William

Ethan looks up at me with my cock in his mouth, his lips stretched around the shaft, his eyes a little wet with tears from the strain. I have a strange urge, independent of the throbbing in my balls. I stop holding his hair so tightly and…pet him. Stroke my hand down the back of his head and neck. He shudders a little when I touch the nape of his neck with my fingers and reaches up to put his hands on my hips.

There's something in his eyes. A plea. A request. He pushes harder, and the hot wetness of his throat envelopes my cock. He wants this, I realize. He's enjoying it. I think he even needs it.

I grip his head and bring him to my hips. He squirms and struggles as my cock works deeper, deeper still, until his tongue touches my balls and I almost explode.

He called me sir.

I let him go. He falls back shaking, my cock and his face covered in spit. I've…I've never had my dick sucked like this. Crudities like comparing him to a vacuum don't suffice. He doesn't give me a blowjob, he makes love to my manhood with his mouth. I almost touch his shoulder to slow him; I'm getting close.

Somehow he knows and does it himself, even stopping just to use his hands. His innocent, boyish face lights up with a smile and a wicked, almost hateful lust bubbles up inside me. Part of me wants to come now, all over that face. Make him mine. I reach down and stroke my fingers down his cheek, feeling the stubble, then touch his throat, feel his pulse, stroke my thumb over his Adam’s apple.

He cups my throbbing balls lovingly, holds my shaft with his hand, and opens wide, diving back into the best, most amazing, most tender blowjob I've ever had. He doesn't just pull me into his mouth and pump his head. He lay soft, warm kisses down the shaft and back up again. His lips tickle and tease just behind the head, along the underside, and every muscle in my body clenches in response.

He's testing me. Ethan is toying with my cock, finding the sensitive spots that make me come apart. He bats it back and forth a little in his hand, playing with it before he takes me in his mouth again, his eyes closing in ecstasy.

I feel like a god standing on an altar while he worships me. He squirms and moves against me, grinding my body into his legs…and he's hard again, his cock pulsing and swaying between his legs as he moves. It's beautiful; I want it, like I want him.

He puts his hands on my ass and squeezes, caresses me all over. He uses his chest and throat to stroke my dick in between bouts of sucking, drawing me closer and closer to the edge and pulling back, again and again, driving me insane with need.

Ethan looks up at me. He holds me in both hands and runs his thumb over the head, so close I can feel him breathing on it. I've never been this hard in my life. I could fuck my way through a bank vault.

“I want you to come now,” he says so softly, a statement that leaves his lips like a question, a plea, a lusty, heated murmur of desire.

Then he takes me in again. All the way in. I don't even have to push. He doesn't stop until his face is against my stomach.

I've been pushed so far already, I can't stop it. I throb, pulse, and explode in his throat. I don't even know how he holds his breath this long, but he takes it all before drawing back.

He flops on the floor, his cock falling back against his stomach, twitching as he breathes. Lying there with his legs apart and his cock bared, he falls back further, tipping his hips up. Exposing his asshole to me. I can remember it around my fingers—tight and hot and gripping, leaving me hollow with vicious, animal need.

He's so perfect, and just the way he's lying there, he begs to be fucked.

I fumble in the old nightstand I use for a sofa table. Ethan watches me, saying nothing as I roll the condom down my shaft and slather lube generously on my cock.

He sucks in a sharp breath as I dive towards him, only to let it out quickly and gasp again as I attack his balls with my lips, licking and tasting him while I finger lube into his ass. He groans when I slip a second finger in, and I feel him pulse, so hungry to feel that around my shaft that I can barely stand it.

My cock is steel again—that's a first. I stroke it in my fist, working in more lube. He looks at me…and his ass winks, his sweet hole tensing. Somehow he does it just as he winks with his eye and licks his lips.

Then I'm on him. I glide over him, letting his cock slide down my stomach as I move up to thrust my tongue into his mouth. He pulls his hips up, curling his body, and with a loud double slap grabs his own ass cheeks and spreads them.

He moans, long and deep and strained, letting out a little squeak as my shaft spreads him open. He shudders beneath me and lets out a long, rolling sigh of pleasure and relaxes, throwing his legs around me to keep his ass at the perfect angle for thrusting.

I plant my hands on the floor. I feel like an animal, a beast, rutting with a virgin sacrifice. Is he?

The way he sucks cock, he can't be. I don't care. He feels like one as I take him, moves like one, moans like one. He rakes his nails down my chest and drives me to thrust harder.

Then he looses his legs and twists out from under me. Turning, he belly-flops onto the floor and pulls his knees up, lifting his ass.

The sight of his cheeks swallowing me, his body stretching around me, is almost enough to make me lose it right there.

I put my hands down on his arms. I like pinning him and he likes being pinned. He's quiet as I fuck him, his face reflexively going slack before his lips turn into a smile, before his expression is overwhelmed into slackness by a loud gasp.

He…does something. His ass tightens around me, gripping me when I bottom out. My balls hit his when I thrust. He squirms and shudders under me, flexing his back to let me drive deeper, harder, faster.

I throw my head up and cry out as I explode again. Ethan shudders and moans, rising into a steady whimper as his whole body pulses.

Slowly, I draw out of him and pull back. He jerks, his body curling as his legs fall forward. He came all over himself…and my floor. Still shaking, he falls on his side.

Ethan lies there, still shaking. I run my hand over his flushed face and he almost instinctively sucks my thumb…and gives it a little bite.

“Does that happen often?” I ask him.

“Not very,” he murmurs, his voice a throaty purr. “It takes a big cock and someone who knows how to use it.”

He rolls onto his back and his slick cock falls against his body.

He gasps again when I lick him clean—gently, after he winces, my first attentions too rough. He relaxes, nearly melting into the floor as his body goes slack.

Panting, he continues to lie there while I stand up and discard the condom in the kitchen trash can and stagger a little.

I am bare-assed naked in my apartment with my teaching assistant, who I just fucked senseless in two different ways. My cum is all over his shirt and I don't even know how it got there.

I can't stop staring at him either. Why do I love a man's legs so much? His calves, the muscles of his thighs, a runner's leg, and his stomach, and that beautiful cock.

How did I let this happen?

Ethan shrugs out of his shirt and rolls over, looking at the floor. Still naked, he traipses through the kitchen, finds a paper towel, and goes to clean up after himself, all as if walking around in my home buck-assed naked is completely normal.

I blink a few times and realize I'm naked, too. I gape at him.

“Do you have laundry in here?”

“It's on the ground floor,” I say reflexively, without thinking.

“Oh,” he says, sounding almost chipper. “Can you wash this for me, then? I don't want to go down there shirtless.”

I stare at him and try to look through him and not grow aroused again. It's a difficult effort. Even looking at his face turns me on, his eyes, his lips…

“I…I'll get you something else,” I say, thinking quickly. “You need to go.”

He looks hurt, and a cold hook rips into my chest.

“I shouldn't have let this happen. You need to leave.”

“Oh,” he says, his expression darkening. “So you've had your fun, and it's time for me to take the walk of shame?”

I flinch.

“No,” I say, stepping towards him.

I move closer and rest my hands on his arms. He blinks a few times and looks down.

“It's for your own good. This wouldn't just destroy my career, it would cut yours off at the knees before you even start. I can't be that selfish. I'm not going to use you as a toy at the expense of how you live your life.”

“What do you mean?”

“I'd get fired for sleeping with a student.”

His lips curl and he says, sardonically, “We didn't sleep.”

I sigh. “I'm sure everyone who says that thinks they came up with it.”

He gives me a mischievous look.

I close my eyes and try to focus.

“Ethan, you can't be the guy who slept with his professor. It'll follow you. I've heard of it before. University teaching posts…it's vicious. Cutthroat. I'm so hard on you because, frankly, you need it if you're going to make it work. I've always seen the potential in you.”

I open my eyes and he's staring at me, competing emotions warring across his face. Elation, annoyance, confusion.

Then he smirks.

“What else have you always seen in me?”

When my gaze skims his chest, his tight stomach, his perfect legs, his throat, those magnificent lips…I want to answer him without crudity, instead crushing him in my arms with a wild kiss that leads to more animalistic fucking.

Ethan steps closer to me, moving into the circle of my arms, and puts his hands on my chest. My pulse rocks against his palms, and he starts to rise, reaching to kiss me.

I turn.

“In the morning, I'll figure something out. Make arrangements for you to work for someone else without losing face or damaging your career. I'll need your help.”

“No,” he says, petulantly, and the twist of his mouth makes me want him even more.

“What do you mean, no?” I snap.

“I mean no,” he says, tilting up his chin. “Do you think you just pump and dump me that easy?”

He takes my cock in his hand so deftly I don't even feel his touch until he strokes it and blood surges from my brain, where it very much needs to be right now, to my loins. I stiffen in his hand.

“Look at that,” he says, “Should we let that go to waste?”

He's stroking himself, too. He licks his lips.

“It's not even six o'clock.”

I shake loose of him, carefully removing his hand from my genitals in the process. I stalk into the bedroom, grab a shirt, and toss it to him.

“Wear that, I'll bring you your t-shirt.”

He puts on his jeans, leaving his underwear on the floor, and dumps my shirt over his head. He's tall enough that it doesn't appear too long, but it's half again as wide as it needs to be to fit his frame. He's absolutely swimming in it.

Lifting the collar, he sniffs it.

“Oh, I'll be keeping this.”

I frown.

“You need to go.”

He bends to pull his shoes back on. When he rises up, he snaps his underwear at me. I snatch them out of the air.

“Give those a wash too, will you?”

I growl. “What do you think this is?”

He stalks closer. I stand in place, not wanting to, not letting myself, retreat from him in my own bedroom, as if I'd be afraid of him. I'm not afraid of him but I am afraid. Afraid of what this means, afraid of hurting him in ways he doesn't yet understand, afraid of what he does to me just by being in the same room.

“I need you to go.”

“This isn't over,” he says softly.

Then he turns. A moment later, the door slams.

I'm alone.