Concealed Weapon

Concealed Weapon

There he sat in all his sensuous splendor as he'd done so many Tuesday andThursday afternoons throughout the spring semester. His muscular legsopening and closing, unable to relax. His brawny upper body did justice to the wife beater style school jersey he wore, but what caught my attention every afternoon – the red shorty shorts with white piping – and the white mesh netting in the right leg opening.

Finally, the young man's nervous energy subsided and those creamy muscular legs splayed wide-open for an eye-popping revelation. As the anxious student sprawled front and center, beneath the arm desk chair, I had a bird's-eye view of his crotch. Something other students seated in a semi circle, engaged in a hum of conversation among themselves eager to discover their final grades, couldn't observe from their vantagepoint.

From my viewpoint, with no white fishnet liner inside the red shorts to contain Ian's privateparts, today I viewed a plump penis perched atop his full scrotum, much like a snake sleeping on a rock in the jungle. The sight caughtme off guard – I stared in awe – trying not to gawk.

The overpowering sight made me gasp, an unnoticeable gasp, but nevertheless a faint gasp. Once again the athletes legs began to close and open in a nervous manner. Each time those powerful legs opened I could see more of the Python creeping a little further from the orange jungle floor, revealing the most succulent pink cockhead I'd ever seen.

Could the missing fishnetliner be an intentional enticing ploy that last day of class to curry favor or just an innocent gesture? Whatever the answer the Python's head and body continued to grow each time Ian's legs opened, letting it creep further out into full view, capturing my attention, while I attempted to address my class that final Thursday afternoon.

Ian, the sensual graduating senior, sitting in front of me, impressed me over the semester. Of course I knew of Ian's stellar reputation before he enrolled in my class. Graduating Magna Cum Laude with a degree in Communication Studies and minor in Journalism on Saturday afternoon Ian decided to take my spring Creative Writing class as an elective during his final semester.

Neither a meathead nornerd, but a rather popular student on campus Ian had made a notable name for himself as an outstanding athlete; however, his communication skills empowered and liberated him, setting him a part from his peers in the athletic department.

Ian's command of English language, competence in public speaking and writing had earned him a position as a freelance reporter for the school's weekly newspaper, as well as earning him many awards. He also interviewed well in the electronic media. Yes, the young man possessed all the qualities that every parent wanted of their children and employers wanted in employees.

Ian's academic prowess, public speaking ability nor his writing skills that last day of class occupied my attention, but rather the concealed weapon slowly revealing itself. I'd glimpsed his hidden package that loitered behind the white mesh restraint, a material used to conceal his ample endowment, on previous Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, but this afternoon – no netting – just a sumptuous cock to tease my eyes.

The gymnast wore his revealing red uniform almost every Tuesday and Thursday because of gymnastic practice after my creative writing class. Since the first day of class he seemed to delight lounging directly in front of my podium. On previous days his burgeoning member pushed the netting into sight, but concealed the manhood behind it.

Today the concealed weapon no longer remained constrained behind the fishnet liner. Although the secret concealed behind the netting had tantalized my wandering eyeduring previous lectures, today unrestrained, it kept winking at me, beckoning my attention. I'd daydreamed about what the gymnast's cockmight look like, but today the member had sprung to life demanding my full attention.

Envious of the larger-than-life trouser snake crawling down Ian's leg I began to sweat. I could feel the perspiration running from my armpits causing wet stains to become visible on my shirt. My mouth became dry and voice a little hoarse as I continued watching more of the snake expose itself. I must say throughout the semester I'd entertained lustful thoughts about the red haired blue eyed gymnast; however, as a 26 year old first year adjunct professor I'd been forced to rein in my lustful desire.

At first, my impure thoughts troubled me. I felt a sense of guilt having lecherous thoughts about my student, but this wasn't high school, it was college. Ian had been teasing me all the other days, but not today. As the spring semester drew to a close in my mind I questioned whether my student's behavior might be part of a more overt game plan to seduce me for a better grade. We both should be so lucky.

As the last couple weeks of my spring semester class came to a close Ian made a point to remain after class for a few moments of one-on-one counseling about his writing project. He would lean into my upper body while standing behind me discussing points in his story displayed on his laptop. I could feel his warm firm member press against my buttock as we talked at the lectern. Something that spawned arousal in my loins.

My super sexy student was not only interested in an “A” grade, so as to maintain a perfect GPA, he also wanted his story published or at least submitted as ascreenplay. I'd promised my class from the first day that I would attempt to assist promising writers get their works published. Not an easy job in today's literary market. Out of the remaining 29 students in my class Ian and five others had made the final cut – Ian's work topped the heap.

To distance myself from the awesome sight in front of me I begin moving among the students handing back packets of graded papers before the noticeable bump appearing in my crotch area caught everyone's attention. As I stepped away from the lectern to move-about the classroom to return graded manuscripts I put Ian out of mind. I'd put sticky notes on manuscripts that showed promise. As I moved among the students I said, “For those of you with the yellow sticky note on your manuscript, with my cell number on it, you are the writers that show the most promise. I want to work with you all sometime this coming summer. Call me for an appointment starting late June.”

As I handed the last packet back I returned to the front of the classroom to address the class. The noticeable bump now somewhat deflated inside my Levis. Once in front of the classroom I said, “For those that did not receive a yellow sticky note don't be discouraged. Work on your manuscripts during the summer and see me in the fall.”

On Ian's packet I added a sentence to his note asking him to remain for a few minutes to discuss his story. As my students filed out of class for their final time Ian frowned before he said, “I have to get over to the gym tosee coach... Gimme a call later in the afternoon or evening Professor.” My member jumped a little inside my Levis, but what was that frown all about?

For the rest of the day my lustful thoughts concentrated on the muscular gymnast and the concealedweapon I'd viewed. Throughout the spring semester I'd undressed the athlete in my mind countless times. I fantasized each time about ravishing his alluring body. Not only did his body excite me so did his writing.

I fantasized about touching Ian's magnificent creamy body in all the right places. I wanted to tantalize him letting my fingertips, lips and tongue entertain every erogenous zone on the young man's lush hunky body. I'd demonstrated restraint throughout the semester, but now with thesemester ending, and Ian graduating, maybe there might be a chance toget to know him better, not as a student, but a writer or on a more intimate basis – maybe a lover.

Disclaimer! The story Concealed Weapon is a work of erotic fiction written for the purpose of adult entertainment. If erotic adult stories offend refrain from reading any further, as this story contains sexually explicit behavior and language among consenting adult males. If you are not of legal age to read adult stories do not read any further. This story is protected under applicable copyright statutes.

 If you care to contact the author, Randall Rumster, to express appreciation, disdain or any concerns do so at the following e-mail address: bn2rumpranger “at” yahoo “dot” com   Subject line: Concealed Weapon.