Outside of school

eachandeveryandall

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I was a non-traditional student who went back to graduate school after a fifteen year hiatus from the halls of academia. I somehow fooled an English department into letting me in and hell, they even offered me a a research assistantship. I had to put in an easy twenty hours working in the library for my tuition and a stipend. I was researching rhetoric in advertising scripts for a professor who thought he was something of an authority in post structural cultural criticism. That and three dollars would get a cup of coffee in the restaurant, in which I had been waiting tables.

I was (and still am) married to a wonderful woman-Maggie. Maggie is a short petite woman with dark brown hair ad eyes so brown you might think the were black. She is a painter. Sh paints such beautiful pieces i could not begin to describe them. She was also the hostess in the same restaurant, in which I worked. I knew she was going to be my wife the first time I saw her. I swear it. It wasn't until we spent a few nights together that I realized I was also going to be happy. It was her idea for me to get back into school.

We moved into a small two bedroom house about fifteen miles outside the small college town in Maryland where I was going to school. It was rustic to say the least, but it was also charming--yellow paint and flower boxes under the windows. Americana. The real advantages in the house: it was close to Maggy's job managing a local craft store, the rent was about a third of the going rate in town, and it was nestled in the woods, near a small stream. The fall was beautiful when we moved in.

I had been working in the library for about three weeks when a young man, who had been nervously looking at me from the computer bank almost every one of those days, approached my desk. He asked if I was new this year and attempted a clumsy joke about his second home being the library. I introduced myself and humored him. I chuckled and told him I was very new. Now, I make it a point not to talk myself up, but being over forty has afforded me the wherewithal and confidence to recognize when someone is interested in more than small talk. I was flattered, but I felt fairly like what the kids here call a creeper. I made a little small talk as he was carrying an English minor under his pre-law major. We talked authors and a little theory when I effectively dismissed him as I referenced being on the clock. He took the hint, but his head looked a little like he took a jab from a quick left hand. I paused and made my first mistake. I looked him over. He had good body with wide shoulders. His legs were long and his thighs were thick and strong. His hair was strawberry blonde and his nose had been broken. His lips were full and he held them open slightly, which meant either a little cocky or a little slow. I must have betrayed something on my face....or paused a little too long. The kid said, "My name is Alex. My partner is also into literature. we should meet up some time...after work...for a drink." I smiled, "Are you even twenty one?" Alex nodded and said, "22 actually." I noted I had to get back to work. I turned to the computer. I heard a muted goodbye about the time I noticed the slow but deliberate swelling in my Levis.

At dinner, my wife put a bottle of cabernet in my hand. She made flat iron steaks, red potatoes, and broccoli. She had told me about her exasperating day in returns. I tried to join her in complaining about Alex and his clumsy hitting on me. She saw through the bullshit. she started immediately teasing me. She knew I liked it. She knew me. She knew I had been with men. Hell, there was a few nights in the restaurant that we even shared a busboy, a manager, or a particularly good looking customer. It was a couple of those nights that I realized my future happiness.

After dinner, and a few glasses of wine we retired to the living room (which meant the couch beside the dining room table. The couch faced the TV, the front door and one of the two windows on the first floor. It faced away from the tiny kitchen. We sat on the old yellow and scratchy couch talking about some of the nights we spent in the wine cellar of that old St Lois steak house. My wife noticed my cock growing down my right pant leg when we talked about James the manger we had sex with on a regular basis for about two months (until he got fired for stealing bottles of vodka). She noted that it had been a while since we had spiced things up with some "company." She said "company" in her most playful and sultry voice. She slid off the scratchy couch.

Maggie pulled her top off and slipped out of her pajama pants. She was wearing basic satin panties slightly more pink then her creamy skin. her breasts were not huge, but they were full enough to give her a curvy figure. her pink nipples were alert in the cold November house. She looked me in the eye as she slid her fingers gently under the thin waistband and into her pussy. She rubbed her self as she talked about seeing me with a young college cock in my mouth. Seeing her (and even beginning to smell her sex fill the room) was enough to turn my cock rock hard. It was uncomfortable wearing pants.

I stood up and undid the fly and my cock flopped out as I wasn't wearing anything underneath. She quickly grabbed me with her free hand and began moaning as she fingered herself faster. I began to hear her wetness. She let go of my cock and began pushing my jeans to the floor. I stepped out of them and then guided my cock to her lips in time to hear her first orgasm of the night. She took her hand from her wet pussy and held her fingers up in a lady-like bent wrist fashion. I put both her index finger and middle finger in my mouth. She put my cock into her mouth. She slid her mouth to the base effortlessly. This was unusual, not because of my length which is under seven inches, but it is a thick six and a half. I cannot even reach my hand all around the base. She knew she was one of the few to swallow me whole.

She stroked me fast and alternated her mouth and her hand before motioning me back onto the couch. She used her hands to inch my ass to the edge of the scratchy sofa. The fabric was exhilarating and irritating at the same time. She pushed my knees back to my chest and began rimming me. She was tonging my asshole hard and deep. She wasn't doing her usual routine of small kisses around the target. She then looked up. looked me in the eyes and asked if I was ready for Alex's cock to be inside me. I was short of breath. She knew she had me. As I let slip a small yes, she slid her two wet fingers inside me. I caught my breath in my chest. She took my thickness in her mouth again. I came into her mouth within seconds. Deep pulsating ejaculations that started four inches behind my asshole and ended four inches down her throat. Pulsing, thick ribbons of cum into her mouth. She let my cock slide from her lips and slap against me...a few small spasms wetting my belly right above the cock head. She spit what cum she did not swallow. it pooled on my stomach. Maggie drew her fingers through it, scraping up the semen and glossing my lips with my own seed. I looked at her and said through cum glistening lips, "I will set something up....Yeah...I'm gonna set something up..."
 
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eachandeveryandall

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I saw Alex around the library and occasionally around the English building. He would usually make an awkward, childish wave in my direction. It would look exceptionally silly from his frame. Something was incongruent about the maturing strong arm made to look like a boy's. It seemed like I never really got the chance to speak with him...a fact that was starting to be irritating as well as intriguing. The closest I came was when I approached him when he was outside of Eidler Hall (the English department and Psychology department were both housed in Eidler). Alex acted uninterested and nonchalant. It was his turn to dismiss me, as he had to "run to class." I was left deflated...or rather half inflated.

I started feeling annoyed, but also found myself thinking of those football sized shoulders, the bulging forearms, that unyielding ass that was just perfectly poured into his fucking red pants. He wore the hell out of those ridiculous red pants. Christ, What was I doing?! One of the main reasons I never lived as an out and proud man was fucking red pants. Sometimes I can't deal with that shit. Those red pants though. I swear that day in front of Eidler I could see the perfect bell curve of his cock head. I went into the English major lounge, into the bathroom, and came quickly into a handful of toilet paper. I flushed it away and wondered how this young prick was turning me into a schoolboy. When I told my wife about his distance she smiled...the way she smiles when she reaches for the third drawer. The best toys are kept in the third drawer. She said, "You realize he is fucking with you, right?"

I did realize it. I quit playing chase. If he wanted that bell curved cock head to touch these lips he would have to earn it. Though, even as I thought that, I felt a jump in my own cock. That little jump is what I would have to ignore. I put my head down at work, in class, and into my wife. It was weeks of not really thinking of Alex, when I started being assigned as a tutor to some of the students. It wasn't so much a tutoring as discussing some of the finer points of literary theory in a one-on-one with a student that really wanted to "get it." The first few appointments were par for the course. I spent a few wasted hours looking for a light to on in eyes when the bulbs were clearly out. Around the end of the semester, I was knee deep in exams, both writing my own work and grading papers for my boss (of course this wasn't part of my assistantship, but you can't argue with tenure!)

On a Friday before Thanksgiving break, I had an appointment with a senior named Jefferson. Jefferson, as a name, reminded me of rich little bastards that made me want quit the University as a whole. I pictured a weak framed, pale, and condescending Jefferson. When Jefferson actually approached my desk at the library I could have been knocked over with a feather. Jefferson was a tall and muscled African American. His voice was as deep as a lake. It was almost a growl. He was friendly and had a solid handshake. I stood up and walked him to the individual study room. I must have looked ridiculous, like I was waiting for the prank to be revealed. So much for assumptions!

Jefferson told me he was working on a paper for one of his last classes. He referenced Coetzee. This kid was hitting me where I lived. Minimalism was what filled my graduate work. I felt like, this kid was onto something with his argument, by that I mean he and I agreed. We talked for a little while wondering through Salinger, Artaud, and Joyce. It was English major heaven. I didn't need to spark this kid...he was lit through the door. I noticed his hands then. He had expressive hands. They were far to callused for academia. This kid was intriguing and he was providing a nice distraction, from my work, my boss, and even Alex. Jefferson was talking about a story he just finished when he stopped suddenly, "I can't do this …I told him I could, but I can’t!” I came out of my literary reverie with a “what?!”

Jefferson stumbled through a confession about how Alex had sent him in to recon me or better yet, seduce me! Jefferson explained that Alex had “Researched me around the department”…learned my authors. Jefferson didn’t even have a literature class this term. Jefferson said he and Alex have been partners since they met at football camp three years prior. Jefferson appeared ashamed and hung his large head from his muscled back. Jefferson apologized and reached for his coat. The worm had turned. Here I was with the perfect play.

I spoke to Jefferson honestly. I told him, that I felt a bit like an old creep, but I did want to fuck his boyfriend until cum ran down our sweated frames and faces. Jefferson looked up and was apparently surprised at this candor. I explained that I needed to bring Alex home to my wife. We had made a deal. I looked him in the eye and said, “She doesn’t even know about you.” Jefferson had shock across his eyes and mouth. I don’t know if it was just the feeling of conquest or the knowledge that the library was nearly emptied before break, but I sat back in my chair and began to undo my fly. Jefferson, still with a look of shock, moved off of his chair effortlessly gliding toward my cock. Maybe he felt remorse…maybe he was just horny. Jefferson sucked on my cock gently and lovingly and I lost my feeling of conquest. I had a strong urge to reciprocate. I stood up and guided the large man to do the same. He was large. I was looking his pecs in the eye as it were. His strong chest carved from stone in the weight room and on the football field. I undid the buttons on his shirt and kissed him, lingering on his nipples. I heard the low growl. It grew lower and louder as I moved down his stomach. It was not cut like his chest, but a little paunchy, which increased the tenderness I was feeling.

When I unloosened his black cotton slacks his manhood did not leap out. It was long and hard, but hung down the right pant leg. At the base it looked like a wrist. It did not seem to taper as it disappeared into the darkness of his pants. I drew it out with delicate and deliberate movements. I kissed the length as I stroked him head to hilt. I took him in my mouth and slobbered his impressive nine inches. I reached my hand around his balls and began to pull them down as I slipped his cock down my throat. He had a hold of my head with both of his hands as He began to thrust. I was working faster and more furious now. The tenderness of our lovemaking giving way to something more base, something better.

Jefferson pulled his largeness from my mouth and picked me up onto my feet by my armpits. He stepped out of his pants and pushed me against the table. The corner of the table hit my pubic bone and it hurt. I didn’t care. I felt my own cock pop and slide around the corner of the table. Jefferson spit on my asshole and pushed his cockhead into me with barely a warning. I let out a guttural noise. He pounded me. He hit me hard and deep. I lost my voice and breath a number of moments. Before he was done, I came. I had long deep pulses ejaculating cum into my blue jeans still around my ankles. It was shortly after that that he shot his load over my bare back. I felt his hand slap me in the small of the back. It was a wet slap where he had come. My legs were weakened and I gripped the table for stability. Jefferson tumbled into an empty chair, “Mission accomplished,” he said out loud with irony. I replied, “Just a battle Jefferson…I want the war. We are getting together over break.”
 
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deleted12830

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Such a HOT introduction!! Got me hard as hell, want more!! :D
 

eachandeveryandall

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I did not see either Alex or Jefferson around campus, which I have to admit was not a bad thing. I had so much work for classes and my boss, whom I had begun calling Pricker—a brilliant play on Dr. Chicker I know. To make matters worse my wife was irritable as hell—being in retail during the holiday crunch! The first two weeks of December I had my head in a computer, ate in the car, and jacked off each morning in the shower while she slept ten feet from me. What was worse—she was probably rubbing one out before bed. She can’t go a day longer than any man.

Final papers were submitted on my end. I had graded the last of Pricker’s undergraduate class. I was feeling spent both emotionally and physically. My first semester back in school was like a mountain. I was alone at the top of a mountain and feeling like the view was great, but I had no one to share in it. Walking back to my car, campus felt like a ghost town. I felt alone and I was uncharacteristically emotional. Feelings of accomplishment were mixing with embarrassment (maybe a familiar mix to any non-traditional student). I was lost in rambling unfolding chains of ifs and thens, should haves, could haves, and so forth, when it started to snow. It was the perfect slow, steady snow of mammoth flakes. They would hit my face and take a lifetime to melt. The ground was quickly whitening and the sidewalks grew slippery. I was pulled from my self-analysis when I slipped a foot and a half on the sidewalk. I must have looked like an idiot blowing up and dropping my khaki messenger bag in the snow. I was thankful I didn’t hit the ground. When I recovered I saw an old S10 pick-up driving down a mostly deserted street near campus. The truck stopped.

When the window rolled down I saw the full pouty lips. Alex was staring at me and the snow fell between us for a beat. He had a sneer on those pouty lips and to be honest, more than a little anger in his eyes. A large shadow behind him could have only been Jefferson in the passenger seat. “D’you want a ride?” He said coolly. “We were heading to Tavern.” “Tavern” was what everyone called Jink’s Tavern since Jinks himself died 11 years ago. I said, “a drink sounds nice, but I doubt we could all fit in the cab of that small a pick-up.” Alex muttered under his breath and the passenger door swung open. Jefferson was soon towering over the truck. His dark skin and his own shadow from the overhead streetlight obscured any read of his face. “Let’s go to Tavern,” I said.

Minutes later my ass was across the drink holders with my arm behind Alex’s head and my feet dangling between Jefferson’s legs. I was somehow silent on the ride. I oddly felt nervous and like I could cry. It was an odd feeling. I was not exactly horny, but I knew where this was going. Getting out of the truck, I felt the straight thickness of Jefferson hard cock on my calf. I opened my mouth to say…something, anything…I closed it again with a profound sense of exhaustion.

Soon we were gathered around a table at Tavern. I hated coming to this popular undergrad hangout, but almost all of the students were gone for winter break. There were only a couple of other tables. Art students and hippies that didn’t really want to go home. I had texted Maggie. She said she was working till 11 (two hours from now). She said she would stop if we were still there. Seeing her text made me well up again. Again, I felt like I had to exercise some form of control to not betray a break in my voice. What was going on? This semester was something!

We drank whiskey, all three of us. Maker’s Mark for the boys and I had Jameson’s Irish on ice with a splash of club soda. We threw them down. Round three we broke the ice about Jefferson fucking me in the library. Round five we discussed that Alex wanted all of us to fuck, round seven my wife came in and agreed to drive us home. She made eyes at all of us. She knew instantly why I had a crush on Alex. He was the pretty and thick farm stock kind of man we both got into. His full lips hanging a little wider than usual made him look a bit dimmer than he was. “You are cute! “she said, as she looked him in the eyes. He looked about ready to make a clumsy move. He didn’t and I was relieved.

We piled into Maggie’s Subaru and headed back to the cottage as we started jokingly calling the little yellow house. It was a long drive made longer by the snowfall. Thirty minutes in we were sobering a little, but all of us begged Maggie to stop the car and permit a piss. Maggie did. I was out and done first. I got back in the car to steal a moment with my wife. “You up for this.” I said with a smile. Maggie said, “You are going to have to give me some encouragement…I mean you ‘boys’ are a little hammered! You are going to have to work for this! Encourage me!” The second she said “encourage me” a second time, Jefferson turned around in a drunken sway. He was not in front of the car, but the headlights caught his piss and made it sparkle. His cock exposed to the cold and steam from the urine. Large white snowflakes falling around it. “OK,” she said when she turned her head back to forward…”OK.”

We spilled out of the Subaru and made for the porch. Alex, emboldened by liquor grabbed at my ass like a school boy. I turned around quickly. To be honest, I think I wanted to scold him. I wanted to scold him like a child. My wife came over to the edge of the porch where I was standing. Jefferson stopped humming, which brought attention to the fact he had been humming. Maggie said, “You are the one that has been chasing after my man, you want to suck his fat cock?” We could hear the snowflakes falling. His dumb lips followed his noddin—his eyes never moving from Maggie. I froze tensely. Jefferson took a stutter step for balance. He seemed the drunkest. Maggie leaned down and whispered, but all of us heard, “Then make my pussy come. Make her come hard.” Maggie stood up from the waist and pivoted in a smooth dancer’s fashion. She moved into the house. At that moment my cock throbbed against my denim. I realized along with the other two, what a real power play was. We were children playing with knives. We were pretenders. I saw Alex troubling his own cock as he stood. We went in the house. Maggie was in the bedroom. We seemed to inhale at the same time when we heard the record needle touch the vinyl from the other room.