The following fictional story deals with sex among males. If you are offended by such material, are too young, or reside in a location where it is not allowed, please depart. Though not observed in this story, care enough about yourself and humankind to practice safe sex.
The author retains all rights. EvanBradley33@Yahoo.com
Tyler's Take-Down
Tyler
Late in June, when I wheeled into the Home Depot, where I'd gone to get some hardware to repair a barn door, I looked over at this slim dude getting out of his car. It was Chris! In cut-offs! I'd spent hours fantasizing about what he looked like without a suit and tie. Now I was going to find out. I slowly drove in that direction, checking him out, approving the slight curves of his butt. Depending on which foot was carrying his weight and which way he was standing, bundles of muscles would appear in his slim, moderately hairy legs. I'd been thinking constantly about Chris since our end-of-semester good-byes had turned out to be such a mess. A plan immediately sprang to mind.
The last I'd seen of Dr. Chris Wilbers was my final exam in my final course in my final semester of college. I was happy for all those "finals" except for its being the final time I would probably see Chris. I was an animal husbandry major in his technical writing course. When I finally got to know Chris a little better, he and I had a good laugh about how I'd put off completing my required block of writing intensive courses, how I'd made excuses right up to the last minute. When I'd discovered that Chris's section was the last open, I'd literally wailed to Dr. Kennison, my advisor, who laughed in glee.
"Serves you right, Tyler," he cackled. "I kept trying to get you to enroll in that course before your last year, but oh no, you wouldn't go near it. Just looked at me and flashed those dimples like I was one of your coed conquests. Now you have the hardest prof teaching the course." Dr. Kennison laughed loudly. "Oh, I love this; this is rich. Poetic Justice reigns."
I remember glowering at Dr. Kennison. I hated writing, hated writing courses, and hated professors teaching writing courses who were determined students would work, learn and grow. Chris had a reputation for being zealous in all these areas. When I was six weeks into Chris's course, I told him about my reaction upon hearing that his was the only section left open. At first, I thought I might have gone too far, for he seemed a little taken aback. I don't think many of his students were usually so frank about resisting his courses. Noting his hesitation, I assured him that I had quickly come to love the course, had learned much, and had even enjoyed writing. "I think it's because I see how immediately this kind of writing plays into what I'll be doing in my life. I never enjoyed writing essays or fiction or newspaper articles because I knew I'd never use them after I finished the course," I explained. Even after my explanation, Chris looked a little doubtful.
It took a couple of assignments at the beginning of the semester for me to understand that Chris meant exactly what he said about good writing being the result of discipline and a lot of revising. My first two grades were low. But I quickly moved to earning top grades. I liked Chris's course for many reasons, so I always paid attention in class and participated in discussions. I noticed that students were always pleased to be in a work group with me, especially the women, so the vibes were always good. I knew I'd finish with an A. Chris had explained at the beginning of the semester that he always weighted grades in the last half of a skills course more than those in the first half to keep from penalizing students for not knowing what they came to learn.
Near the end of that final exam period, one last student, Wendy Anderson, was still checking over her final exam, so Chris was stuck in the classroom. As I waited, I circled around in the hallway. I noticed his glancing up at me from time to time, smiling encouragement, letting me know he wanted to talk to me too. I was hanging around because I wanted to say good-bye to Chris.
Whenever Chris would return an assignment, even though he'd written a lot of good stuff on it as though he really cared about me, I'd make an appointment "to see what I could do to be a better writer." Chris always seemed eager for us to get together, for our talks frequently moved beyond that particular assignment into deeper discussions. If he wasn't sounding me out in order to take my measure, I was sounding him out for that same reason. Chris seemed happy during those times we spent together. I certainly was. During one of our follow-up meetings, Chris confided, "You caught my eye the second I walked into the classroom in January. To me, you looked like a distant cousin of the movie star Richard Gere. Your hair is darker, and your face is slightly less angular than Gere's. But you are handsome as hell!" Chris suddenly blushed at how forward he'd been. I loved it.
"Dr. Wilbers, your assessment of me is a surprise!" I exclaimed. "Nobody's ever suggested that I'm worth looking at." I didn't add that it turned me on too. "Care to share more?"
"Well, I guess I should finish it," Chris added. "Understand, I'm not really a Gere fan, so I'm just working off impressions here. Anyway, your eyes are more intense than Gere's. His always seem a little unengaged." Then Chris laughed. "That first day of class, yours were suffering eyes."
I shook my head in quiet agreement. "You know that's not true now."
Chris smiled. "You are slimmer than Gere too." That remark told me Chris had been studying my body.
I was 6 feet, 2 inches tall. I always wore cowboy boots, but they weren't dress boots. These had seen labor. I didn't wear a cowboy hat or Western shirts to campus because I didn't want to be razzed. But I did wear boot jeans that hugged the globes of my narrow ass. I always felt that Chris wanted to run his hands over my mounds because his eyes were glued to them when he thought no one was looking. I found occasions to bend over my desk before or after class with my ass pointed right at Chris, my jeans hugging my cheeks. After a while I could swear I felt Chris's eyes on my butt. My jeans more than hinted at the long, curving muscles in my legs. My biceps were muscled, but not with huge bundles like gym rats. I knew he wondered what my cock was like.
After Chris's confession, the coffee breaks began. Chris suggested that we go for coffee instead of meeting in his office. Those were great times, giving me something I'd never had - real sharing with an adult male.
I'd been a late, unwelcome son born to an older couple who didn't have much to offer each other, let alone a surprise child. We lived out in the country on a big spread, about the only reason my father was glad I was around. I could be the farm hand he didn't want to hire. Point is, I didn't have great memories of interacting with older people. Dad and Mom had only distant cousins in other states, and their parents had passed on. We were pretty much alone. That surprised me. In a big nation like ours, you'd think there would be family someplace. I guess it wouldn't have made any difference: my parents wouldn't have cared to have anything to do with them. So the time I spent with Chris was a real treat. I really wanted him for an adult buddy. I guess that's what we became for each other.
Then our relationship moved to another level. It started with my checking him out as much as I thought he did me. We frequently caught each other. Chris was about half a foot shorter, so he had to look up at me when we were standing. For some weird reason it turned me on to look down in his face and eyes, to know he had to look up to me. I began to realize that I was feeling toward him the way I did when I saddled and rode Destry, my stallion. In an uncharacteristic moment of generosity, Dad and Mom bought me Destry when I was a senior in high school. It was one of the few things Dad and I ever did together, scouting out Destry, negotiating his purchase. It helped persuade my dad to make the investment when I reminded him what others would think, seeing a horse of Destry's caliber on our place. Destry was a beauty. He and I hit it off right away. I felt powerful when I saddled him, slipped the bit in his mouth, mounted him, and directed him where I wanted to go. I loved the rush as he galloped pell-mell across the pastures. I loved the feeling of power I had over him but even more the feeling of power that he gave me. I took the best care of him, even babied him, and he loved it.
The benefits from the coffee breaks weren't one-sided. I realized how much our talks meant to Chris when his eyes were shining while we were talking, when I caught him checking me out. I wanted to exert power over him too, to take care of him too. But it wasn't just control of him that I desired. It was his giving me power, and then my giving him everything wonderful within me. Often I'd jerk off while I was having these thoughts, holding Chris in my mind. He always gave me intense orgasms even if he was just in my head.
Chris had a trim body, for he worked out. Blond hair and blue eyes that could turn steely. I always wondered what hid behind that dynamic. When I saw it, I wanted to control him even more. I had to snicker. In spite of the cutoffs, he still looked like a professor. It was probably his glasses. Though small with thin rims, they brought others' eyes to his. I pushed him to tell me about his family, but I never got far. I knew he was divorced. I think he had a grown son who lived on the west coast. They didn't see each other often. I would have loved to see Chris with fewer clothes, but since I saw him only on campus, that wasn't likely to happen.
When Wendy had finally turned in her exam and Chris came out into the hall, I held out my hand. "Dr. Wilbers, I want to thank you for a wonderful course," I gushed more than I'd intended. I really wanted to grab him in a tight hug. I knew my dimples were popping out, and I knew Chris liked seeing them. While I shook his hand, I was going on and on: "I was crazy for putting this course off so long."
"Well, perhaps by doing so, you ended your college years on a high note," he said slowly as though he didn't quite know what to say. It was tough for both of us, knowing it would probably be the last time we'd ever see each other again. No good-bye could ever come close to doing justice to my feelings for Chris. I was certain it was the same for him.
I kept praising my experience in the course, kept pumping his hand. In fact, when I said something from my heart, I'd forget to keep shaking his hand. Then I'd suddenly realize that I'd stopped and start in again, feeling stupid. I knew we were pumping away longer than we should have, but I couldn't bring myself to break the contact. Suddenly Chris had an idea. "Hey Tyler, in honor of a great semester, how about my treating you to a cup of coffee at The Bear's Lounge?" The college mascot was a grizzlie).
My smile faded as I dropped his hand. "Oh . . . uh . . . uh . . . I'd love to, but I have to meet some people," I stammered out, thinking of the unusual dinner that my folks were having that evening for a few of their acquaintances. Typically, they were killing two birds with one stone - acknowledging my graduation and cementing political ties. With all his land, Dad wasn't foolish enough ever to fall on the wrong side of politics. It never occurred to them that I might have liked to invite some of my friends.
When I turned Chris down, he immediately blushed, stammering out an "Of course . . . how foolish of me. You have guests for your graduation. Parties too, I'm sure. I just thought . . ." his voice trailed off. I could tell he was trying to think of an excuse to high-tail it out of there because he was embarrassed, looking this way and that just so he wouldn't have to look me in the eye. I hated it that I was causing him to feel this way. He glanced at his watch. "Oh. I forgot. I need to talk to the head of the department, and he's leaving in ten minutes. Listen Tyler, I wish you the best of good fortune in your future. I know it's not necessary, but I want to anyway. Maybe we'll run across each other at some of the ceremonies. If not, enjoy your meeting," he said, turning and hustling down the hall to the head's office.
I managed to utter an "Uh . . . but . . .," as he shot away. This wasn't the way I'd wanted it to end. He never turned back. He entered the office, allowing the door to close behind him. I saw him talking to the secretary. Man was I down. This wasn't the way it was supposed to turn out. I don't know what I expected. I realized I'd sort of stumbled into the scene without really thinking it through. I should have used that time I was waiting for Wendy to finish her exam to plan what I was going to say instead of traipsing down Memory Lane. I walked over to the stairs and started down them, my descent matching the direction of my feelings.
Chris
When I made the cover of the head's office, a sigh of relief escaped me. Rosie Warren, the head's secretary, was looking at me like I was having a mental episode, mumbling on about when Robert would be back and when he'd be in the office the next day. When, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tyler leave, I quickly excused myself, returning to my office and slamming the door. I dropped my papers into a book bag to transport home for grading. Then I slumped in my desk chair, dejected. Usually, my mind was awhirl with ideas, but right now I was drowning in an emotional whirlpool. Damn, I had looked stupid. I'd been foolish enough to think that Tyler was feeling a little of what I was feeling. 'Boy, did I let my impressions run away with me,' I chided myself. It took 15 minutes of sitting there, staring at bookshelves lining the walls, for my feelings to cycle down. Then I realized that I probably wouldn't see Tyler ever again.
I arose, grabbed my attache and the book bag full of final exams and walked disconsolately to my car in the parking lot of Reynolds Hall. At home, I changed into cutoffs and a tee and flip-flops, made myself a double gin and tonic, and sat on the deck, reliving my semester with Tyler. I had planned to continue grading final exams that evening, but I just wasn't up to it. I prepared a fish filet with herbs and had a big tossed salad, dining on the deck. I sipped a pinot grigio as I tucked into the fish and salad, but I really hadn't much appetite. I decided that I wouldn't attend any of the commencement activities. I'd take a night off and hit grading the next day. Besides, with the gin and tonic and the wine, I wasn't going to concentrate to the degree I wished when I graded papers. I'd been invited to some receptions graduating seniors were holding for visiting family and friends. In fact, those receptions were becoming customary so that one might have six invitations over the two nights before commencement. Sometimes parents of friends banded together for a mega-reception. But I decided to stay home, nursing my wounded feelings. 'Why are your feelings wounded?' I asked myself. "Because I'm losing my Tyler," I whispered.
I continued sitting there, arising at one point to take the dishes to the kitchen and to rinse them before placing them in the dishwasher. Then I grabbed the wine bottle, taking it with me back to the deck where I got rather sloshed.
Tyler
My folks graduation dinner was boring. I sat there fuming inside, thinking I'd given up a little time with Chris for this sad event. Occasionally, my parents' friends would try to engage me in conversation, but Dad would always jump in and turn the conversation the way he wanted it. Finally, I just sat there on my ass, being the decoration that I was expected to be.
Over the next month, my mind kept turning back to Chris. A couple of times I thought I'd go crazy. I just didn't want it to end like that. Gradually, I realized that I didn't want my connection to Chris to end at all. I was beating off all the time, thinking about him. Since I was always working at the home place, I'd integrate an image of him in whatever I was doing. I think at some point it would have occurred to me to call him, but I was still reacting to that pitiful leave-taking.
My attraction to Chris had another dimension too, the desire to have that smaller body in my control, to take command of him, to show him how strongly I felt about him. And especially to get him show his feelings for me, to feel him giving me power over him freely because he loved me.
Chris
Commencement had come and gone, final grades had been submitted, and I looked forward to a summer of puttering around my home, conducting some research, listening to music, preparing for classes in the fall, reading my head off, and spending time with local friends and colleagues. I tried strenuously to put Tyler out of my mind, telling myself I was acting like a foolish schoolboy. After a month, I could go for a day without thinking of him . . . much. Some days I'd fail miserably.
Because some perennials in a flowerbed in the back yard were flagging, I decided to plant some new flowers there to boost the look of the bed. Early one afternoon, I'd driven into the huge parking lot of a Home Depot that had good plants, parking some distance from the store entrance. I was wearing short, raggedy cut-offs, old tennis shoes, and an old sage green polo with a small hole up on the shoulder that I loved wearing it around home. I heard a pickup coming up behind me, slowing. I turned to look over my shoulder so that I wouldn't walk into the path of the pickup. My jaw dropped as I spied Tyler Murray behind the wheel, an old straw hat on his head with the sides rolled up, a white rumpled tee shirt hanging limply on his shoulders, a big grin plastered on his face. He stopped the truck, so I walked up the driver's side where he hung halfway out the window.
"Tyler Murray, what a sight for sore eyes!" I exclaimed, then flushed at how eager my greeting had been.
Above his dimples, his eyes were dancing. "You ditched me," he accused, still grinning.
"Huh," I replied dumbly, trying to imagine what in the world he meant.
"I didn't see you at any commencement events. And I looked for you too since you said I'd probably run into you there."
I continued to stare. I suddenly remembered that it was my turn to talk. "Oh . . . I had a lot of papers to grade. I didn't go."
"Sure that's the only reason why?" he asked, the lights continuing to dance in his eyes.
'What a strange conversation,' I thought. 'He couldn't go for a lousy cup of coffee, but now he's taking me to task for not showing up at all that social falderal at the end of the semester? Naw. He's just joking. He can't be serious.'
Seeing that I wasn't going to answer, Tyler said, "Hop in. I want to show you a place special to me."
Finally I realized that I hadn't reacted. I looked around me, for what I hadn't a clue. He must have thought me an idiot.
"Do it for me?" he asked a little plaintively, still smiling. "Please," he added sweetly.
"Oh! . . . Okay. . . Do you want me to take my car?"
"No, I want you to crawl in and let me take you. Your car will be okay here. You locked it didn't you?"
"Yes."
"Then hop in, Chris," he said, using my first name. I felt a thrill deep inside.
I moved faster than I wanted around the truck to the passenger side, climbing in. When I had closed the door, he leaned over, sliding his palm against the back of my head and pulling me into a soft kiss. I gasped when he broke it off. I knew I had to look like a deer caught in headlights. He repeated it with a shorter kiss, then leaned back over to his side, putting the truck in gear and moving to a parking lot exit. "Relax. I'm taking care of you," he said with a ton of self-assurance
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"You'll see.
Tyler
When I wheeled into the Home Depot lot where I saw Chris, a plan immediately sprang to mind. I was going to take him to our place and show him how much he meant to me. Mom and Dad were away. I was there all by myself. No one to bother us. And I knew just how I might pull it off. I hoped Destry and Windy would help me.
I had to push Chris a little to get in the truck. I knew if he did, I'd see to it that he'd never regret it. When he was inside the cab and had closed the door, I leaned over and pulled him to me for a kiss. I knew he wanted it. Knew this would make him glad he was going with me. I never realized how much it would turn ME on. All those feelings lurking around in the background of our coffee breaks coalesced and punched me in the groin. Man! What a turn-on! My cock was boned. Chris's eyes were full of wonderment after the kiss, so I kissed him again. His lips were even warmer the second time.
As we drove through the countryside, Chris questioned me about where we were going. "I'm taking you where I grew up, where I live. I'm taking you to meet Destry and Windy."
"Friends?" Chris asked.
"In a manner of speaking," I replied. Chris looked a little put out at my reply. I used the palm of my hand to caress his cheek. "Please?" I asked. "Trust me?"
"Tyler . . . please don't hurt me. I . . . I . . . I love you, I guess. . .Yeah, I might as well admit it. I fell in love with you last semester. I love you so much, you could hurt me bad. . . I never want to go there again."
I had to allow him to verbalize his greatest fear about us. "You think I haven't had it bad, Chris? You think I want to pass on some the ugliness I've had in my life to you? That wouldn't be love, would it?"
Chris just stared back. We rolled along in silence. I guess we'd both said what needed to be said at that point.
When we reached the spread, I secretly took delight in Chris's checking the place out - our huge farm home, white clapboard, two-story. The huge barn, the sheds. His head was turning this way and that as I drove us to the barn. I shut off the engine and looked at him. Once again I reached out and pulled him into the hottest kiss. When I broke it, I said, "Welcome to my world, Chris. I want you to be a part of it however we are able work that out. Stow away all those fears about being used, abused, betrayed. I want you. I want to OWN you." Hearing my words, Chris's eyes grew larger. "And when I own you, I'll honor you always. Love you always. Because you will be the most precious of my belongings. But you'll be more than a possession. You will be the talisman that confers honor, love and dignity upon me. You'll be my life." Chris gasped at this point.
I pulled on the handle and leaned against my door, stepping out in long-practiced maneuver. Chris sat stupefied. I walked to passenger side of the pickup, opened the door, held out my hand for his. When he stepped out of the pick up, I took his hand and led him to the larger corral. Destry pranced up immediately, waiting for a caress from me. Chris took a few steps back. I could tell he'd never been around horses. I made sure Chris saw that Destry needed what I was granting him. When I knew Destry was attending to my gestures, I reached out and pulled Chris to me, caressing Chris as I had Destry. Then I pulled Chris into a hot kiss, which he returned. I took Chris's hand in mine and we caressed Destry together. He snuffled against Chris's hand, memorizing his scent. Then I rubbed my hand hard against Chris's and rubbed it in my right armpit. Chris looked at me in puzzlement. Then I held our cupped palms up to Destry, who snuffled them again, smelling our combined scents.
My noble stallion didn't miss the point. He turned and whinnied. Within a minute Windy galloped up on the other side of the fence from Destry. Windy was the first mare I'd bought since I'd convinced Dad of the revenue generation a horse-breeding sideline could bring to our spread. Destry and she were special, knew they were special to me, knew they were mated. Other mares came and went, but Windy was Destry's mare. He recognized what I'd just communicated about Chris and me.
Windy moved immediately to Destry, nuzzling him. He nuzzled her back. Then they moved to the corner of the fences dividing them, looking us over. Windy whinnied. I walked Chris, who seemed mesmerized, over to her. She immediately stuck her snout over the fence to nuzzle Chris's chest. If I hadn't been behind him, he'd have jumped out of reach. It was too important to us for me to allow that to happen. Looking into Windy's eyes, Chris seemed paralyzed. I moved his hand up to caress her. He took to it like a natural, stroking her long jaw, rubbing her forehead gently, running both his hands down her neck, speaking to her in a soft voice that even I couldn't catch. But she did. Those ears were on point, high pitch. Again, she rubbed her nose against Chris's chest, who settled into her recognition of his role. They'd bonded. "Climb over the fence and lead her into the barn," I ordered. He never looked at me - just obeyed. As he led Windy into the barn, she almost pranced, and he was looking into her eyes. I hoped he watched where he was walking.
I jumped the fence into Destry's pen, leading him into an adjoining pen in the barn that we used for breeding. That horndog knew what was going to happen just as I did. When Windy and Destry reached their adjoining pens in the barn, they raced to each other. I knew how they felt. They began nuzzling each other. Then Windy would back up to Destry, who would snuffle around her hind quarters as she raised her tail, getting turned on by her scent, turning her on because of his superior talents directed at her.
I strode to the center of the barn and stacked four hay bales on top of each other pointing toward Destry and Windy where we could see them and they could see us. Then I picked Chris up in my arms, carrying him to the hay bales, pulling his cut-offs and jockeys down around his ankles and bending him over the bales so that his ass was presented. I'd noticed he packed a hard seven-inch cock. I knew I'd put the bone there. I pulled off my boots, jeans and shirt, walking over to Destry and Windy, my uncut seven-inches wagging back and forth. Destry's big cock had begun emerging from its sheath. I opened the short gate separating their pens. Destry raced to Windy. I raced to Chris, falling down behind him and lubing his pussy with my tongue and spit. I don't know whether it was the scent of the horses, the barn, my own, or Chris's butt, but I was turned on to the max. I think Chris was too because he was panting. I whispered quickly to Chris, "You made me fall in love with you. You are what I want. I want you to be mine. See that noble stallion. I'm your stallion. See that beautiful mare? That's what you are to me. You're mine. I want you." Chris was looking at me. "Do you give yourself to me?" His eyes were glazed with lust. I hoped more. He whispered a desperate "Yes. I'm yours."
I flipped him around and bent him over the bales. I spat three times in my hand and lubed my cock. Then I started pushing my granite cock into him at the same time that Destry mounted Windy. She whinnied. Chris moaned. Destry was hunching away just as I was hunching into my Chris. He was pushing back against me. I didn't know how experienced he was, but he surely knew how to clamp his ass muscles down on my cock to make me moan with pleasure. His attention was riveted on Destry and Windy.
Then Chris began to call my name as we climbed to our orgasm: "Tyler," whispered urgently. "Tyler," whispered with desire. "Tyler," whispered with passion. "Tyler," shouted out as he climaxed. I shouted his name as I jammed my spasming cock into his butt. Destry and Windy whinnied as they reached their climax.
Then I slumped over Chris. He was gasping for breath. "Tyler . . . Tyler Murray . . . you own me. . . . I'm yours."
"And I belong to you, my beloved," I whispered back.