I have always loved older men. Even as a boy I'd been attracted to several teachers and adults that I looked up to. Sadly, nothing ever came of those for the longest time, that is until I was sixteen.
I've always looked older than I really am, and so I was hit on a lot from sixteen onward. I have to admit, I liked (and still like) the attention.
I have many stories that I will share with you about my sexcapades (what else would you call them?) if you would like - this, being the first of many - but before that, allow me to tell you a bit about myself.
My name is Chase Alexander Kain. I am twenty years old. I have sandy blond hair and dark blue eyes. I am 5'11' and I am of a slender build. I have a light complexion due to my German heritage, but everyone says it suits me. A light dust of freckles crosses from cheek to cheek, over the bridge of my nose. I suppose you would say my dress is a bit prep, as I like to wear button up shirts and turtleneck sweaters from Old Navy and Abercrombie, but a majority of my clothes really don't fit a style type. If it works together, I'll wear it. My cock is 5.5 inches, uncut. My pubes are shaved. My ass is round and hairless, as is my crack. I am a complete bottom, and have only topped once. I hated it. Writhing beneath or riding another is where I belong. I've been told I am cute and very fuckable, but I've always been a bit of a nerd. One thing if for certain. I love sex and I live for it. With that, I will now tell you the story of my very first sexual experience.
It was the end of the school year my sophomore year. I had just turned 16 in November and was finally accustomed to the school. I loved my classes, and most of my teachers, but like any high school student, one teacher stood out among the rest.
Mr. York. Thomas York. Final period English teacher and my own personal Adonis. 5'11' to my 5'8'. Thirty years old. Tanned, brunet, and gorgeous. His dark brown eyes sparked with fun and familiarity. His body was lightly muscled as one could see through the oxford shirts that he loved to wear. His ass was firm - I had just known it would be. He'd bent over quite a few times to pick up some papers or a book that had fallen to the floor and I'd gotten quite a good look at it. I also knew that he was just bound to have as gorgeous a package as he had a bod. The best thing, however, was that my gaydar went in full effect whenever I got near him. I also had a feeling that the older man knew that I looked and enjoyed it. At least, I had hope, in any case. Still yet a virgin at 16, I wanted Mr. York bad. I wanted to feel what my best friend - promiscuous Alan Reid - talked about.
One day in March, I walked into last period moody and quiet. Some asshole in the class before had decided that poking me and calling me a fag would cure his boredom, and the fact that the class was my least favorite - Algebra - and the teacher was my sworn enemy - Mrs. Bean - I had already been in a sour mood. I had never wanted to punch someone as much as I'd wanted to hit Tyler Kirk that hour (I did take revenge by slapping his hand hard with a ruler, but it hadn't been very sweet). Mr. York must have sensed my bad mood, as he came to my front row desk, leaned against it and turned his head to look at me. He opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment the class know-it-all rose her hand and began to wave it frantically. God, she was so annoying. I gave Mr. York an apologetic look and he returned with an easy grin.
'Stay after class, Chase,' he mouthed. 'We'll talk.' Then he walked over to the human windmill and proceeded to help her out until the bell rang. The class went by in a haze as I took to fantasizing about Mr. York and myself or Mr. York and several of the other males in the class. It was safe to say that by the time class had ended - and I had remarkably finished this classes homework for all the hot daydreaming - I was very aroused, and my cock - 5.3 inches back then - was straining against my tight black jeans. I was very pleased that I had a reason to stay behind as the bell rang and the other students raced to pack up their backpacks and ditch the class. Little Miss Know-it-All seemed on the verge of raising her hand to ask another ten minute question about a topic that we would not cover for months that would require a twenty minute explanation at the very least but -
'Whitney, I need to talk to Chase for while. Your question can wait until tomorrow. If you'd like, I will be here early in the morning, so feel free to come for help before first period. Have a good day.'
Whitney glared at me before stuffing her books haughtily into her book bag, slinging it onto one shoulder as she stood, and then rushing from the room and shutting the door a little roughly behind her. I watched as Mr. York walked over to the door and flipped the lock shut. After, he leaned against it, focusing his dark eyes upon me with an easy smile.
'I always lock the door after last period. Anyone who might wish to speak to me thinks I am gone, and so I can finish up my daily work in peace.'
He made his way back to his desk, leaning upon it as he crossed his arms.
'Now, Chase, tell me what happened that put you in such a mood.'
I sighed and shrugged. His bringing up that incident was doing nothing for my erection. I just wanted to get home so that I could drop my backpack in the entryway, rush to my bedroom and lock my door, crawl into bed and proceed to touch myself while fantasizing about those big hands doing the touching instead. 'It's nothing, Mr. York.' I kept my gaze from his and picked at the warped corner on my desk.
Without warning, a large hand moved into my vision and I was forced to look up as Mr. York gripped my chin. His dark eyes were steady as they looked into my own and I found I could not look away. What was more, my arousal was returning fast. I swallowed hard. He asked again.
'It was... just some guy in fifth hour, Mr. York. Nothing big.' I shrugged again. It was quickly becoming my signature move. His mouth became a thin line and his grip strengthened just a bit.
'He called you derogatory names, didn't he?'
I blinked and then decided to play stupid. You didn't tattle tale on another guy in high school unless you had a death wish. Especially where Tyler Kirk was concerned.
'Tyler. Tyler Kirk. No, don't shake your head, I know. He called you a faggot, didn't he?'
I just stared. The older man groaned and released me. 'I really don't get boys today. If someone is abusing you, you do not let him or her walk all over you. Still, it's obvious you aren't going to talk, so I can't help you I'm afraid. Just know, Chase, I am here if you need to talk. No matter what. Just ask. Understood?'
I nodded and watched as he walked back to his desk. He looked up a minute later, a confused expression on his face.
'Chase? What are you still doing here?'
I bit my lip hard. I couldn't move. If I did Mr. York would see and it would be the end of me. Just by that simple touch, I was tight in my jeans.
His brows quirked as he watched me and slowly a knowing smile flitted onto his face. I blushed profusely and looked down. I was taken by surprise more than I'd ever been when the older man fell to his knees beside me, grinning.
'No need to be embarrassed, Chase,' he said, and placed a hand on my knee. I looked at him, our eyes meeting and locking. His dark eyes now sparked with fun and something that looked suspiciously like lust. I had to be dreaming. 'This isn't the first time a younger male has had the hots for me, I assure you.'
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Minutes passed of Mr. York and I just staring at one another. At long last, I found my voice, but the thing I least expected to ever say to Mr. York escaped my mouth in a needy and wanton whisper.
'Touch me, Mr. York.'
And he did last thing I ever expected the older man to do. He complied.
I gasped as his fingers brushed over the lump at the front of my jeans. I outright moaned as he pressed his palm firmly against it and squeezed lightly. Then he quickly unzipped my jeans and with my help, pulled both the jeans and my black silk boxers down to bunch around my ankles. A large hand closed around me and he slowly began to pump, his free hand making small work of the buttons on my shirt before evil fingers pinched and pulled at my taut buds. Before long I had slid down slightly in my seat and my legs had spread as wide as they could go. My eyes were lidded and my hips bucked into my teacher's grasp.
'Ah, fuck,' I moaned, my voice now reduced to a guttural rasp. His pace was much faster now and my moans were becoming louder. I found Mr. York's mouth against mine just as my cock spasmed and I came violently, my seed shot over the desk and into Mr. York's hand. He continued to stroke me as we kissed.
Too soon, he released me and pulled away from me. He said nothing as he strode to the classroom sink and washed his hands. I suddenly felt very exposed and didn't know what to say and so I just sat there.
'You should go, Chase,' he said at long last, clearing his throat. 'Please, don't tell anyone about this... and I... I'm sorry.'
I opened my mouth but he raised a hand and interrupted me.
'No... don't speak, just go.'
I quickly pulled up my pants and underwear, slinging my bag over my shoulder and ran from the room. I made my way to my car and got in. My mind replayed the entire scene over and over. By the time I'd made it home I was rock hard once more. I quickly rushed into the house, discarding my backpack and fleeing to my room. Locking the door, I undressed and crawled into bed. Slowly, I touched myself as I recalled the feel of my teacher's hands upon me, effectively forgetting the part where he'd kicked me out of the classroom. It wasn't long before I was thrusting into my fist, gasping and moaning. For the second time in an hour I came, only this time I called out his name.
To be continued.