Vol. 1 – Study Break
He was grateful that he was sitting at the desk so that no one else knew that he was this aroused, painfully so, as a matter of fact. It was the second time this week that he'd been in Professor Kaufman's class and David did nothing but daydream and try to hide and adjust his hard-on.
The man walked across the front of the lecture hall like a jungle cat; as if he were hunting, and David found himself wishing he were prey. He also found himself wondering if his heart thudding this loudly in his chest was a result of the slow porn movie images that were sliding by one-by-one in his imagination or if it was a warning of an impending fight or flight instinct about to kick in.
He lingered after the lecture, studying the man that he had felt so drawn to; they were a study in contrast. Where David was thin and small and light brownish-blond, Professor Kaufman was tall and broad with a mass of thick, black hair and full lips. David had the appearance of someone far younger than twenty-one, with a sprinkle of freckles across his nose and cheeks and the light blue eyes that were too big for his face. Professor Kaufman was well muscled and, at this moment, David was lost in the flex of his forearms, when he wrote, when he picked up his briefcase and, apparently, when he reached out for his lover to grab him by the waist. The other man had entered and approached the Professor with a familiar smile. Professor Kaufman pulled him in close by the belt buckle with a look that was pure lust and David watched, holding his breath, as they kissed.
When he saw Professor Kaufman suck on the young man's bottom lip and pull it with his teeth, David let out a gasp. As soon as he heard that it happened, he tried to slip out quietly, ashamed that he was watching the lovers. Too turned on to stop, he was out of his desk and had turned toward the door when he heard the Professor ask, “Can I help you, young man?”
David turned around slowly, as if he were almost frozen and couldn't find his voice. When he finally did, the words simply squeaked out, “No, sir, I'm sorry for interrupting.”
The Professor smiled. It was all teeth and David imagined the sharp, white points on his own lip and then trailing down to his neck and he quickly forced himself to stop and take short, quick steps backward before he couldn't leave at all.
“What's your name?” the Professor was watching him leave.
“David,” he squeaked again, and for a moment, he wasn't able to even remember the rest, “David Reed, sir.”
“Well, David, class is over, but I have office hours later,” his eyebrow had moved up, arched, and his dark eyes were taking in every inch of David, “come by any time.”
His attention returned to the young man that he still held in his grasp and David knew he had to run away as fast as he could before things got any more awkward for him.
Alone in his dorm room, David could finally breathe again and, lying on his bunk bed, he closed his eyes and returned to the images that had made him lose his voice and tremble all the way down to his toes.
He saw the Professor grab him roughly by the front of his shorts and pull him into his strong arms and, without a word, the man's mouth possessed his. David would simply part his lips and accept the bite and the wet tongue that explored his insides. Never having kissed a man yet, he would let his professor guide him, and David could see his hands reaching up to embrace the man. One would land in the Professor's mop of hair and one would be touching his muscled chest, feeling the man's heart pounding under his hand.
In his mind's eye, the Professor's hand that was wrapped firmly around his waistband would grab the fabric and tug it down as David did at that moment to free his pulsing erection. The man would know exactly how to touch him. His skin would be hot and the sensation would be almost overwhelming as the Professor took his cock in the same way
He was grateful that he was sitting at the desk so that no one else knew that he was this aroused, painfully so, as a matter of fact. It was the second time this week that he'd been in Professor Kaufman's class and David did nothing but daydream and try to hide and adjust his hard-on.
The man walked across the front of the lecture hall like a jungle cat; as if he were hunting, and David found himself wishing he were prey. He also found himself wondering if his heart thudding this loudly in his chest was a result of the slow porn movie images that were sliding by one-by-one in his imagination or if it was a warning of an impending fight or flight instinct about to kick in.
He lingered after the lecture, studying the man that he had felt so drawn to; they were a study in contrast. Where David was thin and small and light brownish-blond, Professor Kaufman was tall and broad with a mass of thick, black hair and full lips. David had the appearance of someone far younger than twenty-one, with a sprinkle of freckles across his nose and cheeks and the light blue eyes that were too big for his face. Professor Kaufman was well muscled and, at this moment, David was lost in the flex of his forearms, when he wrote, when he picked up his briefcase and, apparently, when he reached out for his lover to grab him by the waist. The other man had entered and approached the Professor with a familiar smile. Professor Kaufman pulled him in close by the belt buckle with a look that was pure lust and David watched, holding his breath, as they kissed.
When he saw Professor Kaufman suck on the young man's bottom lip and pull it with his teeth, David let out a gasp. As soon as he heard that it happened, he tried to slip out quietly, ashamed that he was watching the lovers. Too turned on to stop, he was out of his desk and had turned toward the door when he heard the Professor ask, “Can I help you, young man?”
David turned around slowly, as if he were almost frozen and couldn't find his voice. When he finally did, the words simply squeaked out, “No, sir, I'm sorry for interrupting.”
The Professor smiled. It was all teeth and David imagined the sharp, white points on his own lip and then trailing down to his neck and he quickly forced himself to stop and take short, quick steps backward before he couldn't leave at all.
“What's your name?” the Professor was watching him leave.
“David,” he squeaked again, and for a moment, he wasn't able to even remember the rest, “David Reed, sir.”
“Well, David, class is over, but I have office hours later,” his eyebrow had moved up, arched, and his dark eyes were taking in every inch of David, “come by any time.”
His attention returned to the young man that he still held in his grasp and David knew he had to run away as fast as he could before things got any more awkward for him.
Alone in his dorm room, David could finally breathe again and, lying on his bunk bed, he closed his eyes and returned to the images that had made him lose his voice and tremble all the way down to his toes.
He saw the Professor grab him roughly by the front of his shorts and pull him into his strong arms and, without a word, the man's mouth possessed his. David would simply part his lips and accept the bite and the wet tongue that explored his insides. Never having kissed a man yet, he would let his professor guide him, and David could see his hands reaching up to embrace the man. One would land in the Professor's mop of hair and one would be touching his muscled chest, feeling the man's heart pounding under his hand.
In his mind's eye, the Professor's hand that was wrapped firmly around his waistband would grab the fabric and tug it down as David did at that moment to free his pulsing erection. The man would know exactly how to touch him. His skin would be hot and the sensation would be almost overwhelming as the Professor took his cock in the same way
Similar Books
Behind the Yellow Tape: On the Road With Some of America's Hardest Working Crime Scene Investigators
Jarrett Hallcox, Amy Welch
