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Authors: Mickey Erlach
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showed powerful muscles. He had a little extra around the middle, but not bad for a middle aged man.
I finished rinsing the soap off my body. I turned off the water and grabbed the towel. I dried quickly to be able to join Mr. Ramsey at the sinks. Pushing the curtain back, the metal loops sounded over the metal bar.
Ramsey looked over his shoulder and saw me standing there. “Nothing feels better than a good hot shower.” He looked at me as I approached. He looked down at my towel. “I was looking for you, because I … ah … need to cancel supper tonight. Sorry.” He looked down at my towel and stepped back. “I’ll catch you later.”
I watched as Mr. Ramsey collected his things and headed back to his room. I savored the sight of his ass as he walked away. My arousal returned quickly, and I turned to look into the mirror. That was when I noticed the streak of cum across my lap, the line of cum that clung to the towel. Had Mr. Ramsey seen that? How could he have missed it? No wonder he canceled supper.
Classes started at eight o’clock Monday morning. I stared in the low brass room, but ended up being assigned to work in the woodwind’s room and help the students. Mr. Ramsey ran in and out, teaching and lecturing, helping students with the flute and saxophone. I floated around the room coaching the section leaders, answering questions, and demonstrating techniques.
The week flew by , and the Friday afternoon event was the concert for the students to show all that they have learned. After the concert, the parents took their children home, and the staff had the weekend off until Sunday afternoon, when the new batch of students arrived. And the whole week started all over again.
Despite having a room next to Mr. Ramsey, after the first day together, I didn’t see much of him. The first weekend went by quickly , and I didn’t have time to be bored. The second week flew by, and after the last student left the building, I returned to my room. Should I go out or call it an early night? I didn’t know what sounded better as I unlocked the door. Flipping the lights on, I saw something on my bed.
A cream colored envelope rested on top of a big box. The paper was thick and carried a fancy watermark. Alexander Peters was inscribed in gold on the envelope in Old English letters.
I picked it up and turned it over. My finger flipped the back flap open, and I pulled out a formal invitation.
Mr. Alexander Peters
Your presence is requested for The Masked Ball
10:00 P.M. Friday Night in Room 213 Verdi Hall
Formal attire provided and required.
On the back of the invitation, I noticed something handwritten. “Alex, Wear only the items in the box. Do not add any extra items.” I opened the box. A black leather mask sat in the center of a carefully folded black hooded robe. A small, black G-string rested on the bottom.
I picked up the satin material and rubbed it between my fingers. What did this mean? I could feel my body respond. My cock started to swell, as my balls rolled in my shorts. A mask, a robe, a G-string, and nothing else. What kind of Masked Ball was this? Like Verdi’s opera, The Masked Ball, or something else. From my body’s response, I figured it was something else.
I glanced at my watch and saw that I had a few hours before the ball began. I went out for supper, but found I was too excited to eat. I picked at my food, returned to the dorm, took a shower and waited. Time seemed to drag on forever. In my concern and nervousness, I had to take a second shower before ten. Finally, it was quarter to ten; I figured I could get ready. I slipped out of my sweats and slipped on the G-string, I was instantly hard as the satin pouch cupped my junk. The string rode between my ass cheeks , and I had to adjust it so it didn’t cut into me.
The A/C worked well and Goosebumps rose over my body as I donned the robe. I figured sandals would be okay to add to the outfit, since I didn’t want to go barefoot, but they
I finished rinsing the soap off my body. I turned off the water and grabbed the towel. I dried quickly to be able to join Mr. Ramsey at the sinks. Pushing the curtain back, the metal loops sounded over the metal bar.
Ramsey looked over his shoulder and saw me standing there. “Nothing feels better than a good hot shower.” He looked at me as I approached. He looked down at my towel. “I was looking for you, because I … ah … need to cancel supper tonight. Sorry.” He looked down at my towel and stepped back. “I’ll catch you later.”
I watched as Mr. Ramsey collected his things and headed back to his room. I savored the sight of his ass as he walked away. My arousal returned quickly, and I turned to look into the mirror. That was when I noticed the streak of cum across my lap, the line of cum that clung to the towel. Had Mr. Ramsey seen that? How could he have missed it? No wonder he canceled supper.
Classes started at eight o’clock Monday morning. I stared in the low brass room, but ended up being assigned to work in the woodwind’s room and help the students. Mr. Ramsey ran in and out, teaching and lecturing, helping students with the flute and saxophone. I floated around the room coaching the section leaders, answering questions, and demonstrating techniques.
The week flew by , and the Friday afternoon event was the concert for the students to show all that they have learned. After the concert, the parents took their children home, and the staff had the weekend off until Sunday afternoon, when the new batch of students arrived. And the whole week started all over again.
Despite having a room next to Mr. Ramsey, after the first day together, I didn’t see much of him. The first weekend went by quickly , and I didn’t have time to be bored. The second week flew by, and after the last student left the building, I returned to my room. Should I go out or call it an early night? I didn’t know what sounded better as I unlocked the door. Flipping the lights on, I saw something on my bed.
A cream colored envelope rested on top of a big box. The paper was thick and carried a fancy watermark. Alexander Peters was inscribed in gold on the envelope in Old English letters.
I picked it up and turned it over. My finger flipped the back flap open, and I pulled out a formal invitation.
Mr. Alexander Peters
Your presence is requested for The Masked Ball
10:00 P.M. Friday Night in Room 213 Verdi Hall
Formal attire provided and required.
On the back of the invitation, I noticed something handwritten. “Alex, Wear only the items in the box. Do not add any extra items.” I opened the box. A black leather mask sat in the center of a carefully folded black hooded robe. A small, black G-string rested on the bottom.
I picked up the satin material and rubbed it between my fingers. What did this mean? I could feel my body respond. My cock started to swell, as my balls rolled in my shorts. A mask, a robe, a G-string, and nothing else. What kind of Masked Ball was this? Like Verdi’s opera, The Masked Ball, or something else. From my body’s response, I figured it was something else.
I glanced at my watch and saw that I had a few hours before the ball began. I went out for supper, but found I was too excited to eat. I picked at my food, returned to the dorm, took a shower and waited. Time seemed to drag on forever. In my concern and nervousness, I had to take a second shower before ten. Finally, it was quarter to ten; I figured I could get ready. I slipped out of my sweats and slipped on the G-string, I was instantly hard as the satin pouch cupped my junk. The string rode between my ass cheeks , and I had to adjust it so it didn’t cut into me.
The A/C worked well and Goosebumps rose over my body as I donned the robe. I figured sandals would be okay to add to the outfit, since I didn’t want to go barefoot, but they
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