The Further Adventures of Justin & Billy Chapter 14, Part I From Justin's viewpoint
It wasn't easy to get out of bed the next morning. I was snuggled up against Billy's warm body. My arm wrapped over his shoulder. Holding his chest. Pulling us closer together. My morning wood nested up against his firm ass. The fine hairs on his ass cheeks tickled if I brushed my hard cock across them. And I couldn't resist. I loved teasing my hard cock in the morning.
Plus the fact that we'd been up late didn't make getting out of bed any easier. Billy had been insatiable. And playful. And then, toward the end, quite romantic and emotional. I somehow hadn't realized until that night just how troubled he had been by what we had been going through. He'd been torn apart by the secrets we'd been keeping from each other. Secrets, which seemed so pointless now.
After we had both cum a third or maybe fourth time, Billy just wanted to touch me. Hold me. Talk to me. Remembering things we had done together. Simple things like meeting up secretly after classes in high school so no one would know about us. "Studying" together so many nights when no studying got done. He had a seemingly endless flow of memories. Each one special to him. Many of them special to me, too.
We talked about what we both hoped for and wanted in life together. Talked in ways we'd never talked before. It was like seeing into parts of Billy I had never even suspected existed.
I had forgotten how good it felt just to linger over each other. Hands drifting where they willed. Lips kissing when and what and where they wanted. Erections rising and falling with the flow of the evening. The teasing of a friend. The caresses and touches and . . . It was very late before we really slept.
And now it was Monday morning and I had to get up and go to school. Billy could sleep another hour at least. By then I'd be face-to-face with Joe . . . only now he was most certainly going to be Professor Allen again.
I hoped Professor Allen would let me explain that I'd changed my mind. I was ready. I was willing. I really wanted him as my mentor. Would he let me explain how things had changed? How it was all OK with Billy? How it was OK with me? How the rules had changed and we both wanted back into the game? I sure hoped so.
That's what I wanted and hoped for, but my gut told me not to expect too much. When I'd said "No" to Joe, the look on his face didn't look too forgiving.
So with my heart and soul and body longing to stay in bed with my boyfriend and let the world go fuck itself for just this one morning, I dragged my tired ass out of bed and started to get myself together.
My class with Professor Allen was uneventful. I realized about halfway through that it was just a class and that every word and look and move on his part was not directed at me. I had been so caught up in my life and my entanglements with Joe that it had seemed almost impossible that Joe would not act . . . I don't know. I guess I expected him to punish me. Or freeze me out. Or taunt me with what I had given up. I probably thought that because it was like something I would have done.
But after about 30 minutes, this kind of thinking was making me crazy. I finally had to accept that sometimes a class is just a class. After that, I tried to focus on learning something from it, from him, because I almost certainly wasn't going to have him for my personal tutor and mentor.
The bell rang out in the hallway signaling the end of first session classes. As usual, Professor Allen went on talking as though he hadn't heard it. Finishing his thought. His message. When he was done, he turned his back toward us and started taking down the examples of artwork he had put up on the corkboard. Ignoring his students as we silently filed out.
As I was just reaching the door, I heard his voice clear and firm. "Justin, if you will stay for just a minute I'll have a word with you."
My heart sank. My shoulders slumped. My back was turned to Professor Allen so I didn't know if he could see the effect his words had on me. I hoped his back was still turned away from us. Away from me.
I summoned all my . . . whatever you call it . . . and turned toward him. Trying to stand tall. Trying to look confident and upbeat. Trying not to feel the uncertain shell of a bastard that I felt like. His back was still turned.
"Sure," I said in what I hoped sounded something close to enthusiastic on my part.
"Step into my office," he said in the same firm, businesslike voice.
I followed him into his office and stood in front of his desk as he settled into his desk chair. As soon as he was seated, I blurted out, "I am really sorry about yesterday. I didn't really mean to say "No." But I was just kind of confused and stressed just then. But since then . . ."
He raised his hand, cutting me off. "It's OK, Justin. You don't need to explain. Please, sit down and relax. You looked like a nervous wreck in class. Did you even sleep last night?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. I was up late . . ."
"Please, don't explain. You don't have to. I wanted to apologize for what must have seemed very rude and presumptuous behavior on my part yesterday. I'm sure you thought I was a complete Neanderthal."
"No, really, I . . ." Professor Allen raised his hand again and I was glad he did. I didn't have a clue what might have come out of my mouth at that moment.
"If I was going to make you my one and only choice, I had to test you. I had to make sure that I knew what I could and could not expect from you. I knew there would come a point when you would say 'No' if I pushed you hard enough. And you did. So I knew that was coming. I just need to know when and where and how.
"But what I hadn't counted on," he continued, "was the fact that perhaps things were not as copasetic with you and your boyfriend as you had led me to believe."
"Well, I can explain. It was just that . . ." and there was his hand again. Silencing me.
"No need to explain about that. I just hope he isn't an obstacle to your being all that I am hoping . . . and need . . . for you to be," he said.
I was so focused on trying to figure out how to segue the conversation to what Billy and I had agreed to . . . what we had planned . . . that I probably wasn't listening as much as I was watching for just the right moment to make my move.
And there it was. Professor Allen smiled at me and leaned back in his chair. There was something about that smile. Like almost everything else about the guy, it turned me on. He knew it and I knew it. And now Billy knew it, too.
As nervous as I was, as uncertain of what to say, I could still feel that urge, that growing warmth, that movement in my crotch as my cock started to wake up to this guy. To Joe.
After all that had happened the day before with Billy, I felt guilty. But I shouldn't. I was doing what he wanted. What we agreed to. Right down to the jeans I was wearing. So . . .
"I'm sure I can be all of that if you'll just give me another chance." I smiled back at Professor Allen. Then I reached down and made sort of a show of rearranging my cock. He noticed and looked down. So I ran my fingers along the underside of the clear bulge in my thin, worn jeans. Coaxing my growing hard-on to respond faster. Harder. Longer. "Billy and I talked last night and everything is OK with him, if . . ."
"That would only makes things better," Professor Allen said. "Much better. I trust you're being completely honest with me today."
"Oh, yeah. Completely." I was still uncertain where this might go, but I was gonna give it my all. "If there's anything you need, anything I can do for you now . . ." I hoped I hadn't stressed the word "anything" too much, but I wanted him to understand my point. I would do almost anything. I paused and pulled on my cock through my jeans and gave him what I hoped was a seductive look.
"Not now, but maybe later," Professor Allen said, sounding all businesslike. But I couldn't help notice as he groped his own crotch. I couldn't tell if he was getting hard, but I sure hoped he was. Then he pulled out his center desk drawer, took out a manila envelope and pushed it across the desk toward me.
"Why don't you read through this today and maybe we can talk about it over dinner tonight," he said, raising his eyebrows. The eyebrow thing made him look weird to me, but I think he was trying to suggest something sexy.
"That'd be great," I started to say before I remembered I had a project I had to finish for another teacher that night. "Oh, shit, I can't tonight. Is there another time that would work for you? Just tell me and . . ."
"Tomorrow then?" he cut me off again.
I thought for a second and then agreed. He named a restaurant I'd never heard of and wrote the time and address on a 3x5 card for me.
"I'll be there and thanks so much for everything," I said. He'd had his usual effect on me. I was full hard and showing and Joe was taking it in. So I reached down and rubbed my hard cock through the faded denim of my jeans one last time . . . just to make sure he hadn't missed my point . . . and gave him my best smile.
As I turned to leave, Joe cleared his throat. An obvious attempt to get my attention. I stopped and turned. I saw him glance down at the outline of my straining cock as he said, "Why don't you ask Billy to join us?"
"Sure. Whatever you want. We're more than happy to . . ."
"Then I'll see you both tomorrow night." Apparently I might never finish another sentence talking to him, I thought as I finally headed out the door.
I didn't have a chance to even glance at the package Professor Allen had given me that day. I didn't even think about what it might be. Classes and conferences and projects were overwhelming me. Things I had planned to do a little work on the night before had remained untouched in the wake of Billy's and my confessions and the wild night of fucking and sucking that followed.
I went home for a quick dinner with Billy before heading back to school to finish the project that was keeping me from dinner with Professor Allen. When I walked in the front door, Billy came up to me and I gave Billy a big kiss before he could say two words.
Then I told him I thought everything might be going to be OK with Professor Allen. I spent the rest of our reheated pizza dinner telling him about my meeting with Professor Allen. About my attempts at "showing my interest" in him. About how our plan had worked. And about the dinner invitation for both of us the following night.
As I talked, I found my hand kept straying to my cock. My cock was getting harder and as it grew, it pushed and rubbed against my denim jeans. It was keeping me hard and on edge. Billy noticed almost immediately and asked if I wanted him to help.
"I could suck you off before you go back," he said. His lips looked so soft and welcoming. I could remember how good his mouth had felt on my cock last night. I knew I was leaking and probably making a big spot on my jeans.
Billy's cock was getting harder in his pants. I could see its outline clearly enough. I didn't think his offer was for my benefit only, but that didn't make it any less welcome.
I certainly appreciated it and wished I could accept it. But like Professor Allen, I had to turn it down. I had to get back to working on my project.
As I headed out the door to go back to school I remembered the package from Professor Allen. I asked Billy if he had time to read through it and see what it was. I didn't really think it was too important, but it suddenly occurred to me that it might have something to do with the mentor program. But Professor Allen hadn't actually said that. Anyway, maybe Billy would have time to look at it for me. We could talk about it in the morning if it was important.
When I finally got done with my project it was after midnight. I was trying to be quiet coming in. I figured Billy was already asleep in bed. I discovered soon enough he was asleep, but not in bed.
He was sprawled on the sofa in his favorite sleeping pants. With his homework or project or whatever spread all over the footlocker that served as a coffee table. It looked like an ad for Post-It Notes.
I decided to let him sleep where he was and went quietly in to bed.
The next morning when I got up to shower he was still asleep on our grungy, old, cum-stained sofa. When I came out of the shower, toweling my hair dry, I was startled to find him leaning against the bathroom sink.
He was holding his papers with all the Post-It Notes and talking too fast for me to follow. I'd missed the beginning and was now totally lost somewhere in the middle of what appeared to be a list of unrelated items.
" . . . and a car. A car too! Can you believe that?"
He looked at me expecting an answer, but I had no idea what he was talking about.
"Professor Allen is going to give you a car, in addition to the apartment, and the furniture and a clothing allowance," Billy said, his face beaming with excitement. "When did he have time to write this?"
"I'm lost. Start over," I said as I wrapped my towel around my waist.
Billy had spent most of the evening poring over the document Professor Allen had given me. Billy said it was essentially an agreement for the "mentorship" program.
It didn't make sense to me, but apparently my telling him "No" Sunday morning hadn't scuttled my chances. I remembered then that before he had given me the envelop with the papers in it that he'd said something about "testing" me. "It had all been a test."or "I had to test you." What had he said? I couldn't remember exactly.
But that must be it. That Sunday morning when he hadn't showed up for our session. Then had asked me to go to his place. To bring him breakfast. And cash. And get him off. Had that all been just a test?
And if it was, had I passed?
I must have because here, right in front of me, were the papers he had handed me. Legal kind of papers telling everything he would do for me and everything I was supposed to do for him. It was like a contract. I was in! I'd made it!
To Be Continued . . .
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the second book in the "I Thought I Knew" series. It is not necessary to read the books in order, although Book one chronologically precedes this book. It can be found under the title "I Thought I Knew" in the High School section. /nifty/gay/highschool/i-thought-i-knew/
The characters in this project are real. The names and some other identifying information in this story have been changed to conceal the identities of the characters described. The Copyright for this story is held by Hardreader. The story may not be reprinted or distributed elsewhere in print, electronically or digitally without the permission of the author. I would love to receive comments on this story from readers. Email me at hardreader2000@aol.com
While you're waiting for the next episode, I hope you'll stay happy. And stay hard! -- H.R.