gushing wad of cum and he broke the kiss to tell him in a low, harsh voice between deep breaths, “Dean, I'm going to cum…so good, oh God,” and the last pump made him explode and his whole body trembled as his climax tore from him and found its home inside his lover.
“Fill me up, yes, give it to me,” Dean jerked himself faster and faster and just as the last spurt of David's release entered him, he let go and the spasm rocked his body, his cum coating David's stomach, even darting up to his chest and dripping down to coat his pulsating shaft.
David sank to his lover's arm and covered him with kisses, feeling his erection soften and slip from Dean's silky insides. He lay at his side and felt his skin meld with his, their combined sweat and orgasms making them sticky and parting almost impossible. David found that he never wanted to leave. Rolling to his side, his chest touching Dean's back, his hand on the boy's chest, his lips on the sensitive, soft skin on the back of his neck, he sighed, completely content.
*****
The next morning, David made his way to the administrative offices and stood in line until it was his turn. The gray-haired lady peered at him over the top of her glasses and smiled.
“Can I help you, young man?”
“I need to drop a class.”
He hoped that no explanation was needed. He didn't know if he could articulate that he was afraid of a professor.
“Just fill out this form,” the woman said.
Her bent, arthritic fingers passed him a yellow piece of paper and a short pencil and he quickly wrote the correct information in the correct places. When he passed it back, she looked through the glass instead of over it and clicked her tongue.
“Oh my,” she looked at him again over the lenses with a puzzled expression.
“Did I do something wrong?” David wanted to be done with it and quickly.
“No, the form is fine. It's just that you're the second young man today who has dropped Professor Kaufman's class,” she pursed her lips as if to stop herself from saying what was on the tip of her tongue.
“Well, never you mind then. Have a good day,” she smiled at him and turned away and David wished desperately that he could ask her what the secret was, but he wasn’t sure that he really wanted to find out.
*****
The week had been glorious - carefree, easy. No more shame or obsession, no more desperation or panic attacks. David would always wind up knocking on Dean's door at the end of the evening and rush into his lover's arms as if he hadn't seen him in ages. Their desire for the other seemed to become even more urgent, if it was possible, and when they were spent and empty, Dean's head lay in the crook of his arm and David always fell asleep with his hand over the other man’s heart.
One of those fine days, the lovers were walking to the library, hand in hand, which David found to be as intimate as anything they did in Dean's bed, when David thought he saw the Professor out of the corner of his eye. He felt the familiar chill between his shoulder blades and Dean noticed that his grip had become much tighter.
“You okay?” Dean asked, glancing over at him.
“Yes, fine,” and he flashed a fake smile at the young man, hoping that the panic wasn't too obvious.
They got a table in the center of the cavernous room, spread out bags and papers and laptops and, once they sat, Dean's hand immediately wandered to David's thigh.
“That's not fair,” he whispered, trying to pretend as if he didn't love every touch.
“I know,” Dean smiled and removed his hand. The place on David's skin tingled as if it had continued.
“I've got to find those books,” David stood, but before leaving, placed a hasty kiss on his lover's cheek.
After a few minutes of wandering, David realized he had made a wrong turn and was lost somewhere, down an unfamiliar aisle. Stacks of dusty volumes towered over his head and everything smelled of old paper, until he smelled a strong aftershave. The
“Fill me up, yes, give it to me,” Dean jerked himself faster and faster and just as the last spurt of David's release entered him, he let go and the spasm rocked his body, his cum coating David's stomach, even darting up to his chest and dripping down to coat his pulsating shaft.
David sank to his lover's arm and covered him with kisses, feeling his erection soften and slip from Dean's silky insides. He lay at his side and felt his skin meld with his, their combined sweat and orgasms making them sticky and parting almost impossible. David found that he never wanted to leave. Rolling to his side, his chest touching Dean's back, his hand on the boy's chest, his lips on the sensitive, soft skin on the back of his neck, he sighed, completely content.
*****
The next morning, David made his way to the administrative offices and stood in line until it was his turn. The gray-haired lady peered at him over the top of her glasses and smiled.
“Can I help you, young man?”
“I need to drop a class.”
He hoped that no explanation was needed. He didn't know if he could articulate that he was afraid of a professor.
“Just fill out this form,” the woman said.
Her bent, arthritic fingers passed him a yellow piece of paper and a short pencil and he quickly wrote the correct information in the correct places. When he passed it back, she looked through the glass instead of over it and clicked her tongue.
“Oh my,” she looked at him again over the lenses with a puzzled expression.
“Did I do something wrong?” David wanted to be done with it and quickly.
“No, the form is fine. It's just that you're the second young man today who has dropped Professor Kaufman's class,” she pursed her lips as if to stop herself from saying what was on the tip of her tongue.
“Well, never you mind then. Have a good day,” she smiled at him and turned away and David wished desperately that he could ask her what the secret was, but he wasn’t sure that he really wanted to find out.
*****
The week had been glorious - carefree, easy. No more shame or obsession, no more desperation or panic attacks. David would always wind up knocking on Dean's door at the end of the evening and rush into his lover's arms as if he hadn't seen him in ages. Their desire for the other seemed to become even more urgent, if it was possible, and when they were spent and empty, Dean's head lay in the crook of his arm and David always fell asleep with his hand over the other man’s heart.
One of those fine days, the lovers were walking to the library, hand in hand, which David found to be as intimate as anything they did in Dean's bed, when David thought he saw the Professor out of the corner of his eye. He felt the familiar chill between his shoulder blades and Dean noticed that his grip had become much tighter.
“You okay?” Dean asked, glancing over at him.
“Yes, fine,” and he flashed a fake smile at the young man, hoping that the panic wasn't too obvious.
They got a table in the center of the cavernous room, spread out bags and papers and laptops and, once they sat, Dean's hand immediately wandered to David's thigh.
“That's not fair,” he whispered, trying to pretend as if he didn't love every touch.
“I know,” Dean smiled and removed his hand. The place on David's skin tingled as if it had continued.
“I've got to find those books,” David stood, but before leaving, placed a hasty kiss on his lover's cheek.
After a few minutes of wandering, David realized he had made a wrong turn and was lost somewhere, down an unfamiliar aisle. Stacks of dusty volumes towered over his head and everything smelled of old paper, until he smelled a strong aftershave. The
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