Academics was never a stregth of mine, so my uni years were a major

struggle for me. Very often I got to the point of giving up, but my

colleagues and professors kept talking me round with strong words of

comfort and encouragement. Even so, the pressure was still too much, yet I got through and passed. How? I 'll never know. Either Him upstairs was

smiling down at me or else I must have trodden in something huge and

lucky when and where it mattered. So this chapter in my life is aimed at

those who put up with me and my tantrums and got me through it all. They

deserved me to pass because of all their kindness and generousity. This

chapter is just one example of how just one of them managed to help.

I felt drained and burnt out by the time the summer holidays before my

last year began. All my friends and lecturers were very concerned. I hadn't slept much at night worrying about dead-lines and keeping up. Lack

of sleep made any in-take of lectures as good as impossible. This fuelled

my anxieties and caused further sleepless nights. The end of term arrived

just in time before I neared the point of total melt-down. One thing that

gave me strength to continue, that helped give me hope and something to

look forward to, was an offer made by one of the staff. His name was

damien (hehe I 'm lying) and he wasn't even one of my lecturers. He owned

one of those mobile homes on an exclusive caravan site in keswick, a lake

district resort in cumbria uk. It was mine for the week if I wanted it. A

place to escape and get away from it all. Leave the world behind and

recharge my batteries. I was only 19, yet he was trusting me with his

holiday home, risking his reputation with the campsite. There would be

mountains to climb and lakes to swim in. Work would be several hundred

miles behind me. The thought of a break, a holiday alone, all by myself,

would have been a taste of paradise. I snatched up his offer with no


I bargained on the weather being good, so I packed the minimum possibly

needed in my college back-pack. As a kid I 've always been taught to

travel light. I got the train to victoria station and the national

express coach to the lakes. It was a long journey, but it gave me time to

unwind. There was an awkward moment when a very large fat man in his late

fifties came and sat next to me, or almost on top of me, towards the back

of the coach. I was squashed between him and the window. It wasn't going

to be good. A plan of action immediately hatched.

After we had travelled the first few miles I felt enough was enough. My

ploy was to pretend to fall asleep and let my head fall and rest against

his shoulder. I did this and put on a convincing snore. He tried shifting

a bit with obvious discomfort, but his seat gave little room for manouvre

for such a big fat arse. I snuggled up to his shoulder even more, as if

he were a great big cosy bean bag. The idea was he'd eventually move off

to another seat. He didn't give any indication he was going to do that.

Certainly no hint came soon enough for me. I turned in my seating and lay

a leg across his spongey lap and crossed an arm across his cavenous

chest. Still no change of seating. I started to snore all the more and

deeper. I even let my mouth dribble down his shoulder. Surely this would

work, if not nothing would, except maybe...? I let off wind, a good loud

juicey raspberry belch of the bum.

A response! A definite shift of position! I followed it up by curling

into him all the more. Perhaps he'll use this disturbance to make his

excuse-me's and move on. No such luck. Instead he placed a big fat hand

on my lap. Not in a pervy way, but as a father would secure his own

sleeping child. Fuck, this wasn't going to work. My brain clicked into

another gear, trying to keep up the initiative. It churned faster than my

conscience thought.

'Mmm... stroke me. Stroke my cock,' I suddenly heard myself mutter!

Good plan, others would look round and embarrass him into moving fast. I sensed no movement, no shuffling, no turning of heads. Nothing happened.


I let the hand I had across his shoulder start to stroke him. I let it

wander and find an opening between his shirt buttons. It slid between the

fabric and started to caress his hairy boob. A result! He shifted and

moved! He got up and I dropped my head into his seat. I startled myself

awake and looked up with bleary eyes. He cleared his throat and smiled. I faked how daized I was and ask, 'what?'

'You fell asleep on me' he said, as I dozily straightened myself up

feining a look of shock and disgust.

'Sorry' I said, 'did I disturb you?' acting all innocent.

'No, no worries' he said, but fuck it, he sat back down again!

So much for that plan. I sat arms crossed with the hump. To make matters

worse he kept looking at me. I could tell from the corner of my eyes. As

we travelled on he eventually placed a hand on my thigh. I flitched in

surprise, I didn't expect that, but he didn't withdraw it. I gingerly

looked round at him and he was grinning with a look I didn't like. But

his hand was hot against my thigh and moved closer to my crutch. Next his

hand was cupped over my bits.

'Nice bulge!' he whispered.

Fuck, he discovered my hard-on before I knew I had one! But I was pinned

there in my seat. There was nowhere I could go. But his hand did feel


He began to give it gentle squeazes. I couldn't help it respond. I got

harder and hornier. I shifted my position to give him easier access and

began to loosen my belt and buttons. His hand slipped beneath my undies

and I felt his fingers wrap around my throbbing shaft. Almost straight

away a shot of precum spilled out over his nob-slit caressing thumb. His

hot hand and my lube quickly got me to that point I needed him to

continue. I couldn't let him stop now. He had to continue.

I couldn't tell him to stop. I couldn't tell him to keep going. I couldn't tell him I was about to cum. It was risky enough what he was

doing without the added risk of spelling it out to anyone who might hear

me. Plus, if I had try to say anything my voice would have sounded too

strained. Instead I just looked into his eyes and he seemed to read what I hoped they were trying telling him. He continued his manipulating as my

body started to jerk and twitch. I gripped my bottom lip and closed me

eyes tight. I shuddered all over as pulse after pulse ejaculated my hot

cream over my stomach, lap and his hand. I turned and dug my teeth into

his upper arm trying to stifle my gasping. Then I relaxed and sunk into

my seat like a rag doll exhausted. The fat man raised his hand to his

mouth and sucked off all my juices, licking each finger carefully not to

miss a drop. When he finished he passed me a clean handkerchief which I used to wipe myself down. When done I handed it back to him, tucked

myself in and fastened my belt and buttons again. He put the handkerchief

to his nose and sniff before folding it back into his pocket. Weird!

Next thing I knew we had arrived. He woke me up with a gentle shaking. I had fallen asleep against his shoulder again and slept like a baby. Had

this all been a dream? As he was about to leave the coach he got out his

handkerchief and gave it another deep sniff with a sly wink in his eye.

Plus I had crispy dry stains on my t-shirt. It hadn't been a dream.



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