A hesitant moment can seem like an eternity. He cast his eyes down and started to turn.
That’s when my desires rammed through the blocks my logical head created; I reached for him and pulled him to me. I kissed his face, cupping his chin. “I can’t even begin to tell you the number of times I dreamed of this — of you, Mr. Ada… Todd. How many nights I … I did things … thinking of you. You mentioned the shower before. I, too, had those fantasies, of you and me making love — fucking — in the shower, our bodies entwined, water, lust and desire washing over us.” I leaned and kissed him again.
I reached to his chest and began to unbutton his shirt; I slid my hands to his belt and his pants. I could feel his body tremble and his muscled contract as I slowly worked at undressing him. After a moment, his hands began to do the same — pulling at my belt, slipping down the zipper, tugging at my shirt.
Soon we were standing, naked, body to body, kissing and holding each other; our tongues explored mouths, necks, chests. Our hands explored torsos — legs, stomachs, ass, cocks. Sex and lust mingled with passion and desire, our bodies responding to each others. I kissed my way down his body — from his neck to his wonderfully furry chest. I licked his nipples, shudders of rapture coursed through him. My lips followed a trail of fur to his navel; and beyond.
Soon, my lips and tongue were just above his cock, his musk and sweat filling my nose, his tastes filling my mouth. I slipped my tongue across the head of his cock, tasting his sweet pre-cum; a drop glistening before the onslaught of my mouth.
He moaned as my lips slid over the head of his cock and down the shaft. I cupped his balls and rubbed them, my other hand on his pelvis, fingers slipping through his pubes. His cock slipped down my throat and fit well. Long, hard and with a surprising thickness, it filled my mouth and rocked my senses. My tongue danced across the flesh and swirled around the head, slipping into the slit, tasting more of his flesh and his pre-cum.
His hands rubbed my scald, rubbed his abs, teased his nipples. My mouth worked his cock, flashes of fantasies splashing across my mind, driving my actions. I sucked and swallowed his cock for all I was worth, wanting more from him. I pulled my lips from his cock, grabbing his waist, and turned him around. My hands grasped his ass, pulling the cheeks apart and I leaned in, licking and tasting his round ass. My tongue slipped in his hole, tasting his depths. Gasps and guttural grunts escaped his lips — for an English teacher, he was short of words to describe his feelings. Primal urges, instead, powered his voice. My hands pulled on his ass, his balls, his cock. Each movement brought forth more primal grunting from this well spoken man. He leaned forward, using the bookshelves for support as I ate his ass.
My own cock was hot and throbbing and dripping pre-cum. I wanted to bury that rod deep into his ass, pressing and pounding, living out the images of my youth, making him moan, driving him to reach new heights of desire and lust, as he’d driven me to new heights of thought and learning so many years ago. His legs quivered and trembled with the onslaught of my tongue, my hands. I could feel his balls tense and grow hard, filling with hot cum, yearning to burst free.
And burst free it did. The first shot of cum from his cock brought a cry to his lips, “Oh, fuck!” His sphincter tensed and tightened around my tongue as I licked and sucked his ass; another shot of cum exploded from his cock, landing on the floor, under the drippings of his first shot onto the shelves. My hand continued to pump on his cock, pulling more and more of his creamy white liquid, pooling it on the floor as it left his spurting cock. His breath came in deep, short heaves and his body trembled with the force of his release.
The stream of cum from his dick slowed to a trickle of white hot ooze, running over my hand and down his cock before dripping to the floor. My own cock yearned for release, throbbing and dripping pre-cum, slicking my cock and the floor. I began to stroke my cock, feeling my own balls fill with cum, wanting freedom.
Todd turned around and pulled on my shoulders, standing me up. He kissed me hard and his hand joined mine on my cock, pulling and yanking on the shaft, driving me closer and closer to cumming. With a groan and a grunt, the first wave of orgasm wracked my body, spasms running through my legs as cum exploded from my cock, spraying his cock and abs with my fluids.
Wave after wave of cum burst forth from my cock, covering him with my sticky hot juice; he continued to stroke my cock and his own, pulling my climax from me. Soon, drained of cum, my cock slipped from hand; he raised the hand to his lips and tasted the remnants of our mingled orgasms. I did the same, tasting the sweetness of our cum, mixed and melded on my fingers and his.
We recaptured out breaths and came back to reality. We were standing in the back of his classroom, splotches of white cum marking where our orgasms had impacted our pasts. A sudden flush of embarrassment crossed his face, as he realized what had just happened. I pulled him close and hugged him, reassuring him of my own desires for our adventure.
We embraced that way for minutes before pulling apart and dressing. We were quiet, but I didn’t know if the silence was good or bad; whether embarrassment or memories powered the somber sound; only the ticking of the clock was the only sound we could hear. We dressed, wiping cum from our bodies as we did, cleaning cum from the floor and the shelves. Books had been spared his release; no cum had touched a Shakespeare spine.
After we were dressed, I looked at Todd — Mr. Adams — trying to gage his reaction. He was still quiet and seemed to be avoiding my eyes. I could not tell from his face — passive as it had been in my youth — what emotions flared inside of him. As a teacher, his passions had been the great literature and his emotions would flow and glow from his face as he read certain poems, chapters, passages; he lived for the literature and it showed.
Finally, I could take no more of the silence. I reached for him, touching his shoulder. I was about to give words of encouragement and approval for our actions, when a single tear slid from his eyes. I pulled him close and held him as sobs wracked his body.
“I … I … we,” he stammered, trying to put words to the war of feelings inside. “I’ve wanted this for so long, but now that I’ve done it — done what we did — I can’t help but feel it was wrong. That I’ve broken some kind of trust that should not be breached.”
I could feel the conflict within him; comforting words seemed to elude me. He clung to me and I held him tight. Finally, I said “Todd. This is something we’ve both wanted for so long. I wanted you when I was a kid. And you wanted me. And now we’ve found each other — as adults — and we’ve been able to find a moment of clarity from the jumbled passions we’ve had.”