Virgins

Sunbursts, filling possession, completion with a sigh, New worlds opened to my lover and I.

"'New worlds opened,' 'lover's rapier,'" Brandon intoned slowly, "'Full possession.' This could not have been written for a woman. I think it's true what you noted in class, Professor Caldwell. I think all of the great men Romantic poets must have had men lovers as well as women. Isn't that interesting?"

Before Caldwell could respond, though, Brandon had stood and was speaking again. "It's hot. I feel like a swim. Join me?"

Caldwell whispered an affirmative and than took in a hard breath as Brandon stripped down to nothing and strode toward the river and neatly dived in.

Caldwell was struck by the open innocence of it all. The beauty of the youth's body and the innocence with which he just tossed off his clothing and entered the water. Caldwell followed, and Brandon playfully scooped water at him and dove in and swam circles around the professor and pulled his feet out from under him.

And then he was out of the water and running, naked, and dripping and magnificent, up the bank and plopping down full length on the blanket on his back. Caldwell focused on the young man's half erection as he more slowly moved out of the water and up the river bank.

Caldwell sat down on the blanket next to Brandon. He picked up the daisy chain Brandon had made and tentatively ran it across Brandon's chest and belly and down, lassoing the young man's half erection with it—testing Brandon. But Brandon didn't react. All open innocence, an innocence Caldwell found disarming and totally arousing.

Brandon picked up the book of poetry and began to read.

With the kiss of the lover, the rosebud opens, petal upon petal. The sword of the lover quivers, quickens, trembling to the scent of the chase.

Caldwell reached down and gently took Brandon's staff in his hand.

The young man barely seemed to notice.

Opening lips of ruby red o'er the marble obelisk, hard as metal. My lover, the trembling Godhead encase.

The young man seemingly lost in the poetry, not fully aware of the merging of the fantasy with reality, merely moaned a deep moan as Caldwell's lips enclosed over his majestic tool and drank of his honeyed precum.

"Yes," murmured Caldwell, careful as he could be not to burst the magic moment. "All of the major Romantic poets knew men as well as women. It enriched everything they wrote after they had moved to this level, had gained this added experience. Are you willing to—"

"Yes, professor . . . but possibly not in quite the way you envision."

With lightning speed, Brandon encased Caldwell with his arms and brought him to ground on the blanket. He flipped the older professor over onto his belly. And before Caldwell could guess what was happening to him, the younger, stronger man had gotten his arms into an incapacitating full Nelson, and his cock was rubbing up and down across Caldwell's hole.

"No. This isn't the way it's supposed to . . . I've never . . . I don't," Caldwell cried out. But his cry was even louder and more belabored, as Brandon's cock thrust inside his channel.

Caldwell cried out his indignation and then his fury and then his pain at the taking of his channel—an experience he never before had had himself—and then his groaning and grunting as his innermost channel walls were breached and caressed and then his ecstasy as the rhythm of the deep fuck commenced and his begging for release and then for more and deeper and faster and harder—until exhausted and filled with Brandon's cum, he collapsed—only to be brought to his knees and the young, vigorous student beginning the rhythm of the deep fuck a second time—to Caldwell's consternation and then his melting as he realized that he couldn't get enough.

"You've never been fucked like that before, have you, professor?" Brandon murmured in Caldwell's ear as, still fully encased, and stretched out on the back of the older man on the blanket, he nibbled at his ear.

"No, never like that—never at all. This was my first."

"Well, sorry to disappoint you, professor. But you weren't my first. Not by a long shot. So I thought we'd best do it like this."

"Can you . . . can you . . . do it again?" Caldwell whimpered.

"Oh, no, I don't think so. The first time is always the best, don't you think? After that, it's just a tedious biological act."