Stefan was a first-year violin student referred to me by my professor. A rather average posh kid of limited talent, he was only admitted into the conservatory because his father had called in a favour from a brother in-law who happened to be on friendly terms with the head of one of the departments. That aside, he was actually an altogether agreeable young man and, as different as we were, I sympathised with him. He couldn’t help the fact that he was being forced into a career he had no passion for, and I resolved to do my utmost to help him in whatever way I could.
Owing to his bashful nature and lack of interest when it came to music, he did not get on well with the other students in his year and I became his closest friend by default. This, I believe, provided him with the necessary motivation to work harder. To use the word “transformed” would be going too far, but after a few weeks under my supervision his playing had significantly improved.
It was my third year at university and everything was going swimmingly apart from my love life. Nearly six months had passed since I’d been home to see my lovely Katharina and I missed her terribly. The hands and mouths of the young women I tutored provided me with some release, but truth be told their attentions were a poor substitute.
The fact that another girl, the unattainable Lena, seemed to be on my mind more than ever before did not help matters either. It had been ages since her last letter and I would lie awake at night thinking about her, wondering whether she was happy with the young man she had chosen and, inevitably, lusting after her. I doubt my cock ever saw more attention from my hand than it did that year but by now I was living in an all-male dormitory and sharing a room with an amicable young man who, fortunately for us both, was a heavy sleeper.
“That’s enough for today, I think,” I said to Stefan, forcing a smile. I offered him a few words of sincere praise as he set down his bow and closed up his notes.
It was a particularly hot September afternoon and I was feeling tired and frustrated but trying hard not to let it show.
“Coffee?” he offered politely as he ran a cloth over the neck of his fiddle. I pulled out my watch and glanced at it before nodding. “Thanks.”
His countenance brightened at the prospect of spending some ‘non-student time’ with me and he had plenty of things lined up to talk about, starting with an array of questions about my professors and coursework, which would someday be his professors and coursework. I had only positive answers for him and he responded with particular interest when I regaled him with tales of my own first year. No doubt our little chats helped to ease some of his worries with regard to his future at the conservatory
There was an edge of desperation in his voice that afternoon; an eagerness in the way he spoke that signalled just how rarely he got to exchange thoughts and opinions with others. It would have been overly hasty of me to assume that he didn’t have anyone else to talk to, but a part of me couldn’t help wondering whether this was indeed the case. He never spoke of his father, which led me to deduce that there wasn’t much of a relationship of which to speak, nor did he have an older brother he could turn to for guidance. This lack came across each time he awkwardly appealed to me for advice and my heart went out to him.
At one point I sensed him wanting to broach the much more stimulating topic of the opposite sex, but he was well-mannered enough to respect that my seniority, albeit marginal, left the direction of our conversation solely up to me. I waited for him to fetch us a fresh pot of Meinl before indulging him.
“So what do you think of the girls in your year?”
He poured with great care, considering the question before answering.
“They’re alright, I suppose. A few of them seem older than they really are. They dress oddly. It’s as if they can’t wait to become their mothers.”
I chuckled at this startlingly insightful response. “Yes, I know what you mean. They’re just eager to be looked upon as adults, that’s all. Most of them will grow out of it by the end of second term.”
“That’s comforting to know,” Stefan replied with a smile.
I inhaled the steam from my coffee before looking over at him conspiratorially.
“Just between us, have you got your eye on anyone in particular?”
His smile broadened. “Hmm… do you know Maria Ulster?”
I did. “Second year clarinet, right?”
“She’s nice,” I offered appreciatively.
“Do you really think so?”
Flattered by the amount of stock he put in my opinion, I assured him that I found the young lady in question very attractive indeed. Convinced of my approval, he relaxed somewhat and proceeded to discuss her further. From the way he spoke I could tell he was more smitten than he let on. It was actually rather sweet how he made a point of stressing her musical talent in order to sell her to me.
“She’s certainly gifted,” I agreed. “And very pretty. You have good taste.”
Stefan leaned back into his chair, looking relieved and utterly content. “Thank you," he said in a vain attempt to sound casual.
“Have you spoken to her?”
“A couple of times. I don’t often get the chance to see her.”
“I’ll put in a word for you. Her sister is a good friend of mine.”
“Would you really?” he asked, a look of joy spreading across his boyish face.
“Sure,” I replied with a warm little grin before sipping my coffee.
It was at about that point the conversation that I began to entertain the notion of seducing him.
Call it frustration, curiosity, hormones, a wicked mind, boredom or all of the above. Something about the way he looked that day, the graceful ease with which his hands moved when he gestured, the gentle rise and fall of his voice struck me as charming and it suddenly occurred to me that I could have more from this boy if I wanted to. And naturally my immediate response to that thought was that I did want more. Indeed the very prospect set my heart racing, a truly enthralling sensation I had not felt for some time.
At first I just wanted to see how far I could take things. To have a bit of fun. Soon, however, I gave in to my baser, more honest desires and before it had even begun the harmless game quickly escalated into a serious wager with myself. The side of me that scoffed and said I couldn’t possibly do it versus the side that said oh yes, I most definitely could. I had lured girls into doing all manner of things that went against their principles and upbringing. Why not this young man? The challenge intrigued me and I happily accepted it.
“Have you ever been with a girl?” I asked, perhaps a tad unceremoniously.
“I said ‘have you ever fucked a girl?’”
After a startled pause Stefan’s eyes turned downward and he shook his head. He really was quite attractive when he was embarrassed. Why I hadn’t seen it before I could not say, but now I found myself unable to take my eyes off of him.
“Waiting for marriage, are you?”
“I suppose so,” he replied timidly.
“That’s admirable,” I said in the least judgemental tone I could conjure up and let the words sink in before assuming an air of superiority. “Mind you, I could never wait until my wedding night. I’m much too weak.”
Stefan perked up but his reaction was hardly one of surprise. It was almost as if he had expected me to say that. Evidently word of my exploits had reached the ears of first-year students as well. He looked as though a hundred questions were racing around in his mind, none of which were appropriate to ask.
“You’re supposed to act shocked,” I teased, pouring myself another cup of coffee. He blinked and rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably before it dawned on him that I was just being playful.
“It’s ok,” I grinned. “I’m aware of my reputation and I’m not ashamed of it.”
Stefan tentatively returned my grin, which pleased me. After a moment’s hesitation he spoke.
“May I ask you something?”
Leaning forward in his chair and shyly biting his lower lip he said, “Is it true you sleep with a different girl every night?” There was a mixture of trepidation and awe in his voice, but I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the question. It is one thing to know you’re being talked about and quite another to hear exactly what’s being said about you.
“Hardly,” I replied with genuine amusement. “I haven’t had sex in ages.”
“Rumour has it that you only tutor pretty girls. I thought...”
I shook my head lightly. “I’ve never had sex with any of my students.”
He seemed genuinely perplexed at this and, seeing how eager he was to hear more, I proceeded to clarify.
“I’ve been intimate with some of them, yes. And some flirtations have gone farther than others; but never so far as lovemaking. There’s plenty of fun to be had without going all the way.”
It looked as though he had just about grasped what I meant, though his face still retained an expression of disbelief.
“Sex is the most incredible thing in the world, Stefan. Take my word for it. But like all good things in life it comes at a price. There are… responsibilities involved.”
“Fathering a child, you mean?” he chimed in.
“Precisely. Which is why it’s so sensible of you to wait.”
Stefan looked ready to argue this point but stopped himself abruptly. I smiled at this show of upper middle class courtesy and posed his question for him.
“So why didn’t I wait, right?”
He cocked his head and looked at me expectantly. With a little sigh I carefully selected my words.
“I had the good fortune to win the favour of an experienced woman who took this responsibility from me. She was unable to bear children.”
My captive audience of one sat perched on the edge of his seat and I went on.
“She was a great deal older than me. Extremely cultured, intelligent. Absolutely stunning. Long auburn hair, full red lips, the face of an angel. And her body..
. The gods were truly generous when they made her,” I said, giving him a moment to savour the picture I had painted for him.
“Fate smiled on me the day I met her. She was my first lover and she taught me so many invaluable lessons…about women, sex, life and myself. She took me under her wing and introduced me to delights I had never dreamed of. In doing so, she showed me how to give pleasure and how to be a good lover. Her patient hand helped to shape me into what I am today. I am and will always be a product of her instruction.”
At that I stopped to gather my thoughts and take another sip from the blue porcelain cup I had been cradling in my hands throughout my narrative. The tepid liquid tasted bland but refreshed me nonetheless. Placing it on the table, my gaze strayed back to Stefan , who was sporting a most evident erection. He made no attempt to hide it, but only because he was so engrossed in what I was sharing with him. I took special care not to focus on it and continued.
“As I said, I was lucky. Not many young men are ushered into manhood the way I was. Half of the boys at the halls of residence have been down to the red light district at one time or another.”
This intrigued him. His curiosity was written all over his face and after a considerable pause he ventured to ask as tactfully as he possibly could, "And you? Have you ever been there?”
I gave him an ambiguous look and left his imagination to flounder a while before continuing.
“We all have needs. Some men are careless and end up married to girls they only intended to spend the night with.”
“Right...” Stefan attempted to respond knowingly, though he was plainly struggling to take in what he was being told and hadn’t the slightest clue how to react. It had been so long since I'd associated with a non-libertine, I'd forgotten there still existed people my age who were pure of mind and body.
But this boy was simply too comely for virginity.
What an injustice that his shyness--mistaken by others as arrogance, no doubt--kept him from sampling the sweetest fruits life has to offer. And yet on the other hand I was titillated by the prospect of being the one to introduce him to the ways of the flesh. His inexperience would render seduction all too easy.
Growing ever more anxious to claim my victory, I took it upon myself to enlighten him further.
"Chaps who don’t want the hassle of responsibility go to prostitutes,” I concluded, taking my cup in both hands and settling back into my seat. A couple of seconds passed before I gave Stefan a discernibly challenging look. “Or have it off with each other.”
His eyes widened and he leaned forward so far he nearly fell off the edge of his chair.
“Are you serious?” he asked in a hushed voice.
“Mm,” I nodded, finishing my now cold coffee.
He stared off at the wall for a minute, processing this startling new piece of information. Then he grinned faintly, as if he’d reached a conclusion of some sort.
he asked with narrowed eyes, his voice barely audible. Oh Christ,
I thought with an inward sigh before swiftly reproaching myself, remembering that I, too, had once been ignorant of such things. Contrary to my initial assumption, seducing this boy would require more tact and patience than I was currently in the mood to offer, but one glance at his angelic face and my hormones kicked in, assuring me that the rewards would be well worth the effort.
“It’s simple,” I replied nonchalantly. “One assumes the role of the girl and the other…well… takes the lead .”
I intentionally kept it vague in hopes that he would work it out for himself but I knew I would inevitably have to resort to more vulgar terms. Not at all surprisingly, he shook his head. “But physically… I just don’t see how
Moment of truth. My success was riding on my choice of words and how confidently I delivered them. With the coolness of a specialist I gave him the clinical reply.
“It’s exactly the same as regular intercourse, only instead of vaginal penetration it’s done anally.”
Stefan looked shocked but my description obviously caused something to click into place in his mind and the confusion in his face gave way to unease; the sort that comes with hearing some deeply unsettling truth for the very first time.
“You find the idea abhorrent?” I goaded, my tone coming across as that of an adult addressing a child.
He seemed to have temporarily lost the ability to speak. If he and I were equals he would undoubtedly have had plenty to say, but he knew better than to profess an opinion about such a tricky issue; especially when faced with the prospect that his views might run counter to mine.
I was certain that he felt uncomfortable and that a part of him wanted nothing more than for me to drop the subject. But for the other part, the part that couldn’t help itself, I pressed on.
“Sex between men is not like sex between a man and a woman,” I offered in my most everybody-knows-that tone of voice. “It’s much more… physical. More intense.”
He plainly did not want to hear my words, and yet he was compelled to do so. The nature of our relationship demanded that he listen, as did his own morbid curiosity. I had presented his innocent eyes with an horrific scene from which he was unable to look away.
“Not for the faint of heart,” I continued, inconspicuously assessing him from head to toe before inspecting my fingernails and making a mental note to trim them. “There’s a certain element of pain involved, as you can imagine.”
I looked over at him again and saw that he was doing just that. Imagining it. His gaze was unfocussed and he was rubbing his palms compulsively against his knees. I had him right where I wanted him. The old, familiar sensations took hold of me, one after another. The tingling in my spine; the tightening in my groin; all the delectable stirrings within that precedes arousal. Pausing a second to savour the sweet taste of imminent victory, I fixed him in my sights.
“Whether he admits to it or not, every man thinks about it. Fantasises about it at some point. But most are too afraid to try the real thing.”
Stefan’s unwary brain ate up this last statement and he pondered it, so completely absorbed by what he had heard that my presence was momentarily forgotten. After quite a long silence his eyes met mine and his face assumed a serious expression that I found rather becoming. It was like catching a brief glimpse of what he might look like in five or ten years’ time. My mind was already jumping forward to the most depraved and explicit scenes of debauchery as it concocted more lines to bait him further.
“They think it’s... unnatural.”
Again I paused, my eyes lingering on his as he sat there with bated breath, wondering what obscene revelation would come out of my mouth next. And what did come out of my mouth next surprised me as much as I’m certain it did him.
“But if our Creator, in all His infinite wisdom, did not intend for men to copulate with each other… why
did He make sodomy so unfathomably pleasurable
There. I’d done it. If there were any doubts remaining in his mind at that point, surely they’d been obliterated by that last remark. Even as my pulse fluttered madly with excitement I eyed him up and down, every bit as in control as a man in my state of mind could possibly be.
I followed his expression as it changed. It’s funny how something as subtle as the look on a person’s face can be so effortlessly interpreted and yet so difficult to put into words. Stefan appeared to be experiencing any number of thoughts and feelings. Bafflement, dread, astonishment and denial were almost certainly among them. I suspected this because I had been in his position once. And, like myself, I also suspected that deep down he was wondering what it would be like, this hideous and forbidden act. Thus is human nature.
Figuring that things had been taken far enough for the time being, I thanked him for the coffee and left him to his thoughts. The seed had been planted. What happened next would be up to him.
Once at home, I fell onto my bed and closed my eyes. Grinning and playfully scolding myself for my cheek, I rhythmically stroked my cock as my imagination yielded forth image after graphic image of what I would do to the boy the next time we were alone. The fantasy was rich in detail and produced a swift and satisfying climax, after which I dozed off, feeling utterly spent.
Our next lesson was scheduled for the following Thursday. As agreed, Stefan came round to my place. There was no doubt in my mind that he would show, and show he did. Punctual, as usual; greeting me politely, as usual. But once inside, he confessed to not feeling prepared for the day’s lesson and asked if we could talk instead. This I heartily agreed to and I took a seat on the piano bench.
“What’s on your mind?” I asked with feigned detachment, gesturing him to take a seat.
“If you don’t mind,” he ventured, perching on the edge of the chaise lounge, “I’d like to pick up where we left off last week.” The words were spoken with a slow, uncharacteristic determination which half made me suspect he had rehearsed them.
My eyebrow shot upward entirely of its own accord. “Oh?”
There was a pensive look on his face.
"What was the meaning of it?" he asked, his eyes boldly locked upon mine. "You were so kind to me. So different from the others. We haven't known each other all that long, and it's hard to read whether you were playing tricks with me or..."
"Or speaking the truth?" I earnestly finished the thought he could not bring himself to utter. "Which would you prefer?"
He did not answer, but merely shook his head.
At last he brought himself to ask the inevitable question. “Have you really
A little smile crept across my face and I felt rather like a cat must feel when toying with its living prey. I was enjoying the moment immensely and opted to dangle the allusive answer in front of him a bit longer.
“Have I really what?”
I felt the indicative stirring as my cock began to harden and I set my empty cup down on the table. It wasn’t easy to conceal my mischievous amusement when I noticed the colour rising in his cheeks. For an instant he looked on the verge of backing out, but his inquisitiveness triumphed in the end.
“Done it. With another man.” Well done, young Stefan!
I thought and mentally applauded him for having the courage to ask so bold a question. I’d underestimated him, it seemed.
“Variety is the spice of life,” I offered by way of reply, winking amicably as I got to my feet and stretched. Stefan merely sat there frozen to the spot, blinking in disbelief at the answer he’d just received. Seizing the opportunity, I intentionally stepped closer to him than strictly necessary.
“I’m sure you’ve heard that one.”
With that I reached down and casually ran my fingers through his hair as my eyes bored into his. Unable or unwilling to respond, he stared back up at me in silence. He could not possibly have guessed it but in fact I felt more attuned to what was going on in his head than I did to my own turbulent thoughts. I had once been in his place; felt the strange mixture of fear, confusion and excitement I was subjecting him to now.
Even after all the experience I had gained I would never have credited myself with such shameless behaviour. But the more intimidated he grew, the more presumptuous I became. It was all happening so fast.
“Stand up,” I instructed. The briefest moment of hesitation followed before he slowly rose from his seat. I took another little step toward him so that our bodies were lightly touching and he did not back away. His breathing was noticeably heavier and he glanced uneasily to the side.
“When is he due back?” he asked, referring to my flatmate, which caught me off guard. In no fit state to go into details with him, it took me a few seconds to come up with a flustered “Late.”
Acting much more in charge than I felt, I stroked his cheek with the back of my hand and his dark lashes fluttered shut. The callused tips of my fingers ran down his neck and undid the knot in his tie.
“If you don’t want to, just say so and I’ll stop,” I said rather too magnanimously and immediately felt like an idiot for it. Stefan just stood there looking far from reassured but did not utter a word of protest. I took in his scent and examined him at close range as I unbuttoned his shirt . My God
, he really is a fine specimen of young German manhood
, I thought to myself, contemplating what I was going to do with him.
I had grown to like him, I’ll freely admit, but as I stood there studying his face he was less a person to me than an object. I cared not what was going through his mind. Why he was going along with it was his business. All that mattered was the relentless throbbing in my loins and the potential relief he could offer me. The port in the storm. The oasis in the desert. Nothing more and nothing less.
“Give me your hand,” I whispered. His eyes opened but his gaze fell to the floor at once. I gave him a moment before repeating the command and this time his hand reluctantly inched forward before stopping midway. When he began to quietly stammer the predictable “I don’ts” and “I’ve nevers” I cut him off and assured him that it was alright.
He correctly assumed what was expected of him and touched his fingertips to the protrusion at the front of my trousers. Unnecessary though it was, I covered his hand with mine and moved it over the length of my cock. He offered no resistance to my instruction and when I let go he handled me with the same familiarity as he would himself, putting aside all shyness to stroke, explore and run his fingers along the outline of my erection. It swelled further inside my trousers and I soon found myself growing--I freely admit--more aroused than I had been in quite some time.
“That’s good,” I encouraged him breathily as my fingers worked at the buttons of my waistcoat. He continued to fondle me as I slipped out of it and moved on to my tie. Once I’d loosened it I leaned in close to him and sank my teeth into the soft flesh of his earlobe as I undid the top button of his trousers. His breathing instantly quickened and I could feel a slight trembling in his touch.
Simultaneously we both stopped and I closed my eyes to take in the headiness of that perfect moment
Stefan swallowed hard and looked at me but did as he was told. Reaching around him I fumbled with his trouser buttons and felt an unmistakable firmness beneath the material covering his groin. His hands came up and helped with the remaining buttons.
“Will it hurt?” I heard him inquire from miles away, a slight quivering in his voice.
My hands carried on with the task of undressing him.
“I won’t lie to you. The first time is the most painful,” I said at last, unfastening my belt.
I could practically hear his heart hammering away in his chest and I won’t deny that it pleased me. Excited me, in fact.
I opened my trousers and glanced down at my cock, engorged and wet. My shaft protruding like warm steel wrapped in skin, I began to work my foreskin up and down it, stroking myself calmly as I leaned forward and brought my mouth close to Stefan’s ear.
“But once it stops hurting, the sensation is just… indescribable,” I whispered, unable to control the shakiness in my voice. It was becoming harder to think straight and I conceded that the time for words was over.
Pressing my hand against his back, I slowly bent him over the grand piano. The anticipation was driving me out of my mind and I couldn’t wait to get on with it. Wetting my fingers I grabbed him firmly and sought out his virgin opening as eagerly as I would have done with a beautiful girl. He reacted a little to my touch but held still. While I had every intention of fucking him gently, I was altogether impatient when it came to introducing my finger into his arse. A distinctive moan escaped his lips and his body tensed the instant it was offered this first taste of penetration. I nearly apologised but checked myself in time.
He was so tight I could feel the circulation in my finger being pinched off but I worked it steadily into him, past the first knuckle, then the second until I was all the way inside. At once I set to work breaking him in, firmly thrusting my finger in and out of his hitherto undefiled orifice, all the while gagging to get on with it. The situation, however, called for patience. I was determined to make it as pleasurable a deflowering as humanly possible.
After I had fingered him a good long while his breaths grew short and shallow as tension gradually gave way to sexual excitement. The instant I felt him begin to relax I withdrew my finger and pressed the wet, swollen tip of my manhood to his anus. As I held it there I sensed him suppressing the urge to struggle beneath me. I knew just how he felt; knew the power of intimidation and what a colossal force it was when combined with blind, helpless arousal.
He panted and gripped the edge of the smooth wooden lid when I began to apply pressure, obviously in pain but doing his best to take it like a man. His ring reluctantly yielded to my girth and I inched my way inside, forcing myself to wait until his body had acclimatised itself to me.
When I had finally eased about halfway into him, all I could feel was the indefinable bliss of being inside him. The divine embrace that is penetration. It didn’t occur to me just how much I had missed it until that moment.
I listened to his breathing, waited for it to slow, then I held him tightly and began to move in and out of him, less concerned now about how comfortable he was, for I knew the worst bit was over. It felt so good I was beyond caring whether the sounds he was making were of pleasure or pain. Either way they touched on the naked, primal lust within me and it was all I could do to keep myself from giving in to the desire to come and be done with it.
Instead I breathed deeply, established a calm rhythm, closed my eyes and immersed myself in the perfect satisfaction of the act. He let out a soft moan each time I drove into him, which only encouraged me to do it harder and before long he was actually meeting my thrusts. As incredible as it sounds, there could be no mistaking the fact that he liked what was being done to him. I ravished him as deeply as I could in that position and he gasped for air, his sweaty fingers clawing at the polished wood of the piano top.
Another wave of pleasure approached and I stopped just in time. I would have been only too glad to let it inundate me, but it was important to me that he should finish first. I knew, however, that the next urge would not be as easy to keep at bay.
“Alright?” I inquired breathlessly and he nodded, inching his legs fractionally apart. With a satisfied grin I guided his palms to the edge of the piano lid and held them there with mine. The skin on our hands was moist and slippery, so my fingers entwined with his, helping him to brace himself as I resumed fucking him.
There was groaning, cursing, sighing. It was all very primitive and rough.
Sweaty, raw, animalistic sex in its basest form.
he whimpered over and over again as I picked up my pace and rammed into him. He did not hold out for very long under this assault and soon his cries rose in pitch, his body went rigid and he surrendered to what I could only ascertain was an altogether unprecedented orgasm. His delectable moans accompanied me as I cast aside all remaining decorum and thrust into him as hard as I could until, with one loud moan after another, I erupted inside him.
After regaining our breath I withdrew and gave him a congratulatory pat on the back. He was still reeling from the experience as I began to dress but if he was feeling any regret about what we’d just done I certainly couldn’t detect it.
* * * * *
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