Student Orientation, Ch. 9 Disclaimer and Legal Stuff: Don't read this if you're not supposed to, either because you live in a regressive community or you don't like erotic stories about gay sex (in which case, why are you here?). If you distribute this story, that's fine, just don't edit it, and leave my name on it. Thanks.
Student Orientation
Chapter Eight
By
MaineBoyXY@aol.com
(For story list and FAQ, see members.aol.com/maineboyxy)
From J. and me, for D.
I could see the clock on the desk as I lay there, tied to the bed, my face covered in Tom's cum and my abdomen covered in my own. While it felt like an eternity, the cool outside air pouring in through the partly open window above my head, only thirty minutes passed before Tom returned. He carried two bags from a nearby sub shop and a cardboard drink carrier with a couple of cups. He set the food down on the desk and shut the window before grabbing a bag and a drink and sitting down on Scott's bed, watching me. He opened the bag and pulled out a steak sub and a carton of fries. He absentmindedly munched a fry while he looked at me. I gave him my best puppy dog eyes, gagged as I was with my own underwear, to beg for release.
He took a bite of his sandwich and his eyes traveled down to my cock. It was soft now, and, having been exposed to the fall air, was somewhat unimpressive. "You look like you've cooled off now," he said after swallowing. I nodded. He sipped his drink through the straw, then stood and walked over to me, still carrying his fries. "I wish you hadn't cum. You ruined some of my plans for the evening. But I guess it's not really your fault. I should have paid closer attention." He sat on the edge of the bed and began stroking my inner thigh again. The warmth and softness of his touch immediately made my cock stir with new life. He ate another fry. "You look unbelievably hot when you cum, Jeff," he said. "You look hot enough anyway. But lying there, covered in cum, tied up and helpless... Wow."
I couldn't help but feel proud at his compliment. I couldn't say it with knit boxers in my mouth, but the feeling was mutual. Tom's tall, lithe build, the surfer cut blond hair, the sparkling green eyes. After the past three months, I could see his body with my eyes closed: perfectly proportioned, firm and toned but not vainly chiseled or narcissistically overdeveloped. I had memorized the small diamond of hair between his pecs. The gentle wave of his bangs below his eyebrows, the careless head toss that swept them back, the easy smile. The sheer charisma that, for others, could dissolve reluctance or animosity, but for me, controlled completely, down to the subconscious will.
"I'm going to take the underwear out of your mouth, but you can't say a word until I tell you otherwise. Do you understand?" I nodded. "I want to be sure you understand, because if you say anything, no matter how trivial, whatever is happening at that instant will stop. Whatever I'm doing, I will turn and leave. Whatever state you're in – tied, untied, naked, dressed – will be how you stay for the rest of the night." I reaffirmed my understanding with a nod. He smiled and leaned over, pulling the boxers from between my lips. I coughed dryly and licked my lips. Tom held his drink out for me, and I tilted my head up to get the straw. After a few gulps, I rested my head back on the pillow.
A fry between his fingers, Tom rubbed at the congealed cum on my face, some of which was dry and some of which was still gooey. Scooping up the available goo with the fry, he held it over my mouth. I opened, and he dropped it in. Underneath the cool sperm was a warm, once-crisp fry. It was soggy after absorbing what was left of Tom's cum, but I chewed it and swallowed it down. Tom and I repeated this until all the cum that hadn't dried had been wiped from my face. He then used my boxers, damp from the saliva they'd soaked up while gagging me, and cleaned my face a bit more. I could still feel the crust in my hair, but at least my face felt somewhat normal now.
He reached over and grabbed the other bag left on the desk. He reached in and took out the sub, unwrapped it from its paper, and separated the halves of bread. It was a meatball sub, and the aroma of the sauce and melted cheese filled the air. He plucked one meatball from the sauce and lowered it to my mouth. I opened and he slipped it inside my mouth. It was a respectably sized meatball, filling my mouth so that my cheeks bulged a bit but I could still close my mouth around it. Tom smiled mischievously as he watched me chew it and swallow until it was gone. Biting his lower lip, he plucked out a second meatball and held it over my mouth. I opened again, but this time he held the meatball up. I looked over at him and caught the unmistakable lust in his eyes as he watched. I tilted my head up again and stuck out my tongue, slowly licking the sauce from the meatball. He rotated it between his fingers until all the sauce was gone.
He pulled the meatball away and dipped it into more sauce on the sub, then lifted it to his own mouth and sucked the sauce away. He dipped it again, but brought it back to my mouth instead. I mimicked him, touching my lips to the orb and sucking the sauce off. He held it there and I took a bite from it, chewed, and swallowed. He rotated the ball between his fingers again, and I continued to bite and eat from his hand. When it was gone, he dipped his fingertip into the sauce and brought it to my mouth. I stared into his eyes as I leaned my head up and swallowed his finger to the knuckle attaching it to his palm. His mouth fell open as I sucked his finger, bobbing my head back and playing the tip of my tongue over it. He pulled his hand away, put the sub on the desk, and leaned over me. I welcomed his tongue into my mouth as he kissed me.
I wanted to tell him to fuck my sub, getting sauce on his cock, and I'd be more than happy to suck him clean, but I remembered the instruction to say nothing. I pulled against the twine binding my hands to the bed, trying to reach up to touch him, to take his shoulders and pull him down to me, but the knots didn't give. He kissed me as I twisted on the bed, cruelly immobilized, and I felt one of his hands close on my cock. I was hard, and he stroked me softly. I had cum against his orders earlier, but he didn't give me a chance to disobey again. As soon as my cock was throbbing, he released me, both my cock and my lips. He stood, and I knew he was hard again himself, his cock jutting out inside his khakis.
He reached down to the floor, where my discarded sweatshirt lay, and picked up it. He lifted my head and tied the arms of the sweatshirt over my eyes as a blindfold, then rested my head back on the pillow. I was blind now, naked, tied to the bed, ungagged but under orders to say nothing. I heard the springs of Scott's bed, then the quiet munching as Tom resumed eating his sub. I wanted to call out to him and ask him what the hell he was doing after he'd gotten me all hot and bothered, leaving me helpless and alone like this. Instead, I just groaned and I heard him chuckle. I twisted my naked body, waving my cock through the air. Minutes passed. At last, I heard him stand, but it sounded as though he were walking to the door. This was confirmed when his footsteps disappeared, presumably though the open doorway.
"Mmmm?" I wordlessly asked. I was toeing the line of my orders, but barely. Silence. "Mmm!" The deal was that if I didn't say anything, he wouldn't leave, right? I mean, his leaving was supposed to be my punishment for talking. I waited impatiently. He must be testing me, to see whether I'll call out for him. Then he will leave me here like this. I was pondering the cruelty of this plan when I heard him come back into the room.
"Sorry, I needed something important," he explained. I lay there and grunted, eliciting another chuckle. "Good, just remember. No words. Or I leave for the night." I felt his hands slowly run down my chest, then up my exposed side from hip to armpit. I gasped and jerked away as his fingers crossed my ribcage. I wasn't usually very ticklish, but being tied up and blind-folded like this must have heightened my senses. Tom noticed my reaction and seized upon my vulnerability. He climbed onto the bed and straddled my hips. I could feel the twill of his khakis rubbing the top of my hard cock as he knelt, leaned over, and began to tickle me. I bucked under him and had to clench my lips shut to keep from screaming as his fingers probed into my sides, feeling between my ribs, flying up and down the length of my sides. The bucking resulted in my cock brushing harder against his pants and, for an instant, I imagined him straddling me, riding my cock, as I fucked up into his ass. The image was gone in an instant as my brain craved escape from the tickle torture.
Finally, after I alternately shouted through my clenched lips and opened my mouth to gulp air into my desperate lungs, Tom relented. Or, rather, the tickling stopped. His fingers now found my erect nipples, which he first rubbed with his fingertips and then scraped with his fingernails. I continue to writhe between his knees. He grasped the tender buds and began to twist and pull, gently at first but with growing determination. I pressed my head back into the pillow trying to lift my chest up and relieve some of the pressure, and then he let them go. He leaned over and kissed me again, and whispered into my ear that he was pleased that I hadn't spoken yet. The reward strengthened my resolve. I felt him climb off the bed.
I lay there impatiently as time ticked by. I knew he was still in the room and right beside the bed because there had been no footsteps. I wiggled my toes. Then I screamed as I felt ice envelop my hard, throbbing cock. Something freezing and viscous had impaled itself onto my erection, and I squirmed violently against the twine holding me in place. Almost instantly, the cold was erased by warmth. As feeling returned to replace shock and numbness, I realized I was being sucked, that my cock was in Tom's mouth. Then, the mouth was gone. It was immediately replaced with the icy frigidness, and then the warmth of Tom's mouth returned. I groaned as I felt him sucking me. He'd only done it once before, but his mouth was unbelievable. He pulled away, and as ice plunged around me once more, I felt his mouth on mine. I had to consciously fight to open it, since it had been clamped closed to prevent crying out. As his tongue entered, I tasted something sweet and fruity. As he pulled away from my mouth to return to my cock, I heard him say, "I love strawberry frozen yogurt."
"Oh, G..." I started as I realized he was fucking me with soft serve. I caught myself in the nick of time, and what had started, "Oh, God," came out, "Oh, Gmmmmph." His mouth closed on my cock again. Each time the cold made my cock want to shrivel and soften, the warmth and strong suction of Tom's mouth revived it. More than the warmth and suction, though, was the powerful mental stimulant that he was sucking me. I had lived to suck his cock, to be fucked by him, to be a receptacle for his cock, and he was sucking me. He'd done it once before, even though he hadn't taken my cum, but now he was doing it again. It lasted several minutes, the alternating cold plunge and warm suction, until the ice cream had begun to melt and threatened to drip down my cock and balls onto the bed. It was long enough to make me wonder about frostbite and flash a mental image of showing up at the local ER to the amusement of the resident on call.
"I guess you're cold again, aren't you?" Tom asked. I nodded yes. It was then that I felt the first drop of wax hit my left nipple. I yelped. Another drop on my right ab. I moaned emphatically as I felt the drops making a zig-zag trail from my chest to my navel. One drop a second or so. Then it stopped. I felt another sting on my right nipple after the brief pause, but as I jerked and flinched away, I realized it was cold, not hot. It was ice! The fucking bastard had me tied and psychologically gagged while he tormented me with hot candle wax and ice! Even though I'd tried off and on for the past – how long now? Hours since this had begun? – I pulled harder to free myself from the twine holding my ankles and wrists. He climbed onto the bed again, this time kneeling between my feet. I felt the first sting on my inner thigh, and now I was forced to wait as the nerves relayed not just shock but whether the sensation was hot or cold.
It was erotic cruelty I'd never before experienced. My cock waved like the mast of a ship in rough water as my body convulsed on the bed. Each attempt to dodge the contact, whether wax or ice, was futile. I was blind and my tormentor was in full control. I shrieked as I felt his mouth close on the head of my cock, his tongue teasing the rim beneath the crown. It was followed by an ice cube on my sack, gliding over and between my balls, tracing along the line of skin where my crotch met my thigh on either side. Suddenly, both mouth and ice were gone. It took only seconds for the twine restraining my ankles to be cut, freeing my legs briefly before I felt Tom grab my feet and roll them up, folding me in half.
I realized that the brief pause beside the bed must have occurred while Tom was quietly taking off his clothes. I braced myself for the fuck I knew would come as I felt my calves come to rest on his shoulders and felt the mattress give while he maneuvered into position. My asshole twitched as I anticipated his cock sliding inside me. I was caught completely off guard, therefore, when I felt the ice cube press against my hole. I bit my lip to refrain from cursing coherently as he slipped the ice around the rim of my hole then pressed it inside me. He paused only momentarily to let the ice melt, the water on my hole and inside my ass forming all the lube I'd have to prepare for him.
The heat of the tip of his cock was so welcome when I felt it against my hole, I tried eagerly to thrust my hips up, trying to impale myself upward onto his rod. He followed my upward motion back, denying me the penetration I craved but holding his cock just outside my entrance. "Beg," he ordered.
I had no idea how long I had been tortured, bound and blindfolded. I'd been tickled, had my tits teased, and suffered through the ice and hot wax torment. He'd alternated sucking my cock with plunging it into strawberry ice cream, bringing me to the brink of orgasm only to swiftly deny it. Through it all, I'd been forbidden to speak, to make any coherent sounds. Now I was released from the prohibition. I poured those countless minutes of pent up frustration into my pleas for his cock. I begged him to fuck me, I begged him to ream my ass, to replace the cold in my ass with the heat of his cock, the ice with his burning cum. I was witless with lust and desperation, and I'm sure my words welled up as complete nonsense, but after an unbearable delay, he gave in. I was still talking when I felt him thrust his hips forward, and whatever word was being formed in my throat mutated there into a hoarse cry of pain and pleasure as he buried himself in my ass. His cockhead hit my prostate, a tense knot of sexual need, and pressed on further into me.
As I gasped to refill my lungs, I felt myself gagged again, this time as he rolled forward pressing my knees into my chest, closing his mouth on mine. I was awash in a churning ocean of eros as each chaotic wave crashed over me. Even now, as he fucked me, he denied me any sense of control or rhythm. He randomly alternated between soft, slow thrusts and hard pistoning. Sometimes, he withdrew only an inch or two of his shaft, just enough to draw his knob back over my prostate and then press past it again. Sometimes, he pulled his entire cock free, slipping its entire length out from the clutches of my tight ring, leaving my hole twitching at his absence, before plunging back in. Often, while fully embedded inside me, he would grind his hips, rolling his cock inside my ass. There was no pattern, no predictability, only the warmth of his body, which I could feel radiating down to me or where our chest or abs would touch.
He kissed me, sometimes fucking my mouth with his tongue in imitation of his cock, sometimes moving his lips under my chin to my throat as my head lolled side to side on the pillow, sometimes nipping at my lips and earlobes. My hands fought hard against the twine that immobilized them. I wanted to grab his hips and direct the fucking he gave me, to impart some stability and control. I wanted to slide my hands over his unblemished skin, over his back and ass and down his shoulders and arms, to feel his warmth and the flow of his strength as his muscles worked this magic over me. All I could do is moan as when mouth was on mine and babble when it fell elsewhere, pull at my bonds, try to rock my hips up and against him, and roll my head.
I was covered in sweat when I felt a pattern at last emerge. He began slowly sliding the full length of his shaft between my clenched ass lips, from the root of his cock to the rim under his head. He kept this up, almost imperceptibly increasing speed. I could now concentrate on the motion, the rhythm of his fuck. The friction of his cock flesh in my ring, the head as it moved inside, hit my prostate, and found its home in the pit of my guts. The slide outwards was a mirror image, the suction inside me as his dick pulled free, the backwards jolt of my prostate. I surrendered to it, giving in completely. I felt his fingers close again on my nipples, pulling and twisting gently at first, but with more determination as the speed of his fuck accelerated. His mouth was at my ear where he'd been nipping and sucking the lobe, and I heard him whisper, "Don't cum yet."
I barely processed the command, but I consciously exerted my will over the knot inside me to hold back the flood of cum boiling in my balls. It threatened to give way now with each contact. I contracted the muscles of my ass still further, trying to clamp my prostate shut, and this did nothing to impede Tom's progress as his own lust was in control. "Don't cum yet," he whispered again, and it became a mantra, punctuating each thrust, even as I felt his own breath panting against my neck, growing more ragged. I felt the cum welling up and I tried to hold the flood back, and it was just as I knew the dam would burst when I heard him.
"Now! Now!" he called out and, again, his mouth fell on mine.
I ordinarily feel him cum inside me. First, the thickening of his cock, then the pulse of his cum as it moves along his tube, and then the added lubrication as his pumping coats his cock inside me on each thrust. This time, I could only feel my guts turn inside out as I shot my cum. I was splattering on his chest and abs, on my chest and abs; it would surely have hit the wall and headboard above me except for the arc of Tom's body as he devoured my mouth. I knew I must have screamed into his kiss, because I was breathless. I was definitely too lost in ecstacy to know how many times my cock fired: I was too lost in ecstacy to feel anything, to be aware of anything, except for the eruption of orgasmic pleasure from deep inside me, filling my body like fire, escaping from me in puffs of smoke from every pore. When I came to consciousness again on the other side of it, I felt that Tom had collapsed on top of me. I could feel his sweat and my cum between us as he lay limply on me, his cock still inside my ass, softening, his head, hair wet with perspiration, resting on the pillow beside my own.
I could see nothing as I gradually caught my breath and felt my heart return to normal rhythm inside my chest, the arms of my sweatshirt still tied over my eyes. From the depths of his orgasm, Tom returned, and he kissed the side of my neck. Slowly, reluctantly, I felt him raise up onto one elbow and slide his hand under the pillow. At some point, he had slipped his pocket knife under it, and he retrieved it now to free my hands. I heard the click of the blade lock into place, then the cool steel slip under the loops of twine at each wrist. Then, for the first time in hours, I was free. Before I could summon the strength to move my arms, Tom had closed the knife, dropped it to the floor, and begun to rub my chafed skin. I'd fought the twine too long, and could feel the raw skin where the loops had rolled back and forth.
He massaged each wrist gently, and then down each arm to the bicep. His cock was still in my ass, his crotch pressed against my buttocks, my legs still folded up, my calves pinned down by his shoulders. He pulled the sweatshirt from my eyes, and I opened them, blinking at the light. His face was beautiful, the usually pale, yellow skin flushed bright red from his exertions, his long bangs wet and plastered to his forehead. His eyelids were almost closed and I knew that as spent I was after the experience, Tom, who had been the one doing all the work, must have been exhausted. He kissed my nose and more fell than rolled off my chest onto his back on the bed. Doing so pulled his cock from my sore hole and released my stiff legs. I sat up as my muscles screamed, reached to the foot of the bed where a corner of a blanket was pinned by the mattress against the wall, and pulled it up.
I fell back against him, curled against his side, one leg over his, my head on his shoulder, and drew the blanket over us. I lay there, feeling his chest rise and fall, my fingers tousling that straw colored diamond of hair between his pecs. I knew I loved him. As he moved his far hand over his chest to my head, slipping its fingers into my hair, I knew he loved me.