Chronicles Of An Academic Predator - 31. Chapter 31

 

January 21, 1963

 

I drove to school today and it was a trial. We'd had a foot of snow the past week, and even though Chicago was used to the white stuff, it was overwhelming the ability of the city to handle it. Evanston was doing no better. It was at times like this that I truly appreciated the Corvette’s Posi-Traction. My initial reaction during the drive was to rant mercilessly at the idiots on the road with me; especially those from out of town who had no clue what to do with slick roads. Instead, I analyzed the conversation with Jeff that I'd had last night.

 

God I missed him. Just having him here for that brief stint had spoiled me, and now I felt his absence more than ever. Phone calls and letters just didn't fill the void. The distance was there, both physically and emotionally, and I felt now that we’d both started school and gotten absorbed into our lives, the common ground between us had faded. It's funny how much more intense my feelings for him were now that Andre was gone. Before I had always been distracted by my feelings for either Andre or Jeff, but now that “distraction” was gone. I chided myself for thinking of Andre as a distraction. Whatever. Maybe I should have made a commitment to Jeff, locked the relationship in. But even as I thought that, I knew it was wrong. I'd done the right thing. Let him have his freedom, sow his wild oats as it were. If we were meant to be, we'd be.

 

Parking on campus was a challenge even for me with my faculty sticker, because the snow simply took up so much space. I trudged through the snow with the wind whipping around me, blasting straight across the Lake unimpeded until it hit my skinny little body. Fucking cold. It is so fucking cold!

 

The first week of classes had gone pretty well. Ronnie Boyd was still a pain in the ass. That boy was gonna be in for some unpleasant times as soon as we found something to hold over his head. On Wednesday I'd started by talking about the Indian tribes that had occupied the continent before Europeans arrived. He called the Seminoles “swamp-dwelling snake eaters,” much to my chagrin.

 

On the other hand, Tom Hartford continued to look cute as hell. The boy was a fashion plate. I guess I was used to being at the top of the social heap in Claremont, where everyone I hung out with was poorer than me. Jeff, Andre, even Stefan when he got there, all came from more humble backgrounds. It was intriguing to meet someone like Tom, who seemed on the surface to be more of my social equal. Or maybe that's just my way of rationalizing my attraction to him.

 

Jason was waiting for me in my office with a big smile on his face. “Got him,” he said as soon as I closed the door.

 

“And whom exactly did you get?” I asked.

 

“Boyd, I got him. Look at his paper, the one on Indian tribes.” I looked at it, nothing exceptional. Then he handed me another paper. “Last semester I saved all the papers, that way I could check for plagiarism. Now, I don't do it for everyone unless it sparks something in my memory, but Boyd's papers, well, I check those.” The paper he handed me was identical. I felt a smile spreading across my face.

 

“Who wrote the first one?” I asked.

 

“Gordon Bowman,” Jason said. “I don't know how they know each other, 'cause Bowman's a pretty good guy. Maybe Boyd stole it from him, or bought it from him. Does it really matter?”

 

“No, I was just curious.” I pondered the situation. “So, we have two options. I could file formal charges and drum him off campus, or I could blackmail him into coming over and we could treat him to a night of hell. What's your preference?”

 

Jason got an evil look, a scary look that I'd never seen. I looked into his eyes and saw a sadist. “I want to torture that son of a bitch until he wishes he was back in Georgia, or Alabama, or wherever he came from.”

 

His anger was contagious. I felt myself re-directing all of my recent pain and anguish, my frustrations and disappointments at this idiot, at Ronnie Boyd. The thought of making him squirm was exciting and intoxicating, and I found my dick growing hard just thinking about it. “I'm with you. So here's what we need to do. Hang on to this until we get ready. We need to get set up for this asshole. Then I'll give him a choice, and quite frankly, I don't give a shit what he does.”

 

Jason grinned at that. “I've been thinking about it and I think with some modifications, the guest bathroom may just be perfect.” I nodded and headed to class.

 

Ronnie Boyd was remarkably subdued in class today, probably hung over. I studied his round face and his large body, and visualized him naked and writhing as we took him down a notch. The wall I put up, the shield that was there, the uncaring persona I'd refined over Christmas, that all made it easy. I felt no pity or compassion for him, only hatred and disgust.

 

My grad class was entirely different. Tom Hartford was there as usual. It would be so much more boring if he was absent. Today, though, he did something that really intrigued me. I was lecturing on the different characteristics of the colonial powers. We'd already touched on the British Empire, which was probably the most benign, and had moved on to France. The French were unique, excepting perhaps the Portuguese, in that they viewed their colonies as part of the mother country. To the French, Algeria was as much a part of France as Provence.

 

As I was lecturing, I noticed that he moved his left hand to his lap as he wrote notes down with his right hand. I had to talk and not allow myself to get too distracted. So I just glanced at him periodically. He was moving his hand, stroking it along his leg. Was he playing with his dick?

 

It was hard to tell without looking too intently. I walked to his right to get a more direct view of his groin. Was that a tube extending down his leg? I made a point of walking back and forth, trying not to look like I was pacing in front of him. I stopped back at the position on his right and I could have sworn he was running his fingers around something that could very well have been the head of his hard cock. I realized that I was in danger of tenting right there and then, so I resolved to show my cool and tenacity and ignore him to the degree that I could. At the end of class I caught his eye, and the distinctive twinkle told me that he was playing with me. He better be careful. He was playing with fire.

       

January 22, 1963

 

I was engrossed in my paper. It was almost done. How I had managed to crank this out so quickly was beyond me, but once I'd acknowledged that my theory was wrong and re-worked it, it had gone as smooth as silk. In a week, maybe two, it would be ready for peer review, and then hopefully on its way to be published. As part of the peer review, I planned to send it to Professor Gireaux. That made me think of Marc, and that distracted me. I was about to refocus when there was a knock on the door.

 

“Come in!” I said.

 

Tom Hartford stuck his head in the door. I instinctively smiled but repressed that quickly. Still, I think he noticed. “Do you have a minute Professor Crampton?” he asked respectfully.

 

“Of course Tom,” I said, and directed him to one of the chairs as I moved over to join him.

 

“Nice office,” he said.

“I had to make some renovations over the summer,” I offered.

 

“I heard,” he said.

 

“So what can I do for you?” I asked, getting to the point and away from gossip.

 

“I just wanted to stop in and tell you how much I'm enjoying your class. I mean, I'm not trying to suck up or anything, I just wanted you to know that.” For the first time since I met him, he seemed a little nervous. It made him cuter.

 

“Thanks Tom. I appreciate that. Most students are worried that saying nice things like that will seem like they're just trying to butter up the professor for grades, but your work so far has been top-notch, so no worries.” I decided to take a gamble. “Besides, you have such a charming and disarming smile that it's hard to believe you'd be that manipulative.”

 

He blushed. “That's nice of you to say. I never thought of myself as charming.”

       

I looked at my watch. It was noon. “Did you eat lunch yet?” I asked him. I was really pushing it now, but he was so cute, so sexy, I couldn't resist. Besides, so far everything I'd done was harmless. So far anyway.

 

“No, I haven't. I only have two classes today and I just finished up, so I was going to head back to my place and study.” He was free.

 

“Would you care to join me?” That got a smile.

 

“Sure.”

 

I took Tom to a small cafe not far from campus. I drove as we shivered from the cold. More cold, more snow, and fewer parking places. But I got lucky and found one close to the restaurant so we didn't have to walk too far.

 

“Nice car,” he said. “My father wanted to get one, but my mother had a fit and he ended up with a Lincoln.”

 

“So what do you drive?” I asked him.

 

“I don't have a car here. I don't really need one, and parking is just a hassle.” That was odd. I mean, Chicago has a great public transportation system, but a car was very useful.

 

“Where are you from?” I asked.

 

“Connecticut,” he said, without elaborating. “And you?”

 

“Ohio,” I said, responding in kind.

 

“Pardon me for saying this, but you don't seem like you're from Ohio.” In other words, I didn't sound like someone from the sticks.

 

I laughted. “Well thanks, but there really are some nice cultured areas of Ohio. Cleveland, Columbus, and Cincinnati, just to name a few.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply it was a hick state,” he said, and got nervous.

 

“Relax Tom, it's OK. I know what you mean. Unfortunately we're too close to West Virginia and Kentucky and they give us a bad rap.”

 

Our conversation returned to the trivial. I did find out he was 23, and that he wanted to go on and get his doctorate after he completed his Master's work here. I became aware that his foot seemed to be brushing against mine. I moved mine back, the exchange giving me a little thrill. I paid for lunch despite his protests, and then I offered to take him home. He lived in a pretty non-descript apartment building close to campus.

 

“Do you live alone?” I asked him as we pulled up to his building, and then bit my tongue, thinking that may sound suggestive.

 

“No,” he said with a depressing sigh. “I've got three roommates and they're noisy, party animal types. I usually go to the library to study. It's quiet there, but a bit somber for me.”

 

“Well next time we do lunch, I'll take you to my place and you can hang out and work there. It's pretty quiet.” What the fuck was I doing? I heard my mouth saying words that I certainly didn't want it to say, even if I meant them.

 

“That sounds great. I owe you lunch too. Maybe Thursday?” He asked tentatively.

 

“Thursday sounds great. Stop by at noon and bring your books.” He smiled at me and shook my hand, his hand lingering on mine a bit longer than necessary.

 

I got home to find that Jason had been busy. “Come see the set up for Boyd,” he said enthusiastically. I followed him into the guest bath. He had installed two ring hooks, large sturdy ones, into the ceiling. “I found these hand cuffs in my room,” he said, making me blush. “I figured I'd put one on each arm and spread eagle the bastard standing up,” he said, and his zeal concerned and excited me at the same time. I noticed his pants tenting slightly as he talked about it.

 

January 23, 1962

 

American History rolled along just fine. After class, I stopped Ronnie Boyd. “Mr. Boyd, I'd like to see you in my office this afternoon. When can you stop by?”

 

“What's this about?” he asked rudely.

 

“We'll talk about it when you get there. Be there at 2pm.”

 

“I'm not sure if that time works,” he said, testing the waters.

 

“Then you can pack your bags and plan to leave Chicago in about a week or two,” I replied coldly and walked away from him, leaving him wondering.

 

I headed to my next class and found myself anxiously looking forward to seeing Tom. Unfortunately, he wasn't there today. I chided myself for being bummed about it, but it put me in an even fouler mood to meet with Boyd.

 

He arrived at my office at 2:15 with a chip on his shoulder. “You are late Mr. Boyd,” I said firmly.

 

“Sorry,” he said, with a tone that said he didn't mean it.

 

“Seems that the paper you turned in was directly copied from someone else's.” I saw the alarm in his eyes.

 

“That's a lie. You guys are wrong,” he said.

 

“Oh really?” And I stared right at him. He was starting to squirm just a little.

 

“Yeah, I worked hard on that. It's my work.” I could tell by his eyes that he figured he could bluff his way out of this.

 

“How interesting. I have a paper submitted last year by a Mr. Gordon Bowman that is identical to yours. Absolutely identical. You neglected to even change the sentences or spelling in the slightest. Not very smart, Mr. Boyd.” I watched his face go from smugness to panic.

 

“There must be some kind of mistake. That Bowman guy must have copied me.” He was grasping now.

 

“Well, since he had this course last semester, that defense will only hold water if you can persuade the university that Mr. Bowman is a time traveler. Do you think you can do that?”

 

“No,” he said glumly. “You've hated me since the beginning of class, you and that T.A. of yours. You been gunning for me. My coach ain't gonna let you run me off. Fuck you.”

 

“You may not be aware that I have an excellent rapport with the athletic department. I seriously doubt they'd risk that for you, no matter how important you think you are. What's more important to this university, football or wrestling?”

 

“Well, we'll just see.”

 

“We certainly will. But I think you'll find that when Coaches, Deans, and Chancellors are faced with incontrovertible proof of such academic dishonesty, they will all join me in clamoring for your head.” I sat back and smiled with an arrogant self-satisfaction designed to drive him nuts. I saw the rage, the contortion on his face as he scrambled for a way out. There wasn't one.

 

“Show me these papers,” he said.

 

“They are safely locked up. I wouldn't want to have the evidence damaged.” That had been his plan. What a dick.

 

He sat there looking at me, not with remorse, but with anger and hate. I looked forward to breaking this asshole. Finally he spoke. “What do you want from me?”

 

“Actually, I've got two options for you. The first is that we handle this between ourselves. You submit yourself for corporal punishment, one night of sheer hell during which you will learn to respect this institution, me, and my employees.” I paused for effect.

 

“You'll probably whip me and do queer things to me,” he sneered.

 

“Probably.”

 

“Well that's bullshit. I ain't doing that.”

 

I continued. “Well then, we'll just pursue this through the disciplinary body of the University. You are facing almost inevitable expulsion from this university. In addition, that will change your draft status. I've already prepared a notice for your local draft board.” I pulled out a letter and handed it to him, addressed to his home town in Mississippi. He looked at me, eyes wide open.

 

“You wouldn’t do that,” he said.

 

“If you look up there on the wall, you'll see a picture of my best friend. He was sent to Vietnam last year and was killed in action in December. Of course, maybe you'll get lucky and you'll be sent somewhere safer. Like the Korean DMZ.”

 

We stared at each other, neither one of us saying anything. “How long do I have to make my decision?” he asked, already subdued.

 

“I'm going home. Here's my address. If you are there at 6PM exactly, then I'll assume you want to take Option 1. If not, I'll file charges tomorrow morning.” I handed him the paper with my address. “That's all Mr. Boyd,” I said, and held open the door indicating he should leave.

 

I shut the door and Jason emerged from underneath the desk where he'd been hiding. “Great job boss. He'll be there for sure.”

 

“I honestly don't care either way. But we'll be ready just in case.”

 

We'd finished dinner and were watching the news. It was 6:05PM. The disappointment on Jason's face was obvious. He really wanted to work this guy over. I sat there calmly when the doorbell rang. It was, of course, Ronnie Boyd.

 

“Sorry I'm late,” he said, but we ignored him.

 

“Follow me,” I said, and he trailed me while Jason followed him. We got to the guest bathroom.

 

“You see that paddle there?” He nodded. “You're going to get several strokes on your ass for your insolence, and a few extras for being late. Strip down to your underwear and Jason will cuff you.”

 

“I ain't wearin' no cuffs,” he said defiantly.

 

I got in his face. “Listen asshole, you will not defy me again. You are a big fucking wimp, and I don't trust you to take a swat without running away. You're no man. So you either do what I say or get the fuck out. But this is the last time I warn you.”

 

“I'm not afraid of you shrimps,” he said, and took off his shirt. He was well-muscled but overweight, probably 20 pounds more than he needed. He even had man titties. Jason cuffed him to the clamps so he was secure. Jason had rigged two cuffs to the bottom and cuffed his legs, forcing him into a spread eagled position.

 

“This is fucked up,” Boyd said. I nodded to Jason and he pulled out the paddle and swacked Boyd's ass. He grimaced slightly.

 

“That all you got?” he asked. I left the room and heard Jason whaling away at him with the paddle. I returned with a pair of scissors, and Boyd was a little more subdued. I walked up behind him and put the scissors by the waistband of his briefs, and snipped.

 

“What the fuck?” Boyd asked, as his shorts began to drop. I ran the scissors down his ass crack, slowly clipping away at his underwear, cutting them off and leaving Ronnie's bare ass exposed. It was already red from the paddling.

 

“Jason, I don't think the paddle is working. Why don't you try something else?” Ronnie turned his head around just in time to see Jason swing the wide leather belt and land it against his already red ass. “Mmmmmph,” he said.

 

“I think he needs more Jason,” I said, looking at Jason's face. He was crazed. His pants were tenting; he was hard as a rock. It was almost as exciting watching him get off on this as it was to break Ronnie Boyd.

 

I looked at Boyd's ass and it was bright red now, and there were even a few spots where the belt had broken the skin and it was bleeding slightly. Jason moved up to his lower back and thrashed him there too. I moved around and stood in front of Ronnie. Much to my surprise, Ronnie was sporting a raging hard-on.

 

“Jason, check this out. Ronnie's enjoying this.” I reached down and stroked his erection and he moaned slightly. His dick was about five inches long and average thickness. In fact, it wasn't his dick that was unique, it was average at best. It was his balls. He had huge, low-hanging balls. I cupped them in my hands and he grinned. He was proud of them.

 

Jason came around and stared at his cock and spat on Ronnie's face. “You like being smacked huh?” he asked with a malicious tone.

 

“Fuck you,” Ronnie said to Jason.

 

“Still don't have that respect thing down.” I sat down on the edge of the tub, right in front of his cock. I gently took it in my mouth, licking the head, absorbing the shaft, giving him head like I knew how to do. Then, with my right hand, I reached for my pliers and grabbed a hunk of the pubic hair on his balls, just like I did to Scott. I pulled my mouth off his cock and looked up to see the leer on his face. Then I yanked, hard, and ripped a bunch of hairs out.

 

“Aaaaaaaah!” He screamed. I grabbed another hunk and pulled and he screamed again. Then another. And another.

 

“Please stop!” he begged. Jason smiled.

 

“You sure? I'm not convinced that you're going to behave yourself.” Jason stripped off his clothes and tried to get his monster cock to calm down just a bit. Then he stepped in front of Ronnie and pissed all over him, on his chest, on his cock, and in his face. Jason reached up and squeezed his nose, forcing Ronnie to open his mouth, and his piss flowed in. Ronnie spit and gagged.

 

“I'm sorry,” he cried. “I'll do whatever you say. Just please, stop.” I smiled at Jason.

 

I picked up the hand held shower sprayer and put the water on cold. “Ronnie, I think that you want us to fuck your ass. What do you think?”

 

“No fucking way,” he said, and then his eyes bulged wide in terror, realizing what he had said. I turned the water to cold and sprayed him down. With it being winter in Chicago, the water got colder and colder, and this southern boy was squirming.

 

“Gotta get you all cleaned up Ronnie,” I said.

 

“It's fucking cold,” he cried.

 

“You ready for a dick up your ass yet?” I asked

 

“No fucking way,” he said. I turned off the water and got out the razors.

 

“He's kind of hairy and gross, don't you think Jason? If we're going to fuck him, I'd kind of like him to be smooth and clean-shaven, like the little girl that he is.”

 

Jason smiled at me. “Yeah. I don't think he should have a single hair on his body.”

 

Ronnie was pretty hairy, but not in a sexy way; he just had hair spread out over his body in clumps. A clump on his chest, and his abdomen, on his lower back, and his hairy ass. I left the water on cold and handed Jason a razor. I worked the front and Jason did the back.

 

“No! Stop! I don't want to be shaved!” Ronnie screamed.

 

“Yeah Ronnie, it will look pretty funny in the locker room.” I moved the razor over his pubes. “I wouldn't move around if I were you.” I heard Jason make noises of disgust as he scraped his razor down Ronnie's back.

 

He stood there docilely while we shaved him. It took about 45 minutes, but by the time we were done he was completely hairless, from his legs, to his face, to his ass. We'd left the hair on his head, for now.

 

“Ready for a dick up your ass now Ronnie?” I asked.

 

“Why should I?” You already shaved me.”

 

“You just don't get it do you?” And I hosed off the hair with more freezing water. I knew that water alone wouldn't do it. I got out my electric razor and moved it up to his face. “I'm thinking that you'd look better without eyebrows.”

 

“NO!” he screamed as I moved the razor toward his face.

 

“No?” I asked. Jason stood there grinning. I saw Ronnie swallow hard.

 

“Fuck me,” he said.

 

“You don't sound very convincing,” I said.

 

“Please fuck me,” he said again.

 

“I don't think he really wants it, do you Jason?”

 

“Nope. I don't think he does,” Jason said on cue.

 

“Please, please fuck me,” Ronnie begged.

 

“Whose dick do you want first, mine or Jason's?” I asked.

 

“Yours,” he pleaded. “I want yours first. Please fuck me.” We'd broken him at last.

 

I moved up behind him and grabbed the soap, rubbing it over my cock and in his hole. I wanted him to like it. I wanted him to get fucked and enjoy it, to think he was a fag even if he isn't. I took my finger and gently inserted it in his ass, probing around, searching for his spot. I felt him stiffen and knew I'd hit it. Jason was staring at his cock and it stiffened, so his smile told me I'd succeeded. I probed with two, then three fingers, but he was already pretty stretched out. It was obvious to a pro ass-fucker like me that he'd taken it before.

 

I moved my cock up to his hole and slid in slowly. There was almost no resistance. I could tell by the way he reacted that he was enjoying it. Jason smiled. “He's really getting into this. He loves your dick in his ass.”

 

I leaned up to his ear. “You been fucked before haven't you Ronnie?”

 

“No way, I ain't done this before,” he said, but his voice came out cracked because he was enjoying it so much.

 

“Yeah you have. I'm enjoying you so much, the way your ass wraps around my cock; don't make me be mean to you again. Tell me the truth.” I stopped moving, and he thrust back into me, trying to keep the feeling going.

 

“You want my cock so bad don't you Ronnie?” I said, as I gave him a small thrust, just to tease him.

 

“Yeah, I want it. It feels good. Come on. Keep going.”

 

“As soon as you answer my question,” I said, moving ever so slowly, just to drive him nuts.

 

“I got two older brothers. They used to fuck me all the time,” he said. Jason raised an eyebrow, and I looked at Ronnie's face and there was a tear running down his cheek.

 

“And they made fun of you because you liked it?” I asked.

 

“Yeah.” I felt sorry for him, suddenly. Dammit.

 

I picked up my pace again. “It felt good like it does now?”

 

“Yeah,” he moaned. I moved in and out of him with a vengeance, and just before I came, I moved out and stood in front of him on the edge of the bathtub so my cock was level with his chest.

 

“Open your mouth,” I ordered, and he did as he was told.

 

My first shot hit him just below the eye, the second went into his mouth, and the rest just splashed on his chest. He closed his mouth, licked his lips and swallowed.

 

“Now you have a really big challenge,” I told him.

 

“What?” he asked terrified.

 

“Jason, show him what's next.” Jason moved in front of Ronnie, showing him his massive tool.

“Holy shit. That won't fit,” he said, concerned.

 

“Don't worry Ronnie,” I said gently as I moved back in front of him while Jason positioned himself behind him, lining his massive cock up against Ronnie's hole. “I know you can take it, and I'm going to help you,” I said soothingly.

 

I dropped down to his cock and took it in my mouth and he moaned loudly. Just as he pushed forward to thrust into my mouth, Jason penetrated him from behind. I felt him tense up, but I stroked his balls and his perineum, and he gradually relaxed. Jason didn't care. Jason didn't give a shit. Jason wasn't fucking him. Jason wanted to rape him. I was glad I went first.

 

Jason slammed into him hard, pulled all the way out, and slammed into him hard again. I felt his cock grow limp in my mouth. Jason was oblivious. He kept slamming into him, over and over again. Then Ronnie figured it out. He forced his body to relax and he took it. I felt his cock harden almost immediately and I took it out of my mouth and stared at it. It was throbbing now, and leaking like a sieve. I watched it twitch.

 

He thrust back into Jason, loving it. His face had a glazed look of lust. He wasn't aware of anything but that huge cock slamming in and out of him. I looked at Jason, who had a maniacal look on his face, spearing Ronnie and enjoying every minute of it. He looked so sexy.

 

I moved over behind Jason and nuzzled his neck. He didn't seem to notice. I ran my hands over his slim body, down his sides, across his chest, flicking his nipples. He leaned his head back onto my shoulder, as if to thank me for the nice touches. Then I let him go and backed up, taking the whole scene in. Skinny Jason, pounding into fat Ronnie, and then Ronnie erupted, blowing his wad all over the side of the bathtub. Jason pulled out of him; I'm not sure if it's an act of kindness or not, and moved in front of Ronnie just like me and blasted his load onto Ronnie's face.

 

Jason looked at me and smiled, and we left the bathroom with Ronnie alone in it, still tied up.

 

“Damn that was fun,” he said with a smile. As hard core and cold as I thought I was, I just couldn't feel as excited about it as he did. But I smiled anyway. I went into the kitchen and grabbed a beer, and took my time downing it. About half an hour later I went back into the bathroom to find Ronnie still hanging there, calm and quiet.

 

“How you doing Ronnie?” I asked him.

 

“Okay,” he said, and swallowed.

 

“You liked that didn't you?”

 

He was quiet for a minute, until he remembered what had happened when he didn't answer my questions. “Yeah,” he said, shamefaced.

 

“Me too. I want to go again.” I rubbed my hard cock against his ass. “You up for it? Just you and me this time.”

 

He moved his ass back against me. “Yeah, let's go. Fuck me again.” This time, just the two of us, I wanted to make it good for him, so I took special care to pinion in and out to hit his spot, to work him up and get him excited then keep him there. I was older than him, and I'd already shot, so my endurance was up. I fucked him for over 20 minutes until I had him squirming. I turned his head around forcefully and planted my lips on his, and he responded enthusiastically. He broke the lip lock.

 

“I'm sorry for stopping,” he said as he panted. “Please don't be mad at me, but I couldn't breathe. I'm gonna cum,” he almost shouted as he blew his second load. I pulled out and stood next to him, stroking my cock while he watched, and shot my load on the wall so it mixed with his. He smiled at me.

 

I didn't have the temperament for this. I thought I could be a total prick. I thought I could torture someone that I hated and feel good about it. But I didn't. I felt sorry for him. He was an asshole for reasons beyond me, carried deep scars that he couldn't deal with inside, so he pushed them outside and inflicted them on other people.

 

“I'm gonna let you loose Ronnie, then I want you to follow me, OK?”

 

“Sure,” he nodded. He probably would have followed me anywhere at that point.

 

I undid his legs and paused to rub the spots where the cuffs had cut into his legs, and then I released his arms. I had a brief feeling of fear, because he was a strong, powerful man. Once I let him go he could pulverize me, kill me even. But he didn't. I took his hand and guided him out of the guest bath, which was Jason's domain, and into the safety of mine. I led him into my shower which was much bigger and turned on the water, nice and warm. I nudged him under the stream and grabbed the soap and helped him wash up. Funny, with his totally shaved body he looked much better.

 

“I thought I would hate you, but I don't,” he said.

 

“Funny,” I said, “I thought the same thing.”

 

“Can I go now?” he asked.

 

“No. I think I'd like you to stay here tonight.” He looked nervous, but I smiled. “Here,” I said, pointing to my bed. He smiled slightly at me and climbed in. It was early, but he'd been through quite an ordeal.