Woody's Long and Crooked Cock

My first day at Swinton College, a small school in a sleepy New England Village, I sat across from Woody in the intimate circle of a class called “The Meaning of Meaning.”   The professor gave a long and vague introductory speech, aiming it at some point over our dozen or so heads. I found myself looking at Woody’s long, soulfully handsome face, his glittering hazel eyes intent upon whatever he was scribbling furiously in his notebook. He had short, messy brown hair and a scraggly mustache. I also noticed the silhouette of his long, insolent cock and one of his full, rosy balls protruding from his filthy frayed jeans. When the professor finished his speech and took attendance, Woody answered “Not present,” when his name was called and walked out. When the class was over, I found Woody sitting on the steps outside the building, his big balls on full display, and sat next to him.

 “Gee, can I see your notes?” I asked. He showed me a page in his notebook filled with writhing abstract, voluptuous shapes engaged in something sexual.

  'This is about the meaning of life,” I said. “I asked for the Meaning of Meaning.”

That got me an invitation to his room. We became inseparable in the next few weeks. I would go to class while he stayed in his room drawing murals and playing his guitar. In the evenings, I would plug in my coffee pot, and we’d spend the whole night talking and laughing, sometimes falling asleep together on the floor.

 Woodrow Alton Kendall was twenty which made him slightly, yet importantly, older than most of us. He was the black sheep of a prominent New England family with a romance novel history:  elderly, distant parents, boarding schools, solo jaunts bumming around Europe painting bad abstracts and playing the guitar he made by hand.  A battered black steamer trunk plastered with tags from exotic ports of call sat in the corner of his room, it seemed to me, like an impatient old chaperone. Swinton was the third college he’d been to and his last chance at family funds. I was from a suburb in New Jersey and this was my first time away from home.

He was recovering from an affair with Pamela, a classical pianist he met in Paris. He played her tapes incessantly. He followed her to New York where she reconciled with her husband. Bruised and shaken, he joined us in Dogpatch to wait out the end of his life.

 “Being with you soothes me. I think I would have done myself in if we didn’t have these sessions,” he said.  We lay side by side on his cot. “If you were a woman, I’d be climbing all over you.”

 “You can climb all over me if you want.”

“Have you ever slept with a man?

“No. But I want to.”

 “Let’s not ruin a good friendship," he said.

Suddenly, he straddled my chest, leaned over me with a wild gleam in his eyes and planted his mouth on mine. It was a hard, hungry, angry kiss. He straightened up and took a deep breath.

“Did you like that?” he asked.

  "Needs work, but I liked the sentiment.”

 He got off me, skillfully slipped off his worn tee shirt and jeans. He strode to the other cot and sat there, naked, with his legs spread to show me his hot meat. His cock was long, soulful, hard, and handsome, its fat head cocked to one side ironically. His body was carelessly beautiful, smoothly muscled and tawny, something he took for granted, the result of generations of good breeding. His hazel eyes swirled with something dark, and he looked as dangerous as a pirate. I thought so many things as I approached him, regarding him so seriously, that I didn’t have a clue about what to do with him.  When I got close enough, he pushed me down to my knees and pulled my head toward his cock. I took it tentatively in my mouth, swirling its bulbous head around as if it were a fine wine, marveling at its sweet taste and satin texture. Woody’s full balls hung off the cot and I rolled them around in my hand as he groaned and shoved the length of his meat down my throat. I liked the feel of his fat cock in the back of my throat and worked by lips around the base, smelling sweet funk and anxiety in his sparse, crackling pubic hair.

 “Oh Carlos, Carlos, I love the way that feels,” Woody gasped as he grabbed my curly head and worked it up and down his stiff tool. His cock grew fatter and harder as its juice oozed down my throat. I released his cock, licked my lips, and began to lick his tight brown balls as his cock throbbed against the bridge of my nose. I took them both in my mouth and let them rest there, working my tongue around their fullness as my hands roamed along whatever they could reach on Woody’s taut body.

He stood up and pulled me up to his face. He planted a voracious kiss on my hard-working lips, his tongue rooting around inside my mouth, seeking out the taste of himself there.

He pulled my Swinton sweatshirt over my head and yanked down my baggy shorts. My hard dick sprung out and he took it in one hand, working it until a pearl glistened at its head. We pressed our hard cocks together and Woody wrapped one hand around them both and massaged them, wet with our glistening boy juice. His other hand massaged my balls and slid between my legs feeling with wonder my tender, tight butthole. I spread my legs, loving the feeling of his hand there as one rough finger probed my pink pucker. He pulled me into a long deep kiss and his pulsing cock slid between my legs, deliciously grazing my butthole as we rocked, locked together. His supple hands slid down my back and over my round ass as he pulled me toward him.

 He walked me backward to the bed and our intertwined bodies fell on upon it. He kissed my ears and my neck and slid down to my chest slowly kissing each nipple. His hand wrapped around the base of my hard cock; he kissed the length of my stomach. His head lowered to my cock, and he took its straining head in his mouth, thoughtfully tasting its juice, biting gently on it as if it were a mushroom. He took it out of his mouth and looked at it very carefully. Still holding it, he licked at the head as if it were an ice cream cone. I was painfully ready to shoot, but the pressure of his hand held back the load.

  “Please stop. I’m going to come.”

 He sat up and looked at me curiously. “This is all so interesting,” he said. “I was always curious about sucking a dick. I could understand the attraction for the suckee, but I never knew what was in it for the sucker. I’m not sure I understand the dynamic involved, but I like it.”

 "Yes, professor,” I whispered.

He backed off, grabbed my ankles in his strong hands and spread my long legs. He spent a long time looking at the rosy zone between my legs and then ran one finger along the downy stretch from my butthole to my balls. My cock stretched along my stomach and oozed into my navel. He stuck one of his fingers in his mouth and then used it to gently probe my tight hole. I closed my eyes to the new sensation of his rough, callused finger poking into me, getting deeper and deeper. I spread my legs wider, and my ass worked to accommodate this strange new intruder. I felt him remove the finger, then  felt the heat and heft of his big cock as he rubbed it along my butthole.

I opened my eyes and found myself reflected in the deep, hot pupils of his eyes as he loomed over me.

“Turn over,” he said.

“No way.”

“I want to get inside you so bad.”

“Can’t we do something else?”

“No. I want everything with you,” he said.

“Put it in my mouth again. I liked that.”

“Please! I want to fuck you so bad. You want me to; I can feel it.”

“I’ve never done it before.  You’re going to tear me up.”

“I feel so close to you. I need to get inside you, or I’ll lose my mind.,” he whispered.

“I don’t know.”

“I like you so much. You must know that.”  His hot hungry mouth tore at my neck, my ears, my lips.

His fat cock was poised at my butthole, its meaty head inching its way inside me. I felt the delicious squeak of skin on skin as he eased deeper into my ass. I thought I might be saying no, but it sounded like oh, oh, oh as I dazedly looked around the messy room trying to pin down the moment. I saw his guitar propped on the steamer trunk and noticed he had carved figures into its neck. I saw my legs resting on his shoulders and hunger overtaking his handsome face. He pushed further into me, and the pain took on new dimensions, there were levels of pain, some quite interesting. Now we were connected, with his curved, hot meat rooting around inside me.

Not all pain is bad pain, I thought as my ass muscles held him in place and worked him deeper inside.  I knew I was being had, that I might be standing in for Pamela. But I wanted him to have this part of me he so ferociously seemed to need. I knew I wanted him, didn’t know what form it might take, but it must have always been this, with my hands running down his smooth back, his chaotic mouth on mine.  His face dissolved in the heat as my butt ignited and met the deep thrusts of his fat, curved cock.

My hard cock ground against his lean stomach as he plowed into me and our mouths, dry with desire, met. My ass tightened and sputtered around his hot tool. From deep, scalding well with me, spurt after spurt of steaming boy juice shot out of my cock and sealed our bodies together. He cursed and bit my neck hard, buried his tool deep in my gasping hole and I felt the spasms of his bent meat pumping its load inside me.

We lay there panting. I was sore, spent, beaming. I wanted to say a million things as I looked over at his warm, brown form. He was fast asleep. I hooked my arm under him and drew him to me. He snorted and drooled and curled up beside me.  A warm wave of relief splashed over me. I knew I’d found my mission in life.

Our sessions seemed to bring him some peace of mind.  He started going to class and with charm and smarts made up for all his lost time. He still didn’t want to consort with any of the students, but conceded that, from a distance, some of them might be interesting.  I got the buzz that people were talking about us, these two tall figures who stalked the campus with eyes only for each other. We might be in the cafeteria, laughing or talking heatedly about art and ideas and it all wound up being foreplay. I would feel the heat from his deep hazel eyes and wordlessly follow him back to his room where we would explore each other’s hungry bodies.

I got him to go to the movies and even dragged him to a couple of chamber music recitals. One balmy October afternoon we hiked across the river to a beautiful cemetery that was surrounded by tall pine trees. Our voices were hushed by the serenity of the place, the only sounds seemed to be the soft crunch of our feet on pine needles.  We looked at simple Yankee tombstones which bore names like Ezekiel and Hester and found one dated back to 1729. The most recent arrival was buried in 1910. We sat under a pine tree and watched the sun slant across the sparkling river. Woody sat with his back against the tree and me with my back against him. His arms were around me as he nuzzled my neck, and I felt his hot cock inch along my backside. He slipped his hands under my shirt and grazed my nipples, which sprang to his touch. He undid my pants and slipped one hand around my hard dick while the other hand cupped my balls.

“No Woody. Not here,” I said.

“Why not? There’s nobody around.”

“It just doesn’t seem right.”

He gnawed on my ear lobe, felt my cock stiffen and said, “Yeah. Right.”

Our clothes became a blanket beneath us as we explored each other’s warm naked bodies with our tongues intertwined. My lips slid down to his chest, and I tasted the salt and sweat of him there as I felt his warm lips on my chest.

Our mouths slid down further, and I took his magnificent, bent meat in my mouth while he thoughtfully tasted and toyed with my cock. He spread my legs wide and explored my fuck hole with a callused finger. My cock head grew in his mouth as my body suddenly contracted and a joyous, uncontrollable pre-spurt escaped my dong. Woody swallowed it and licked the fat head of my cock for any leftover juice. He stopped and propped himself on his elbow. I took his big cock out of my mouth and looked at him.

“That’s the first time I ever tasted cum,” he said. “It’s very interesting.  I think I like it.”

“Keep me posted,” I said, popping his tool back into my mouth as my nose dug into his full pink nuts. I parted his lean thighs and ran one hand between his legs. I opened his slender ass and exposed his brown, puckered butt hole to the sun and watched it wink in excitement. My mouth released his tool which slapped against his stomach, and I ran my tongue around his balls. I felt him do the same thing to me while his rough finger dug into my fuck hole.  My tongue licked around and around his shifting balls as I heatedly gazed at his winking butt. My thumb massaged his butt hole, and I felt a body-length response from him and the deep probe of his finger inside me. I spread his legs wider and lapped at the hairless stretch to his hole and our bodies shifted so that he was on his back.

His smooth ass glistened in the sun as I buried my face in his pungent, tangy ass. His ass quivered as my tongue toyed with his tight, jumpy hole. He had pulled my round butt onto his face, and I heard him inhaling deeply and the kissing sounds of his busy lips. He slapped my ass and the echo of it rang through the quiet cemetery.

I worked my tongue into his smoky butt hole, savoring the musky taste deep inside him. I wrapped one hand around his stiff dong and massaged it, feeling it grow even bigger as my tongue probed his steamy center. He grabbed my cock and tried to stuff its new girth in his mouth, and I shot another uncontrollable spurt. I couldn’t hold back much longer.  I got off his face.

“Wait!” Woody said.

“No. You wait.” I turned him around so that his body was spread before me, face up. The last warm rays of the sun washed over our hot bodies. I lifted the small mounds of his ass in my hands, spread his legs and watched his tiny butt hole wink and his balls glisten in the golden light. I gently massaged his hole with my thumb as I licked his brawny balls, feeling the juices shift and regroup inside. I pried his stiff, bent tool off his lean stomach and licked the tip of it, trailing my tongue all the way down to the base of his balls and back up again. I watched a bead of white frosting ooze out of him. I slurped it off and felt his body quiver as he closed his eyes and gave himself to me.             

I spread his legs wide as my tongue darted in feathery kisses around his clenched butt while his fat, sassy balls rested on the bridge of my nose. His hips thrashed in my grip as he thrust himself at my tongue. I grabbed his ankles and pinned his strong legs back so I could get my tongue deeper into his ass, forcefully working my way through its tense, velvet aperture. Inside, I licked around in ever-wider circles within his pungent center. His ass tightened and churned around my tongue. My ears thundered with excitement as I felt every fiber of him respond to my tongue. He arched his back and spread his legs wide to accommodate my hungry mouth. I heard a dog barking somewhere in the distance, then the honk of geese making their way south. The last blush of sunlight washed across my naked back and a cool breeze made my skin tingle.

I raised my head and took a breath, starting at the sight of a doe and fawn watching us from several feet away. My surprise snapped them out of their reverie. Their ears shot up and I watched their delicate haunches disappear among the pines. My straining cock rested against Woody’s hot hole. I looked at his tawny, beautiful body spread before me, framed in the last square of sunlight. I wanted to own him, eat him, be him, destroy him. I wanted, just wanted. His fiery eyes locked onto mine and a visible current ran between us, shimmering in our golden square of sunlight. Yes, he said, to whatever I wanted.

My cock had never seemed so big before, its menacing head poised at his gasping fuck hole. I pushed forward slightly and slowly entered him. I felt the charge of his pain and pleasure through my thick tool. I watched his succulent balls rise and tighten and his cock soften and drool. I inched further in, feeling the tension crackle inside him and the delicious sensation of him enveloping my cock. I watched the veins pulse in my cock as, halfway inside him, I ground my hips in a slow circle. He joined me in its rhythm.

There was a satisfying pop as the length of my stiff dong slipped deep inside his hot center. I stayed just like that, resting on my haunches and rocking with him gently. I ran my hands across his body and his skin sprang to my touch. He opened his eyes and the expression in them made my heart jump. It was trust.  His lips parted and he smiled at me. His hands reached up and trailed across my face; one finger outlining my lips made me smile. I kissed his fingers, his callused palms as we rocked together slowly. I took his arms and pinned them behind his head and ran my tongue along them. I buried my nose in the sparse hair in his armpits and inhaled his salty, earthy manhood. I laid feathery kisses along his neck and felt his cock grow against my stomach. I felt the wonderful crunch of his clenched balls against me as I nibbled on his ears and licked his stubble. His mouth was open, and I kissed his soft, dry lips. His tongue was dry when it met mine. Every millimeter of my skin sizzled where it met his.

Our bodies caught fire and I pushed deeper into him. He groaned with pleasure. I worked my cock around and around inside him, pulled halfway out and pushed all the way in again. I shuddered and started fucking him hard and fast. I tried to break away from him, to see more of him, to prolong the pleasure. I started to withdraw, and his forceful hands grabbed my ass and held me deep inside him as he pushed himself against my swollen tool and sucked on my tongue.

I was going to explode. I felt the pent up load work its way up from my balls, through the length of my cock. I didn’t want to shoot inside him.  I wanted to. His hands dug into my ass and his mouth tensed. He exhaled a fierce whisper. “Do it!”

I straightened up and plowed his smoking ass, watching him grimace and bite his lip. My body rocked in spasms as I pumped spurt after spurt into him and he thrashed around me. I reached for his long, bent cock and pumped it hard while I shot the last drops into him, keeping him impaled on my tool. I leaned forward with my mouth open, my tongue hanging out, so I could catch a mouthful of his cum.

I felt the unmistakable rumble of a fiery load building in his tight ass as I kept my cock buried inside him. I stroked his hefty meat and watched his balls shift and rise as the load traveled through them. I felt the juice surge through his cock and watched, amazed as the first spurt of jism shot out of him, over my head. I aimed his bent poker at my mouth and caught fat, sizzling dollops of his delicious essence and licked my lips for more. I eased my dong out of his thrashing fuck hole and took his cock in my mouth, swallowing all the creamed that still pumped out of him. I rested there, enthralled, as the last nectar seeped out of him, and his cock relaxed in my mouth.

Woody was propped on his elbows, regarding me with curiosity.

“That was very interesting,” he said. “It was very, um, carnal.”

I took his cock out of my mouth and smiled at him. “Yeah. Ain’t it great?”

“The thing about sex with another man is, there seem to be a lot more pleasurable options. There are just more interesting things to do.”

“If it’s the right man,” I said. “Which I am.”

The very next day he got a letter from Pamela, the pianist. She was living alone in New York, getting a divorce. She loved Woody, missed him, needed him. The battered old trunk was open in the center of his room, and he hastily threw things into it. The letter hung out of his back pocket.

“You don’t understand,” Woody said. “She needs me.”

“Oh, I understand,” I said, touching his face.

“You know I’m very fond of you.”

“Oh, I know,” I said, unbuttoning his shirt.

“And I’ll write to you. And visit.”

 “I’m glad,” I said, closing the lid of the trunk and sitting him down on it.

“I’ll think of you often,” he said, kicking off his moccasins.

“I hope so,” I said as he lay across the trunk, and I pulled off his pants.