Getting the Evidence
by Short Guy
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I was a virgin when I went to college way back in 1971. Not that I hadn't jacked off; hell I'd that thousands of times. I matured very early and was shooting cum when I was ten years old. By the time I was 12, I was jacking off three, four, five times a day -- every fucking day -- and starting way back when I was ten, I was jacking off thinking about guys, both the boys at my school and my teachers and my parent's friends. I remember seeing a movie about Hercules and sitting open-mouthed at the muscular shirtless guy who played Hercules. Those pecs! Those arms! That handsome face! Damn, did I shoot loads thinking about him....
The thing is, this was the 70s and being gay was not OK back then. It was thought to be a sickness, something guys should grow out of. It was really messing me up. I kept looking at guys and trying not to be attracted to them, but it was no good. When my friends asked why I didn't have a girlfriend, I would just shrug. I was mostly able to put them off by talking about how much time I spent studying. I was a nerd and always got A's. My teachers loved me and I actually liked studying. But I was worried because I kept staring at guys -- their muscular pecs, their crotches, their handsome faces -- and I thought that some time, someone would notice, and call me out. And I thought my life would be over.
When I was 16 I was so tense and strung out I somehow got the nerve to tell my parents I was attracted to guys. They were sympathetic and told me they loved me. But it wasn't like it can be now; there was no "Love, Simon" moment. They loved me but that meant they were willing to pay to send me to a psychiatrist to help me "grow up" and get over my immature fixation on men. I saw that guy for four fucking years, both in high school and my freshman year in college. The therapy was doing no good at all but I was too fucking ashamed to let the therapist know that my attraction to guys was as strong as ever.
So I pretended that my urges were getting weaker. Nothing could be further from the truth. Fuck me, I even jacked off thinking about that handsome muscular therapist. One time, he saw me looking at his crotch and got me to admit that. I was shaking and said I was sorry but it was true. I was attracted to him.
When I said that, I looked at him to see what his reaction would be. He couldn't help himself, I think. He smiled. Not in a nice way but sort of triumphant, as if he was flattered that he was such a fine manly specimen that I jacked off thinking about sucking his cock and kissing his gorgeous manly lips. Of course, he knew he shouldn't be proud of being the object of my lust. It was his job, after all, to turn me into a man. And that meant making those urges go away.
But fuck me, he must have had some ambivalence about it all because every time I saw him, he would ask me if I was still attracted to him. He even made me go into detail. What was it about him I was attracted to? What exactly? Was it his face? his arms? his crotch? His penis? And as he asked he would touch himself. He'd frame his chin with his muscular hands, or make a muscle, even moving his sleeve up to expose his bicep. He'd stand up and put his crotch right in front of my face. He had a big cock and it looked like he didn't wear underwear. There it was, snaking down his leg, big and thick and.... Fuck me if he didn't move it, to make it twitch. Yes, yes sir, I am turned on by your crotch. I do jack off thinking about sucking your cock. I do imagine you shooting your load on my face. I do think what it might be like to bend over and have you fuck me. I do jack off thinking about you. I do want to lick your nipples. I do, I do, I do. Yes I think about your penis. I think what it would look like hard. I think about touching it, licking it, sucking it. Yes I do. Every day. Yes. Yes. Yes, it's true.
Well those sessions didn't fucking help. For all I know he was deep into young teens himself and was using the therapy to give himself jack off material. Maybe he was insecure, and hearing a teenage gay boy say how sexy and manly he was gave him an erotic thrill. Maybe he was jacking off after ever session getting off on how sexy I thought he was, how much power he had over me, how manly and sexual he must be to make me admit to thinking about sucking his fucking daddy cock.
He told me that maybe I was into guys because I so smart and into studying rather than doing sports. Because I didn't spend time with jocks, he thought I looked up to them like gods or something, and that if I were friends with them, if they got more familiar to me, my sexual urges would go away. That was why I spending time with him so I could get comfortable with a manly man and not look at him like he was a god or something.
But fuck it, he was a god! And he fucking knew it, the bastard. And he fucking teased me by making me tell him how attractive he was every time he saw me.
Well fuck he was wrong that friendship with hot guys would lessen my attraction to them. Familiarity would not make me less attracted to hunky guys. For one thing, I had seen the shrink for several years and I was still jacking off thinking about his bulging crotch, his pecs, and his luscious lips. And to top it off, I was charming and actually had jock friends, including ones that were handsome, popular, and that spent a lot of time fucking the prettiest girls in school. I liked being with jocks. Being friends with them gave me a chance to look at them, to be near them. And being friends with them did nothing to reduce my urges, no sir. Just like it didn't help at all for my therapist to take off his shirt and ask me if I was attracted to his chest and biceps. Fuck yeah, I was! Fucking hell...
When I told him it was the muscular athletes and coaches that I lusted after the most, he said that maybe it was because I was in a high school that did not value smart guys. Athletes were the popular guys on campus so maybe I looked up to them just because I wanted to be the center of attention like them, or I wanted validation, to have other people admire me and tell me so. Maybe if I went to a good college with other nerds like myself, I would begin to feel respected and realize I didn't need to idolize jocks any more. Maybe I would be more comfortable in my own skin and begin being attracted to smart girls rather than dumb jocks and muscular therapists...
But he was wrong about that too. He was smart, for God's sake. He had a fucking Ph.D. But when he put his arm up to show me his hard bicep, none of that mattered. His biceps were what got me hard. The fact that he was a nerd like me didn't change the fact that he was a handsome muscular hunk.
He was wrong about fucking everything... I was into muscular boys and men and good looking guys because I was fucking born that way. But I never accepted that until I got to college.
I went to a great college in New England. It was really small and in a rural area. There were about 1200 students. The school prided itself on teaching and the professors spent a lot of time with students. The classes were small and we got a lot of individual attention. Because the college was isolated and in a rural area, the profs lived nearby, many in housing for the faculty provided by the college. And they would invite us to their houses for dinner and sometimes even class.
My favorite prof was my political science professor. He was young, sexy, and incredibly (I mean incredibly) good looking. My jaw dropped when I first saw him. He had beautiful, deepset dark brown eyes and silky brown hair that draped over his collar and was long enough in front and on the sides to drape over his forehead and his cheeks. He looked like a young Johnny Depp or even a more grown up version of Dylan O'Brien. He took my breath away. And because the class was small (about fifteen students) he sat near us and looked at each of us as he spoke. He got everyone to talk and when he set his eyes on me, I felt like my pounding heart was so loud that he could hear it. He stared into my eyes as I answered his questions. He smiled as he gazed at me. He licked his lips. He praised me, saying I had given a good answer to his question.
"Good boy," he said, a slight Southern drawl in his voice.
The first few weeks of school passed by in a haze. I spent a lot of time in the bathroom jacking off thinking about his eyes as he gazed at me. I don't even know what I thinking about doing with him. Just him looking at me and smiling was enough to engorge my cock and make me feel warm inside.
I don't know why but I somehow got up the courage to sit nearer to him every day. The chairs were arranged at rectangular tables that made a big square. A few people had to sit at the head table with him because there were not enough seats for us to fit at the other three tables. Somehow I started finding myself sitting next to him during class. That gave me permission to look at him from the side. It made me feel less like I was staring at him or maybe gave me the sense that he would be less aware of my staring. It gave me a little protection since he was not looking into my eyes so often. I thought maybe that would let me pay attention to what was going on in class and make it less likely he would see me staring at him with my mouth gaping open.
But fuck it, I was totally wrong.
For one thing, the side of his face was as beautiful as looking at him straight on. And there he was, a few feet from me, as I looked at him. For another thing, it didn't stop him from looking at me. He wanted to make sure every student was paying attention so he looked at every student, including those right next to him. That meant he often turned his head and looked straight into my eyes. And he was not across the room, but two fucking feet away from me.
And another thing. Fuck it, the fashions then had young hip guys opening their shirts two or even three buttons down. And the shirts were fucking tight. There he was, right in front of me, his muscular pecs pressed against his shirt so that I could see his nipples clear as day, and since he wore thin white shirts I could even see his huge areolas around his nipples and the chest hair peaking through.
To top it off, he had that infuriating habit of licking his luscious, thick, pink lips. I fucking almost would shoot in my pants when he did that. I wasn't sure why, whether I was thinking about kissing him, or feeling that tongue on my own nipples or even -- God forbid -- my throbbing boy cock.
And then it was time to hand in my first paper. I was worried whether it would be good enough. I was chagrined to find that I had gotten a B minus with a note that said "see me."
When class was over, he turned to me and said, "Listen Guy, I know you're smart and can do great work. But you have to know that just because someone famous said something doesn't make it true. You need evidence for your statements, real evidence. Come to my office hours and I'll show you how to do a better job."
I was upset at doing poorly but pumped that he wanted to help me. And I did go to his office, and we talked and he showed me what he meant. We met several times. He had me hand in short papers to make sure I got it. And the comments went from "OK" to "good" to "you're getting this!"
The next assignment we all had to do, I used what he taught me, and fuck me to hell was I shocked when he handed the papers out in class to find that he had given me an A+. It had a note at the top. "Outstanding work, Guy. You did it! You really did it. Let's get together to talk about this. How about later today, say 4:00 pm? You can come by my house. It's at 14 College Lane. Let me know at the end of class if that works."
Today? Alone with him in his house? Sitting right next to him? Shaking his hand? Knowing his bedroom was right there? God Almighty how was I going to do that without revealing the hard on I was sure to get?
After class, he turned to me. His left knee touched mine. He smiled and raised one eyebrow. I didn't say anything. His eyes took my breath away.
His hand was on my shoulder squeezing it.
"Great job on the paper." He paused. "So, can you come... at 4:00?"
"Yes, sir," I croaked.
"Good. I want to congratulate you. And this will give us a chance to get to know each other better."
He got up and walked away.
I had to wait until other people packed up their stuff because I had a fucking hard on that was making my tight jeans stick out.
Around 3:30, I jacked off in the bathroom in the basement of the library so that I would not have a boner when I met with him. It was a good idea. But it fucking didn't work. I was so fucking attracted to him that I got a boner immediately upon seeing him smile at me and take my hand to shake it.
"Guy!" he said, shaking my hand. "I'm so glad to see you."
A normal guy would have let go of my hand by now. But he held onto it. He refused to let it go. He held my hand -- and he looked in my eyes -- and his fucking thumb starting caressing the back of my hand.
His eyes were on mine. That pink tongue was licking his pouty lips as he wet them several times. Top, bottom, top, bottom. His finger caressing the back of my hand. His hand, his strong, masculine hand, holding mine. His muscular pecs moving as he breathed. His shirt, with three buttons open. His chest hair. His face getting closer. His hand caressing mine. His face inches from mine.
"I'm so glad you came," he said, inches from my face, his thumb moving, moving, caressing me, lovingly, tenderly. His breath, sweet, minty, warm on my cheeks. As I stood there, our hands clasped between us, he was standing right next to me, his pecs, oh God... his pecs an inch from mine.
"Let me just close the door, OK?" he said, so softly I barely heard him.
As he said it, he released my hand. But now he was standing so close and his other hand reached around me and settled on my lower back, imprisoning me near him, while the hand that had been grasping mine (his right) moved to close the door. To do that, he stepped forward. That did it. His pecs were touching mine. His left hand held me in place so I could not step back. I heard the door move. It clicked shut. There was no window. I heard a "thunk" and I realized he had turned the lock. He was hugging me to him.
We were alone in his house. I was alone with my hunky prof. I was pressed against him. His pecs were ... they were... they were muscular; they were rounded; they were moving forward and back as he breathed. His crotch, it was... it was... fuck, it was pressed against my own.
I had the hardest hardon I ever had in my life. And the prof could feel it. He could fucking feel it against his crotch. The prof was short like me. We fit.
I was about to lose it. I was trying to hide it. I was trying to understand what was happening.
Why was he so close? Why was he pressed against me? How could I hide the fact that I was turned on by him if he could feel my cock throbbing and pushing against... against... fuck what was that? what...?
Oh fuck me, he was hard! He was throbbing! His hard cock was pressed against mine!
Like I was in a dream, my own hands went up and hugged him. We stood there, in each other's arms.
"Guy," he said, his lips near my ear. "That was an amazing job you did on that paper! Really amazing."
His arms were stroking my back now. I was imprisoned in his strong arms. I was feeling his back muscles. I felt his cheek next to mine.
"You're amazing," he said.
He withdrew, putting his hands on my shoulders. My own arms dropped to my side.
"I've never had a student learn so much so fast. To progress from what you wrote at first to what you wrote a few weeks later... wow... just wow."
He took my arm and led me further into the house.
Fuck me, he was taking me into his bedroom. His bed was right there. It was... It was unmade. The sheets were visible. He had slept here, he had been naked, he had...
There were two chairs near the window. He was looking at me as he eased me over and touched my stomach gently with his right hand.
"I've been looking forward to getting to know you better. When I read your paper, I knew I had to see you in person, to tell you..." Holy mother of God, what was he doing? As he was talking his right hand moved up from my stomach to my chest. He was cupping my left pec as he talked. He was telling me how great a job I had done but all I could feel was his hand squeezing my pec, his thick soft lips moving inches from my own.
Somehow he sat me down in one of the chairs and let go of me. He sat down in the other, but before he did, he moved it closer to me. My chair had a pillow on it which forced me to sit on the edge of the chair. As he moved his chair closer to me, his right leg was inserted between my two thighs. He sat down with his muscular thighs on both sides of my right thigh. He was leaning forward, his face about a foot from mine.
Somehow I focused on what he was saying. He was fucking smart, and funny, and interesting. And I got into talking with him. Somehow I got used to the fact that he was ignoring my throbbing boner that was making my pants stick out right in front of him.
He was talking with me as if I was his friend, as if I was his equal. He was not treating me with disdain because I liked books and talking about politics. He was as into it as I was. He was so interesting. I was learning a lot and was giving him my ideas and, fuck it... it was wonderful...
None of that changed that fact that his muscular thighs were not only near me but now touching me. They were squeezing my thigh. As we talked I had sat farther and farther forward. His right thigh was not only between my legs but now his knee was fucking pressed against my hard cock. My right leg was imprisoned by his muscular thighs. And ... and... fuck it, his hands were on my shoulders, kneading them, holding them.
His face was six inches away from mine.
"Tell me, Guy," he said. "You study a lot right?"
I nodded my head, unable to speak.
"What do you do for fun? Any dating? Any girlfriends?"
I was unable to speak. I just shook my head to say no.
"Why not? You're a good looking guy," he said, cupping my face. He was now stroking my cheek. Of fuck, he was passing his thumb over my lips. "You're really handsome. You should find a girl to have fun with. It's not good just to work all the time, even if you're really good at school work."
He was looking at me. Patient. Waiting for an answer. But his hands moved from my shoulders. They were now on my thighs, squeezing them. His thumbs on my inner thighs, caressing.
"I don't know. I guess I'm shy. Or maybe I haven't met the right person... Or maybe..."
"Maybe what, Guy?" I was silent. I started shaking. What got into me? What made me let down my guard so I was about to tell him that maybe I wasn't into girls at all? What...? Fuck me, he was caressing my thighs with his fingers and with his own muscular legs. It was fucking obvious why I thought he might not hate me for liking guys. But I couldn't say it. I fucking couldn't answer him.
"You know we care a lot about teaching at this place, right?" he said. "It's not only because we want you to learn but because we want to help you grow up, to become a well-rounded adult. And part of that means learning to date, learning about grown-up things, learning about sex...maybe even taking the opportunity to experiment."
Fuck me, what was he saying? Telling me I should be having sex? All the other grown-ups I'd ever met were telling me not to have sex until I was married!
"It's the seventies," he said. "Sex is part of growing up. It's a time to experiment. I know I experimented when I was your age."
His thumbs were right near my crotch, pressing, exploring. His thighs were gripping my own, moving up and down, squeezing, his right leg pressed against my crotch, massaging it.
"Am I right that you have not been with a girl? You're a virgin?"
I was shaking now, his thumbs in the creases between my thighs and my crotch, pressed against the side of my testicles.
"Am I right, Guy? It's OK, you can tell me."
"Ye-ye-yes. I am a virgin. No girls."
He smiled.
"Any...," he hesitated, his thumbs now pressed on my cock, "any guys?" he said as he licked his lips.
I gasped.
"I...I... how did you know? I...I mean... no, no guys. I haven't been with a guy. I do... I mean... I sometimes think ... think about..."
He smiled as his thumbs moved up to ... to... stroke my rigid cock...!
"I told you I've experimented. There's nothing wrong with that. There's nothing wrong with experimenting. It's how we gain knowledge. It's how we grow."
His lips were inches from my own now. His thumbs were fucking making my cock grow.
"I... I don't..." I hesitated. "How did you know? How did you know I like... guys? What gave me away?"
Rather than answer, he spread my legs, put his hands under my thighs, lifted me up, and sat me on his lap. His hard cock was pressed against mine. I was sitting on his muscular thighs. His hands were gripping my muscular boy ass, pressing me close to him, his eyes gazing into mine.
"Don't worry, son. Your secret is safe with me."
He was caressing my hair now. And then he was hugging me. He was kissing my neck. He was whispering into my ear.
"Have you ever told anyone?" he asked.
"Just my parents," I said. "They sent me to a shrink to help me grow up. To stop having these feelings... to stop..."
I gasped as his tongue went into my ear.
"It hasn't worked, has it?" he chuckled. "You've been staring at me and several of the guys in class all semester. Don't worry. They don't suspect anything. But I... well I am always on the lookout for some one... someone like you who... who wants to experiment..."
I was shaking. I was unable to stop myself from humping him. His cock was much much bigger than mine. Even though I was sitting on top of his thighs, his hard cock was straight up inside his pants and I could see that the top of his cock was even with the top of mine. Because I was raised up on top of his thighs, that meant his cock was a good three or four inches longer than mine. And now I was humping him, my cock pressed against his.
I was so fucking turned on and so surprised by what was happening that I started crying. He was not grossed out that I was sexually attracted to him. He told me he had experimented himself. He was so handsome, so muscular, so sexy, and I looked up to him so much, and he liked me, he liked my work, he liked... me. He wanted... he wanted me... And he was... he was...
And then he was kissing me. His tongue licking my lips. His tongue slowly entering my mouth. I was sucking on his tongue. It was hot, it was wet, it was strong. It was licking my tongue, my teeth. It was going in, and out, and in, and out. He was fucking my mouth with his tongue, with his grown-up man tongue. I sucked his tongue. I fucking sucked his tongue as it went in, out, in, out. Oh fucking God it was the best feeling...
And then he stood up. I gripped him, my legs wrapped around him, his tongue taking charge of my mouth, fucking it again and again and again. He was walking, holding me, caressing me, one hand on my ass, the other on my back. He was pushing against me, his cock pressed against mine.
Suddenly he put me down. He turned me around. He pressed his crotch against my ass. And slowly, very slowly, he licked my neck as he unbuttoned my shirt. I felt him slip the shirt off me. He bent me over his bed. He reached around and undid my belt and pushed down my pants, my briefs. My ass was naked in front of him. He was removing my shoes, my socks. He was lifting me up onto the bed. I was naked now, lying on my stomach on my professor's bed.
I heard him undoing his belt. I heard him strip. I stayed where I was, naked on his bed, where he slept every night, where jacked off, where he fucked other... what girls? guys? where he slept naked? his cock on the sheets my cock was now pressed against. I saw him take a bottle from his nightstand and squirt some liquid on his hands. I felt him pressing his finger against my asshole rubbing oil over the whole area and... oh God oh God oh God oh God... he had slipped his finger in. He had pushed his finger into my asshole. It was going in and out, in and out. He had... what was that? What was... Holy fuck, he had two fingers... It must be... Fuck, he was stretching me... slowly... they could not fit in... they could not fit... they... were inside me... He had two oily fingers inside me, fucking me, opening me, going deeper... going...
An electric shock hit me. My whole body sprang up. What the fuck? Oh God it happened again! He touched... He touched... oh God something inside me... He was stroking it... He was deep in me touching me in a place that... Oh God was that good... Oh God, oh God, oh...
Fuck, he had removed his fingers... I felt empty. He was... what was that? he was... Oh my fucking God, he was licking my asshole. He was licking. Oh fuck, did that feel good! Oh fuck that was... Oh shit that felt good. Holy mother of God! His tongue was inside me. Oh my fucking God, he was fucking my asshole with his tongue. His tongue was inside me, in my asshole. In and out. In and out. I was seeing stars. My cock was throbbing so hard I thought it would burst.
And then, air... air on my asshole.
Empty. I felt empty. I felt... Oh God, his cock it was ... it was between my ass cheeks. He was rubbing it between my asscheeks ... He was... Fuck me to hell I felt it against my asshole. He couldn't... he wouldn't... he ... he...
He penetrated my asshole with his cock. Fuck me to hell it hurt. I groaned. I tried to get away... He let me but then...he lowered himself on me. He was lying on my back, his cock pressed against my asshole, his lips next to my ear.
"I know, I know...son" he said. "It hurts at first but then... then it's the best thing ever. You liked it when I licked your ass, right?"
His tongue was fucking my ear. Fuck me did that feel good. I was happy. I was nervous. I was... I was crying... and then he... He was licking my tears off my cheek.
"You liked it right? You like it when I tongued you in your private place."
"Yes," I admitted, "Yes, yes, I loved it."
I felt him pressing his cock against my asshole again.
"I promise you. I promise you Guy. I know about sex. I'm an expert. I want to teach you. I can tell who is going to like it and who won't. You are... you are one of the ones who will like it. I can tell. I can tell what kind of man you are. You know I'm right. You know that, don't you? You've known for a long time, haven't you?"
His cock was pressing into my asshole.
"You know, don't you?" he repeated, as his cock slipped inside me. It hurt but not so much. It was big. He was so big. He was so thick. He was a man, a real man. His cock was twice as long as mine and twice as thick. He was...The pain lessened. He moved again. He... God, it got past the opening, it was ... it was inside. There was no resistance any more. It slipped in farther. It felt... It felt... oh God it was... it was good; it was fucking good. Oh God. it was all the way in. It was. He had filled me up. He had given me his manhood. My teacher, my handsome teacher had slipped his thick cock into my virgin ass. Up to the fucking hilt.
"You're..." I babbled, "you're... inside... you're inside me. You're inside; you're really..."
"I'm where I belong," he said as he started to move in and out. Slow at first, then faster. Then deeper. All the way out, all the way in. All the way out, all the way in. Slow, steady, faster, faster, faster. I heard him panting, breathing deeply.
"I'm the first, aren't I?" he said into my ear as he fucked my virgin ass, as he split my muscular bubble butt with his eight inch cock, as he licked my ear, as he pushed it deep inside my gut. "Aren't I?" he growled. "Tell me!"
"Yes!" I shouted. "Yes, you're the first, you're the only... I've never... not with anyone... You're the first! You're the first!"
That was clearly what he was waiting to hear. He let loose. He was really pounding me now. Somehow, knowing I was virgin, that I was a freshman in his class, knowing that I revered him, knowing that I would succumb to him, knowing that he knew how to seduce me, how to make me yield, how to give up my ass to him, knowing how handsome, how manly, how muscular, how desirable, how sexy he was... knowing how much I worshipped him, admired him, lusted after him, knowing, knowing, knowing...
He knew I wanted him. He knew he could have me. He knew that his handsome face, his pecs, his full crotch, the fact that he was a grown man, a daddy...that they were things I was hungry for, that I needed, that I yearned for.
He was fucking me hard and fast now, like a fucking animal. No more gentleness. Pounding. Fucking. Taking. Taking my ass. Taking my virginity. Making me his boy.
And then it happened.
I was cumming. I was shooting a load without even touching myself. I was ...
And then I felt it... hot...wet... inside me. Deep inside. He thrust, he came. He thrust, he came. He thrust, he came. I was still cumming and he was... he was cumming too... My cock was still spasming from my own orgasm, as he shot his load deep in my gut.
Later he told me that he came at the same time I did because he was so turned on that I came without touching myself, just from being fucked for the first time, just from being fucked by him, realizing that I was so turned on by him, so turned on by his tongue on my ass, his cock deep inside me, his rhythmic pounding of my virgin butt, so fucking attracted to him and so fucking happy to be fucked by my idol, that I shot a pool of thick, hot, teenage boy cum right on his bed, just from feeling his hard daddy cock shoved up my ass, over and over and over. He realized, even more than he had before, how attracted I was to him, how much I was willing to take, what I was willing to do, what I was willing to give up... just for him.
He knew that I was going to be his boy, that I would let me fuck me whenever he wanted, that he had found his fucktoy for the next four years, and that I would yield to him, I would let him seduce me over, and over, and over, and that he would teach me to be his cocksucker, that he would teach me what it was liked to have my cock sucked, that he would let me experiment... that we could experiment.. all we wanted.
I would give him my ass. I would give him my teenage lips and my hot wet mouth around his eight inch hard throbbing daddy cock, I would accept everything he had to offer. I would do these things. I would do all these things, because of who he was, how smart he was, how handsome he was, how sexy he was, how powerfully attractive... and because he taught me, about writing, about love making, about seduction. He taught me that wanting a man's cock up my ass did not make me immature or sick. What mattered was not what famous people said, what mattered was the facts. I had experimented. I had gotten the evidence. The peace in my soul, his kiss on my face, and my cum on his sheets had taught me more than that fucking therapist ever had. There was nothing wrong with me. Getting fucked was fucking awesome. I had the evidence to prove it.
Short Guy Stories
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/you-know-you-want-it
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/beginnings/the-bottom-apartment
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/civil-service
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/military/civil-service
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/encounters/daddy-issues
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/driving-instructor
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/i-just-wanna-help
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/looking-up
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/college/getting-the-evidence
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/college/office-hours
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/a-place-of-my-own
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/play-like-a-man
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/reparative-therapy
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/taking-my-fathers-place
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/college/town-gown-relations
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/college/will-you-be-my-buddy