The Birthday Present

What, or more precisely who, Robert Craig was going to have as his present to himself for his 18th birthday of all of 6 months ago, he was still undecided. At more than 6 feet tall, muscular and with a winning smile to compliment his brown hair and green eyes, he knew that with care he could pull any straight girl in school. More to the point, he knew he could have any gay guy; and some of the straights,- if he played his cards right and was discrete with them. As much came to mind as he chatted between classes with Freddie Cracknell. Freddie was giving out definite vibes that another fuck session with Robert would be more than welcome.

Robert enjoyed the admiration his sex appeal and status as a capable student and general good guy, who always stepped in and put  a stop to bulling whenever he saw it, gave him. In a desultory way he had even joined the senior rugby team reserves on the understanding that he was available to make up the numbers if needs be, but not much else.

“Just to keep myself fit,” he explained with disarming candour.

But today, Freddie was not what Robert was looking for. In truth, he did not know precisely what he was looking for and as the bell sent everyone else scurrying for their classes, he let Freddie down considerately, with a sincere promise of a date soon; and continued on his way to the 6th form common room.

Mr. Davis, or ‘pop’ as he was more or less affectionately known, was gently remonstrating with a small figure before sending him on his way. The small figure turned slightly and seeing Robert Craig felt brave enough to smile and wantonly lick his lips. The head of English also  transferred his attention to the tall confident young man striding towards him.

“Ah Robert my boy. I trust you too are not about to seek refuge in  the library from the rigours of metal work.”

“I did last year sir,” Robert replied, nodding sympathetically towards the disappearing figure.

“My goodness, now you remind me, I believe you did. I suppose you are off now for a little free study in the 6th form common room.”

Mr. Davis was renowned for knowing every detail of the school timetable and for knowing where any given pupil of Calderwood School should be at any hour of the school day.  “My ‘A Level’ Fiorentine and Balkan Studies. Final examination paper tomorrow” confirmed Robert.

“A brave choice, as I believe the contemporary idiom, would have it,” smiled the older man playing up to his carefully cultivated image of one slightly out of touch with aspects of the modern world.

“Oh and congratulations are in order. I gather you scored your first try thingamajig at the rugby match last week ” So saying, Mr. Davis waved as if seeing someone off at Skelthorpe railway station and resumed his brisk stride towards class 4A.

With the flirty pout from Tom Harper very much in mind, Robert abandoned all thought of Fiorentine and Balkan Studies   and headed for the school library. At first, there was no sign of him. The library was abuzz with activity, causing Robert to pause and talk to fellow students and to the shy, but kindly Miss Quinn, who presided over the library as though it were her personal domain. It seemed as though Tom had not slipped away to the library after all.  But then in a corner, there he was. His claret school blazer on the back of a chair as he appeared to be gazing thoughtfully out of the window at the  playing field below. Tom stood at hardly more than 5 ft 4ins tall. His love of boxing and an occasional match as part of the under 18s mixed volleyball team in the Eastamptonshire County League, added to the cautious  regime that was keeping him fit. Though, as he lamented often enough to his good friend Arron Melrose, nothing seemed to add to his muscle density.

“Never mind,” equipped he on hearing Tom’s tharady for the umpteenth time, “the sweetest girls and the hottest boys think you’re cute.”

Fit indeed thought Robert, noting, not for the first time how the white shirt and dark trousers accentuated the contours of Tom’s back and the way it tapered into his firm, delectably shaped arse.

Suddenly aware that he was not alone, Tom turned round, confident and ready to stand his ground; ready to verbally defend himself and explain why metal work was a waste of his time and that studying Blaise Pascal, was not. But as he saw the tall and muscular Robert towering over him by more than half a foot Tom gasped and blushed, in one exquisite movement.

Robert’s cock stirred in desire and appreciation.

“Sorry Tom,” he said gently, “I should have coughed or something.”

“Yes, you should,” agreed Tom regaining his self-confidence.

“When I wanted to bunk off from what ‘pop’ Davies calls “the rigours of metal work,” I used to take work into one of the study cubicles in the library basement. If you stay here, sooner or later a teacher will see you and not even the good offices of ‘pop’ Davies will save you from trouble with your head of year, at the very least.”

Minutes later they had gathered up Tom’s phone, books and papers and were in the library basement, ensconced in a study cubical hardly big enough to accommodate the pair of them.

“Don’t go,” said Tom anxiously as he mis-took Robert’s moves to make his perch on the edge of a small table more comfortable. He produced a small card and thrust it into the other’s hand. “It is a bit late, but I’ve been waiting for a chance to,..you know,.. give this to you without all of Calderwood looking on.”

“Thank-you, Tom. It is not everyone who receives a card 6 months after one birthday and 6 months before the next.”

The warmth of Tom’s smile in response made Robert feel as much giddy as lustful.

Robert stood up, bringing Tom with him. A moment later he was sat on the chair, Tom on his lap. Eyes shone back at Robert, a metallic grey intensity beneath a fringe of jet black hair. Then that captivating smile again.

“God, you’re pretty,” said Robert and kissed him on each eye in turn. He felt the shudder that ran through Tom’s frame and then became little sobs; sobs Robert hoped of happiness.-And acquiescence.

“No one has ever called me pretty before. I sort of hoped you might think I’m a bit handsome. I know my gran does.”

“Always listen to your gran. You are handsome and so fucking pretty as well,” Robert assured him.

Thus encouraged, Tom showered Robert with the kisses he had so often dreamed of bestowing  and willingly surrendered when for the first time ever, a passionate kiss became an insistent tongue parting his lips and entering him like a like a lusting serpent. Tom clung to Robert drawing a strength and comfort from him that went straight to Tom’s cock. His head spinning in a state he knew not quite what, Tom felt the zip of his trousers being slowly lowered.  Instantly he shaped his mouth into what he hoped was an even more enticing place for Robert’s importunate tongue. He had never been kissed this passionately before. He had never shaped his mouth like this before,- because Tom had waited until now, when he was 17 years old, before daring to hope for this moment with anyone. Fear of being thought inexperienced and stupid had held him back. Oh how he wished he had the same confidence in pursuing guys as his trusted friend and confidant  Arron seemed to possess in spades.  But most particularly, he had waited and hoped that this moment would be with Robert Craig. And now it was.  The tongue became rapier like as it thrust into him. In his head he cried out for Robert to fuck him; to take his virginity.  His entire being quivered  to the  momentum of Robert holding his cock as no-one had  done in quite the same, intense way, as he experienced now.  The stud for whom Tom had hoped and silently pined, was bringing him nearer and nearer to a longed for orgasm. Every sense Tom possessed seemed to be gathering in his cock.

Suddenly, the rapier tongue withdrew. The no less determined hand grasping his manhood became still and for a moment it felt to Tom as though he were being cast into an abyss of desire with no hope of getting his rocks off. He was pushed to his feet and watched Robert drop first his trousers and then his boxers. At last, Tom saw Robert naked; well the lower half anyway.

The pretty little slut likes what he sees, thought Robert, handlessly moving his 8 inch cock up and down in carnal salute.

“You are going to be face fucked before we leave here,” announced Robert.

“Yes,” came the submissive response; It’s tone, a surprise to both of them.

In the distance a bell sounded.

“Fuck!” said Robert.

“For whom the bell tolls,” responded Tom, managing a resigned grin. He fell to his knees. “We could fit in that face fucking if we are prepared to blag our way out of missing part of the next lesson. Mine’s science,” he added diffidently.

“As a member of the upper sixth, I’ll get all kinds of agro for missing a lesson,” Robert replied in exasperation. “So nothing less than your sweet arse will do Tom. Strip now. Completely. The face fucking is off”

“Yes Robert.”

As Tom rose to his feet and quickly undressed he was pleased to see Robert complete the same process. Each feasted on the nakedness of the other. Tom short, muscular, eyes shining in metallic grey anticipation of riding that imposing cock. Robert, much taller, green eyes almost feline beneath a brown fringe, noticed how the other sighed at his physique.

“You are not so bad yourself. Muscular, compact and pretty with it,” he told Tom.

“Fuck me. Fuck me now,” pleaded Tom as their lips met again and he traced both of Robert’s collar bones with his fingers.

“Not now, sweetheart. Thinking about it, there just isn’t time. But next time. You are mine to do with as I please. Something I think we both know. Don’t we Tom?”

“Yes Robert,” replied Tom, relishing his own words. So, there was to be a next time and he would be fucked. But what he wondered happily, would be done with him today?

The answer came swiftly.

“Here, slut.”

In one move Tom was unceremoniously pulled forward by the naked Robert, who, sitting himself on the chair, gazed hungrily at Tom and spun him round. Kisses and licks burnished Tom’s neck, his shoulders and on down his back. All the while, Robert’s imprecations of lust and desire punctuating the journey down Tom’s body.

“Your arse is so beautiful, Tom.” The words were felt as warm passionate breaths, before they become  bites: some gentle but others deep, rough and animalistic.

“Bend forward, Bitch.”

The words almost made Tom shoot his load.

“Let me see that fuck hole.”

Almost before Tom complied, two hard slaps stung his right arse cheek. He groaned in pained appreciation and began wanking, slowly at first, as he heard and felt Robert slurping deep into his arse. Oh Christ alive, thought Tom. so this is what it felt like to be rimmed by someone who not only knows what he was doing, but who really appreciated Tom’s arse for thing of beauty Tom knew his to be. It was as though Robert were devouring his hole; and his arse were devouring Robert  and encouraging him to plough greater depths of Tom’s virgin hole with that serpent tongue of his. Each probe into his all desiring hole sent new shivers through Tom’s very being as an orgasm he was trying keep at bay, drew demandingly nearer and nearer.

“More! Deeper! Eat my arse out,” he heard himself cry aloud in response to muffled words  coming from Robert.

Soon, Tom could no longer hold out against Robert’s analingual prowess and in the shuddering bliss of an une petite mort, he shot ropes of cum across the study cubicle wall. It was Robert’s attentive reaction that stopped the exhausted Tom from falling to the floor.- Or so it seemed, for the moment at least. As the two panted, trying to catch their breaths, he slowly picked up Tom’s tee-shirt, wiped his face with it  and smiling, ordered Tom to lay on his back on the floor.    

Robert pointed his unspent rampant manhood at Tom and briefly regretted  that his cock was so demanding of a need to shoot its load. There was something else he should have liked to spray over Tom’s small, but beautifully muscular body first.  It was only later in bed, when Tom was reliving the events in the library study cubicle, that he realized that Robert would have sprayed him with his piss given half the opportunity to do so.

“Tom! Tom,” Robert breathed urgently as he wanked himself. “Next time I am gonna shag you into the middle of next week.” As if to make his point, his cock grew an impressive bit longer and thicker: something Tom noted  with a delicious combination of fear and anticipation. He gazed up at Robert towering over him, right hand almost a blur as it sped the handsome figure to a climax. When the climax  came, the figure shook and called out Tom’s name with each convulsion of thick cum as it landed and puddled across Tom’s  chest and abs.

After that, it did not take long for the realities of the school timetable to reassert themselves. The two were dressed in minutes.

“We will be smelling of sex for the rest of the day. That should make a lot people jealous.”

The look on his new lover’s face banished Tom’s delight as if it had never existed in the first place.

“Now listen Tom. This is between you and me. We are fuck friends. That’s all.”

The look of the totally crestfallen and the hint of tears that Tom hurriedly wiped away, would have melted anyone’s heart.

“Oh sweetheart. I’m not worth crying over. Believe me I’m not. I just want sexy guys to have fun with.”

“But I thought you fancied me and even liked me.”

“I do,- and I do.”

The crestfallen expression looked a little less fallen and all the more so for the kiss to Tom’s forehead. That it was the kind of gentle kiss his gran might bestow did not matter.

“We might even become good friends. I always hope to become good friends with guys I shag, even after the shagging is all over. Don’t you?”

Tom allowed himself a shrug and a little laugh. “I don’t know enough guys to know for sure who is gay,- never mind bonk with on a regular basis.”

“Says you who made a pass and reeled me in just half an hour ago.”

“I was lucky.”

“So was I sweetheart. So was I.”

This moment of warmth ended in a second. To Tom, this second sounded like plate glass shattering behind him. He flinched in terror, somehow aware that Robert was suddenly in front of him, as if protecting him from splintering  glass. To Robert, that same second sounded like nothing so much as a pistol shot. He instantly placed himself in front of Tom.

The sound was not glass shattering, nor indeed a pistol shot.

It was simply Mr. Davis opening the library cubicle door. It was not the amiable ‘pop’ Davis who beheld them. This time, his features were as neither Robert, nor Tom had seen them before, but were suffused with shock and anger.

“You have turned this room into a male bordello.” Mr. Davis looked as one personally betrayed, the sight and smell of cum on the walls and carpet assailing his senses and his dignity. “There will be consequences.-Serious consequences. I dread to think what would have happened if poor Miss Quinn had walked in. ”