Getting . . . Educated Ch. 03

It had been three days since I had been fucked four times within two days, and I was hiding out. I had taken a by-week apartment made over from a motel not too far from the campus, dropped the logic class, and kept as low a profile as I could. I'd found the former motel too noisy to study in, so I was camped out in a small overgrown park nearby, where I was studying on an old picnic table. I thought that I would be completely hidden from view, but when I sat down; I saw that I had a straight-line view of the front of one of the fraternity houses. I had been studying pretty intensely for a couple of hours, when I realized that the sound of running water was intruding into my mind. It looked over toward the fraternity house, and, to my consternation, I saw Greg, the secretary from the painful incident at the dean's office.

He had his red Thunderbird convertible out in the circular drive in front of the fraternity house, and he was washing it with a bucket of soapy water and a garden house. I tried to return to my studies, but he was mesmerizing. The events of the last week must have been getting to me, must have been working at me in some fashion. His attraction could not be denied. He was stripped down to tight, low-cut latex biker's shorts and was barefoot. It was undeniable that he had a great body and fluid motions, just what a competing wrestler needed. As he ran a sponge over the car hood and the canvas top, his muscles rippled. I watched as he stood up and pushed a blond curl back from his face. I think he must have seen me then.

He smiled invitingly, but I pretended I didn't see him. He moved around to the other side of the car and did some more sponge work, if anything, flexing he muscles and doing stretches to loosen up his back more than probably was required to be washing a car. I felt something stirring below my belt. It couldn't be. Just because I had been repeatedly raped over the past several days couldn't mean that I responded to other men this way. But I couldn't fool myself. I had largely taken pleasure from all that had happened to me, even from the brutality of Nate and the dean. No, I couldn't fool myself, I knew, as I put my hand in my lap and stroked myself through the silky basketball shorts I was wearing.

Greg came around to this side of his car. He leaned over the hood and shimmied his rear end as he rubbed the sponge over the car. His butt cheeks were well defined in the rider's shorts, and they were nicely rounded. He turned full toward me, lifted the hose over his head, arched his back, and just let the water stream over his blond hair and down across his solid, well-cut torso. I could see he was laughing. He threw the hose down, went out of sight briefly, presumably to cut off the water, and returned with a hand towel. He tossed his head back and forth to fling off the excess water and then slowly toweled himself down. He dropped the towel and languidly ran his hand over his pecs and his six pack and his belly and down to his basket. He stood stroking himself there, just as I was stroking myself where I sat, and then I saw him laugh and walk straight in my direction. I was glued to the spot by the shock that he was coming to me; I should have gotten up and hurriedly left in the other direction, but I just sat there, watching him come to me.

Greg sauntered up to the table and around to my side and leaned his butt into the edge of the table right next to me.

"Well, hello there, Stud. Do you know that lots of people have been looking for you? Professor Hollings, your roommate, Nate, even the dean—especially the dean?"

"No, I'm not really aware of that. I'm just trying to get on with my studies."

"Do you know I've been looking for you too?"

"No, why would you be looking for me?"

"I felt we didn't really get to know each other the other day. And I would really like to get to know you better. I don't even know your name. What's your name?"

"I see no reason to get to know each other better."

"You can't see why I wouldn't want to get to know you better. Here, look here." He had his hand on his basket. His cock was standing almost straight out, trying to get out of the confining tight latex. "Doesn't this explain why I'd want to get to know you better. And these, these are for you this time." He'd dug his hand into a pocket and come up with a couple of condom packets.

"It seems you already have known me better than almost anyone else," I said bitterly.

"And you want to get to know me better too, Don't you . . .? What's your name again? Could it be Peter? See, Peter is wanting to know me better." And he reach down and tweaked the tented fabric in my lap. There was no doubt that he was having an effect on me.

"I . . . I think I'd better go," I squeaked out and started to gather up my books and rise from the bench. But Greg was too fast for me. He quickly and fluidly swiveled behind me and swung his left leg around me; sitting right behind me, with me scooted up to the front edge of the bench and him barely on the back edge. I was trapped with him behind and on either side of me and the picnic table close to my chest. He wrapped his arms around me and gave a sigh. Once again, just as the other day, I could feel his insistent cock trapped between his body and the small of my back.

"Listen, Greg. I'm not really—"

"You put on quite a performance with the dean the other day. He's been downright jolly for days. Think he'd been afraid that he was moving into his Viagra years. But not after you came along."

"Look, Greg. I came to the dean to report that I'd been assaulted, not to turn him on. I've had no experience in—"

"Screw experience. Experience can be overrated. I like you just the way you are." He wasn't wasting time; his right hand drifted down the front of my T-shirt, went between my belly and the waistband of my shorts, found my cock, and started teasing and stroking it.

"Greg. I'm not going to—"

"Sure you are," Greg said in a steely voice. "Sure you are, but I'd much rather it was because you wanted to." With his left hand he pushed my shorts down in the back so that they were half-way down my butt cheeks and he released his cock from his latex biker's shorts and let it run itself up the top of my butt crack and onto the small of my back. Then, with his left hand, he reached around and gently pushed my face to the side.

"Kiss me. We didn't get to kiss the other day, and it's been driving me crazy wondering how you taste."

"No, Greg, I don't do—"

"Hey, didn't Hollings give you the logic lecture? How do you know you don't want to until you've tried it? It's just logic." Then he laughed and gave me a million-dollar smile, which moved to my lips. He started with a sweet lips-only kiss, but moved into a more open, deeply probing kiss. He was still stroking my cock, and I put my hand over his there, on the outer side of the material and moved with him. He was stroking up and down along my butt crack in back, dry fucking me there. He brought his hand out of my crotch and, with both hands, pulled my T-shirt up and off me and threw it to the side. His hands were flying all over my arm muscles, my pits, pecs, nipples, abs, navel, belly, and back down to stroking my cock. With a sigh, I lifted my butt a bit more, and he pulled my pants down further, and continued dry fucking up my crack and onto the small of my back, this time with more cleavage to stroke in. I must admit I expected him to try to enter me again from that position, and I was marshaling my strength to try to fight him off, but before he could get around to that, he came up the small of my back in a jerk and jackoff that probably surprised him as much as me.

"See what you do to me?" he whispered in my ear while he was nibbling it. "You are delicious. The best bod I've seen on this campus in some time. I've never gotten off with just a dry fuck before."

Then he was up like a jack rabbit. "On the table. Get up there and lay down on the table."

"That's enough Greg. You got your rocks off. I've got to study."

"On the table—now!" He swept my books off the top of the picnic table, grabbed me by the elbow and hurried me along. I lay down the length of the table, trying to be careful not to get my ass anywhere near an edge. When I was lying down, he stripped off my shorts and then his own. He had quite a formidable cock, if not either as long or thick as the coach's. All in all, he had a beautiful body, and, in spite of my misgivings, I ached for him. He knelt on the bench beside my hips and gave me suck while letting his hands roam around the rest of my body. I moaned and squirmed under his attention. Without my really realizing it, my hand sought out his cock, and I stroked him. In answer, he rose off the bench and positioned himself in a 69 position, and, for the first time in my life, I found myself kissing, licking, and sucking another man's dick. He tasted salty and had a strong male smell, but I didn't find this unpleasant. I started to mimic doing to his cock what he was doing to mine. After a while, he moved so that I was presented with his asshole rather than his cock, and, instinctively, I did what had been done to me so many times in the last week. I moistened him up there and explored him with my lips and my tongue. He writhed above me, giving deep sighs and moans.

When I had him moistened up real well, he rose and turned, tore open a rubber packet and crowned my cock with it, and then straddled me from above. With one hand holding my cock in place, he lifted his hips and then slowly came down on me, impaling his own ass with my cock. In, in I went. It was somewhat like with a woman, but it seemed tighter. He buried his hands in my chest hair, finding and working my nipples, while he slowly pumped himself. I found I was joining his rhythm, and then he lifted his hips off me a good six inches.

"You pump," he said, "you fuck me. Fuck me hard and deep."

I took over the pelvis action, sending my engorged dick up into him as far as it would go and then withdrawing half way and plunging up again. He was moaning and groaning and we both went into a wild pumping action. I had one hand wrapped around his cock now and was pumping that in rhythm to the wild tune we were playing in his ass. We came almost simultaneously. Me, pulling out of him, tearing the condom off, and shooting up his belly and he shooting off up mine. He collapsed on top of me, taking my arms above my head with my wrists in his strong grasp. He kissed me long and deep and arched up a bit to permit him to kiss and nibble his way down my neck and to my nipples.

When I was truly relaxed and close to drifting off to sleep, he came off me and the picnic table top. With a laugh, he pulled his biking shorts back on.

"That was what I wanted, Sport. Thanks. Don't, worry, I won't tell anyone else you are still around, hiding out. But when you want more of this, just come back to this spot to do your studying. I spared your ass this time, because I know you are still sore from the other day, but the next time, your ass is mine. And both you and I know there'll be a next time. Ciao, Baby."

And he turned and strutted back to his red Thunderbird and his fraternity house, leaving me there, stretched out on the top of the picnic table, alone, and once more having been "had."