professor-predator-6

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Subject: Professor Predator Part 6 Hello fans! (and maybe detractors lol). I’ve been getting awesome feedback from folks, thanks for continuing to send your thoughts. One critic was unhappy with the fact that this story got “political” in part 3, as if the personal isn’t ALWAYS political, and said that he wasn’t going on Adult/Youth to see political opinions. To anybody else who feels similarly, I have to ask: how is fantasizing about underage boys APOLITICAL? Do you think this is a “neutral” space where you can be conservative/nationalist of any kind and still think that your nation or right wing political party wouldn’t destroy your life solely because of your sexual desires? Even liberal/labor parties can barely tolerate some elements of sexual deviance or gender variance. This story, and indeed arguably all of Nifty, only has a comfortablehome in a very anarchist/marxist/feminist/queer theory ideological world. If you are some Ayn Rand lover, you can kindly not use my fiction to get off. Go do some conversion therapy or something, go be straight I guess. : P Thanks for reading the diatribe. Any further feedback is welcome! please write to ail Chapter Six: All of the beer was gone and they had shifted over to gin and tonic, by the time Ben started to feel a sense of impatience and the need for Liz to go home. He had just messaged Sam discreetly–hopefully if the boy called him, he could act like something had come up and usher his friend out the door quicker. “My teacher definitely thinks I quit drinking,” Liz said.. “And uh, OBVIOUSLY when I was stuck in India for a year during a global plague I had, uh,” she hiccuped. “Nothing. Not even a drop. But life is for the living, man. And social work is fucking terrible,” she said, slumping against the kitchen cabinets. They were sitting on the floor, listening to Radiohead (what a terrible idea) and feeling appropriately melancholic. “Okay, Liz,” said Ben. “I’m gonna wind down and you know. “God,” she blurted. “Porn addiction.” “Yeah, yeah,” said Ben. “Don’t yank it off,” she said, standing. He saw her off safely in an uber. She saluted and slumped down into the back seat, and Ben immediately called Sam on a private phone number that couldn’t be traced. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Nothing. He didn’t dare leave a message. He went to bed waiting, thinking any moment that sweetpea might go howling through the house at the sound of the boy tromping up the back steps. But there was no boy up the back steps. * * * * * * As Ben lay awake, anxious and miserable, the boy he loved was pacing the grounds of the university. Sam was agitated, restless. He had put on his scarf, hat, parka and sweats and gone for a long walk through the empty, abandoned campus. There was absolutely nobody around. No campus police patrolling in cars. No drunk girls squealing and stumbling back to their dorms. Not a single light on in any of the academic buildings or dormitories, not even so much as a rabbit bounding through the darkness. The boy was alone, and he needed it. He swept the water droplets off a park bench and sat down looking at the grounds of the campus, all neon with an outrageous degree of electrical light, given the absence of anybody to need it. The fluorescent streetlamps burned through the evergreen trees that towered over the old mall of campus. Sam sat in confusion. Jumbled memories went through his mind. His parents. The rainbow flag. The legal pad his father foisted on him: “here, do more work to educate me.” Then he thought of Ben. Oh, Ben. His sweat, his smell, his embraces. The rumble of his voice. The sexiness of everything about him–the tattoos, the wit, the caring interest. The gentle touch. He was literally almost three times the boys’ age, and everything they were doing was not only frightening and new, but completely taboo, illegal– He was supposed to go over there tonight. kocaeli escort He was supposed to lose his virginity, or whatever–supposed to. He had wanted nothing more, 24 hours ago. A momentary flashback, and the boy recalled the taste of Ben’s cum in his office earlier that very same day. He had swallowed it all, thirsty and desperate for far more than oral sex. Now? Now it was way too much. The boy stood abruptly. Ran back to the dorm, his breath steaming into the damp air. He ran the keycard, went into his room. Sam turned on the desk lamp by his bed and shrugged off his heavy coat, saw his phone had a missed call. “It’s just my parents,” the boy murmured. He didn’t want to deal with anything. He bundled down into his bed, turned on loud white noise, and went to sleep. * * * * * * The next day, there was no word from the boy. Ben tried to go about his business as usual, but he started to have paranoid thoughts. What if he told them? He was only 13. Sam was anxious, under a great deal of pressure. Ben imagined the confrontation the boy must have had with his parents and could easily see Sam breaking down and going home, confessing to things, or any number of other possibilities. The man got into his car and drove fifteen minutes to the seaside. There was a public beach not far from Greenock bay, with epic pinnacles of black rock jutting from the water. In spite of its beauty, Ben rarely went because it was usually too crowded. During COVID, he had avoided the place altogether– it was inevitably crawling with people walking their dogs and students having picnics and campfires when the weather was nice. Ben was the introverted and selfish type who wanted nature all to himself. Today, his selfish desires might be a possibility: the weather was not nice (freezing rain). Almost all of the students had left campus, people were hunkered down in their homes, and the beach was, as he had hoped, relatively deserted. Sweetpea ran up and down the surf, fetching chunks of driftwood. The sky was grey, the air was misty, and the ocean roared and crashed onto the black gravel of the beach. Ben was alone for a long, merciful spell. He trod down the beach and absorbed the five elements: the water of the mist and waves, the earth of the sand and gravel beneath his feet, the air cold and sweet in his nostrils, and the fire of his own body heat. Finally, the ether: his mind, the animating awareness of his senses. Everything seemed alright. He would be alright. He saw another person then, hunched in the mist. Somebody in a red raincoat, sitting on a washed-up beam of wood. The rain had turned to thick flurries of wet, sloppy snow. The figure on the driftwood was staring out at the water, and then Ben recognized the posture and raincoat. It was Sam. The man hesitated. Sweetpea was bounding up and down the surf still, happy and soaking wet. There was such a chill on the air, though, the man knew he needed to get her home. Indeed, his own feet were soaked and frigid. “Hey!” Ben called. His voice got swallowed up in the ocean waves. The boy on the beach didn’t look at him. Ben walked closer. He got in sight of the boy, at last, and Sam looked over startled. His face was pallid, he looked shocked. “Hey,” said Ben. “Hey,” answered Sam. The man stood awkwardly. Sam looked at the ground, eyes shielded by his hood. “What’s going on, kiddo?” asked Ben. “I was worried something bad happened.” “Yeah,” said Sam. “Yeah, what?” asked the man. “I dunno,” said the boy. Ben’s face was getting hot. He felt frustrated, confused. What the fuck was happening? Why was Sam being so withdrawn? “You don’t know what?” asked the professor. A couple seagulls landed on the edge of the driftwood log nearby, and then flew away just as quickly. Sam shifted into a standing position, hands buried in his pockets. kolej escort “I dunno what to say,” said Sam. “Hey,” said Ben, his tone rising in anger. “Look at me.” Sam made eye contact at last, and the man could see his lower lip trembling. “What’s going on, kiddo?” Ben asked, “you left me totally in the dark, and I need to know what’s happening. Did you tell your parents about me or something?” Sam’s face screwed up in confusion. “What the fuck? Why would I ever do that?” “I don’t know,” said Ben, “but you’re stonewalling me and I have no idea what’s going on! Of course I’m gonna have some anxious thoughts.” “How could you ever think that I’d do that to you!?” Sam asked, wiping tears and snot from his face. “Don’t you trust me at all?” “Look,” said Ben, “you’re just deciding to get angry at me right now so you don’t have to talk about whatever is really going on. Talk to me!” Ben said, shouting. Sam scowled, and stormed off away from the man, heading up the beach toward the distant parking lot. Without a second thought, Ben ran after. Teeth grit with frustration, he bounded after the boy, grasped him by the arm, and jerked him around to face him. “Sam!” he said, “Talk to me!” The boy’s face was still twisted up in frustration and sadness. He broke the man’s grip, and collapsed into the sand in sobs. “Hey, hey,” Ben said, squatting down. He put his hand under the boy’s hood and touched the back of his warm neck. “It’s okay. It’s okay kiddo.” Sam buried his face between his knees and cried, long and hard. Ben tried to console him, but it was no use. “Will you come home with me, little babe?” Ben asked. “Please.” Sam nodded. He lifted the boy to his feet, and guided him back toward the parking lot. The boy stumbled and leaned into the man’s embrace, and Sweetpea trotted along looking upward in concern. The drive seemed to take forever. Ben felt paranoid that somebody might have spotted them in the parking lot; there was a man in a truck, talking on his phone, but nobody else. No reason to be fearful, Ben thought. They pulled up the gravel of the driveway and a few minutes later, sat in the warmth of the living room with two hot cups of chai and a fire crackling in the stove. The boy looked sullen, was still avoiding Ben’s gaze. “Kiddo,” said Ben, holding his mug between both hands, still cold from the excursion. “Yeah?” “Can we watch a movie, for now? Just cuddle or something and maybe later you’ll feel more open to talking. Do you like Ghibli movies?” “Ghibli?” “Mononoke-Hime, Spirited Away, Ponyo.” “Oh,” Sam said, his face flickering with the slightest positivity so far. “I love Spirited Away.” “I have all 13 or whatever of Miyazaki’s movies on my hard drive. We can watch one you’ve already seen, or a new one. They’re very healing and nice when you’re feeling bad emotions.” Sam chose Porco Rosso. Ben put it on the big flatscreen in the front room and heaped the couch with pillows and blankets. The boy nested down into the heap of bedding and lay down near Ben, but not touching him. The movie began and quickly transported both of them far, far away. Ben’s anxiety about the boy’s distance and erratic emotions quickly dissolved when Sam rested his damp head on the man’s shoulder. Ben wrapped his arm around the boy, and Sam nuzzled into his armpit and took a deep inhale. Ben couldn’t help but giggle. “That tickles,” he said. The boy’s face was still buried in his armpit hair. “You smell good,” said Sam. “Disagree. But I’m glad you like it.” The man felt a flood of positive emotions: relief, exhilaration, contentment. He draped his arm down the boy’s back and gripped one buttock, and pulled him into a deep snuggle. Sam giggled too, now, and nuzzled his nose into the man’s ribcage. “You sweetie little babe,” whispered Ben. konak escort “Come here. Crawl up in my lap.” The boy, with no sign of the angst of a few minutes ago, crawled out of the blankets and straddled Ben’s lap, and then sank into a straddle facing Ben, laying his head on the man’s chest. Ben wrapped him in blankets and then in an impregnable embrace, cradling the boy’s head against his chest with one hand and cupping one tiny, pert asscheek with the other. They both sighed. “I’m glad you’re here with me,” said Ben. Sam nodded. “Me too.” Ben could feel the thickness of Sam’s cock growing against his belly. He gripped the boy’s asscheek harder, shook it a bit in aggressive, thirsty love. “I want you so bad,” the man grumbled. Sam sighed again, lay the full weight of his body against Ben’s chest. “I guess I was really anxious about that,” the boy said. “Huh?” “I had a really positive time with my parents,” said the boy. “Or, like, not positive. Just. Not that bad. And they’re trying. I feel kinda like the worst is over with them.” “Awesome?” said Ben. “You don’t sound happy about it.” “Yeah I’m suspicious. Anyway. Once I dealt with them, I kinda realized–we have to. Do something soon. Like. I feel overwhelmed. About us.” “We don’t have to do anything, little babe,” Ben whispered. He kissed the boy on top of his head. “But I want to,” moaned the boy. They both sighed, together then. Both cocks were hard, both of them felt thirst. “Of course,” said Ben. “But we can take things slow. You should set the pace. We can go however quick or slow you want to go. And honestly–this is something most of us queers don’t do until we’re at least 16 or 18 years old, and even then it’s usually a disaster and very uncomfortable, and neither person gets off.” “Really?” asked the boy. “Yeah. Really. It’s an awkward process.” The boy looked up at him, then, eyes brimming with tears. “I want you to tell me what to do, then,” said the boy. “What?” “I want you to take control. I want to cum with a dick up my ass, but I don’t know how to do the stuff I’ve read about online. I’ve used a carrot and stuff, but I don’t know how to, like, douche or anything” the boy sniffed. He wiped his nose and tears. “I don’t feel like I’ll do a good job.” Ben laughed. He laughed and squeezed the boy, tight as he could, and kissed all over his head and his ears. He tickled Sam, under the arms and across his ribs. Sam giggled, and the man planted kisses on his lips and cheeks and pressed his nose against the boy’s nose. They looked into each other’s eyes. “Sweet, sweet babe,” Ben whispered. “You’re amazing.” “Whyyyyyy?” moaned the boy, embarrassed. “You’re so sweet and self-conscious. None of this is a huge deal, like. Once you get used to it. I know it’s probably really scary and from personal experience I know how vulnerable it feels to have a cock up your ass. It’s sort of like the most overwhelming sensation imaginable. But–this process of getting there–it doesn’t have to be scary. I love you, I’m gonna care for you. It will be okay. This can be pure pleasure. No anxiety. No harm. No pain. We can make this an easy and lovely thing. We can take days and weeks and months and even years, if you want. And you can back off anytime. Okay?” Sam nodded. “I’ll tell you what to do, in brief little episodes, okay? Like, maybe first we’ll just work through what it’s like to douche. And maybe that will just be all we do for the day, and we can get off or whatever, or cuddle, or not. And tomorrow, or the next day, or whenever you feel ready, we can go a step further.” Sam nodded again. He relaxed into the man’s embrace even further and squeezed him tight. “I love you,” said the boy. Ben rocked the boy back and forth. “I love you too.” The boy glanced over at the movie they had been ignoring for ten minutes. “Should we go back in the plot?” asked the man. “Nnnno….” the boy murmured. “Can you show me how to douche?” **sorry for the cliffhanger. I’m trying to write these chapters as quick as possible while working full time. Next installment should be hot as fuck. Love you all! V.C. ***

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