young-lovers-17

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Subject: “Young Lovers, Chapter 17” Chapter 17 After Joon and I showered and cleaned up we headed to the cafeteria where we joined Johnny and Byron. They had finished eating and were sitting with several other boys as kitchen workers cleared tables. We were too late for lunch, but there were still coffee and sodas to be had. “I’n gonna get my hair off!” Johnny announced out of nowhere, as Joon and I sat down with our drinks. We all looked at him, as he grinned at us. “You’re gonna be bald like Joon?” I asked. “Not that hair! My other hair!” We all looked at each other, then burst out laughing. “He gonna get his pubes pulled out so his dick look even bigger!” Byron exclaimed, lapsing into his Oakland street dialect for the benefit of his two buddies sitting with us. “Is that true?” I asked the Korean kid with a grin. “I got too much hair on me,” he replied, wrinkling his nose. “Did you arrange this with Butch?” I asked, looking from Johnny to Byron. Johnny frowned. “I don’ know `warange.'” “Butch be looking me over at Sunday check,” Byron began. “An’ he said you did a shitty job shaving me, too.” I shrugged. “I was too hot for you to take my time,” I replied. Byron smiled thinly. “Johnny be there with me, and he be watchin’ Butch work on a coupla dudes in front of us, and he just said out the cuts could he get rid of his hair too.” “Butch call me `lotus bossom’!” Johnny exclaimed, wrinkling his nose again. “Anyway, he s’posed to go by Butch’s on Tuesday to get worked over. 4:30.” “All your hair?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine Johnny with a totally hairless body. Not a good look. “Maybe I keep some. For decorate!” he giggled. “I’m gonna go with you,” Joon announced suddenly. He didn’t seem pleased. He looked at me, and then, as if an explanation were needed, said, “Just to make sure that guy knows what he’s doing.” He was unable to conceal his protectiveness. “I don’t think you have to worry about that,” I offered mildly. “From everything I’ve seen Butch’s judgment is impeccable.” “I’m still going,” he said with finality. I shrugged and let it drop. It had been a very draining 24 hours and I was looking forward to spending the rest of my Sunday uneventfully — reading, catching up on email, maybe taking a nice long walk or listening to some music. Johnny and Byron went to the gym while Joon and I headed back to the apartment. He was soon deep into a book, and as I checked my email I got a call from Marco. I walked outside so as not to disturb Joon. “Mike, I don’t know if you heard from him, but Joe Collins is coming in tomorrow. You’ll get a chance to catch up.” “No I didn’t hear. That’s great — I look forward to seeing him. Hopefully I can sit down with him then, or maybe Tuesday. Hey listen, I’m glad you caught me. I wanted to ask about something. I’d like to find out about maybe getting Johnny in school. Obviously he’s not going to earn credits at this point, but he still needs to be getting the stimulation.” “I was actually thinking about talking that over with you and him. After all, he was brought here originally to be a young lover, and actually it’s about time he got with the program. Have you mentioned classes to him?” “No, and he may not like it. Apparently he didn’t attend much his last year in the states — I guess he hated it. Then the last year has been a blank. But I’m gonna insist.” “Well, if you can work it out with him he can start tomorrow. If you take him to the admin building and help him with a little paperwork the staff will take it from there. He’ll also have to go through Butch’s intake this week. When he got here all he had was an abbreviated medical.” I chuckled. “He’s way ahead of us there. He’s already got an appointment with him Tuesday. He wants to get rid of all that excess body hair.” “Hmm. That funny little body should be a nice challenge for Butch.” “One thing occurred to me — you know he can’t cum, right? I mean, he climaxes, but he doesn’t ejaculate. Is that a problem?” “Really?! Well, I doubt it. It just woulds make him seem younger, which is attractive to lots of guests. It is weird though. He’s obviously well into puberty.” “He told me used to be able to shoot. They did something to him in North Korea that messed him up.” “Let me talk to Joe and have him take a look. Hopefully he can figure out what went wrong. It might have been because of that shit they injected him with, whatever it was. Anyway, once Butch does his makeover iwe’ll start him with a guest, maybe Thursday or Friday. I have to check to see when the next opening is for somebody who might be interested in his unique gifts.” “You said the `little boys with big cocks’ list is the hardest to fill, so I guess someone will turn up pretty soon.” “Yeah, I expect so. Have you — has it really hit him that Joon’s gonna be leaving him? That he’s gonna be going back to being a fuckboy?” I realized with a start that Marco had a point — Johnny had been living a happy, day-to-day existence since he got here, content to be with Joon and me and Byron without a care in the world. The reality of the trauma he’d experienced in the past seemed mostly forgotten. How was he going to handle losing his newfound sense of security and returning to being a boy prostitute? The transition to attending school was one thing, but he had bigger transitions to make, and soon. “Good point,” I acknowledged, feeling a little embarrassed that I hadn’t given this much thought. “I’ll sit down with him and go over everything. My reading of him is that he’s very much a kid who needs to feel safe, which I guess is understandable considering what he’s been through. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it to you already but he and Byron have really bonded — they’re together at the gym right now. Do you think maybe, once Joon and I have left, you could squeeze him into Byron’s dorm? It might make the adjustment easier for him.” “Yeah, that can be arranged. We always keep the dorms only partly full, since kids come and go here fairly frequently.” He paused. “And what about Joon? You want him in class too?” This was a nice surprise. I guessed Marco and Martin had had a change of heart. At one time they seemed to want him to have as little contact with the other boys as possible. “Let me talk to him about it. I’ll let you know. Speaking of school, that’s one part of the whole Young Lovers experience I have no clue about. Is there a principal or teacher or two that I can interview? I want to find out about this world-class education Young Lovers likes to brag about.” “Um, yeah, let me see if I can get you some time with Dr. Miller. He’s our head. I’ll get back to you either today or tomorrow.” When we had hung up I went back inside and sat next to Joon, who was sprawled on the couch reading. I looked over his shoulder. “What are you reading?” He didn’t look up. “Sartre.” “Let me know when you’re at a stopping place. I want to talk to you about something.” He still didn’t look up. “There aren’t stopping places in existentialism. It’s not a story.” I was silent. He finally looked up and saw me glaring at him. He dropped his eyes. “Sorry, ” he murmured. “Yeah,” I responded with disapproval. “sorry for what?” “I was being an asshole.” I leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “An intellectually superior asshole. Good work for admitting it. So listen, there’s something I want you to do. It’s your choice, though, you don’t have to, but I do feel very strongly about it.” “What?” “I think you should go back to class.” He sighed and slumped back farther into the couch. “You’re too damned smart to not develop your mind to the maximum. I know you read here and there, but it’s not the same.” “They won’t have me back.” “Yes they will. In fact, Marco suggested it.” Joon looked at me suspiciously. “Johnny will be going too. He’s going to be a young lover — that’s what he came here for — and they’re not going to feed and house him forever for free. They’ll start matching him with guests pretty soon, and school is part of the whole thing. It might make it easier for him to accept it if you go too.” He sighed. “So you’re pushing me to go for his sake.” “You know that’s bullshit. I’m just pointing out an additional benefit.” He thought for a minute and sighed konya escort again. “OK, I’ll do it,” he said unenthusiastically. “You’ll be a bit behind–” He snorted. “I think I’ll manage to catch up somehow.” I ignored his sarcasm. “I’m guessing they’ll let Johnny stay with us until we leave for North Korea. At that point, maybe a couple days before we leave, he probably should move to a dorm to get used to being more on his own.” “He’ll be fine.” “Yeah, but it will be hard for him to let you go. You know that.” Joon nodded morosely. “And maybe hard for you too?” He looked at me, then away. He said nothing, and I didn’t push it. I just said, “I asked Marco if they’d put him in Byron’s dorm. That should make it easier for him to get used to not having you. I want Johnny to get started with school tomorrow. You can return to your classes too.” He nodded, and returned to his book. His acquiescence to my control over this part of his life felt like a step. I caressed the back of his neck and went back to my computer. I had been off the phone with Marco less than hour when he called back to let me know that Dr. Miller would be available for a short interview before classes started the next day, and he thought that the principal would also set me up with a couple of the teachers during their free periods. I jotted down a few questions I had in mind before going out for a pre-dinner walk. ********************************** At dinner I got caught up in a conversation with three guests and was able to flesh out a part of my picture of the whole Young Lovers thing that had been sketchy. As we chatted I noticed the three boys come into the cafeteria, but they sat with other kids, ate and left long before I was finished. When I got back to the apartment I found Johnny and Joon side by side on the couch, tucked against each other. They were both reading, which I found surprising. “Hey guys,” I called, shutting the door behind me. “Johnny, this is the first time I’ve seen you reading.” “I liking to read, but the books are hard sometime,” he replied. “I like to read,” Joon corrected. “I like to read,” Johnny repeated. My heart warmed at this little interaction. Joon and I exchanged glances and I gave him a wink. As I would have expected he looked away, declining to show he cared about my approval. “I’m gonna take a shower and then I want to talk to you both,” I announced, heading for the bathroom. A few minutes later we were sitting in a circle on the bed. “Johnny,” I announced, rubbing my damp hair with a towel, “we need to talk about what going to happen in a couple of weeks or so.” “You leaving here,” he said, eyes downcast. “We already talked about it,” Joon said. “Oh. Well, good. Um, Johnny, how do you feel about it?” He looked up at me, tears forming in his eyes. “It OK. You coming back pretty soon.” There were so many times when this boy’s brave little heart touched me. “Yes, we will,” I reassured him, eying Joon, who betrayed no emotion. “If you want to stay at Young Lovers, you know what you have to do, don’t you?” He nodded. “It OK for do sex — I like it.” His expression didn’t match his words. “There’s something you’re worried about though, isn’t there?” He looked at me blankly. “He’s afraid somebody’ll fuck him up again like they did in Korea,” Joon explained in a harsh tone. I looked at Johnny. “Is that it? You just don’t want to get hurt again?” The boy sat there looking at each of us in turn as tears began to roll down his cheeks. We all sat there a moment, and then Joon did something uncharacteristic that made me proud of him. He scooted over and embraced the little kid and pulled him to him tightly. Johnny grabbed him in a vice-like hug. Joon whispered to him in Korean, and after a minute they released each other. Johnny wiped his nose and looked at me. “It OK. This not like Korea. Ever’body here nice.” “You’re gonna be in Byron’s dorm, OK?” His face brightened at that. “And if anybody does try to hurt you, I want you tell Byron at once, all right? He will protect you. Remember how he handled that guy who was bad to Jack? And you can tell Marco too. The staff members are all on the boys’ side — they’ll kick the guests out if anyone is mean.” Johnny smiled and sniffed again. “OK?” I asked. He nodded and gave a grin. “And,” I added, “think of all that good sex you’re gonna have!” His grin widened, and I knew he was going to be OK. **************************************** I had thought I might have to play the strict parent to get Joon off to school the next morning but he and Johnny were up before I was. Johnny had been surprisingly amenable to attending classes — “I still knew I was going,” he had explained somewhat vaguely when we discussed it the night before. I assured him that Joon and I would help him get started on his first day, and he seemed satisfied with that. As Joon got ready he looked grouchy, as I expected. I didn’t know whether it was just his usual morning grumpiness or having to get back into the school routine — or maybe it was his discomfort at his new look. Gone was the tentlike clothing he had worn to school before. Now his slim legs and hips were poured into powder blue jeans, and he tugged on a long-sleeved, dark red lycra T-shirt that hugged every inch of his torso. “You look great!” I murmured over his shoulder as he adjusted his shirt in the mirror. “I look like a fucking boy slut,” he muttered. “Well, there are dozens of boy sluts here, so you’ll fit right in.” “Just what I’ve always wanted.” “What do you think about how he looks, Johnny?” Johnny had been looking at Joon in the mirror too. He cast his eyes down. “He look good,” he said shyly. “You’ve gotta get some sexy clothes too, Johnny,” I said. “All you ever wear is baggy shorts and big T-shirts. They don’t show off your hot body!” “Yeah, now that you’re gonna get fucked by a bunch of men you’ve gotta get slutted out too.” Joon said snidely. I stepped in. “One you meet with Butch and he gets rid of all your extra hair, we’ll go visit the guy who makes clothes — I think his name is Mr. Brown. He’s nice. He’ll make you some shirts and shorts and stuff that will make you look really good.” I said nothing more, letting the boys finish their bathroom routines. I could see that Joon was jealous that others would be having sex with his little friend. I knew I’d have to address it with Joon, the sooner the better, probably. Skipping breakfast the three of us arrived at the school office promptly at 7:00. Johnny was started in shortly thereafter by a staff member on a battery of paper and pencil tests. He was smiling and eager, so I decided he didn’t need me there for reassurance. I also didn’t wait for Joon, knowing he could take care of his re-enrollment on his own and that he would not appreciate me treating him as if I had to hold his hand. After a rushed cup of coffee I spent twenty minutes or so with Dr. William Miller, or “Billmill” as I heard he was referred to by the cheekier students. He was a mild mannered, smooth talking man who spoke quite a lot about the school and said very little. “So as you can see,” he summarized, standing up, shuffling papers, and otherwise suggesting it was time for me to leave, “we have tried to leverage resources for maximum effect, and are engaged in a multi-pronged approach to produce the highest possible academic and personal achievement.” “Yes, indeed.” I reached out and shook his hand. “Thank you for your time, sir. And I will contact the teachers whose names you’ve given me, Mr., uh, Snyder and Mr. Branigan, I believe.” “I’m sure they’ll be helpful.” “Hopefully more helpful than you’ve been,” I thought to myself, as I smiled my way out of his office. Indeed, Mr. Branigan, History and Social Sciences teacher, was, if not exactly helpful, then certainly amusing, spending his entire preparation period with me, telling me stories of wild goings on among the boys — stories, I’m sure, that Dr. Miller had heard nothing of. “. . . so, when we finally got the kid calmed down and removed the banana from his rectum . . .” That sort of story. “That’s a good one,” I would chuckle — and indeed it usually was. And then I would ask, “So, about the U.S. History curriculum . . .” only to have konyaaltı escort Branigan launch into an expose of a certain former U.S. President whom some historians know for a fact was a closet boylover, and who for awhile secretly kept a ravishing 13-year-old in the White House for his own evening amusements . . . ****************************** When I headed to the drama classroom for the last period of the day and my interview with Mr. Snyder I was still hopeful that somebody would tell me something about the schooling the boys received here at Young Lovers. And Maurice Snyder turned out to be just the man I was looking for. A tall, fiftyish, balding man, he was the opposite of what I’d expected. Instead of an over-the-top queen with a Barbra Streisand fixation and tales of how he should have made it on Broadway, Mr. Snyder turned out to be an intelligent, calm, sensible guy who actually listened carefully, replied thoughtfully, and was obviously a font of experience and wisdom about the school and its policies and procedures. I learned a lot, and after a good twenty minutes I was asking my last few questions. “So how does the school deal with never knowing how many kids of each grade will be here at any one time?” “Easy. All classes are mixed grade, as I mentioned. There’s actually no particular reason why advanced composition needs to be taught to 17-year-olds and Biology to 15-year-olds. If a kid can handle a subject, that’s what determines his placement.” “So there could be a 12-year-old sitting next to an 18-year-old?” “Well, that’s perhaps a bit extreme, but, yes, if their skills were comparable, absolutely. When the boys first arrive they endure — and I do mean endure — a very sophisticated battery of tests that are intended to determine their instructional level in all the subject areas. And we teachers take it from there.” “But kids must come and go all the time, right? It must get confusing for teachers.” “Well, they do come all the time — they don’t generally go until their contracts are up, usually at matriculation. And, yes, when several new boys arrive in the same week or so it can get hectic. But remember, classes are extremely small. It’s not usually hard to find time for individualized attention to get new boys caught up with the current unit of study. Um — just a moment.” A noise had come from behind a plywood partition at one side of the raised platform that served as a stage on the far end of the large room. “Everything all right, Ian?” the man called. There was no answer. “Excuse me a minute,” Snyder said, and he disappeared. From behind the partition I heard a hushed conversation. Snyder returned. “Sorry, where were we?’ “Who’ve you got back there?” I asked “My most talented actor and dancer, a young man named Ian. We’re currently in rehearsal for the spring musical. He insists on doing his rehearsals in full makeup. It takes him forever to do his face, and . . . ” the man arched his brow . . .”I help him out with the body paint on the, uh, hard to reach spots. So even though the rest of the cast won’t be here until school’s out, he’s getting himself ready now.” “No class last period, then?” Snyder shrugged. “Senior privileges,” he grinned a bit sheepishly. “He’ll come out in a bit and run through one or two of his numbers before the end of the period.” “What’s the musical?” “The Visitor.” “The Visitor? Isn’t that the one about the alien who’s the sex vampire? The one that big lawsuit was about a couple years ago?” As I spoke music began to play from somewhere — slow and sensuous. I looked around but could see no source. “That’s the one. The “Visitor” music is fantastic and the dance numbers are breathtaking if you’ve got two dancers with enough talent, which I think we do. And thankfully here we don’t have to deal with the prudery disguised as feminism that created such a stir when it was on Broadway — or rather, off Broadway.” “Well, I’d certainly like to see if –” I stopped midsentence. As the music became more insistent a creature stepped — or rather, glided — out from behind the partition. Platinum hair, swept back from his brow, framed his face like a nimbus framing the sun and fell to his shoulders. His face was masked with swirls of silver glitter. Purple caked his eyelids, and silver made slashes of his brows. Lips thick as if swollen, and luridly, glossily red. His naked body, writhing with a sinuous grace, flowing and twisting with the music, was also covered with swirls of purple and silver, wrapped around ribs and over forearms, washing over belly and thighs. A long, flame-red penis swung and danced and quivered. Long fingers, with clawlike fingernails, splayed and twisted. The figure spun, then collapsed to the floor. It writhed, grinding itself sensuously into the floor as if copulating with it, then spun to its feet, then flipped through the air, all with movements that seemed wild and bestial yet somehow matched the music. I was spellbound as the creature continued his acrobatic dance, completely ignoring us yet, at the same time, performing for us. Another few twists and glides, caressing his belly and chest now with slow, sensuous fingers, then bending at the waist to balance on one foot, the other high in the air. The music stopped, then burst more loudly, cymbals crashing, and he then flipped a complete somersault, landing with legs scissored onto the floor, then coming up onto his hands with legs outstretched toward us, then standing, then swooping. Caressing thighs and buttocks, spinning and pirouetting, and now he was rapidly becoming erect, his organ soaring up from a hairless groin, the large, arrowhead of a glans banging against a voluptuous, bulging navel. He hopped, then dipped and swirled again, silver mane sweeping and swaying. Silver swirls flashed, and purple flowed like a sash over his back, trailing downward and then disappearing as it curved over one muscular buttock, as if entering his anus, On and on he went. There were no signs of fatigue, no letup in the ferocity, the graceful wildness of his dance. It was if he were possessed. The only indication of exertion was the dull sheen of perspiration that now seemed to come from within the purple waves that caressed the muscles swarming under his skin, making his whole body glow. He leaped into the air like a deer leaping a fence, with extraordinary altitude for a body that was not powerfully built, then another leap, and another. Suddenly he froze, kneeling on one knee, one arm extended to the sky, the other embracing his chest, his eyes closed. All that moved was his softly curving belly as he panted and the slowly, heavily swaying crimson erection. As he remained still, the music vibrated rapidly, a violin shrieking alone. And then, the one purely animal thing he could not control with his artistry, a thin liquid thread, began extending itself from the swollen head of his cock slowly, slowly toward the floor. A breathless moment passed. The music crashed to an abrupt conclusion, the head dropped to the chest, and it was over. I was entranced. I could feel in every moment of his performance the desire, the craving to be adored, to be worshipped. And I could feel in myself a strange craving to give him that admiration. I had to have him. Snyder’s mundane monotone broke the spell. “You’ve gotta take care of that cum before you practice, Ian. You can’t expect the cast to stay focused when you’re dripping all over the floor.” The boy dropped his arms and looked us over slowly, as if seeing us for the first time and wondering who his audience had been. He finally focused on his teacher. “I’m saving it,” he finally said, in an effeminate but confident voice. “Well, sometimes abstinence is not a performer’s best friend. Go jack off before the rest of the cast gets here.” The boy rose gracefully to his feet. “I dance better horny.” He turned to me. “Who are you?” “I’m your new admirer. You are spectacular.” The boy murmured, “Thanks,” his exotic persona slipping just a bit. “You certainly do dance well horny,” I agreed. “But your teacher is the boss, of course. I’d be glad to help you out with your little problem, if you like.” The boy eyed me. “It’s not a LITTLE problem,” he proclaimed archly. konyaaltı eve gelen escort I looked at Snyder, who was watching me with amusement. “I gotta hand it to you,” he said. “You’ve got nerve.” I took this as a go-ahead, or at least an indication the teacher wouldn’t stop me. I stood up, reached out and shook the man’s hand. “I think I have most of my questions answered. If I come up with any more I’ll get back to you. Thanks so much, you’ve really been helpful.” The man nodded and smiled, in effect confirming my access to the boy-alien. I approached the boy, and reached out to him. “Come on, beautiful. Let me help you out with your BIG problem.” The boy gazed at me with a theatrical pause, then reached out and took my hand as if he were royalty being greeted by a courtier. I allowed him to lead me onto the stage and to the opposite side where there was a door that led to a small dressing area. Up close I could feel the heat radiating from him, and the sheen of sweat was obvious. He was a tall boy, nearly as tall as I, and even though he was not performing the grace and elegance of his movements were arresting. In the small dressing area, he turned, and for the first time I really saw his face. The makeup made him unearthly, exciting, but I could see that even underneath all that glitter and paint he was gorgeous. Slowly I raised my hands, fingers bent, then gently touched his shoulders and began trailing my fingertips down over his damp torso, over the swirls of purple paint and silver glitter. As I got to his belly I knelt, continuing to slowly caress him, until I reached his pubic area. I leaned forward and gently placed my lips on the smooth purple skin just above the base of his cock. Then I looked up at him gazing down at me. “I want to suck you.” “Yes,” he replied, in a tone that said, “Of course you do — everyone does.” He reached behind him to a makeshift dressing table and got a jar of cold cream. “Use this or you’ll get a really red mouth.” I uncapped it and scooped a big gob in one palm. Then I began caressing his red cock, hot as a poker, rigid as steel. Instead of merely removing the red paint, though, I began masturbating him with the thick, slippery cream. His thin red rod slipped through my greasy fist with ease. I varied the pressure from gentle to firm to intense as I stroked him. His eyes were closed, his head thrown back. It took no time at all to get this boy to surrender to pleasure. The cold cream became pink as my stroking gradually removed the red paint. I added still more cream, until gobs of it were slopping down over his man-sized balls, up onto his hairless groin, out onto his strong thighs, and even plopping in small blobs onto the floor. The pink emulsion was joined by a steady drool of fluid — cum or pre-cum, I couldn’t tell — from the mouth of his organ. His hips began to make small, almost imperceptible thrusts. The glans of his penis had swollen up with desire, so much wider than the shaft that it almost looked like it belonged on another, thicker cock. As I caressed him with the cream I rubbed my thumb firmly, slowly, over his glans, eliciting a long sigh and a lurch of his hips. Another teaspoon of fluid oozed from his cock. He was getting close. With my other hand I reached over to a towel hanging next to the table. Carefully I wiped his organ, caressing it as best I could with the rather rough terrycloth, removing the rest of the red paint, until his organ, shiny and now a natural light pink, reached out toward me as if begging for attention. I wiped my hands on the cloth and then cleaned up his groin the best I could. I tossed the cloth aside and just stared a minute at his beautiful cock, smooth and only slightly tapered, with blue veins showing faintly under the thin skin. It had a special creamy translucence that it seems you only see on the cocks of blond boys. It bobbed slightly with his heartbeat, almost as it it were a live animal, breathing steadily, waiting to be caressed, waiting to be loved. “You are fucking beautiful,” I breathed. He looked down at me and said nothing. I thought to myself that he’d definitely heard that one before. I leaned forward, gently held his cock at its base, and slipped my mouth over it. The big head slid to the back of my mouth and I began squirming my tongue over it, over and over. I gripped his hips for leverage, then slid down on him a little farther, until the glans just entered my throat, then pulled back, then down again, then back. He began obligingly leaning into me as I went down, slipping an inch or more into my throat now. My lips slid along the soft skin of his shaft. I reached up and began gently caressing his big balls as I slid up and down. Then I came off him and began slowly licking he coronal rim, while gently stroking my finger tips up and down the length of his shaft. I pressed my lips against the little triangle just below the V of his cockhead, where a soft tiny fold of skin nestled. That got to him, drawing the first gasp of ecstasy from him, his body quivering and jerking as I touched him there with the tip of my tongue and wiggled it back and forth rapidly. I grabbed the lower four inches of his cock with my fist then, and very slowly and firmly forced his cockhead through the grip of my lips. I kept the strong seal going down the first two inches of his shaft as the glans once again entered my throat. Finally I drew a deep breath and then suddenly swallowed him whole. He was probably nine inches long, and I took every inch. He gasped softly, and his long shaft seemed to strain and stretch even longer, pushing itself even farther down into my throat. I swallowed several times, and he gave a little cry and then a soft, “Fuck.” As I drew off him I tasted bleachy, slightly acrid thickness. It leaked in small amounts, like precum, but was thick, like semen. I decided both he and I were ready for him to blow his load. I really went to town then, bobbing at top speed on the head and first inch or two, gripping him firmly with one hand while rolling his balls in my other hand. I felt his hand on the back of my head, gripping and releasing my hair spasmodically. Suddenly he emitted a piercing scream and began to cum. I tried to pull back to take the juice in my mouth but he forcefully rammed my head into his crotch and held it there with both hands, as he fired blast after blast right into my stomach. I relaxed into him, even though I couldn’t breathe, letting him use me for his pleasure. He kept bucking and cumming, yelling and screaming like a madman. I clutched his upper thighs and held on. His orgasm seemed endless. Finally it was over, and he released my head. I immediately withdrew and gratefully took a deep breath. Still feeling a desire to worship him, I began gently licking the sides of his softening organ as he stood there on slightly unsteady legs. I sucked a glob of semen off the head, then ran my tongue along the tube along the bottom of the shaft, while caressing his scrotum tenderly. Then I began to rise to my feet, kissing and nibbling his belly, his sweaty purple chest, then one silvery nipple. I licked his neck and ran my lips along his hairless jaw. “You’re amazing,” I murmured in his ear. I caressed his damp silver hair — not blond, I noticed, but actually silver — and then, for the first time gazed deeply into his eyes. The purple mascara made his dark blue eyes violet. “Thank you for your cum. You’re now in me forever,” I murmured. “Yes,” he murmured back, gazing steadily into my eyes as if trying to penetrate me. “Will you fuck me sometime?” The words came from me unbidden. Being fucked was not something that usually interested me, but in that moment it felt absolutely natural. He gazed at me, then raised his arms above his head in a theatrical stretch, arching backward, then returned to my gaze a moment more. He did not speak; his long gaze said, “Maybe. If you can keep my interest.” Then he spun around and left the room. His Majesty was on to other things, but I didn’t feel slighted or rejected, only fortunate to be able to service such an exquisite creature. If he had not been in makeup, if he had just been a boy named Ian instead of a sexually ravenous alien, I might have felt differently. But I had allowed the spell to be cast, and I had thoroughly enjoyed the enchantment. I felt completely at peace with all that had happened, even though my aching cock reminded me there had only been one orgasm in that little room. I managed to make my way out without speaking to either teacher or student.

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