn't want me to touch him.
I lay there staring at his back, completely confused. Here was this guy that had just been the best lay I'd ever had, and now he wanted nothing to do with me. I began to get self-conscious, thinking that maybe I had been a bum lay, a total disappointment. Maybe my dick was too small for him? Maybe I came too soon? Maybe he hated my guts? Until I got answers, I wouldn't be able to sleep. I gently rubbed his back.
"Thanks Stefan. That was the most amazing sex...I've never experienced anything like that before."
"Yeah, I know. I'm a real pro." He said this with a bitterness that surprised me.
"I don't get it. One minute we're having mind-blowing sex, and the next minute you're all pissed off at me." No one had ever confused me as much as Stefan.
"What do you want from me? Yeah we had great sex, so can't we just sleep? Do you want to go again? Go ahead. Fuck me again if you want to." He thrust his ass towards me.
I stopped rubbing his back and just stared at him. "What, am I not good enough for you? You've been looking down your nose at me every since I got here. I wasn't born into a life of luxury, I had to fight to survive, to sell my body if I wanted any money of my own. You lecture me on how I should act, and sit there in judgment. Well, I'm just a whore like my mother. You're welcome for the free fuck." He was yelling at me, the anger very real, but his shoulders were shaking too.
I felt like a total shithead. Here was one messed up puppy, a kid who had to hustle the streets to survive, and he was right. All I'd done is lecture him on how he needed to behave like some high and mighty Brahmin. That's what those young guys were doing in the tunnel in Paris. They were there selling themselves. Stefan must have spent lots of time there, might have even been there that same night that I was. He's only 16, and we're asking him to make a huge leap from the whoring slums of Paris to the apex of Claremont society (such as it is) without even speaking the language. And I'm expecting him to do it in three days. He had a great time today, really enjoyed himself, so he paid me back the only way he knew how: with his body.
I moved up behind him and hugged him. He tried to struggle, to get away, but I held on tight. "You're right," I said in his ear. "I'm sorry if I haven't been understanding, if I've been a total asshole." I felt him relax in my arms, to give in, and heard him softly start to cry. "I thought I was helping, showing you how to fit in, but I must have come off like a jerk. A big jerk."
"Marc said you were a nice guy, and that I should trust you. He was the friend that I called in Paris when I was at your house. I mentioned your name and he told me that he met you. He used to set me up with guys from time to time, and then I'd pay him back by...." his voice faded. "That was my friend Henri who blew you in the tunnel. He usually charges for that, but he got carried away, Marc has that effect on him. Normally Marc will fuck a guy like that in the tunnel, get the other guys all fired up, and then they'll pay for the privilege of being next. Henri made lots of money that night after they watched the two of you." There was a whole underworld here that he'd lived in, and I'd only visited briefly.
"That's all behind you now. You'll never have to give yourself to anyone unless you want to. Never." He turned to look at me, tears in his eyes.
"I need your help. I need you to be my friend, and not to hold my past against me. I need you to understand that I am not a very good person, I have done some bad things in my life, but I will try to change that now." I'd had doubts about his sincerity in the past, but not now. I could tell that he meant what he said.
"You've got it." I said, and gently kissed him on the lips.
He resisted, pulled away. "Kissing is something I usually don't do."
I looked into his eyes, felt his armor fall away. I kissed him again, and he kissed me back. I stopped our kiss, looked at him and said, "I fucked you before, now I'm going to make love to you."
As good as the first time was, the second time was twice as good, and not just because we lasted longer. This time, he truly gave himself to me, and even more surprising, I gave myself to him.
Musical Recommendation: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=abimoWemAjs "Lovers Concerto" by The Toys
June 17, 1962
I woke up before Stefan; the light shining brightly through the windows was enough to jar me awake. I explored my condo again, thinking of ways to decorate, until my stomach started growling. There was no food in the place, so I decided I'd take a shower then wake Stefan up and grab something to eat.
I came walking out of the bathroom wearing just my towel (a clean one) and there was Stefan, wide awake on the bed. He was lying spread eagled, slowly stroking his hard cock. It was the first time I'd really gotten to look at his body in the daylight.
The beauty I'd seen from behind last night was just as attractive from a front view. He had very little body hair, just a bush for pubes and a sprinkling under his arms, while even his legs were almost hairless. He was not too skinny, but thin, and not muscular, but trim. The cock he was stroking was much different than Billy's, it was longer and thinner, probably about the same size as mine in fact, although he was only 16 and might get lucky and still grow a little bit. He looked so desirable as he slowly stroked his cock, trying to seduce me, successfully as it turned out.
I walked to the bed and dropped my towel, my cock already at full attention because of his show. He sat on his knees and started to suck me, proving to me what a master at that he was. I moved over him in a 69 position to show him I could give head too, and his moans seemed to confirm that I was as good as he was. He pulled his mouth off my dick and started sucking on my balls. That's not a big turn on for me, but I went with it. Then he moved his mouth lower, to my perineum, and I almost went through the roof. He redoubled his efforts, and then moved lower to my hole. I felt his fingers brush over it, then felt his breath as he gently blew. Then he licked me, and began rimming me with his tongue. I was overwhelmed; so overwhelmed I had to stop blowing him.
"Looks like I found out what turns you on," he snickered. He could say whatever he wanted as long as he kept on rimming me. He grabbed the Vaseline and started to lube my dick when I stopped him.
"No, I want you to do me," I said to him. He looked at me and smiled. "I've only done it once before, and I really didn't enjoy it. I figure a pro like you could show me how it should be done." It shows how far our relationship had come. Last night that comment would have ticked him off, today it just made him smile.
"You are in expert hands," he said, and I turned around and kissed him. He worked expertly to make sure I was ready, spending lots of time exploring me with his fingers, probing with one, then two, gently cooing into my ear when I tensed up, kissing me from time to time to help me relax. "You are ready," he said, and lay on his back. That surprised me, as I expected him to roll me over and fuck me like Andre did.
"You will sit on my dick, that way you are in control. You can stop and start as you will." He laid there, his erect cock awaiting my pleasure. I knelt over him and lined his cock up to my hole and slowly started to sit. I could feel the pressure and the familiar pain.
"No no, you must relax. If you are not relaxed it will hurt. Try again." And with that he would guide me down onto his dick, and when I grimaced, he pushed me off. "I always thought you were a tight ass, now I know it is true," he joked. I laughed, the laughter made me relax, and the next time I sat on his cock it slid right in.
It didn't hurt, but it wasn't very comfortable either. "Now you must move gently up and down, and also rock back and forth. There is a spot, a magic spot in your ass, and when you hit that, when you find it, you will understand the true joy of getting fucked." I did as he said and slowly raised myself up and down, and while it felt good, there was no electricity. He gently guided me back more, so his cock poked more towards my front when it went in. I saw stars.
My eyes rolled back into my head, and I felt a feeling of sexual euphoria roll through my entire body. He started laughing at me, but I didn't care. "I see you found it. Now, roll over onto your back." I didn't want to move, but did as I was told. I felt so empty, so deprived without his cock in me.
Now he mounted me, holding my ankles, and drove his cock into my ass. I learned my lesson and I moved my body so with each thrust he hit that spot. My head rolled from side to side as he pounded my ass. I looked down to see my rock hard dick flailing back and forth, leaking like a sieve. I wasn't touching it, and neither was he, but I felt an orgasm boiling up inside. I stared at my dick in amazement as I came, shooting like I'd never shot before. I came and came, and then, just when I thought I was done, I came some more. I heard Stefan moan and pant, and then he shot his load up my ass, collapsing on top of me after he finished.
We lay there, satisfied, while I stroked his hair gently and kissed the top of his head. Then my stomach growled again, followed by his, which made us both start laughing. We showered together, and I took the opportunity to explore his entire body in the process. His beauty, the beauty of a young male, the same beauty the Greeks and Romans had waxed poetic over, was personified in him.
We grabbed some pastries from the bakery across the street and brought them back to the condo. I got extra so we'd have something to nibble on later. I found that I could not keep my hands off of him. The minute we were in the foyer with the door closed, I scooped him into my arms and kissed him. He hadn't been keen on kissing before, but he was sure into it now. Shortly after that I found myself back in my room, naked, with his dick back in my ass. This time I knew what to do, and knew what I wanted, so there was only a slight tinge of discomfort as he entered me. And that didn't last long. Another fast shower and we decided to hit the town. We had things to do, and if we stayed in the apartment we'd just fuck all day.
The first order of business was to get a phone. I had to go to a pay phone to call the phone company to schedule it, and I kicked myself for not doing that before I left Claremont. They couldn't fit me in quickly, so I had to set it up for July 15. Surely I'd be here by then. Still, it is a major hassle to be without a phone. They did go ahead and give me my phone number, so I could let Andre and my family know what it is in advance.
The next thing I had to do was buy some appliances. We found a store close to home, and I bought a washer, dryer, and refrigerator. The oven and dishwasher were already in. Everything was in white, boring but practical. They promised me they could deliver them tomorrow, so I made a mental note to be home, and fully dressed, when they specified.
My mother wanted to help me decorate, so I didn't buy any furniture with the exception of another queen size bed for the guest room. I knew I wouldn't use it with Stefan, but I might have other guests. Besides, for appearance's sake it was important. That was supposed to be delivered on the 19th. I figured we'd return to Claremont after that was delivered, or on the 20th, depending on how we felt.
All these errands took up most of the day, so we grabbed an early dinner and headed back to the condo. The whole time we'd been shopping I'd been watching him, his lithe form, his versatile and willing body, and his handsome features. He had a longer and thinner face than Billy, almost a James Dean look. He stood so close to me when we were looking at appliances that I could feel the heat from his body, and I had to channel all my thoughts into refrigerators to avoid tenting my pants. So, when we got back to the condo I practically ripped his clothes off the minute we walked in the door.
We landed on the bed, our lips locked, our bodies meshed. I craved his body; I wanted to feel him inside me again. Now that I had discovered the joys of being fucked, I just couldn't get enough. He happily obliged me the first time, but after we recharged he argued that it was his turn. Turnabout is fair play, and either way I came out a winner.
We were laying there exhausted, in post orgasmic bliss. He was snuggled up to me with his head on my chest, while I gently stroked his back. "Do you have a girlfriend?" he asked, apropos of nothing.
"Not exactly," I responded. His question reminded me of Andre, and I suddenly felt guilty about being with Stefan. I loved him, and he loved me, but we didn't have a formal commitment. There was no celibacy agreement. Still, was that implied? What did he expect from me?
"What does that mean?" Normally I would change the topic, but I had a hard time keeping my armor up around Stefan. I felt that he deserved my honesty, even though the risks to me for opening up were manifest.
"It means that I have a special friend, and we love each other. It's not a formal relationship, but the commitment is strong." I'm not sure what that meant, so he probably didn't either.
"Does that mean your special friend is another guy?" There is was, point blank.
"Yes."
"Do you love me?" Now he was really pushing buttons. We needed to talk about something else.
"Of course I love you. You're my cousin. What do you want to do tomorrow?" Not too subtle.
"That's not what I meant. I meant do you love me, love me?" he looked up at me as he asked this question, his eyes piercing through mine. I reminded myself about the risks of opening up that I just mentally noted. "You don't, otherwise you would have said so." Was that something wet on my chest? God, he was crying.
"Stefan, it's not like that. I mean, we've only been getting along for two days now. I don't know you well enough to be in love with you that way. It doesn't have anything to do with you. It's just the way I am. It takes me awhile to build a bond with people, but once it's there, it doesn't break."
"Really? I guess I fall in and out of love easy." He wiped his eyes.
"Well, maybe it's not always love, maybe it's infatuation, and no I'm not trying to patronize you." I felt him tense at first, and I didn't want to go back to that imperious person that I was before. "I'll tell you this, though. I've opened up to you more quickly than I ever have to anyone. It kind of scares me to expose so much of myself like that, but with you it just feels right."
"Mmmmmm," he murmured, and hugged me tight. I was glad I didn't raise the age difference. I don't think he would have handled my alluding to his youth in a positive way.
June 18, 1962
The appliance delivery guys were supposed to be here at 10am, but it was 11:00 now and they still hadn't shown up. Stefan had whiled away the time reading a book on how to speak English, and practicing his pronunciations on me, which was pretty funny. How do you explain why "through" is pronounced "threw", and not "thruff"? I passed the time by reading a Time magazine. They were still talking about the execution of Adolf Eichmann back on June 1, but the big story was the escape of three guys from Alcatraz. They hadn't been recaptured yet, so they could be on the loose, or so Time says. And there was more trouble in Algeria, where the OAS had proclaimed itself the protector of French Algerians despite its agreement to a truce.
At 11:30 the door buzzer sounded, the building concierge making sure they were expected and welcome. The guys came in carrying the refrigerator first. They were full of apologies for being late, so I decided not to bitch at them. They didn't do it on purpose, so why screw up their day by being an asshole. I sensed that Stefan had no such qualms, but he stayed quiet. The two delivery men were a mismatched pair. One guy was older, probably 40, and stood well over 6 feet tall with a protruding gut. The other guy was young and short, shorter even than me, but built like a rock. He looked like a human fireplug.
It took them three trips, and then the older guy took off to run some errand while the younger guy stayed to hook up the appliances. I smiled as I caught him checking Stefan out as he did his job. Stefan had an inherent sex appeal that seemed to attract men and women alike. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. It wasn't just his good looks or sleek body, it was something more. Maybe it was his almost feline-smooth movements? Whatever it was, he just seemed to scream "fuck me".
What struck me was that I wasn't jealous. With Peter, the thought of him with another guy was enough to make me apoplectic. With Andre, it wasn't an issue, because he was basically straight. But with Stefan, I daydreamed about going into the bedroom and coming back out to find the delivery guy drilling him, and it made me smile. I ran that around in my mind over and over again, and I couldn't figure out why.
I changed my train of thought. What would I do if Andre fucked another guy? How would I feel? It's not like he'd pick another guy over me; I knew he loved me. If he did it, it would only be because he was horny. He'd screwed lots of women and I hadn't let it bother me. Why would another guy? I searched deep, and decided that my feelings for him went way beyond sex, and I knew he felt the same way, so it probably wouldn't bother me.
Is that why it didn't bother me if Stefan fucked around? Is it because I was falling in love with him? Or was it because he'd been with so many other guys already, so why should I expect anything to be different? Or maybe it was because he was so sexy it would be pointless to worry about the inevitable? I still didn't have the answer. I was interrupted from my thoughts when the human fireplug cleared his throat and I noticed that he was standing in front of me.
"All done sir," he said politely, and showed me the basics on how they all worked. By the time he left, and we were able to vacate the condo, it was 1pm. The first thing we did was to head downtown and do some shopping. Stefan hadn't gone to the Paris department stores, assuming that they'd toss a street urchin like him out. But now he was a Schluter, this was America, and Marshall Fields was his world to explore.
We bought so much stuff I didn't know if we'd be able to fit it all in the Pontiac. Winter fashions were out, so we both stocked up. I knew I'd need a heavy coat for the winters, plus boots, etc. It was cute the way Stefan mirrored my selections, watching what I picked and getting something similar. They say imitation is highest form of flattery.
Tonto and my mother had told me to make sure and get him lots of clothes, but no one had thought to give him any cash. I gave him $200, which made his eyes bulge. He probably hadn't had that much money in his entire life. I figured that way if he got lost and needed to take a cab back to the condo, he could.
We took all our stuff back up to the condo. It was only 5pm, and beautiful weather, so Stefan and I took a walk up to campus. We explored it together, figuring out where everything is, where my department is, where the best parking is. It was such a pleasant time, and we were getting along so well. I wondered if we'd be able to maintain that bond once we got back to Claremont.
June 19, 1962
Stefan's English was improving rapidly. In fact, it was so well developed that he volunteered to stay at the condo and wait for the bed delivery while I went up to campus to check in. I'd already written to them and accepted their offer, but no one was expecting me until the end of July. Despite that, I thought it might look good if I made an appearance early, plus I was really curious about my new digs.
My department chair was all smiles; friendly, amiable, and supportive. He was a good friend of Rosenberg, so that would explain part of why he liked me. I told him about my trip to the Sorbonne, and meeting with Professor Gireaux, and he seemed impressed. It made me seem more international, I guess. None of the other professors were around yet, so I couldn't meet my colleagues, but he did show me my office and gave me my keys.
My office was a typical academic office for an assistant professor. It was 10' by 12' and filled with banged up, university issued wood furniture and two banged up, university issued filing cabinets. I asked him if he minded if I did some redecorating, which seemed to surprise him, but he gave me free reign. Most people in academia don't put much effort into making their offices nice, but I knew I'd be there a lot, and it might be kind of fun. The best feature of the office was a window that looked out towards Evanston. The views of the Lake went to the senior professors, but I was thrilled just to have a window, any window.
After my visit, I went back to the condo and found the bed had been delivered. On it was a note from Stefan, written in English, telling me that he'd gone downtown and that I should meet him at Buckingham Fountain at 2pm. I looked at my watch. It was 1:30. Only half an hour, so I hustled out of the condo. I zipped down the Drive, enjoying the weather, the city, and my new life. I couldn't wait to be here in July, all my family concerns and issues left behind. Stefan would be left behind too. I realized that as much as I enjoyed his company, and the un-fucking-believable sex, it would be nice to have my place to myself.
I parked the Pontiac and strolled over to Buckingham Fountain. I spotted Stefan by the fountain, talking to another young guy. The other guy was about his height and size, and looked to be about his age. They were standing very close to each other, in what was almost an intimate posture. I saw Stefan reach into his pocket and pull out some money. He then shook hands with the other guy, using that opportunity to slip the money to the other guy.
I paused to watch them complete their transaction. The other guy patted him on the shoulder and left, and Stefan scanned the area and spotted me. He cheerfully strode over to see me and gave me a masculine hug for a greeting.
"Hey there," I said. "Did you have fun today?"
"Yes I did. The bed was delivered right on time, so I took the train down here and strolled around the city, listening to people, trying to understand their English." He laughed at that. "It's not so easy; they have an accent that is hard to understand sometimes." Wait till he encounters a New Yorker, or someone from Alabama, I thought.
"Looks like you made a friend," I observed cautiously. I didn't want to pry, but curiosity overwhelmed me. If he'd had sex with that guy and paid for it with money I'd given him, should I be upset? Was I? I found that I didn't know.
"He's not a friend, he's a rent boy." He said this with a raised eyebrow. I got the feeling he was baiting me, so I played it cool.
"Rent boy?"
"Yeah, a guy like I used to be, who sells his body for money." He was purposefully not telling me if he'd fucked the guy, so I wasn't going to ask.
"How could you tell he was a rent boy?"
"Because he offered to blow me for $5." He was smiling now; he wasn't nearly as good at hiding his feelings as I was.
"Really. Is that how much it's worth? You owe me some money." He laughed at me and we started walking towards the car.
"Aren't you going to ask me if I took him up on the offer?" He was really baiting me now.
"I saw you giving him money, so I figured you did. Probably needed a professional after my clumsy work." I said this with a grin so he knew I was teasing.
"No one could give head better than you." A nice compliment. I nudged him with my elbow playfully.
"Seems to me that someone lectured me on how the more privileged should help out those who are down and out. That guy reminded me of me, hungry, with nowhere to go, so I gave him $20." He looked at me with a satisfied smirk.
"There may be hope for you after all," I mused, as we walked to the Pontiac and back to the condo for one last night before we headed back to Claremont.