"The Gay Archivist, Part Three" by Jay Roberts Gay College
Two o'clock came up on my digital watch. My hand was shaking. I was in actual fear of what the Archivist had in mind, although I had a vague suspicion back deep in my brain.
I think, at this point, I ought to relate what my gay experiences were; practically nothing exciting. I experienced some mutual jerk offs with a middle school pal. In college I was sucked off in the bathroom twice. Yep, that's about it.
Back in the archivist's office he waved to me to undress. No words were spoken yet. He dropped his robe and was naked, his cock fully erected. He took hold of my bare shoulder and pushed me down on the couch, on my back. I feared the worst when he grabbed my ankles and placed them on either side of his rather bony hips. Fear made me breath so heavily, I was getting faint. I felt the sweat breaking out all over my body. My inner arms slid over my sweaty sides. He moaned as he looked down at me.
"What a sight! What a compliant beauty you are. I can't wait to possess you physically as I have mentally. I see your pretty, pink, puckered ass hole is pulled tight for protection. We'll soon fix that and you will experience the thrill of your life, after the first discomfort. But I am going to grease up my tool to mitigate the pain."
He pulled his arm back and swatted me very hard on one buttock cheek, I howled with pain, but in that instant my ass hole opened and he slipped the head of his dripping cock just inside the ring. The head was against my prostate and he used this position to rub it back and forth until my eyes rolled up and my mouth began d;ripping spit.
"How does this feel?" he asked huskily, knowing we were beginning to enter a cooperative effort to bring us indescribable bliss.
I grunted, "I feel humiliated and raped. I never thought my intellection activities would become physical violation."
He laughed. "You're talking shit. To prove it to you Mr. John Smith, I offer you an out. Do you want me to pull out the tiny bit I have accomplished and let you up, let you dress and end this accociation?"
My head swung back and forth trying to come up with an answer. Finally I whispered. "I guess I ought to experience the ultimate."
"Stop being clever. Tell me what you want and say it in a loud voice."
Then it came. I bellowed out that I wanted to be fucked hard until I came.
He chuckled, then laughed loudly as he pushed his hips forward and entered my hot hole until his wiry pubes were against my soft, pink ass. He stayed still, just moving his hips sideways stimulating the area. I that moment I knew that my sexuality was ass centered. He seemed to read my mind.
"There you are love, laying on your back, your legs up in the air like a girl. You know now that you ass is your cunt and I can make you orgasm by fucking you. Here goes."
He pulled back and slammed in. I cried out in excitement. Then he began the ride to ultimate orgasm. In and out, smoothly, changing speed and depth. I cooed and sang like a happy milkmaid, glad to give up my will to a man.
"You are about to orgasm Johnnie boi. I see your face blushing, right down you baby skin chest. Don't fight it. Let it happen. I will join you then."
My mind seemed to close up and I stifled my will and just allowed the mighty wave of orgasm to overtake me. I was grunting like a pig in mud, loving every second of the wave of orgasm. My hips were making fucking motions, my breath was labored, my tongue lolled out of my mouth and I was salivating and dripping on my chin.
He began to moan steadily. "Yeah girl, your ass hole is vibrating. I can't hold on any longer."
He began to soak my canal with slippery spooge as my prick began shooting long streams on your face and chest. The two of us were one in our mad ending.
Finally it was over. He pulled out, wiped his prick on a tissue, put on his robe and sat on his desk chair. "I have another appointment today. You'll have to leave."
I went back to my dorm room and began to commit all my adventures in the form of notes for the dissertation. I finished early morning. Bundled them together, grabbed some breakfast at the corner MacDonald's and headed for the institute, planning to show the notes to Robert.
There was a new guard on the desk and he asked me to sign in. He looked at the book and noted the person I was going to see. "What's this, Robert Castleberry has been dead for two years. In fact, the selection committee is interviewing candidates."
"No," I explained. "I want to see Robert Castleberry, Jr. his son."
The man looked at me. He has no son. I think you got something wrong, Mac."
"But I have been seeing him the last few days in restricted part of the library."
"That can't be. I have the key here and it hasn't left me or the other guard since Dr. Castleberry's death."
Well I never solved the mystery. I went to the Institute several times wandering around to see if I would spot Robert. No luck. But, the real story is that my experience in research had turned me into a happy bottom boi and life is good.
End