This is a work of fiction: The usual warnings apply. If you are offended by this type of literature, leave. If it is not legal in your location, we are not responsible.
Training Brooks
The messenger flashed. It was Brooks sending me an instant message. I had not heard from him in some time. You see, I teach history and Latin at a small private academy. About 1000 students in grades 9-12. Students come and go. Some you remember, some are soon a faded memory. Not Brooks. He was a cut-up, always seemed to be into something or another, but a nice looking kid, none the less. I wondered what he could want, how long had it been since he was graduated, one, two years....
I clicked on the message. He was saying "hi'. He had come back home after two semesters in college to his parents home. They were not pleased to have him back as he had not done well in college. A prank or two, marginal grades, etc. He was now at home and just wanted to say hello. Brooks lived about an hour away from the academy with his parents, who were only able to send him to the academy with our scholarship program for kids who were smart, but lacked money for tuition. He told me he wanted to come by and visit later in the week. I said sure, anytime would be fine.
Thursday arrived. Average day. Just the usual things after school. I arrived back at my office to find Brooks waiting by the door. He certainly had gotten taller, broader, and seemed more mature. He stood about 5' 10 or so, not quite 6', sandy-reddish hair, with blonde highlights, blue eyes, medium complexion. Not a bad body, a little toned, but not quite buff either. He was dressed in his usual khakis, polo shirt, and killer smile. We shook hands and entered the office for our chat.
He was upset about being back at home, a failure to his parents, scholarship money wasted. They had been rather rough with him, either find a job or get our. I caught a glimpse of tears, he seemed so vulnerable, like he was back in grade school. I placed my hand on his shoulder, not knowing if he needed it, or if I should take him in my arms like a small child. We sat there for a few moments, it seemed like an eternity. He looked up, tears falling down, and asked what was he to do. He had no where to go and there were few jobs for college failures such as himself. I told him not to worry, something would work out. I then had a thought. I had a large summer place in the foothills that always needed some up-keep. The groundsman had been trying to retire for several years, nearly 80 or so. This might just work out.
Few people even knew I had the property, fewer knew the location. Secluded, surrounded by 1,200 acres of woodlands. My parents had left the property to me years before. They had died after I finished college. The main house had been an old lodge. I had remodeled it, added an indoor pool and some other improvements.
I suggested that Brooks meet me later at home for dinner to talk more about a solution to his problem. He agreed to meet me there at 7.
I must confess that this was a dream come true. I had always been attracted to men. I had even had a relationship in grad school with my German professor. He was older, and helped me through the death of my parents. I accepted the position with the academy, partly to escape, partly to help kids, and for reasons I could not explain. The money, home, and other property had allowed me to do basically what I wanted. Now there was an opportunity to do it all, with Brooks
After dinner we talked for a few minutes, small talk mostly. Then the conversation turned serious. By this time we had finished dinner and were sitting in the den. Brooks said that his parents accused him of not trying to fit in at college, and asked him if he were gay. He confessed to them that he was, and that it seems was the straw that broke the camel's back. I said nothing, just listened to his story. After about an hour, I asked him, why he chose me. He dropped his head. I asked again. He looked me straight in the eye and said he thought I would understand. He said he thought I had been understanding as his teacher, and he thought I had checked him out back in school. As I remembered, he filled out his Speedos rather nicely. He was on the water polo team, as I seem to recall. He then dropped a bombshell: he thought I was gay. I had thought I covered well all these years, but evidently not. I did not immediately answer, he continued his story but came back to the question. Are you gay, he asked? I said that I definitely had feelings for men, but did not have any partners. Our eyes met again. He looked so innocent, boyish, but ready and willing all the same. Our lips met. His were soft and sweet. My tongue pressed its way into his willing mouth. He almost sucked my tongue out of my mouth. I pulled back, almost shocked at what had happened, happy but upset. After all he was a former student, a fully developed, 20 year old, but a former student none the less. I sat back said I was out of line, he looked confused, bringing his lips closer to mine, leaning into my embrace. We embraced again. This time his tongue found a refuge in my mouth. He was a great kisser, gentle, but firm. Savoring every moment like a fine wine. Where did he learn this? I would find our later. As we came up for air. I suggested that we slow down and think about what was happening between us. He sat back, looking at me with those big blue eyes, hair tossed a little, making him even more desirable. But I restrained my urges to take him, control him, engulf him. We sat for a minute looking at each other, before he spoke.
He said that this is how he had imagined it could be. He and I. I was amazed that a beautiful, virile, young man would want to kiss a 34-year-old teacher, even though I had kept myself in shape through the years. Not bad for a thirty-something.
What could happen next could ruin my career, or possibly scar a kid. I asked where he planned to stay. He did not know, maybe with friends, a cousin, or at the Y. I asked him would he like to stay with me until we could sort this out. He said yes. I told him to bring in his clothes, he said his parents had basically thrown him out with only a couple of bags still in the car. The rest had to be shipped from college. He brought in an overnight bag and a small suitcase. I told him I had some things he could sleep in until his bags came. We went upstairs and I showed him the guest suite. It had a private bath and king sized bed. I laid some nylon shorts and a tee shirt on the bed for him to use. I told him he would be comfortable here and showed him around the suite. We kissed goodnight briefly and I closed his door. I knew that I should not stay.
My heart raced as I closed my door and prepared for bed. I was reeling from the events of the day and evening. What was I thinking? Was I totally crazy? There was a kid in my house and I was horny as could be. I changed after a quick shower. I was not sleepy, only horny when a muffled knock came at my door.
It was Brooks. He cam in dressed in the blue nylon shorts and white tee shirt. He filled both out nicely. I tried not to stare, but I believe he had the beginning of a hard on in those shorts.
I was already under the covers, nude as usual, when he sat down on the end of the bed. He asked if he could sleep in my room. I hesitated; he took the opportunity to crawl under the covers. (more later)