Gay Erotic Stories

A couple of weeks went by, and each time I had seen Cliff in class he seemed to be happy and relaxed. His written work was improving in leaps and bounds, and his practical skills, never more than average, suddenly blossomed. The bitchy female students that sat in the front row of the class were hard-pressed to explain away Cliff’s improvement, and I often had a long, quiet laugh at the more fantastic of their desperate explanations, none of which ever came anywhere close to the truth. I gathered from the frantic exchanges that took place each lesson that Cliff had dumped his girlfriend, and was spending more time surfing and working out.

The end of the term was fast approaching, and with it the interminable number of tests that had to be set, marked and moderated. My part-time classes were faring better than I had expected, but all the same I was still having to spend time at work after hours. One of the other lecturers had been away ill for a number of days, and I had foolishly agreed to mark her test papers and prepare them for moderation to keep the department on line for administrative duties.

So one Friday evening, with everyone else long having gone home, I remained at my desk, steadily working my way through my increased workload. The time passed quickly, but suddenly I was aware of a cramp in my neck and shoulders. I leaned back in my chair and stretched a great, long stretch. It felt so good. Then I stood up and walked to the window. Pulling the curtain, which was always left drawn closed, to one side, I looked out at the lawns and shrubbery in the common ground area. It must have been later than I realised I thought, for although it was still high summer, the light was fading fast. As I was drawing the curtain closed again, I thought I saw a movement by one of the trees in the grounds, but the light was too poor to make out anything clearly.

Rolling my shirt sleeves up, one more paper, I decided, and then it’s time for home.

I was completely immersed in trying to decipher a long, drawn-out explanation from one of the students concerning the effect of food particle sizes on cooking times and methods, when I slowly became aware that there was someone else in my office with me.

Remembering that shadowy figure lurking under the trees, my heart skipped a couple of beats and my skin went clammy-cold as I quickly lifted my head. No one was there. I could have sworn I had felt the still air stir and I had definitely had that feeling one gets that someone, or something, had been in the room. Abruptly I stood up and shook myself. This was nonsense – I had been concentrating too hard at the end of a busy day, which itself came at the close of a tiring week. I decided to complete marking the paper I was working on, and then take the remaining five papers home and mark them at leisure over the weekend. But first, a wash with cold water to wake me up.

The college was quiet as I walked to the washroom. The lights were coming on automatically in the darker passages and corridors for it was now quite dark. Glancing at my watch I saw it was past eight-thirty. No, I thought unbelievingly – I have sat glued to my chair for 4 hours! Definitely time I went home. As I splashed cold water on my face I thought about what to have for dinner – take-out or frozen TV dinner. Still lost in gastronomic thought, I returned much refreshed to my office. That’s strange, I thought, I’m sure I left the door open, as it was half-closed now. Maybe that breeze I felt earlier has done this.

I pushed the door open and then stood there, feet rooted to the floor in amazement. Sitting apparently naked behind my desk was Cliff!

From what I was able to see, all he was wearing was a self-conscious smile. His t-shirt was lying in a heap on the floor next to my desk, and his beach-thongs were sticking out from underneath the crumpled material.

Cliff was sitting back in my chair, his hands folded together in his lap below the level of the desktop. My flabbergasted silence was as much due to the totally unexpected vision sitting in my chair, as it was to my brain trying to absorb the beauty of this young hunk relaxing in my seat!

Casually, Cliff raised his hands from his crotch and linked them together behind his head. His clear brown eyes watched me intently as I gaped at him. After what seemed an age, he seemed to lose confidence, lowered his hands to the desk, leaned forward, dropped his head and spoke, his voice low.

“Ch-chef, I’m sorry, I th-thought I would surprise you. Th-this was stupid of me – I d-didn’t think.”

The sound of his voice stirred me from my trance. I had been absorbed in consuming his tanned young body with my eyes: his spiky brown hair topping a handsome, youthful, open face; strong neck, burly, corded arms and strapping shoulders; flat, firm dark nipples proud on a well-muscled chest, lightly covered with tight curls of dark hair bleached gold by the sun and the sea; flat, rippled stomach with a shadowed navel…the desk hid the rest.

“I wanted to ask y-you to come for a drink a-after work this evening,” he continued, his voice shaking, “b-but your light stayed on for hours. Th-then I came in here, b-but you were concentrating s-so hard you d-didn’t hear me, s-so I left…”

So there was someone here, I thought. At least that I didn’t imagine. But this must be a dream.

Cliff lifted his head and looked at me. “You must think I’m m-mad,” he stammered. “I sh-should never h-have done this. I’m s-sorry, I’ll go right n-now.” His brown eyes were full of remorse and shame. With his strong young hands, he pushed himself up from my chair. I still stood entrenched in the doorway, not having moved. Cliff was wearing a pair of baggies, the universal surfer-dudes’ uniform.

“Cliff,” I said, eventually getting my brain to accept that this was really happening, “Cliff, relax – sit down. I must admit this is a bit unexpected, but I am glad you are here. I have been meaning to talk to you this week, but somehow have not gotten around to it.”

His eyes opened wide. “Why? What’s wrong, sir? What have I done?”

“Sit.” I said, “Nothing is wrong. In fact, far from it.”

Cliff fell back into my chair, pulled it close into the desk and crossed his arms on the paper I had been busy marking. I pushed the door to shut behind me, walked to my desk, sat down on the side usually reserved for the students when they came to see me, and pulled my chair straight to face Cliff across the desk. Our knees knocked against each other and he started back like a frightened animal.

“I said relax, Cliff. I want to discuss your work with you, that’s all.”

He slowly leaned forward again and stared at me without a word.

Leaning my forearms on the desk, I folded my hands in front of me and continued, trying not to become distracted by the sight of this massively spunky guy sitting opposite me. “Cliff, your work has improved immeasurably over the past few weeks. From being an average student, your grades have improved so much that, if you continue like this, you should come out in the top five of the class at term’s end.”

Still he sat there, saying nothing but continuing to stare at me. I became aware that his leg was pressing against mine lightly, very lightly, whether by accident or design I couldn’t tell. His nipples had begun to harden, either through his becoming cold sitting there without a shirt or some other reason, but I couldn’t tell.

“In fact, Cliff, if you do carry on working like you are at the moment, you will probably receive the Dean’s award for the most improved student at the end of the semester.”

Cliff was now the one apparently rooted to the spot. He leaned forward towards me and shuffled his feet under the desk. Through my shoes I was able to feel that he had moved his bare feet to rest on mine.

“All I want to say, is that I am extremely pleased and impressed by this change, Cliff – I wish more of my students would show the same dedication that you have, lately.” I remained leaning forward on the desk, resting heavily on my bare forearms and looking him straight in the face.

Cliffs’ eyes became glazed and he let out a little moan. His legs were pressing against mine with more urgency than before.

“Did you hear what I said, Cliff?” I said sharply. He jerked back away from me.

“Uh-uh, yes, chef, I heard you. It’s just that…”

“That what?” I countered.

“Well, no lecturer that has taught me before has ever, has ever…”

“Yes? Has…?” I prompted.

“Has,” leaning forward again, his face closer to mine than previously, “has ever praised me like this, or taken an interest in my work, or anything.” He went on, jerkily, “and made me feel as though I am any good at this stuff.” His legs were now rubbing lightly up and down against my own, his feet firm on top of mine. My dick was stiffening rapidly and it was becoming uncomfortable, trapped hard against the inside of my thigh and not being able to grow to its full, stiff length.

“What stuff are you talking about, Cliff? Your work, or are you trying to seduce me?”

He paused, then his voice trembled as he moved closer to me over the desk. “Both, chef.” He closed his eyes and moved his face close to mine, so close I could feel his hot breath panting short from his open mouth. His lips brushed mine lightly and I breathed in his own aroma – the salt in his hair from the surf, his deodorant now fading and being replaced by the natural musky underarm smell. The clean, fresh smell of a healthy youthful body.

My mind was whirling. Although I had fleetingly dreamt of this moment the day I had first set eyes on Cliff in my class, now that it was here I wasn’t sure if I should follow my instincts and grab that young head in both of my hands and keep his full, engorged lips fixed to mine while our tongues danced and we drank deep from each other. As Cliff moved his face in closer to mine, his lips touched my lips again and he moaned deeply. I pulled my face back and saw the tip of his pink tongue sticking out between his lips.

This was madness. My dick was straining frantically against the fabric of my trousers and I could feel the sticky pre-cum drooling down my thigh. My heart was beating furiously and my chest felt as though it was going to explode.

I shoved my chair back and jumped to my feet.

“Cliff – Cliff, stop this. Are you aware of what you are trying to do?”

Unhurriedly, breathing heavily, he opened his eyes, moved back in my chair and placed his arms on the armrests, gripping them firmly with his strong, tanned hands.

“Yes, chef,” he answered, “now I know what I am doing. You are the only person I have wanted to do this with.” He stood up, leisurely, and stretched lazily. My eyes fell onto his crotch, where a big, long bulge was showing plain, pressed hard against the fabric of his baggies. “And”, he continued, walking around the desk to stand close to me, “I think you know what I am doing, and you also want to do it.” His hand brushed delicately across my swollen dick, confined painfully within my trousers, and it was my turn to moan.

“I have thought about this a lot, Chef. I know I can trust you and that you will teach me how to make love to a man as well as you have taught me to cook. I have been watching you, and you didn’t know it. To me, you are all that I have ever wanted – all I have ever wanted to love. Your patience with us students, your humour… ah, fuck it – the way you talk and walk and hold yourself; your voice. You are sure of yourself, so completely in charge. You have half the girls in the class creaming themselves over you.” His stutter, I noticed irrelevantly, had gone. He was in control now and was not feeling stressed.

While Cliff was talking, low and calm, he had moved closer to me, and, holding me with one strong hand, had started to pull my shirt out of my trousers, allowing his hand to briefly brush against the naked flesh on my back, my sides, my stomach.

I stood there breathing quick, shallow breaths, not able to move as Cliff slid his hands under my shirt and up my stomach to my chest. He sighed, played with my nipples, squeezing them hard and rubbing the tender skin around them. I glanced at this handsome face so close to mine, so trusting with it’s sculptured features and naive eyes, and then decided.

My hands went to Cliff’s bare, warm waist, and in lifting them from where they had been hanging limp at my side, grazed across the fierce erection his baggies were doing little to hide. There was a damp, sticky patch forming on the material at the top of his thick projection.

Cliff groaned loudly at my touch, embraced me closer and pushed his hips into me, grinding his engorged prick hard against mine.

With my hands firmly on his waist, I pushed Cliff with some difficulty away from me.

“No, Cliff,” I said. “You can’t do this here. It’s foolish. Come on, put your shirt and slops on.”

Cliff stood there dumbfounded. “But, but… I know you want this as much as I.” He pointed wordlessly at the straining material barely containing my rock-hard penis.

“No”, I replied, smiling, tucking my shirt back in. “You didn’t hear what I said. I said we can’t do this here. Come, let’s go back to my place. I’ll give you some after hours tutoring there. It’s much more comfortable.”

“YES!” Cliff shouted in joy, punching the air, his face jubilant. “Yeah, man! Let’s GO!!”

While he shrugged into his rumpled t-shirt and shucked on his beach-thongs, I quickly gathered what work I still had to complete into my briefcase. In record time the office was locked for the weekend and the two of us were striding across the parking lot.

“Wow!” exclaimed Cliff. He put his arm around me and hugged me close, nuzzling my ear with his tongue. “I have dreamed about this since the first day in your class, Chef, but I never thought this would actually come true!”

“Cliff”, I said gently, leaning against his muscular body. “I think you must understand one thing, now.”

“What’s that, Chef?” he asked, running his hand up and down my back.

“My name is not Chef – it’s Mike. And from now on, when we are alone together, that is what I want you to call me. Understand?”

“Do I ever, Mike,” Cliff responded happily, squeezing me to him as we reached the car. “Now, let’s get back to your place with speed!”

END OF PART 2

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