Chapter 6: Kurt's Katharsis
The following Monday night I was doing homing for a Differential Equations class (nothing sexy about that, except maybe for the cute blond who sits in the row ahead of me and two over, but he's a PiKA). Around 8:30PM there was a know on my door. "Entre vous," I called out.
The door opened, and in stepped Kurt. "I'm horny," Kurt said, without further ado, just as Randy had a few days ago. Unlike Randy, however, Kurt added, "I know you want it; I saw you watching Vance do me."
I looked at Kurt. He was dressed in gym trunks and a tee shirt, with knee guards. I surmised he'd just come from the intramural soccer game our fraternity had had that night. I decided to see whether Kurt was the "good soldier" he claimed to be. In my best drill sergeant voice I barked at him, "Go take a shower. Then report back here at 9:00 sharp." That would give me time to finish my homework.
Old habits die hard, I guess. Kurt just about snapped to attention when I began barking at him. "Yes, Sir, 9:00 Sir," he snapped back. "And I'll be clean," he added. Kurt did a smart about-face and left my room, closing the door behind him.
I tried to get back to my studies, but my cock kept on trying to get hard in my pants. And it kept on asking, "Is it time to have fun yet?" Finally it was.
Kurt knocked on my door and once again I called out for him to enter. Kurt came in, closed the door, and snapped to attention. "Kurt Roberts reporting for a blow job, as ordered, Sir," he said. Well, at least he made his intentions clear. "I'm clean, like you ordered."
"Strip," I ordered. "Start with your shirt. I want to see your chest." Hell, If I'M giving the orders, you're going to do what I want.
Kurt crossed his arms and pulled his tee shirt over his head. I licked my lips as I watched Kurt's chest muscles ripple. He was a little bony, no fat layer covered his chest, but that made his chest that much more ripped. My cock said to me, "Let me out!" but I suspected tonight, at least the blow jobs were going to be only one way.
Kurt neatly folded his shirt and set it down on the corner of my desk. Then he sat down on the edge of my bed and took off his sneakers and socks. He rolled up each sock neatly and put it into its respective sneaker. He then put those precisely at the edge of my desk, out of the way of where the festivities would likely be. Kurt's soldier-training was showing.
Kurt stood up, then slid his clean gym shorts down his muscular legs, leaving him dressed in but an olive-drab jock strap. He folded the shorts and set them on top of his shirt. Then he stood there, as if making up his mind whether or not to go further. Or else to give me time to appreciate the magnificent sight in from of me. Like I've said before, if YOU'RE going to spend hours working out, the least I can do is admire your hard work.
Kurt turned his back on me (shy?) and pulled down his jock strap. He then turned to face me, in all his naked glory. And glorious it was, indeed! He was good-looking and knew it. Why not show off?
I admired him for a few seconds, then ordered, "Sit down on the end of the bed." Kurt did as he was told. "Lie back and spread your legs." Kurt laid back and spread his legs. I knelt between them.
Now you would think, wouldn't you, that even a guy who was nominally straight would have at least the hint of an erection when he was just about to get a blow job. But Kurt was perfectly flaccid. I spent some time looking at his all-to-perfect cock and balls, before diving in.
You would think, also, that going down on a magnificent specimen would be a highlight of one's sexual experience but, to tell you the truth, this evening was little more exciting than glory-hole sex (not that I'VE ever had glory-hole sex, at least not on the giving end). Yes, it WAS more exciting than my math homework, and even by a lot. But I've had more exciting solo sessions.
Kurt laid there as I took hold of his cock and aimed it at my mouth. I sucked and tongued it, and only slowly did it get hard. I sucked away. Kurt propped himself up on his elbows to watch. I suspected he was more interested in watching HIMSELF get a blow job rather watching ME give him one. Hell, I LIKE watching good-looking guys give me head.
I went to work on Kurt's balls. I was right; his ball sac was velvety soft and velvety smooth. Not shaved, just mostly hairless and soft as silk. Yum!
I was enjoying myself. Kurt, like I said, did not appear to be a ball man.
As I sucked on Kurt's sac, I played with his cock, keeping it hard and even working the foreskin back and forth. I started nuzzling the underside of Kurt's ball sac with my nose, and started licking the skin behind it, leading toward his ass. I'm not into rimming--it's not safe--so I didn't get too close. And besides, Kurt started wriggling his ass like, "Get out of there!" so I did.
I moved back to Kurt's cock and chowed down. At the same time I rested one hand, the one which was not guiding Kurt's cock into my mouth, on Kurt's flat belly. Kurt wiggled his hips, as if he were uncomfortable, but I left my hand there. Kurt bent forward, taking his weight off his elbows, and took my wrist off his belly and set it firmly on his thigh. I left it there; eventually I'd break through.
I started rubbing Kurt's thigh; evidently this was okay, since Kurt didn't stop me. I started playing with his balls; this was "in bounds" also. I lifted Kurt's balls--all the while still sucking his cock, and started circling closer and closer to his ass hole. At last Kurt broke the silence. "I don't get fucked," he said.
I noticed his reply was in the present tense, so I picked my head up and looked at him. I asked, "HAVE you ever gotten fucked?"
A pregnant pause followed. Then Kurt iterated, "I don't get fucked." Well, THAT didn't answer my question. But I knew I wouldn't find out the answer tonight, so I went back to work on Kurt's cock.
After a few minutes of work (well, if sucking can ever be considered work), I felt Kurt tensing up. He was much too rigid to make much of a sound as his cock thickened, his balls pulled up, and he started cumming down my throat. He did not, of course, let himself go--that would have been a fine sight to see, but hardly the "military way." As if getting a blow job from another man could ever be the military way. Except, maybe, in the Navy.
A half a dozen times he spurted thick, tasty goo down my gullet. Then he stopped, suddenly. His cock softened quickly, giving me hardly any time to lick off the last drops of juice. Kurt sat up quickly, almost knocking me away in his haste.
So at last my chore was done. Kurt was satisfied. He stood up, then I stood up. He didn't say anything as he pulled his jock strap on. Was he ashamed? Was he satisfied? I couldn't tell; he was keeping his emotions in check. Was I satisfied? Hardly. But maybe next time.
Kurt got dressed quickly. I watched. Watching a good-looking man dress is not nearly as exciting as watching him undress. Oh, well.
Kurt was about to open the door to leave when he turned to me and said, sort of hesitantly, "Um, thanks."
Rather than just saying, "You're welcome," I barked, "The NEXT time you come, wear something sexy. I want to take some pictures of you as you undress. Got that?"
Kurt did not reply at first, as if considering my offer. Then he grinned, halfway to himself, and said, "Yes, Sir." Was he already figuring out what he would wear the next time? What would HE think I would think was sexy?
A week and a weekend passed. We did not play Wales Tales, except at the bar with beer in our hands. Pity. But at least I got a 97 on my Differential Equations homework.
The following Wednesday, again I was working on homework, Statistics III. Not as much fun as Differential Equations, and no cute guy in the row ahead of me. Again there was a knock on the door. "Just a minute," I called out. My cock gave a lurch, ouch! I have to start wearing looser underwear. I stood up, rearranged the furniture, so to speak, and opened the door.
My cock was well-rewarded. There stood Kurt, and BOY did he look sexy. He wore a dark black ribbed shirt which clung to his chest; his nipples could be seen and they appeared to be rock-hard. Tight 501s accentuated his hips, his tight, fuckable ass, and slim lines. It looked like he'd been wearing them when they were "shrunk to fit." His shoes were enough to make a boot-licker swoon--spit-shined black army boots. What a package!
I invited Kurt in and closed the door. Kurt stood there, as if waiting for orders. I went over to my dresser and picked up a camera. I'm a bit of a camera buff, and have even won a couple of awards, so I had the right equipment--and the right subject--for doing a good shoot.
I asked Kurt if he wanted some wine, the better to relax. He said, "Yes," so I poured him a glass of red wine I had left over from something or other. I took a couple of shots of him drinking, to get the lighting right and to see how he photographed. I needn't have worried, Kurt was a natural.
After he finished his wine, he stood up and started pulling his shirt off over his head. I guess he remembered his orders from last time. The stretching of his arms emphasized the tautness of the skin covering his chest and the angularity and cut of his muscles. While Kurt sat down and pulled off his shoes and socks, I changed film rolls.
Kurt turned half-on to me and started unbuttoning his jeans. He looked seductively over his shoulder at me. Click! THAT one was a keeper. Another button, another shot. He slowly slid the jeans down his legs, then carefully pulled them off, folded them, and put them over the back of a chair, all the while looking sexy as hell.
Like I said, Kurt was a natural model. In fact, during the following spring I borrowed a friend's Hasselblad fixed frame camera and I did a spread of Kurt outdoors in a park and secluded glen near campus. One of my "clothed" pictures of him won first prize in a rather prominent photo magazine. And a nude picture won first prize in a more arty, offbeat magazine. THAT one was good enough to get me three letters from porno magazines asking a) if they could publish the picture (I said "No" to all of them), and b) whether I had any more erotic pictures of Kurt. I did--and still do--but they're in my private collection. Kurt's father, the general, was none to pleased about his son's sudden exposure. But as Kurt was older than eighteen, and got a couple of modeling assignments that summer that paid him more than he made in a year, the general couldn't say much. And I was happy, what with the prize money and a 10% "finder's fee" I got for Kurt's work as his "agent." But I digress.
Kurt was wearing a really tight pair of black lycra briefs or swimsuit. It was tight enough, as they say, to tell his religion. I could see, incidentally, that he was maybe a little bit hard, anyway, he wasn't completely soft. Maybe he was starting to relax, or the wine was getting to him. It was worth a try; I gave him another glass and he drank it, dressed in but his underwear, as I snapped away.
Kurt stripped, and I got some more pictures of him. Somehow he did not seem the type to want me to take pictures of him hard, which was fine, since he wasn't very. So I took some with him on his back, legs spread and waiting, on his side with his back to me, looking demurely over is shoulder; on his stomach, as though he was sleeping. They were arty rather than erotic, which was fine with me; Kurt was more of a model than a porno looker.
The sex, alas, was only a little better than the last time. Kurt still seemed rigid, unable or unwilling to relax and enjoy himself. I tried to play with his ass and he once again admonished, "I don't get fucked." I DID, while I was sucking his cock, place one hand on his belly, between his pubic hair and navel. Kurt took me by the wrist and tried to move my hand back to a "safe" spot. I resisted, holding my hand firmly against his belly. After a few seconds Kurt sighed, and let go, so I kept my hand there.
I then started rubbing his belly, tracing the ridges of muscle, keeping my fingers well below his off-bounds chest. I even went so far as to pluck at the slight treasure trail running from his belly to his pubes. Kurt seemed to not mind too much, maybe he even liked my soft touch. In any event, he came at least as forcefully as he had last time, and oh it was as tasty as I had remembered. But it still seemed forced, hardly more intimate than tearoom sex.
Kurt got dressed, then moved past me to leave. "The next time you come here," I said, "I'm going to play with your chest. Kurt did not say anything. "And," I added, "You're going to get me off, in one orifice or the other."
"What makes you think there's going to be a next time?" Kurt asked.
"There will be," I replied, confidently. You're curious. I don't know who burned you in the past, but you're ready to try again." Maybe it was my imagination, but I could swear Kurt blushed a little. He did not reply. Instead, he took hold of the doorknob and started to turn it.
"One more thing," I said, just before the door opened. "When you come, I want you to wear those jeans, but without underwear. I think men look sexy as hell when they open the buttons on their jeans and bare skin is showing." On that note Kurt opened the door, went out, and closed it carefully behind himself.
I did not see Kurt much for the next couple of weeks. I spent many of the nights and the weekend studying in the library for mid-terms (I got four As and one B). The following Friday night I romped with Rob (see my "Rob Gets Razed" story if you're curious about the fun we had). The next night, Saturday, we played Tales Again (see the next chapter of THIS story, Randy Gets It, in the End, for details). Hell, sex only twice in two weeks, I might as well become a monk.
Anyway, Monday night rolled around again (if it seems like things only happen on Mondays and Wednesdays, some of it is because night classes are on Tuesdays and Thursdays; I knew Kurt was taking one such class). I was doing some light reading (mid-terms were over so we had a week with no homework), when once again there was a knock on the door; a knock I had come to recognize and hope for.
I called out, "Who's there. Upon hearing it was Kurt, I again called out, "Come back in about ten minutes. I'll be ready by then." Ten minutes would give me time to get the room--and myself--ready.
Ten minutes later there was another knock on the door. I opened it, and Kurt came in. Instant hard on! The shirt he had in was clinging even tighter to his hot chest than the last shirt he wore, if that was possible. And judging by the basket he displayed, he had followed my orders and was not wearing underwear. Again he had on the spit-shined army boots he had had last time. My cock sprang to life within my own jeans. "Yes!" it called out to me.
I closed and locked the door behind Kurt., then stood there looking at him. He was standing almost at attention; I guess he was used to standing that way whenever he entered someone's room. I gave him the once over and he snapped to attention, chest thrust out. "Kurt Roberts reporting, Sir! I'm ready for your orders, Sir!"
I went and picked up my camera. I turned to Kurt and said, "Start stripping.
And make it good." He did. He started with his shirt, he remembered that I liked looking at his chest. His army boots and socks were next. As he got to his jeans, I said, "Hold it. I'll do those."
I walked over and carefully unbuttoned the top button of his 501s. I also slipped my fingertips inside his jeans and confirmed that Kurt was naked under them. I spent a few seconds rubbing the back of my hands across Kurt's lower chest, feeling the top of his pubes. Tonight Kurt did not push my hands away.
I undid another button, then peeled back the edges of Kurt's jeans. "Hold it right there," I told him as I grabbed my camera and took a couple of pictures. I positioned him on the edge of the bed, and snapped away. I undid another button, exposing yet more of Kurt's pubic hair. And, what's this? I felt the tip of a slowly, albeit slightly, hardening cock beneath the tips of my fingers. I guess Kurt WAS ready.
I undid the fourth and final buttons of Kurt's jeans, snapping away as more and more of Kurt's crotch was exposed. At last he was sliding his jeans down past his knees. He stopped on once, when I had to change film. Kurt gracefully stepped out of his jeans, folded them neatly and put them over the back of a chair, then turned to face me. He stood at attention. His cock was half-hard, which was as hard as I'd seen it on its own.
"At ease," I told Kurt, as I took a couple of pictures. My next command surprised him. "Get yourself face down on the bed," I ordered. Kurt quickly complied. I took the time--after I took a picture of this hot stud lying on his stomach, ass just waiting for me--to take off my own shoes and socks.
"Close your eyes," I told Kurt. "And keep them closed until I tell you you can open them." I saw Kurt close his eyes. I quickly stripped off my shirt, then my own jeans. I went over to my dresser, opened a drawer and took out something which jangled slightly as I picked it up.
Kurt gave a start as he felt me climb onto the bed, then straddle him, resting some of my weight on the backs of his thighs. Or maybe he gave a start as he realized that I was naked, but not quite; he could feel that I was naked from the thighs down, but my crotch and ass, the parts which rested on him, were covered in something soft and sensuous. "Give me your hands," I commanded.
Kurt did not resist as I pulled his hands behind his back. Snap! Snap! I fastened the handcuffs around his wrists. I felt Kurt stirring beneath me, but he did not say anything. I could also see his eyes were still closed. Good.
I raised myself, resting my weight on my knees, and said, "Roll over. Carefully. And keep your eyes closed."
With some effort, since he could not use his hands, Kurt rolled over. He was also constrained by my legs. Hello! What's this? A rock-hard cock jutted out from Kurt's body. SOMETHING had gotten him excited.
When he was on his back, I once again settled down, resting my weight on the tops of Kurt's thighs. This put my crotch touching his. I smiled as I studied the hunk underneath me. "You can open your eyes," I told the hunk.
Kurt opened his eyes. Now he REALLY gave a start. I was dressed in a tight, black, doeskin-leather shorts. They fit me like a glove--they should, for what I paid for the custom leatherwork. I had also borrowed a friend's harness (I didn't own my first harness until the following summer, when I decided I liked the top/daddy role, if one can be a daddy at twenty-one. One CAN, if one had the right poise, presence, and attitude). The harness had the requisite one-inch wide shoulder straps and chest straps, meeting in a small ring. A leather strap disappeared downward, into my bikini, where it was connected--uncomfortably, I might add, to a metal ring encircling my freshly shaved cock and balls.
I reached down and took hold of Kurt's cock, and wiggled it back and forth. "Evidently you like what you see," I commented wryly. Kurt just stared at me, goggle-eyed. "Tonight is MY party." I said. "I'm going to see why you've kept Vance and me off your chest." With that I leaned forward, aiming my lips at Kurt's right tit which had, I just noticed, grown as hard and pointing as the cock now rubbing my belly. I flicked my tongue.
A moan loud enough to wake the dead escaped from Kurt's lips. NOW I understood why he'd kept Vance and me away. NOT because he didn't like someone playing with his chest but because he enjoyed it TOO MUCH.
"This will never do," I thought to myself. "I don't want everyone in the house coming in to find out what's going on." Then I had a thought, and smiled. I climbed off of Kurt and again went over to my dresser.
I rummaged around in a drawer, then pulled out what I needed. I stood over Kurt's head. "Open your mouth," I ordered. Kurt did. I took my hand from my side, where Kurt hadn't been able to see it. I held a wadded-up jock. "Don't worry," I assured Kurt. "It's clean. Unless you'd LIKE me to you one I've worn all day, all dirty and sweaty?" Kurt shook his head, but didn't say anything. He kept his mouth open, though.
I stuffed the jock in. "Can you breath?" I asked. Kurt nodded his head. I bent down and reached behind Kurt's head, positioning a leather thong which I pulled around Kurt's cheeks, then fastened in a know squarely over his mouth.
The gag would not come out now.
Instead of climbing back on Kurt, I got on my knees beside the bed, even with his tits. I leaned forward and took the one closet to me in my mouth. I ran my tongue over it. Again Kurt moaned. This was better, you could hardly hear it across the room.
I spent a couple of minutes working on that tit. Kurt moaned and wiggled appreciatively beneath me. I then leaned forward, across Kurt's chest, to take his other tit in my mouth. That one was, if anything, even more sensitive than the first. Kurt more than wiggled; he WRITHED. His hips came off of the bed, His ass clenched and unclenched. He moaned; only the jock-gag kept the neighbors from complaining at the noise.
Kurt's hips came off the bed again, and Kurt gave his loudest moan yet. I felt a wet stickiness hit me in the neck. Kurt was cumming! And I hadn't even TOUCHED his crotch. Twenty years of pent-up, forbidden desire spurted forth from Kurt's cock.
I turned to watch as a second stream of cum spewed forth, leaving a trail of cum-drops in a line down Kurt's magnificent chest. Again and again he came, moaning all the while. The trail if cum got longer, leading downward into the mass of pubic hair with each successive spasm. At last Kurt's writhing subsided, and he lay there, trying to catch his breath through the gag.
I did my duty and cleaned him up. With my tongue, following the cum-drop trail down Kurt's chest, into his pubes, and at last to the magical fountain.
Yum! Maybe someone should make cum-flavored candy. Cum-drops would sell millions!
I took hold of Kurt's cock and sucked the last bits of cum out. Kurt lay there, gasping (well, as gasping as one can when one's mouth is full of someone's jockstrap). His moaning had stopped, though. At last Kurt's breathing appeared to be back to normal.
It was now MY turn to get off. I sat there for a moment, considering my options. Then I untied the thong securing the gag in Kurt's mouth, and pulled it out. I asked him, "Are you done for the night?"
Kurt looked at me blankly, so I said, "You came once. Can you cum again tonight?"
Kurt said, "Yeah. Give me a few minutes and I'll be able to cum again. Although, maybe not as much as last time."
Kurt's breathing was NOT back to normal, so I let him stay gagless for a couple of minutes. Then I said, "Okay, I'll give you half an hour. Open your mouth." Kurt did, and I stuck the gag back in, and once again fastened it in place with the thong. Kurt watched as I went over to my dresser and pulled out a large bandanna. I folded in, the laid it over Kurt's eyes as a blindfold. I pulled Kurt's head forward and fastened the bandanna behind it.
Kurt then laid there, gagged and blindfolded, with his hands handcuffed behind his back. Get the picture? It's enough to give one a raging hard-on.
I know I had one. "Now stay there and be quiet," I told him.
I turned on some music, soothing but moderately loud. Now Kurt couldn't speak, see, touch, or hear much. I went over to desk and sat down, intending to do some more homework. Silly me. With my cock busting out of my shorts like that? So instead I QUIETLY took off the harness and my leather pants, and put them away, and threw on a pair of gym trunks and a tee shirt.
I made sure Kurt could hear as I opened the door and left. Where was I going? When would I be back? Who would I bring? Relax, it was nothing like that. I simply had to go to the bathroom. Then I stopped and chatted with a couple of brothers for a few minutes, then let myself back into my room.
"Now, what?" I could imagine Kurt thinking. He didn't have long to wait. I quickly stepped out of my clothes. I grabbed a couple of things from a shelf and, naked, knelt next to Kurt. He could hear me, and his cock hardened and started twitching, ready for some attention.
I think the kind of attention it got was not what Kurt expected. I turned on electric trimmers and held them in my hand. I adjusted the guide to the longest setting (not that KURT could tell) and ran the clippers across the patch of hair along the top of Kurt's cock. I made sure that it felt like I was taking everything off, but in reality I was giving him a slight trim, neatening up the stray hairs. His ROTC buddies could hardly tell he'd been clipped.
Kurt started writhing, thinking I was taking off all of the hair. "Hold still," I said, Or I might take off something I shouldn't." THAT got Kurt's attention, and he settled back down. I DID take the guide off, and ran the clippers up Kurt's belly, taking off the slight treasure trail leading up to his navel. THAT would be Kurt's only lasting memory of my shaving "scene."
I turned off the clippers and set them down. I then picked up a new safety razor (NEVER share razors). I trimmed off a few hairs along the edges of Kurt's bush, giving him a neat, defined, look. I also shaved a few stray hairs running up his cock which, incidentally, was once again quite hard.
I set the razor down and picked up a credit card. Yes, a credit card. Believe it or not, a credit card scraped along the skin feels just like a razor blade. Especially if you're gagged and blindfolded and can't imagine how you're going to explain your shaved crotch to your buddies in the shower.
That's easy, just tell them you have crabs. And besides, what are THEY doing, looking at your crotch, if they're straight? And if they're not straight, then who cares what they think of your shaved crotch?
Anyway, I took the credit card and started "shaving" Kurt, starting at the edges of his pubic bush, carefully pulling on the hairs as though I was really shaving them. When I "finished," I took hold of Kurt's balls and "shaved" them, pulling them firmly to stretch the skin (hell, if any of you have read my stories, you KNOW I know how to shave. For that matter, I HAVE shaved some of you who've read and responded to my stories.) I even went so far as to run the credit card up Kurt's chest, nominally shaving what hair grew there.
When I was done with my fantasy, I stood up and pulled the clippers, razor, and credit card away. Then I went back to Kurt. Just before I took off his blindfold, I grabbed my camera and got ready. I ripped off the blindfold and Kurt immediately leaned forward to check out the damage. BOY what an expression he had when he realized that he'd been duped. Or was he disappointed? (Actually, I found out later that I was right on both accounts--he was turned on by being shaved, and he was worried about what to say to his ROTC buddies about his smooth crotch. Unfortunately I never DID get the chance to actually shave him. Pity.)
I undid the gag and stood there, grinning. Kurt said a few choice curse words, then stopped when I said, "Shut up or I really WILL shave you. Now, are you ready to cum again?"
Kurt said he was. Against my better judgment I left the gag off. I knelt between Kurt's legs and started working on his cock and balls. This time I REALLY got into it. As I sucked, I ran my hands up and down Kurt's wonderful chest, and he didn't stop me. Actually, how could he, with his hands still cuffed behind his back? I tweaked his tits and he moaned, but quietly. I played with his balls, then sucked on them.
I moved my fingers behind Kurt's balls. Kurt gave a sigh. This time he didn't say, "I don't get fucked." I reached beneath the end of the bed and opened a jar of lube (hey, try it some time. If you're sucking someone off, then that's the most convenient place to store your lube, just in case you need it. Store a rubber or two there, while you're at it. But this was in the days before AIDS, so I didn't worry about a rubber.
My finger slipped into Kurt's asshole with surprising ease. I wasn't sure if it was because he'd been fucked before, or he was ready, or maybe both. Anyway, I eventually got two fingers in, about all I could to loosen him up for the cock which was soon to invade.
I kept working on his cock with my mouth, his ass with one hand, and his chest, particularly his tits, with the other hand. The combination did the trick. I felt Kurt tighten his hips, his balls pull up, and his cock tighten as he came down my throat. He writhed this time, and moaned, not like the last time I'd blown him. It's always more fun to give someone a blow job when you at least know he's appreciating it.
I got up, after I'd swallowed the last of Kurt's second batch of cum, as tasty as the first. I looked down at him. "Are you ready?" I asked.
"Yes," he said. "Can you release my hands? There kind of sore." Kurt rolled over and I unlocked the cuffs. He turned back onto his back and massaged his wrists. He laid there, legs spread and knees bent.
As I stood up and moved to put them away, I looked back at him and said, "If you misbehave, I'll have to cuff you again." Kurt just smiled at me and spread his knees a little wider. I guess he wasn't planning on misbehaving.
As I moved into position between Kurt's legs I asked, "HAVE you ever been fucked before?"
Kurt replied, almost bitterly, "What do YOU think? I went to a military school all my life. ALL boys. All HORNY boys. It was WORST when they found out my father was a high-up officer. `Let's fuck the general's son,' they'd say. And they weren't exactly gentle about it. But then one Christmas break I got my father's orderly to show me a couple of tricks. After I broke one guy's arm, and nearly busted the balls of another, they left me alone. I was twelve then. And then, when I realized that I kind of LIKED getting fucked, kind of MISSED it, even, well, that REALLY fucked up my mind. For Christ sake, I'm a GENERAL'S son. I'm not ALLOWED to be gay." I will give Kurt credit. He did make a bunch of money modeling, like I told you earlier, even though his father was ready to kill him for it. And after he graduated from college he served just his obligatory time for his ROTC scholarship, then he left the military and opened up a climbing school. With his lover, another guy he'd met in the Army. By then his father had retired so, other than disowning him, he couldn't do much. I still see Kurt and his lover, all these years later--aren't threesomes wonderful? But I digress. Back to my story.
Well, after Kurt's tirade, I wasn't sure what to do. Kurt looked up at me. "Do it," he whispered. "Be gentle. Show me what it's supposed to feel like."
So I entered Kurt slowly, letting his ass adjust around my cock before pushing further. I leaned forward, resting my chest against his. I could feel his heart beating beneath me. I could also feel his cock stirring yet again. As my cock reached complete penetration, I bent forward, my face scant inches from his. Kurt looked up at me, then bent his head forward, his lips reaching for mine.
We kissed and I fucked him. He wrapped his legs around my waist and pulled me yet deeper. I rubbed my chest against his, making sure I massaged his tits. He moaned as I rubbed them. He moaned as my cock hit that magical spot inside every guy's ass-gay or straight. He moaned as I bent my head down and licked his tits. He moaned as I tickled his eyelashes with my tongue.
It may not have been the BEST fuck I've EVER had (sorry, guys, I'm not going to tell you to whom THAT honor belongs, I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. However, if YOU'RE interested in trying you're luck, write to me and I'll put you on my dance card. Make that "fuck" card.) But it was the best fuck I'd had in a while, maybe the best fuck of my college years. The rhythm was right, the emotions were right, and our bodies fit together well. And I knew that by licking Kurt's tits I could get him to wiggle his hips, tighten his as around my cock, and moan--what more could one ask of a bottom?
But all good things must come to an end, as they say. I felt my cock swell as I got ready to cum. Kurt knew instinctively what to do; I felt him clench his muscles around my ass as I came and came like all get-out. Then I felt something sticky beneath my belly. Kurt was coming yet a third time, and once again with no action directly on his cock. Pity he'd waited all these years to have good sex. Pity he'd HAD to wait all these years.
My cock was spent. I wiggled my hips, but Kurt's ass muscles would not let go their death grip. So I sighed and relaxed my knees and arms and just lay with my head resting on Kurt's chest. Kurt ran his hands through my hair, then started licking my ear. That tickled!
At last I felt Kurt relax, and I withdrew my cock. "Don't get up," Kurt murmured in my ear, so I stayed there, resting on him. For maybe ten minutes we lay like that. Then he took hold of my head and pressed his lips against mine. "Thank you," he whispered, then started crying softly. I rolled us onto our sides and held him, his face now pressed against my shoulder.
At last the tension of years of sexual repression seemed to be drained from his body, and we could get up. Kurt dressed slowly. I just threw on my trunks and tee shirt so I could go out to do my nightly ablutions. Kurt turned to me and whispered, "Thank you" again, then kissed me goodnight. What a kiss it was--I had to wait a few minutes after Kurt had gone for my cock to soften enough for me to be able to show myself. In fact, when I got to the bathroom Ford was in there brushing his teeth. Evidently he'd seen Kurt leaving my room, `cause he asked, grinning, "Well, how was the army boy?"
"I don't kiss and tell," I said, sternly. "You wouldn't want me telling anyone about OUR peccadilloes, would you?" That shut him up. "And besides, maybe you'll find out for yourself if you'd ever be home on a Friday night for a game of Tales." With that I stripped off my trunks and shirt, grabbed my towel, and headed for the shower. Alas, Ford didn't join me. Well, not THAT night.