The timid panting of the young man beneath me was stifled by the pillow his glistening fingers clung to as I rhythmically impaled him with a passionate dedication. Despite his best attempts to be quiet he would let out a little moan now and again that caused a delectable twitching deep in my lower abdomen and I would counter the sensation by taking a deep breath and turning my face up toward the dark ceiling before focusing once more on my thrusts. I myself was far too disciplined to let so much as the tiniest whimper escape my lips, ecstatic though the moment was, but my ears never tired of the music made by a lover in the throes of sexual delight.
I fucked the way I had been fucked and it seemed to meet with the young man's approval. He had been a neophyte to the world of sodomy until I came along and defiled him. What is more, he had taken an instant liking to it, which pleased me greatly for it ensured a more or less reliable source of full sex, something I could not in good conscience demand of my female students. I say more or less because Stefan and I had our respective flatmates to take into consideration, and intercourse of the Greek variety tends to take longer and calls for a much greater level of privacy than the odd stolen moment of oral or manual stimulation.
Much to our wicked delight, Stefan’s flatmate was to be out of town for at least two days, so I spent the night at his place and, needless to say, we did very little sleeping. An indubitable hint of adolescent excitement filled the little room that evening and we shagged like rabbits, only stopping to rest now and again.
Stefan was not as ostensibly handsome as Christian, but he was
pretty in a boyish sort of way. As had been the case with Christian, I felt no desire to kiss him, though I suspected I might be swayed to behave more affectionately toward him once I’d got a few drinks in me. The next day being a Friday, we both had class in the morning and thus were limited to coffee, but I made a mental note of introducing alcohol into the equation when the next opportunity presented itself. Nevertheless, we managed to extract plenty of enjoyment out of one another, sober though we were, before giving over to sleep sometime around midnight.
I dreamt of Katharina. Of making mad passionate love to her in her grand bed, just as I would when we next met. Her every touch, embrace and kiss radiated a warmth that was at once maternal and evocative. I would mention the dream in my next letter to her, for I knew it would please her to read it.
It was still dark when I resurfaced to consciousness and the sensation of Stefan gently grinding his backside against my cock, which I realised was as stiff as a board. His movements were so subtle that they might almost have been mistaken for unconscious, though the hand that reached back and took hold of my erection did so with a most definite intent.
I placed two fingers to his quivering orifice, still tight despite being so thoroughly abused mere hours ago, and he moaned softly. I touched my lips to his warm shoulder blade and inhaled. He smelled of sex, of the masculine fragrance of our combined sweat and juices. It emanated from the sheets we lay upon and hung faintly in the air. A cool breeze blew in through the open window and with it the unfathomable stillness of the sleeping city outside, cautioning those few who dared stir at such an hour not to disturb its slumber.
Sometimes the necessity to be quiet can be a nuisance, but at that moment I found it highly stimulating and it only made my arousal all the more intense. Perhaps Stefan was feeling the same thing. Perhaps not. Either way, the fact remained that he clearly wanted to be fucked and I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to oblige.
“Are you sore?” I whispered as I tentatively explored his back passage with my fingertips. He arched his back like the most content of cats and shook his head. “No,” he added sleepily, his fingers closing more tightly around my shaft.
“You sure?” I asked and slipped my middle finger into him. He turned his head and gave me the most provocative grin imaginable, as if to say ‘go on, I dare you.’
Which brings us back to the muffled sounds of laboured breathing. Stefan turned out to be a natural at the art of being fucked quietly when the occasion called for it (which it usually did). I held out until I heard the barely audible but unmistakeable sounds of his climax and was rewarded by the most delicious twitching and tightening around my manhood. This, naturally, was all it took to elicit a mind-numbing orgasm from me and before his moans had died down I was depositing stream after stream of my essence deep inside him.
* * * * *
The sweltering heat is getting to us all, students and professors alike, but somehow we make it through the day.
Dying of thirst, I readily agree to go out for a few beers with a handful of the more amicable fellows in my class, one of whom is celebrating his twenty-third birthday, and I invite Stefan along. He positively beams when I introduce him as “my friend” and the guys welcome him as one of their own straightaway. The eight of us settle around a table at the back of a smoky tavern and the first round of drinks arrives, followed by the second, the fourth, the sixth…
I am pleased to see Stefan engaged in conversation with my classmates and enjoying himself. From time to time he’ll look over at me and his eyes will linger on mine before we turn our attention back to the chatter at the table, which is growing rowdier with each new round the waitress brings. I’m enjoying myself and it appears he is as well, but the stolen glances are abundant throughout the evening. I know I am not the only one looking forward to retreating to the quiet room and picking up where we left off in the morning.
It’s past ten now, we’re all at various stages of drunkenness and the first part of the evening is drawing to a close. A couple of the guys have trains to catch the next morning, so we bid them goodnight and the young man who is now officially a year older invites the rest of us back to his place to continue the festivities. The others accept but I say I have a student first thing in the morning, which elicits a knowing grin or two. “How about you, Stefan?” they turn to him and ask. He politely declines, insisting he’s knackered and could do with a lie down.
My cock feels splendidly heavy as the two of us stroll along the lit-up street, neither of us in any particular hurry. The city is buzzing with life in the summer night and so are we. There is only one thing on my mind but the anticipation is as much a part of it as the fucking itself, the orgasm and the afterglow. We exchange light-headed jokes about a few things that were said amongst the guys earlier as we weave our way through the dark alleys toward the posh neighbourhood of the first district.
When we reach Stefan’s flat he can’t seem to unlock the door. Laughing, I take the key from him and, being in the same sorry state as he, have just as hard a time. But between us we manage it in the end and stagger up the dark staircase and along the corridor, where the sounds of voices and laughter resonate from behind the doors we pass. At last we come to the right one and, following more fumbling with the keys, we’re inside. It’s cool in the room, but stuffy. I open the window and light the lamp while Stefan slips out of his shoes, struggling to maintain his balance as he does so.
“Come here,” I say, extinguishing the match and I watch as he stumbles towards me. I slide his jacket off of him and he loosens his tie. I am about to help him out of his waistcoat when it happens. He looks at me, his lips parted slightly and I just have to do it. I am not timid about it either. My tongue slips hungrily into his mouth and not only does he welcome it, he reciprocates in like fashion. Our first kiss. All thought momentarily ceases and I can only feel. In an instant the kiss has escalated into something bearing more resemblance to an act of aggression than one of affection. Our mouths carry on fervently as we wriggle out of our clothes. My fingers are in his hair and he is pulling me, naked and dizzy, over to the bed.
Eager to get on with it, he lies down on his stomach (the little slut) but I turn him onto his back and crawl over him. A look of mild surprise crosses his face, for we have never done it in this position before, but he quickly adapts. We kiss deeply and much more slowly this time, every nerve in my body awake and crackling with energy. The unbridled lust within me manifests itself physically; it seeps from the slit of my swollen glans and trickles down my shaft. I gather some of it with my fingers and press them to Stefan’s anus, pulling his knee up to my chest for better access. Two slick fingertips slither into him and he lets out a little sigh.
I can only snatch up the odd detail here and there through the alcohol-induced fog, but each one is vivid. The way his breathing changes when I begin to move my fingers in and out of him; the way the hairs on his shin feel against my torso; the warm, bitter taste of beer on his lips and tongue. I’m relishing the kiss and can tell that he is too. He moans softly into my mouth as I continue to finger him and my cock twitches, eager for its turn. But we have hours of lustful play ahead of us yet and I want to take my time. To fuck him, yes; but also to make love to him, to explore him, to leave no urge unsatisfied, be it his or mine. You might think this is the alcohol talking and if so, you’re partly right. But it is something else as well. Something that has been creeping up on me for some time now. A plain but potent truth, a tingling in the pit of my stomach, a sinking sensation deep in my chest. I am falling for this boy.
With an adoring sigh I lick my way over the downy hairs of his cheek and he turns his head as though anticipating my next move. Grabbing a fistful of his hair I plunge my tongue inside his ear and can hear the grin in his voice as he moans his approval. His back arches and his stiff cock presses hard against me, its moist tip kissing the flesh of my upper thigh. His sphincter contracts around my fingers and I force them further up his arse while my lips wander back to his.
At one point his fingertips brush against my prick. I press his palm to it and guide his hand up my shaft to signal him to continue. He masturbates me with a saint’s patience and dedication; touches me in exactly the way I want to be touched. His movements mirror the slow pace of our kiss and once more I am overwhelmed by the acute feelings of lust this boy so effortlessly induces in me. My mouth breaks away from his, ending our kiss abruptly. I have to have him.
In my ravenous desire I fear I’m a tad too hasty and he winces when I push past his barrier. There isn’t a trace of pain in the sighs that immediately follow, however. On the contrary, he looks as though he is in heaven and I know just how he feels. I could die tonight and be perfectly content. Just grant me these last tender minutes in this boy’s embrace and I could depart from this world a happy man.
And God, the sounds he is making. The purrs, groans and cries he produces in ecstatic response to my assault, it is all more than any mortal should be asked to bear. I am going to come…
Gently but firmly I sink my teeth into his lower lip, distantly aware that I’m doing it but he only throws his head back and carries on fuelling my lust with that velvety voice of his.
The sound of our breathing echoes in my ears as we make the transition from hard to harder sex. What I am doing to him would likely be classified as brutality if we weren’t both so into it. He goes quiet and I feel the fluid warmth of his climax spreading between our bodies, calling forth the same response in me. How animalistic and divine it feels to come inside him. Exhaling a breathy profanity I collapse onto his heaving chest, sweat running down my back as I fight to catch my breath.
I pull out of him and roll onto my back beside him. His skin is glowing in the dim light, making him look truly divine in every sense of the word.
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<a href="https://www.lushstories.com/stories/gay-male/stefan-cont.aspx">Stefan (cont.)</a>