My Coffee Breaks

My coffee breaks are increasing lately.

There is this kid on campus that I have spotted a few weeks ago in the open area outside the cafeteria. What can I say? He draws my attention? It is much more than that. He has made my heart skip a beat or two the first time I have spotted him. My little guy down there also has seemed interested—semi-hard in a few seconds.

I am a professor and the kid is a student. I’ve just turned 40, graying at the temples, wire-rimmed eyeglasses, fairly in good shape, in general, your regular college professor. He? Well, he is around 2 meters tall (6’ 5”), slim, with a light beard, 21 or 22 years old. The more I watch him the more I notice things that attract me more with each coffee break I take and he happens to be there.

He usually wears a pair of faded blue jeans that outlines his penis, positioned a little bit to the left. Not that the jeans are tight, but the outline is definite. He has a dashboard stomach; once, he was wearing a shirt with the top two buttons undone. I could see the beginning of some chest hair, which sent shivers throughout my body.

I am sitting on a bench under one of the trees in the open courtyard, sipping my coffee and watching him. His movements and his whole attitude take up all my attention. I wonder whether he is gay and laugh at myself that such a hot specimen would be so. It’s true that he hangs out with other guys most of the time, but at other times a couple of girls would join them and he seems to be having a good time with his friends. Of course, he couldn’t be gay. He doesn’t show any signs of gayness. He is just natural in his movements. But even if he were gay, why would he be interested in old professors when there are so many other hot guys around?

I am watching him, sipping my coffee and having wild reflections. After a while, he breaks away from the group and walks in my direction. I wish he would come over and talk. But then why would he? He isn’t taking any courses with me. As I watch this hot, young kid walk towards me, I realize that he is coming over, after all!

He smiles as he reaches the bench I am sitting on and says, “Hi, sir.” His smile is one of those sunshine smiles that you have to remember for the rest of your life. Full young masculine lips, white teeth, shadows of dimples, eyebrows almost touching above his green-brown eyes, and oh, his tall, lithe and slim body.

“Hi,” I say back, trying to manage the shaking excitement in my voice, looking up at him as he towers over me.

“I hope I’m not bothering you, sir, but may I sit with you for a while?”

My heart is beating very fast; I really believe that the thumping might show through my shirt. His jeans outline is even more pronounced now that I am able to see him up close.

“Sure,” I say, feeling my mouth starting to go dry. “What can I do for you?”

“Well,” he smiles—oh, that smile again—“nothing much. But I like to talk to profs, and I noticed that you usually sit in the open area and watch students as you drink your coffee. And I also noticed that you tend to be looking our way most of the time. Can I ask: What do you look for when you are watching us?”

“Hmmm, good question.”

I am thinking fast. The kid is sharp. What could I say to that? He is sitting next to me, somewhat closer than I would have expected, and I could feel his body heat, or it could have been my imagination or wishful thinking.

“Nothing in particular. Young people attract me and I like to watch. Does that make you uncomfortable?”

He laughs. “On the contrary, sir. I feel it’s a compliment when a professor takes an interest in us outside the classroom or his office. I am glad you feel that way. Or maybe it’s the pretty females that attract your attention, ha ha.” He makes it sound like a joke. Later, I would reconsider that in light of what would happen next.

“Actually, it’s the males!” I blurt out.

I couldn’t believe I have said that. It has just come out unconsciously. The way he looks at me when I say this doesn’t tell me much. I am somewhat relieved that he doesn’t get up and move away. In fact, I feel he has inched closer, our knees almost touching. This is dangerous grounds. There is no way that I would allow myself to court a student, let alone a male student. I decide that I wouldn’t take it any further. I pretend to look at my watch and start to get up.

“Time for me to get back to the office. I’m Dr. Jamieson, by the way.”

He put his hand on my thigh and pressed down. “Please, sir, could you stay for a few more minutes?”

I look down at his hand and then back at his face, with my eyebrows raised. He is definitely coming onto me. I know that I should remove his hand and walk away. But there is no way I am going to do that! “What’s your name?” I ask.

“Jimmie,” he smiles, moving his hand away. “Very similar to your name.”

Both relieved and disappointed with his hand removed, I nod my head, “True.” But my better judgment wins the argument battling in my head.

“Well, Jimmie, it was very nice of you to come over and talk to me. I have enjoyed our little chat. You are welcome to come to my office any time whenever you feel you would like to chat more. I’m usually free in the late afternoons when all the administrative assistants leave—the floor is usually quiet and empty.”

I stand up, reluctantly, wave goodbye and wobble to my office on watery legs. Would he understand my invitation? Would he come to the office after 4? Hmmm.

I am occupied throughout the rest of the day with meetings and classes. When the assistants leave at 4 o’clock I am somewhat relieved and I immediately start working on my lessons for the following day.

“You sure are a hard worker, sir.”

I jump. Yes, there he is with his heart-breaking smile, framing the door. “Ah, it’s you. Jimmie, wasn’t it?”

“I hope I’m not interrupting or intruding,” he says as he walks into the office.

“Not at all, Jimmie.”

I watch him as he slowly walks over to the bookcase and looks at the titles. “You read a lot, sir, don’t you?”

“Well, Jimmie, I read my share. Don’t you read?”

“Not really,” he says as he saunters back towards my desk, approaching from the side rather than the front. I watch: His jeans show an erection! Yes, an erection! Beautiful, outlined erection… maybe not full but definitely outlined.

Jimmie notices my wide stare. How could he not with my eyes glued to his crotch? He touches himself. I can’t take my eyes away. I am mesmerized. He turns and goes to the door as I watch his young bubble butt move. He locks the door and walks back, his erection now straining at the faded jeans. He reaches my chair and presses himself at my arm. The heat! The throbbing! Through the fabric I can sense his urgency. During all of this I find myself totally mute, frozen, unable to comprehend the forwardness of this kid. Whatever has given him the idea that I will not kick him out of the office? Instead, I cannot make any comment. I’m never lost for words usually, but with his hardness pressing against my arm I become totally speechless. I just watch and feel, with a dropped jaw.

“Sir,” he says, his voice turning husky, pressing harder on my arm, “I really like you and I knew you liked me when I noticed you watching me out in the open area.” He was grinding his crotch on my arm. “I wasn’t sure,” he continued, “but I had a feeling you are more than just watching me.” He reaches down and slides his hand inside my open shirt, rubbing, fondling my nipples.

All I could answer is a moan.

He moves back and stands in front of me, his inviting bulge so irresistible. I reach out and rub it tentatively. It is his turn to moan. The erection feels quite large under my palm, but I assume the jeans fabric would have added to the size I am now groping shamelessly. I haven’t expected him to be hung, being so slim, but my experience has so far proven that I could very easily be wrong about that. Not that it matters, really. I wouldn’t care if he is hung or not. I have to take it out, to hold it, to kiss it, to swallow the whole length of it regardless if he is hung or not.

I undo his jeans buttons, slowly, pull them down around his legs, and look at his bulge again. He definitely is big; it isn’t just the jeans after all. His bulge inside his tight boxer briefs is definitely large. The erection curves to the left almost reaching the side of his hip. I’ve seen a few in my lifetime, but Jimmie looks deliciously hung.

I lean over and touch the bulge with my lips, pressing through the underwear fabric, moving from the base to the head, where the fabric is starting to get wet.  His erection presses back at my mouth, throbbing, urgent. I feel his hand on my head, going through my thinning hair. Slowly, ever so slowly, I pull down his tight boxers. His cock pops out. Literally! Pointing straight out and up at an angle: around 20 hard, thick centimeters (8 inches) of man meat. I am both impressed and ecstatic. Jimmie is not one of those wimps with little peckers looking for a quick blow job. Jimmie looks like someone who wants action—and I am more than willing and ready.

My lips encircle his pink cockhead as I reach for his fuzzy hanging balls. I go down on him, sliding down the thick shaft, fighting back the gag reflex, swallowing, ultimately reaching the base, filling my nose with his musky boy scent, stretching my mouth on his beautiful tool. As soon as I press my lips around the base of his shaft, he gives out such a deep moan that I think he is going to shoot his load. I slowly pull out the length, then ever so slowly back down to the base, tilting my head back to look up at his face and get my throat open. His eyes are closed shut as he holds onto my hair. I quicken my sucking pace and could feel his thigh muscles rippling under my grabbing hands. But I want more of this kid than sucking his cock.

First, I have to have a full look at him naked before going any further. I let go and his cock comes out of my mouth, dripping spit. I stand up, my own erection tenting my pants, and pull his t-shirt off. He has a killer body. The six-pack abs are defined like a chocolate bar, the nipples hard but not too big, his chest hair soft and covering the upper middle of his chest between the nipples with a beautiful trail down his flat stomach getting thicker as it reaches his dark pubic hair encircling his fantastic cock base, curled and protective.

Jimmie starts to unbutton my shirt as I lick at his nipples and upper chest, loving the feel of the silky skin and the little hair he has. I am so glad that he isn’t one of those kids who shave their body hair. Even his armpits are so excitingly hairy. I jump a little as I feel his hand groping my hardness. He rubs my erection inside my pants as he presses his cock on my hip. I find his lips.

I consider myself a good kisser, so I make sure to enjoy kissing this kid to the maximum. I lick at his lips, flick my tongue and probe into his mouth as his hands urgently unbuckle my belt and pull my pants down. He moves his mouth away from mine and starts licking down my neck to my hairy chest, nipples, stomach and belly as his hand encircles my hard cock and starts to stroke it gently. He kisses the cut head as he kneels in front me.

It is amazing to watch this young god so lovingly working my erection. I am no where as hung as he is but I sport a nice 16 centimeters of cock (6 inches) and he seems to love it. He sucks. I can tell he is no expert but I don’t mind, as the teeth grate on my cock shaft.

I lean against the edge of the desk weakly as he goes down on me, pumping into his throat but pausing whenever he gags. He can’t take the whole length. He just works the head and the first half of my shaft making me so weak in the knees. His hands are massaging my hairy thighs, cupping my balls, rubbing into my crack, fingering my hole.

We separate just enough to kick off our clothes and resume the kissing and grinding, fully naked, right there in my office. He is so horny for me, which makes me think of myself as the most beautiful man he has ever wanted. Our penises rub on each other, fucking each other.

Slowly he turns me around. Oh, my God, I tremble. He’s going to fuck me! Surely, I’ve been fucked before but never by such a big tool or such a young kid. He already has his slick cock in my crack rubbing it up and down and kissing the back of my neck. I could feel his breath, his wet lips, his light beard brushing my nape and I shiver all over, pressing back on him, in anticipation.

“Oh, man, sir, this is so fantastic! I’m dreaming,” he moans. Fuck that, I tell myself. I’m the one who is dreaming!

His cockhead, now covered with his spit, starts pushing into my hole. There is no way he is going to penetrate me like this, but he is so insistent. I am worried about bare backing. I have never done that before. I am usually very careful. But the moment is so intense, so spontaneous, that the idea of stopping to drive off campus and get condoms is ridiculously out of the question. I stop his pressing, put some more spit on my fingers, and rub my hole with it. He is doing the same, covering his cock with his own spit. Then he is back at my hole, pressing. I try to relax, but his mushroom cockhead is stretching me to the limit. He is holding my hips and pressing harder when his cockhead penetrates. I let out a scream. He immediately withdraws.

“Sorry, sir,” he stammers, “I didn’t mean to push so hard.”

“Jimmie,” I say, “you take that tool of yours out of my hole another time I think I will kill you. Get the fuck back in.”

“Yes, sir!” and he forces the head back in.

The pain is so intense, and I’m squeezing my rim muscle so hard that he couldn’t go any further than the knob inside me.

“Take it easy, kid. Let me get used to your size,” I moan.

“Sir, please don’t call me kid, especially when my cock is inside you!” he says as he presses harder, ignoring my plea, his hand grabbing my neck with force.

The shaft starts to slide in as I relax a little. He is halfway inside me when he exclaims hoarsely, breathlessly. “Oh man, I can’t hold it any longer; I gotta go in all the way,” and he thrusts the whole 20 centimeters of hard, young rod deep into me with one single ram.

I feel my insides almost coming out of my mouth, my ass ripped into shreds. Then he starts the fucking, only like a young, horny stud would do it: deep, hard thrusting in and out, using the whole length of his shaft to stretch me wider and wider. He pounds, breathing hard and moaning. My thighs and butt cheeks go numb with the pain of the ceaseless pounding, but I would never dream of stopping him or asking him to slow down. I hold tightly onto the edge of the desk as my body takes his ramming. I try my best to stifle my groans lest someone passing by the office get wind of the fucking going on inside. I can feel myself sweating with the effort of receiving his merciless cock thrusting in and out of my ass.

I know that he is going to shoot his load very soon at the tempo of his fucking, and I can’t wait for the feeling of his cock getting thicker, ready to explode. I realize that I am going to be quite sore for some days to come.

“Oh, Oh, Oh my God, it’s cumming, sir. I’m gonna shoot.”

He pounds faster, deeper and harder, his balls slapping at my butt. I squeeze my hole around his shaft, milking him, and that gets him off. With a loud moan, he makes one final thrust and explodes. I swear I could feel his hot cum reaching all the way up into my belly. He squirts and squirts as if he is never going to stop. I push my butt back into his crotch to let more of his cock bury deeper inside me. Finally, he starts to pull out. As he pops out of my ass, he turns me around and takes my pulsating cock in his mouth, his own dick still dripping. I immediately shoot my load, my butthole burning, seeping cum. He starts to gag and cough and pulls off my ejaculating dick. My cum splatters all over my crotch, my pubes, his face. He looks up at me, so cute, so apologetic. I cannot tell whether my heart has gone formula-one-racing or has just simply stopped pumping.

Finally, the kid moves away and sits in the chair opposite my desk, naked, his cock still semi-hard and dripping, still delicious as hell. He is breathing hard, his face smeared with cum, his chest glistening with sweat. I lean back at the desk in front of him, weak, totally spent, completely filled.

He looks up at me, smiles, strokes his wet cock slowly, and says, “Sir, that was the best fuck I have ever had.”

“So,” I say laughingly, “you get to fuck older men often?”

I am squeezing my sore hole hard to try to keep his load inside me. I want this kid’s juice to breed me. I feel so full.

His face actually blushes. “You are my first, sir! I mean I’ve been with girls and such, but my feelings and thoughts have always been somewhere else. I have never squirted like I did just now. Never, ever! Please, sir, could I drop by every now and then? Please?”

“Jimmy, my boy,” I smile down at him, looking at his beautiful body, “you are most welcome, but the next time you will have to receive as well as give.”

“I would do anything, sir, to be able to stay with you.” His smile is a mixture of lust and mischief.

“Well, you’ve done pretty well, today,” I concede, my rim muscle scorching.

We put on our clothes. He says goodbye. I watch him leave, my heart aching.

He comes by my office a couple of times a week and each time it’s as intense as the first time. I should take more coffee breaks, I guess!