He looks up at me, his eyes glistening, and opens wide, waiting for me. I plunge back into the warm dampness of his mouth, and he resumes. His whiskers tickle the sensitive skin of my cock, creating more pleasure. Once more, I give myself over to Kent Lester. Seated, Kent reaches down, and begins stroking himself, and after I rushed him out last night, I’m hopeful he’ll come.
“Jerk yourself. Nice and slow,” I say, hoping he enjoys my voice as much as I do his. He slows down on himself, but the slurping speeds up. Soft groans escaping through his lips wrapped around my hard cock give me a hint he’s enjoying this.
Still stroking himself, he pauses and looks up at me. There’s desire written in his eyes. “I’m close, Vincent.”
Without thinking, I lower myself to a squat, careful not to touch the floor, and we swap roles. I stroke myself faster to speed up my orgasm and savor his irresistible dick—my mouth instantly thrilled at the familiar sensation of him filling me up. As he thrusts into me, I grab his waist, letting myself fall completely under his charms.
“Keep sucking. You’ve got my cock rock hard.”
His words prod me to move faster, harder, making a sloppy mess of myself.
“You look amazing with your lips around my dick. Such a beautiful, good boy.”
There it is. Again. That word. Beautiful. Me? Spit, and lord knows what else, drips down my chin, and I couldn’t care less. Who am I, and what happened to the real me?
“Vincent, I’m, I’m … ” he warns, attempting to push me off, but I resist, burying my head further, the glorious fuzz on his belly shoved against my forehead.
“You want it?” Kent’s breath quickens with small gasps.
I bob my head and moan as he fucks deep into me. I want to taste him. Swallow him. Maybe if I keep a part of him inside me, I’ll feel this free forever.
Eruptions of warm pleasure jolt to the back of my throat. The closeness, the heat, and the thick texture send shivers down my spine. He leans over and begins rubbing my back through my shirt. I swallow his salty seed quickly, knowing the warmth came from inside him. It’s perfectly pasteurized.
“Fuck, Vincent, you take my cum like such a good boy,” he purrs, and my dick, throbbing in anticipation, takes it as a cue to unload. With Kent still in my mouth, I shoot all over the floor, avoiding my pants or shoes.
My legs wobble beneath me, and I topple backward and land on the closet floor, the cool tiles providing an unexpected shock to my bare ass. My heart races, and I don’t even pull my pants up or care about being on the filthy floor. That’s what Kent Lester has done to me—cracked me open.
Kent stands over me, lifts my face, and drags his thumb across my chin. “Look at my cum dripping off your lips.” He licks it off before kissing me gently. “You’re going to be trouble, Mr. Manda,” he says, and I’m fairly sure he’s right.
CHAPTER 8
Kent
Apparently, reckless behavior that could not only get me fired but also have me losing my principal’s license was the name of the game before the holiday break. What in the world was I thinking? Doing that. In a supply closet. At school. Clearly, I was thinking with the wrong head. Can I get a therapist for my cock? Paging Doctor Dick. I need to stop this nonsense. Immediately. Retroactive if possible. Find a DeLorean, build a time machine, go back two weeks, and never go on that date with Vincent Manda.
Sitting across from me, where I crashed into his nose before break, leading to the “closet incident,” Vincent taps away at his keyboard. I’m more determined than ever to put the kibosh on anything beyond friendship. I’m not looking for a scandal. No contact with Vincent for fourteen days helped. New year, new me. Time with the family. Hanukkah and Christmas with Lia. She loved her stuffed unicorn. I’m not sure she understands how silly the name Corny is for it, but her first choice (Horny) was understandably a screeching no from her mother.
After our shenanigans in the closet, Vincent and I agreed we needed to immediately stop this … well, whatever was brewing between us, and the long holiday break allowed time and space to reset. But having him this close again, his eyelashes fluttering, remembering the short time we shared … not just sexually, but there was a connection. At least for me. Something about Vincent Manda makes me want to tuck him into my pocket and care for him like a treasure.
Vincent scratches an itch. A tingling I didn’t know existed—and the talking. I never knew it could be so damn hot. Maybe it’s just the excitement of being with a man after all these years. And by years, I mean since high school.
Brian Hall, my tall lanky track teammate, had offered to help me with my chemistry homework. The formulas confused the hell out of me and Brian was a science whiz. Between practice and tutoring, we spent a lot of time together. A friendship blossomed and the chemicals we studied in my thick textbook weren’t the only thing bonding. Feelings deepened. And that’s when it hit me. I realized my heart’s inability to take things slowly, as I swiftly recognized my crush on Brian. Then one afternoon, it must have been May or June because I remember the humidity, we were showering after a late practice. Alone in the stall, Brian soaped himself up, staring at me. My cock, unable to hide my excitement, gave me away. Quick grabs. Slick sucking noises and panting echoed in the empty locker room. Right when he was coming, Brian pressed his forehead to mine, and for a fleeting moment, I thought, maybe. Maybe something more was possible. But immediately after, he acted like nothing happened. “I don’t like you like that, Kent. I’m not gay.”
Meeting Corrine freshman year at the University of Southern Maine allowed me to lock that experience in a box. It was easier. And I loved Corrine. I mean, I still do. Being bi was something I always felt but didn’t have the words for—the observation of lips, shoulders, muscles, and necks. I felt a tingle of attraction with everyone, regardless of gender, but I never knew what to do with it.
The rawness of the shower incident had scared me. Passionate. Hard. Thick. All those sensations, combined with our budding friendship galloped back with Vincent and his fucking sexy bald head. I want to take my tongue and run it over every inch, but I’m certain he’d never approve. I’m caught off guard by the unexpected side of me that comes out when I’m with him. Just like after the shower incident with Brian, I’m rethinking my decision to pursue men. Falling for Corrine was easier, that’s for sure, but it never erased my bisexuality.
“Dr. Cutler provided us with your high-level data,” Vincent says, interrupting the spiraling in my noggin. I shake my head like Sweetums does when he’s trying to brush off my numerous kisses, and attempt to center myself.
“And I’ll work to extract the GradePlus data,” I say. As the building admin, I own the data and I’ve tabbed the thick manual with the extraction process which appears to be a few clicks.
“It would be helpful for me to see what it might look like in the classroom. How much can we push for more frequent data collection? The teacher’s setup. Can you make that happen?”
“Sure, um, yeah, of course,” I say.
There’s a knock on the open door, and I jerk and almost spill my water. The bottle teeters on the table’s edge, but I catch it just before it decimates Vincent’s laptop.
“Mr. Lester, can we grab your garbage?”
