LOVE STORY? BY JIMBO
You should have said something. You might have said anything. But silence is such a cruel punishment. Why was I being punished?
I remember so well the first time I saw you. You certainly weren't my "type." I usually go for big, ultra masculine construction workers in their forties. But there you were, eighteen years old and looking ancient and childlike at the same time. Why the school had ever scheduled an Acting Class at 8:00 in the morning I never will understand either. Actors aren't morning people. And there you were waiting outside my office when I arrived at 7:30 A.M. It wasn't until much later that I learned that you came there each morning directly from your all night job at a bakery.
I have never seen yellow-green, catlike eyes like yours on another human being. Your features were perfectly beautiful: handsome in a dark, very masculine way, but at the same time sad and lonely in a very boyish way. You were waiting there every morning after that and spent many hours talking with me in my office. Although in hindsight I realize that you simply asked questions and I did most of the talking.
You dressed like no other student and yet you always looked strikingly attractive and radiated sensuousness. Soon I became very aware of your perfectly proportioned body and wondered when you ever found the time to work out.
I had lots of attractive students at this junior college, but I never became sexually involved with them -- too dangerous -- quite unethical. Ever since my own teen experiences, I had been attracted mostly to men in their forties. But soon I felt myself very drawn to you and it became more and more difficult to hide it. You complained of backaches from your nights at the bakery and I found myself giving you back rubs first thing every morning. Touching your body, even in that way, was electrifying.
Part way through the school year, I learned through the newspaper that your father had been murdered by one of his mistresses in your mother's presence. You were obviously quite shaken, but you didn't talk about it. It must have been quite a family life.
That spring I took a student group to New York City for a field trip. You couldn't afford to go, so I faked a "scholarship" allowing you to go as long as you helped me with "clerical details" and shared my room. How I longed to see you with your clothes off! Did you know that?
We arrived at the end of a long bus ride, and when we reached our room (which had two double beds in it) I could hardly wait to shower. I peeled off my sweaty clothes and rushed into the bathroom. The warm water felt so good on my naked body. I was just beginning to relax when I felt you in the shower stall with me. You pressed an erect penis against my butt and put your arms around to my chest. My heart pounded and I began to shake, but you remained calm.
I turned toward you and saw your beautiful face turned upward and your lips parted. The cat eyes looked into my very soul. I brought my lips to yours and immediately felt your tongue probing the interior of my mouth. How could this be happening? You had a reputation as the fastest moving ladies' man on campus.
The kiss was long and deep and passionate. I allowed my eager hands to wander the surface of your lithe, beautifully proportioned body. Your firm cock was pressed against mine and you held me close and began to grind your pelvis against mine. My heart beat faster and faster. This shouldn't be happening. Not a word had been spoken, but soon we were both shooting our wads all over each other.
You stepped back then and allowed me my first good look at your naked body. The sight of it naked there in the shower soon had me fully aroused again. I dropped to my knees and kissed the firm helmet, licked the shaft, and kissed the balls. I was so excited! But you turned and left the shower stall. We dried off and dressed for dinner in silence.
Nothing was said during the evening. You really ignored me, spending most of the evening with your friends. Finally, after midnight we returned to our room and crawled naked into our separate rooms. I felt so embarrassed, but even I could think of nothing to say.
The silence was deafening. Then I felt you slip into the bed beside me and lay quietly on your back. I tried to kiss you, but you turned your head. I kissed your neck and your beautiful chest instead lingering long on each nipple. I inserted my tongue in your belly button and then kissed my way through your soft bush to the point where I could lick the modest length of your hard shaft and take the length of it in my mouth.
As I swallowed it in you rolled over on your side and placed your hands on the back of my head. You began to rotate your pelvis, but so gently. I was not being mouth-fucked, I was being helped to service you. I used my tongue generously and was amazed at how long you could remain at the peak of excitement. But the moment of climax came and I felt your hot, thick, white manhood spurting down my throat. I was ecstatic. You lay there on your back for a few moments, then, without a word slipped from my bed and reentered your own.
Frustrated I went to the bathroom and used five fingers to finish myself off.
Nothing was said the next day, but our shower that evening before dinner was a repeat of the previous day's.
That night I waited breathlessly in bed for what seemed like hours. Then you came to me again. This time you drew me close and kissed me deeply. I tried to go down on you as I had the night before, but you were stronger than I and held me close as you moved your pelvic area rhythmically against mine and kissed me with great passion. Once more we came all over each other, but you would not allow me to leave the bed. We awakened in the morning stuck to each other, but managed to shower together. Still nothing was said.
The remaining days (or I should say nights) in New York were the same. And then we returned to the campus with no discussion of what had happened.
For the next year you were in charge. You appeared at my office door at 7:30 in the morning with lips parted ready for that first kiss of the day. We had furtive sex in the bathroom of my office, sometimes at night when almost everyone had gone home.
You suggested that I get a gym membership and we began going together to the gym several nights each week. It was you who showed me how to use the equipment and told me what to eat. In turn I taught you how to dress, how to speak and behave at the opera, the ballet, the symphony, the theatre. I was amazed at how quickly your body developed as you became a man. Soon black hair was covering your pectorals and your penis was something to be reckoned with.
Sometimes in the whirlpool or the steam room, you would reach over and initiate a mutual grope which was very exciting especially when others were present just inches away. You liked to drive my car and frequently pulled over to the curb in strange places after our workout for quick furtive mutual masturbation sessions.
I remember once when we went to the gym on a Saturday morning. You were driving us through the park on our way to lunch when without warning you suddenly pulled the car over to the side of the road, parked it, jumped out and ran into the woods. Puzzled, I followed. When I finally caught up with you deep in a wooded area, you were standing leaning against a huge tree completely naked and aroused. I ran my hands over your body, kissed your face (your mouth remained closed) and brought my lips and tongue slowly down your body, lingering to suck on each nipple before reaching your cockhead. I licked that aroused helmet passionately and then licked my way down your shaft to your balls which I sucked individually. For the first time you turned your back and presented your perfect buns and spread the cheeks. I tongue fucked your asshole until you turned and thrust your hot meat into my eager lips again. That was quite a load you deposited that day. Then you briskly walked over and picked up your clothing as you said over your shoulder, "Jack off quickly or we'll miss our lunch reservation."
Romps in the woods became part of our ritual, but always in different woods and at different times and at your initiation. You were always in control and we never discussed anything.
My wife accepted you as a son and after a couple of years you found yourself a fiancee and asked me to be best man. "Won't change a thing," you said. "She'll be my wife, but you'll still be my friend -- same as you are now."
On the morning of the wedding I arrived at your apartment to help you dress -- the duty of the best man. When I arrived you met me at the door naked and kissed me. Soon my wedding finery was on the floor and we were in the bridal bed together naked. We kissed and fondled especially passionately and I started to kiss my way down your body as was my habit before sucking you off, when suddenly and athletically you threw your legs in the air, raised your buns upward presenting your beautiful asshole, and, as your legs landed on my shoulders said ,"Fuck me."
I was shocked because we had not done that before and I was unprepared, but you repeated your command and I found myself pushing the head of my cum covered penis into your asshole on the morning of your wedding. I looked into your strange eyes and saw the pain as I penetrated but you had somehow worked your powerful legs down to my waist and used them to pull me in tighter and tighter. Was I the first, Jean-Paul? In all your French mystique had this all begun with your father? On the street? How was it that at twenty, Jean-Paul, you were leading me at forty? Who was really master? It felt great but it was also frightening. Your pelvis came into action and I saw you using your hands to fondle your balls and jack yourself off as I thrust. We came together as we usually did and I had the feeling, Paul, that you could control your emission to await mine no matter how long I took because we always came simultaneously.
You still weren't satisfied, but led me into the shower where we replayed that first shower we had taken together several years before in New York City.
The wedding was lovely and following the honeymoon you and your wife regularly double dated with me and my wife. What a peculiar arrangement! I had convinced myself for a while that I had just been a means for release for an oversexed kid. But following the marriage, as you had indicated, nothing changed.
We had sex in basements, attics, garages, wooded areas, and your bedroom when your wife was out. The frequency increased when she was pregnant.
You were so handsome by then that I loved to see the heads turn when we walked into a theater or restaurant together. And you had charm, Paul. Oh how you used that charm. My wife and your wife loved your dearly. Everyone who met you was drawn into the web.
Even without a complete college education, you climbed the corporate ladder so quickly it made me dizzy. Once you invited me to visit you in your office and, while I was there dropped your pants and sat in your chair and indicated that you wanted a blow job. You had me get down on my knees under your desk and then summoned a subordinate. I sucked your dick under that desk while you reamed out that poor office boy standing in front of your desk! What were you thinking?
Another time you backed me up against the plate glass window of your office, kissed me passionately, pulled down my pants, and sucked me off in full view of anyone looking into the window from another building! That was the only time I ever came in your mouth. Was it just the excitement, Paul? To me it was love; it was always love.
Your wife gave birth to a daughter. I was the godfather! Always very quiet, you became even quieter. We still went regularly to the gym together for workouts in the evening and, less frequently now, pulled off the road into a shopping center or alley for some sort of quick sex.
As I shaved in the morning, I counted my blessings. How lucky I was! I had a devoted wife who never suspected my homosexual activity and who loved my lover. I had a lover who was the epitome of all my desires.
Then one night in October, ten years after our first meeting, it was your turn to drive to the gym. On the quick ride home, you said nothing. As you pulled in my drive, you said simply, "I don't think I'll be seeing you anymore. It's been nice. Good night!"
I was dumbfounded! I stood there for quite some time in the rain. The next evening your wife called and said that you had asked for a divorce and moved out. She wanted to know if I knew anything and. of course, I didn't. I still don't.
You got the divorce. You quit a very promising job. You disappeared ten years ago.
Why didn't you say something? Why didn't you explain anything, Paul? Silence is such a cruel punishment.