Copyright 2006 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without the author's permission.
Please note: this story depicts oral, anal, sado-masochistic and group sex between males. If any of these offend you or are illegal to publish in your jurisdiction, or you are under the age of 18, read no further.
The characters, locations and incidents in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Part Thirteen - Five Years Later
Unlike so many college jocks, all of the boys in B11 went the full four years and graduated with Bachelors degrees. I was so proud to attend the ceremony and had a chance to meet many of their beaming parents.
Prior to graduating, Peter sold me and my list of clients to Greg, a freshman who showed real entrepreneurial skills. The price was pretty steep, as I understand it, and Greg had to go in hock to make the payment. But Peter assured him that if he worked hard, and played his cards right, he could earn back his investment in two months' time. Greg did work hard, -- that is, he worked me hard. He quickly added new clients and started giving me two or three dates on the same night. Of course, my share of the clients' fees was identical under Greg as under Peter, zero percent. But my ass got plenty of young hot athletic cock.
One of my regular clients continued to be the Dean, even after his promotion. When he was elected president of the college, our weekly sessions began taking place in the spacious Presidential suite. We usually fucked on his brown leather sofa facing the picture window that overlooked the campus. The greater privacy allowed him to vocalize his feelings as loudly as he pleased: "Today I'm gonna rip your bitchboy pussy wide open, Cunt!! . . . You're my rent-a-whore and you're gonna earn every dollar of your fuckin high fee. So spread those cheeks, boy, and get ready to swallow Daddy's pole!! . . . Damn it, Cunt, I wish my wife could fuck half as good as you!!"
Ever since the second year, when the freshmen jocks arrived for summer training prior to the start of the regular school semester, they heard from the upper classmen about the special English section offered exclusively to jocks in the basement of Simpson Hall. When it came time to register for classes, so many young men wanted my course that it filled up quickly. I insisted that they limit my enrollment to ten. "The success of my technique depends on small class size." The Dean acquiesced, so instead of teaching one huge section, I taught four, each with ten jocks. On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, I had a morning section and another in the afternoon, giving my ass a few hours reprieve. The same on Tuesdays and Thursdays, except these were longer class sessions since they only met twice a week. All four sections were held in B11, and by the second year, I had changed the lock on the door and held the only key. No more concern about snooping eyes.
Getting paid for four sections meant I could quit my job at the store, which pleased Peter and later Greg because it meant all my evenings were free for clients. However, the owner needed someone to cover my shift, and Phil was too stretched already. I recommended he hire Antonio, who seemed to appreciate the merchandise and I thought could use the extra money. It was a perfect fit. Antonio continued to work there part-time for the rest of his college years. Whenever I stopped in, the owner would thank me again for recommending him, saying that Antonio had a real grasp of this unique business niche. He switched his major to Business Administration and upon graduation, went to work there full-time. A year later, the owner opened a branch store in the nearby city and put Antonio in charge.
When the boys graduated, I kept in touch with them via email. That's how I learned about Emer. Emer's parents were so pleased to see him graduate college that they gave him a motorcycle. One sunny afternoon, as he was riding down his main street, a truck pulled out of an alleyway right in front of Emer. He swerved into the opposing traffic and was instantly killed. I made sure to relay the awful news to all the other boys. All nine of Emer's classmates, as well as MacDick, were at the funeral. As they were leaving the cemetery, Ronnie came over to me and, speaking softly, ordered me to pick up some six packs and meet them back in B11. I still felt obliged to take orders from my boys, even as alumni.
When I arrived in the basement, the boys were all there waiting. They figured it was as good a time as any for a reunion. As I unlocked the door, they took the beer and began surveying the changes since their last class there so many long years before. And for MacDick, this was his first ever visit to B11. They took note of the new porn posters on the wall, the DVD player with the plasma screen, and the fact that Ronnie's dildo had been moved from my desk to my chair. They laughed at my name plate; professionally fashioned in bakelite, and mounted on a polished walnut triangular block, it read "Mr. Cunt." Peter was the first to discover the wall of honor. On it I had posted every one of their published stories, as inspiration for their successors.
The boys sat down, and once I was out of my pants and impaled on my dildo, they all wanted to find out what each one was doing now.
Malcolm was now a regular contributor to Honcho and some other skin mags. He was glad to see all his stories posted on the wall of honor. He said he was now working on his first novel.
Malcolm never did go pro as he had predicted. However, Pepe was being scouted by the NBA and thought he had a real chance.
Slim Jim and Carl were roommates in Las Vegas. They insisted they were not gay even though they frequently 69ed and took turns fucking each other's ass. What they liked best of all was getting a third person into their room, male or female, and tagteaming that asshole. They invited me to come by anytime.
Billy MacDick Englehart had no such reluctance about his orientation. By the time they graduated, he was out of the closet, and no one gave him a hard time about it. He was pursuing a career in architecture, living in San Francisco with a hairdresser, and was totally top.
Reggie and Sue Ellen got married the year before, and seemed to be enjoying marital bliss. I was not only present at the wedding, I also played a role at both the bachelors' and the bachelorettes' parties. The female stripper hired for the boys was knockdown gorgeous. As each lad finished pumping her pussy full of his jizz, Reggie ordered me to felch it out of her. At the girls' get-together, the male stripper only fucked one young lady, the bride-to-be, but again I had to felch her all-too-familiar beaver. The newlyweds have already paid Greg a few times to have me over.
Hernando was a rent-a-fuzz, -- "private security," as he called it, -- but about to enter a criminal justice program so he could take the exam to become a cop. I can only imagine the treatment that an uncooperative perp could expect to receive from him.
Peter was living in Chicago and running a very successful escort service. His stable consisted solely of athletic men in their twenties -- ex-jocks mainly -- who were both bisexual and versatile as to their top/bottom preferences. That way, no matter who the client was or what he or she wanted, Peter had a man for the job. Of course, Peter collected only the ten percent agent's cut. He regretted he was never able to find another asshole like mine, one so hungry for cock that it was willing to be fucked for free. He passed out his business card and said if any of the other guys' career choices didn't work out, they could always come to work for him.
So all the boys of B11 were well on their way to successful satisfying careers, and whether they cared to admit it or not, I felt I had a part in their accomplishments.
Once the lads had exhausted all the beer I'd brought, and learned all the latest news, Carl said, "Well, it seems there's only one thing left to do." I knew what he meant. We all did. As they took off their pants, I got up off my dildo, laid down on the desk and the men, my wonderful students, took their sweet time fucking my ass and mouth full of deliciously reminiscent jock jizz.