I knew my roomie kept some tissues on her desk. Without breaking contact, I leaned over for one. I didn’t want to make a mess on her Miss Piggy spread.
Then I bent real close as I jerked faster.
“Harder, tighter.”
So I got harder and tighter. I looked up at Rick. He has a kind of pale face normally, but now it was flushed, like a new sunburn and kind of splotchy. His mouth was half open and I could see his tongue wiggling around inside.
Then, as I watched, his head began to move from side to side.
Finally, I noticed that my hand was jerking on something harder than ever. I bent close, smelling the musky scene coming from down there. I jerked harder and faster as I knew he wanted.
Suddenly, without a sound, his body arched up, driving his cock between my hands, the burgundy colored tip thrusting out of my fingers. I was practically down to his balls. That’s when I felt the twitch or spasm or whatever it was.
His was going to let go. I held the tissue in position, but bent down so I could see what was going to happen.
The cock eye winked and then a long rope of white stuff shot out of the end. It was really thick and gooey. I held the tissue to catch it because I didn’t want to get any on me. His rod expanded in my hand again. The squirt was even bigger this time. I grabbed another tissues and got it in place before the next spritz. Wow did he have a lot of stuff in him. And so did I… in my panties, because I’d let go along with him. I leaned against the concrete blocks and cleaned at his cockhead, until he held my hand still.
My first cock. Now what did they taste like? How would it feel in me?
Chapter 12
as told by Bob King I guess I’m a character actor, kind of based on the Stalislavski method. As Friar Laurence in Romeo and Juliet, I wanted to be a wise old monk, advising the teenagers, plotting with them to fulfill their longing for each other. I didn’t necessarily want them to go to bed, at least not openly, but their love was a type of surrogate sex, because he was a monk and all. Though from what I’ve read of the period, they sometimes broke their vows. I look awfully young.
I’d have to have a tonsure, the kind of hairdo where you’re, bald in the middle of your head. Because of that, I had to cut my hair short so that the bald pate would fit over my hair. I looked like something out of the 40’s. All I needed was a Studebaker.
That’s why I’d been visiting Mr. Almundson. While he wasn’t a friar, he was old. And he had a goregeous granddaughter Sarah who often visited him while we worked on my walk and voice.
Costumes had finally finished my robes. The best way to look like you belong in a costume is to wear it until you feel comfortable. I’d been wearing a graduation gown, but it didn’t have the weight of the heavy monks cloth that Dr. Koenig’s students had used in the final costume.
Sarah kissed her grandfather lightly and said, “Now, you have a good nap. I’ll see that Bob sets out ok. You want some coffee, Friar?”
That was our running joke. She kept threatening to seduce me and make give up my vow of chastity. I wasn’t exactly a virgin, but I’d been chaste for a lone time now, except for my hand. I wonder if that counted? I can see the old Friar getting off in imagining Romeo and Juliet in her bed on the balcony.
“Sure, I’ll have some coffee.” We had a couple of steps to go up from the sun porch. Winter was more than threatening. Sarah had apparently been out running because she was wearing a stunning outfit of white fleece with a V-neck and a shirt under that. The cuffs, waistline and neck had a double black line around them. I liked Sarah. She could joke with me and make me feel comfortable. Too bad in a few weeks the play would be over.
Sarah had that kind of questioning face. Even in repose the eyebrows arched up in a perpetual question. I wish I knew the answer. I watched her hips sway as we went up the stairs. I grabbed my long skit as I’d seen it done in a medieval drawing and lifted it just the right amount. I practiced not looking down at my feet because were a lot of steps on the set. Designers like to use levels and directors too.
Sarah grabbed my arm as we came into the kitchen. “You’ve made grandpa very happy… made him feel wanted. Thank you. she kissed me on the cheek. I turned my face and our lips met. Brushed actually. Then she broke away to find Mr.
Coffee and pour for us both.
“Don’t you get cold under that thing? Did the monks wear long johns or what You must freeze your jewels.”
“I have my jeans in my backpack. I’ll put them on when I walk back to campus.”
“So what are you wearing underneath?”
Sarah came towards me, grabbed my rope belt and pulled me towards her. She kissed my lips fully then, her tongue poking against mine. The steaming coffee on the table caught my eye. I guess it gave me ideas.
I broke away. “Hey, careful. Grandpa will hear.”
“Nope, he drops off to sleep like a rock. And you haven’t answered my question.”
Her hands were on my rope belt, the thumbs down and pressing forward. Her left thumb touched my cock which was already responding to the situation.
“Just my Jockeys.”
“You don’t look like you have hairy legs. I mean from what I can see down the front there.” She pushed a hand down my neck and touched my pecs. That really. made the blood shoot into my dick then. I have a kind of a thick one. Thick fingers too. Sarah played with first one nipple than the other, while her thumb just touched my cock.
“Look… we shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Why not. You a virgin or something.”
“Nothing so drastic.”
“You don’t like me?” She let go of my rope belt and stepped back while she pulled the fleece top off. The knit shirt underneath was tight, unlike the sweats. Her fits stuck up and out. The way the jiggled I bet she wasn’t wearing a bra. I licked my lips and started to move toward the table and the coffee.
Not that I wasn’t stimulated enough already.
She blocked my way. “I felt your chest, time for you to feel mine.”
Wow, was she aggressive. And I guess, with a shy guy like me, you need somebody who takes charge. She took charge of my hand and pressed it against her right. tit. It was so nice and firm. I stroked it for a few seconds and then went looking for the nipple. I found it and circled a couple of times.
“No fair. I touched you and you’re only giving me a second hand grope.” She tossed her dark brown hair in irritation.
“I can fix that.” I found the hem of her shirt and pulled it up. Such creamy white skin… without a blemish. I had the shirt up to where I could see her fits; No bra like I guessed. She helped me pull the shirt over her head. She stood there, like a wood nymph at her bath, chest bare, the rosy nipples glowing in the afternoon sun.
“You like these?” She lifted them up as if they were offerings of some kind. I leaned forward and lightly kissed first one nipple then the other. She shivered.
“Cold?”
“No… hot. My pussy’s running already. Let’s do something down and dirty.”
“I’m only a poor innocent Friar.”
“Poor? Maybe. Innocent? I hope not. But I’ll play the game.” She untied the rope, letting it fall to the floor on my thongs.
Then she hunted for the way in.
“Concealed zipper in the back.”
“Good, I get to see your buns then.”
I turned. She unzipped. The whole dark brown costume fell to the floor. My “buns” as she called them were tight in my Jockeys. She ran her hands over them, squeezing lightly. My dick was doing a dance in the front.
Then Sarah grabbed me by the hips and knelt on the floor, turning me to the right. I rotated until my crotch was practically in her face. I looked down. My shorts were really poked out by then with my thick meat which was trying to escape, but the leg bands and the fly wouldn’t open. So it pushed out in a thick lump, the head obvious to the left of the fly opening.