Usual warnings and disclaimers. If you are too young don't continue..scenes of explicit sex between consenting males...always use a condom...etc.
University Cash Flow by Alex Carbine
I had never been away from my home town before I went to University. It was all very new, finding accommodation and moving my few things in, discovering my way around the campus, shopping for myself and doing my own laundry. It was a whole new world. The only thing I did not have was money. Of course, I was not the only one in that boat, nearly every student I talked to was short of a few pennies.
Mr. Harris, a forty-five year old course tutor, left a message after about three weeks to say that he would like to see me and find out how I was settling in. His note included a time and directions to his study. I am not one to blow my own trumpet, but I always make a point of never being late. So I arrived at the faculty house about twenty minutes earlier than I needed to. Mr. Harris's study was round the back on the ground floor, near the back door. I strolled round the house to the back and walked along the flower border at the edge of the grass. Several of the windows were open, and the wind caught the net curtains making them fly with the breeze. A pair of french windows were open onto a path which led across the lawn to a sundial. Like the smaller windows, its long net curtains were occasionally billowing out with the wind, which is what happened as I walked past. One of the nets caught on the button of my jacket sleeve, and as I stopped to disentangle myself I looked into the room. Spotlit in a shaft of sunlight streaming through the open windows was a man with his pants down standing behind someone else who I could not make out, who was bent over the study desk. I had never seen the act of sex before 'in the flesh', only in magazines, but I knew instantly what was going on. It's a co-ed University and who wouldn't take any of the girl students if offered. I moved out of the opening of the french window and let the net curtain fall into place. There was no sudden call or reaction so I had not been detected. I carefully moved to the next window and sneaked a look. The man standing with his pants down was moving his bottom back and forward and I knew he was fucking whoever was bent over the desk as I could hear the rhythmic pants of the receiver who was breathing deeply in time to the strokes of the man behind. My knees were trembling with excitement and I could hardly breath. Then I suddenly wanted to cough. A noise like that would alert the people inside. Desperately trying to keep my cough in, I streaked silently along the back of the house to the portico of the back door. The door was open so I entered and exorcised my cough. I looked at my watch and had about five minutes before my appointment. I followed the instructions Mr. Harris had given with the note, and found his study by the name plate on the door. There was a chair beside the door, so I sat and waited for the next few minutes. It was not long before I heard voices approaching the door and the handle turned. I stood up as the door opened and Timmy Watson, a boy from my lecture group came out. Mr. Harris was shaking his hand and saying, "Remember, any time you're a bit short there's always help just round this corner." "Yes, thank you Sir, I'll remember. And thank you for this time. I'm glad Evans told me to come and see you." "Bye!" "Bye bye Sir!"
Mr.Harris's smiling gaze turned to me. His hand shot out and I automatically shook it. " You'll be Carbine. Come in, do come in." He stood to one side holding the study door open. I walked in and stopped dead in my tracks. Over on the other wall a pair of french windows stood open onto the lawn. The wind caught the net curtains and parted them to show the path leading to the sundial. This was the very room I had been peeking into, which meant that .... it was Mr. Harris, and he had been fucking Timmy Watson.
"Are you all OK old man?" I heard a distant voice asking. I came back to reality with a rush. "Oh Yes, rather. Just a bit of sun." I answered with a weak smile. I sat down in a deep, well worn leather chair which he motioned to with his hand. He sat in a similar chair facing me. As he sat down I noticed that his fly buttons were mostly undone, but he did not seem to notice or know.
"How are you getting on? Digs OK? Food? Finding your way around?" He stuck his hands in his trouser pockets and stretched his legs straight out, leaning back into the chair. His fly gaped a bit more. My mind was racing ten to the dozen. I had heard Dick Evans and Timmy Watson chatting in the lunch break. Dick was in his last year of his degree course and knew the ropes. Timmy had been bemoaning his lack of bank balance after putting down deposits for this, that and the other, and buying his text books. Dick had suggested he go see Mr. Harris and then said something under his breathe that I could not hear. Timmy just laughed and said "What really? No!!" I did not hear any more as someone knocked over my cup of tea and I had to sort that out. Now here I was, and I realised I could turn it to my advantage.
"You interested in sports? I think they've got the cricket team up and running, but I'm sure there are plenty of other sports you can get involved in." Mr. Harris was staring up at the ceiling as he spoke, and I gave a non- committal answer. He brought his head forward so that he was looking down his body at me and said "What type of sports do you like?" At that instant I made up my mind. At my last school I had had three gay affairs, and knew which way my path pointed.
"Indoor ones mainly," I said and openly scratched my crutch three or four times. Mr. Harris became motionless. His eyes locked with mine. "Indoor sports.. Much more fun," he answered and scratched his own crutch as well, still with his eyes locked on my face. I looked down at his crutch as he scratched his balls. He did not stop after three of four scratches but continued almost massaging himself there. I looked back to his face. His eyes were boring into mine. I nodded and smiled. "Yes indoor sports can be so much fun, with the right people.," I repeated.
Suddenly he leaped to his feet and stood infront of me, holding the crutch of his trousers, " Team sports or just one-to-one?" he asked. "One-to-one is just fine with me, but I'm sure I could get interested in team sports if I was introduced to the right group." One of his hands went into his flies (so he did know, the craft old sod!) and pulled out his semi-limp cock. He pulled the foreskin back and revealed the purple head. A dew drop of pre- cum formed in the piss slit. I sat up in my chair and looked up at his face. His neck was beginning to glow slightly red with excitement. "I never suck cock before tea," I said, not wanting to gobble a cock that has just been up someone else's shit shute. "But you can suck me off if you want," I finished. He gave a chuckle. "Direct little sod aren't you. Give you your due though, youre quick on the uptake." His cock was stiffening. "Get your kit off, then. Let's see what you have." He started to wank his growing hard-on. I watched as his hand slid to and fro. I stood up and took my jacket off, folded it and laid it over the back of the chair. My shirt and trousers followed. I heard him suck in his breath and say "Yessss!" quietly to himself as he saw I was wearing a jockstrap, something I always do. I turned my back to him and with my right hand pulled at the right cheek of my arse so he could see my dark brown ring, then I bent down and untied my shoe laces. He came up behind me and ran a finger up the crack of my arse gently. "Too much," he murmured. I turned to face him. He held the cup of my jock and gently squeezed my balls. My cock was making the front of my jock stick out and a wet spot was just becoming apparent. His hand moved up to my cock and he started to wank me, his fingers tracing the outline of my glans through the cotton fabric. "I want to see it" he said, his breath coming in slightly short jerks. I moved away from him and took off my shoes and socks, then moved back so he could fondle me. "It'll cost you," I said. His hand stopped momentarily as he slowly wanked me. I was almost fully hard by now and my cock is nine inches and thick without being fat. His hand slowly weighed me up and then he said, "What do you usually charge?" I looked up at him and smiled. "I'm just a poor country lad," I said in an accent, "What be the City rates then?" I then took hold of his rigid tool in my left hand and started a complimentary wank in the same style as he was doing to me. "It'll be worth your while," he said and dropped to his knees. With both hand he pulled my jock down below my knees. My cock sprang out at him. One of his hands went to my ball sac, the other to my shaft. His mouth closed round the end of my dick and his tongue started to work. I stood there with my hands on my hips, jutting my cock out infront of me whilst he went apeshit, giving me the best blowjob I had ever had.
He pulled my foreskin back and licked round the rim of the glans. He gently squeezed my balls. His head bobbed up and down my shaft whilst his hand wanked the base of my cock so the skin on my shaft tightened and slackened as he sucked at my knob. I very quickly got close to cumming, and pulled away from him moving over to the desk. There were only a few papers on it and I swept them to the floor, then lay on my back with my legs bent at the knees. He stood at the end of the desk and went down on me. Then I was aware of a finger against my anus. I lifted my legs up by holding my knees so that he could easily get to my ring. He stopped sucking me and, moving down, started to rim me. What a wonderful sensation it was to feel his tongue probing my sphincter. I concentrated on relaxing and his tongue was able to slide in deeper and deeper. He went back to my cock, and I felt his finger slide right up into me. Then I could feel my climax suddenly near. His finger massaged my prostate gland and I started shooting my wad. One, two three, four, and still he massaged my prostate so that I came and came. Seven, eight, nine. I could feel myself turning inside out with the muscular spasms of cumming. His head was just moving slowly now. He had taken the whole of my offering in his mouth. His finger slipped out and I was able to put my feet back on the table. I lay there for a few minutes getting my breath back. Mr. Harris was saying something over the other side of the room but I was still miles away. Then he swam into view with a cup of tea in his hand, "I'm sorry," he said, "was that one lump or two?" "About ten or fifteen," I said. "Silly boy," he said, warming to the joke, "in your tea."
That was the first time of many that I visited Mr. Harris, and always I was able to pay my bar bills and everything. After a few visits he suggested we went to a party, and that was when the 'team sports' started, but that is another story...to be told at a later date.