Sensei..."
Iwamoto's face is right in front of me.
"Yes, Iwamoto-san."
Below his toned abs, Iwamoto's manhood is seen standing up loosely. Further down, oh, I can't look straight ahead! There is no way I can stick the probe to that spot with a calm face.
The same midday light as in that day shines through the curtains of the examination room, casting shadows of long, dark eyelashes on Iwamoto's shiny, rosy cheeks. There is a tiny bit of body hair on his pimple-free chin. However, it does not diminish his youthfulness in the slightest.
Unlike that time, it is surprisingly quiet outside. There is no sign of life. The biggest difference is on Iwamoto. He should have been frightened and nervous, but the way he slowly blinks his eyes and stares at me is surprisingly bewitching. His thick, half-open lips are wet and glossy.
"Sensei..."
It's a deep, almost breathless voice.
"What is it?"
Iwamoto reaches my arm with his large hand. The feel of his warm palm is so soothing that I'm likely to go crazy if this continues... I can't take my eyes off Iwamoto's moist eyes.
"Ah... Iwamoto-san."
Iwamoto takes my hand and puts it on his cheek.
"It's cold... It feels good."
Then, he leads my other hand between his legs. I let my fingers move over his shaft as if I am being manipulated. It feels firm and heavy, and in my hand, it becomes harder and harder. The thickness and heat make me gulp hard on my saliva.
"Ah... Sensei, it's really good."
Iwamoto presses his body against mine, repeatedly exhaling and inhaling as if he is out of breath. His thick pecs jiggle while his two small pointed nipples brush against the black tank top he wears... A beautiful streak of sweat runs down his thick neck. It smells completely him, mixed with the scent of lemon shampoo. Like the smell of freshly washed and dried sheets under the sun.
Iwamoto just praised me, but he did that almost all the time, so I don't believe him anymore. I have no confidence in my touch because this is my first time. I don't have experience in a hand job since I'm originally not someone who mast*rbates a lot. My se*ual experience was always miserable in every sense of the word. Not only in terms of the richness of my se*ual fantasies, but also in terms of the frequency.
The only time I have ever desired someone's body so intensely is now.
Just as Iwamoto writhes and panting out on my neck, my blood pools painfully between my legs. My inexperience is no longer a problem here. I suddenly feel like a young racehorse grunting excitedly at its first race―its hooves scraping the ground while its mane flicks back and forth like an arrow about to be pulled from its bow. Despite my inexperience in fighting ground, I am swelling up and can't control the angry instinct inside me. I am trembling, whimpering, like a horse about to reach the finish line.
I slide my hand down Iwamoto's cheek, to his neck, and across his chest as well. I trace the slight dampness on his skin, the elastic muscles, and the smooth hard bones. I run my hands around his waist, savoring the raw volume of his manhood in the palms of my hands. I continue stroking down his smooth, cool buttocks, then examining his bottom hole. Iwamoto twitches as if he needs my fingers.
"Ah..."
I stroke Iwamoto's bottom hole to appease him. Just as I had taught him that day, Iwamoto obediently loosens it to welcome me. Once I pass through the narrow ring, I can feel the inside is completely melted. I spread open my fingers inside and hear the sound of water splashing. The heat encourages me to insert my finger deeper and deeper.
"AH!"
Iwamoto tilts his head back. His red tongue sticks out between his two rows of teeth. I freeze. Iwamoto's expression just now causes me to unconsciously stop my wandering fingers inside him.
"Ah, Sensei, why did you stop?"
"Would you like me to continue?"
"Is it okay with you?" Iwamoto chuckles. He takes a deep breath, trying to sit up. His large, warm hands wrap around my neck. "I want more..."
His voice is so seductively se*y that the remnants of my conscience all burn with lust. His hand touches my pelvis.
"Ah..."
I am dizzy with the pleasure of Iwamoto's touch on my erection. I feel like I'm about to melt.
"Sensei... Ah, Sensei." Iwamoto hides his head on my shoulder, hugging me tight with his other hand, and buries his fingernails on my back, "Sensei!"
God...
I want you to hold on as tight as possible.
I want you to hold on to me and never let go.
I want you to say that you love me.
That you want me so bad...
As much...
As much as I want you.
"Iwamoto..."
I want to touch you.
I want to be inside you.
"...Hnghhh..."
The morning sun inserts itself through the space of the opaque curtain. A few days after my first public song in my life, I woke up to realize that I just had my first wet dream in years.
"No way!"
The first thing I do is pull the covers off me and look down at my lower body. My underwear is beyond dirty. I'm surprised because my sem*n is dripping so much despite I am not a teenager anymore. It's sad, but it's definitely the largest amount of sem*n I've ever ejaculated in my life history. If this is the case, not only did my sleepwear get dirty but also the sheets.
I turn off the alarm on the phone ringing near my bed and clumsily get out of the sheets. Normally, I would turn on the heat before I change my clothes, but I don't mind the da*n cold now. I groggily take off my clothes while checking the stains, almost falling down. My thighs are wet, so I wipe it all off with the pants I had just removed. The smell and the unpleasant feeling make me anxious. I quickly roll up my clothes so that the wet part will not be visible... But then, it struck my head.
I didn't do any laundry yesterday.
Ah, there must be some piling up dirty clothes in the laundry. I hear Iwamoto preparing breakfast. He is in the kitchen. He will not see me if I walk straight to the laundry now. All right, hurry up! Just throw the clothes into the washing machine, and turn it on!
However, just as I am about to turn the doorknob to get out of my room, the dream I had this morning rushes in like a raging wave. No, I must not remember it now. I still have to face Iwamoto in everyday life. I have to suppress it and forget all the dirty scenes in it. I need to move on! But the more I try to calm myself down, the more it has the opposite effect. Now, the Iwamoto who smiles while saying "I'm back", the Iwamoto who says "Hello" from the kitchen, and the Iwamoto who spreads his legs with a bewitching smile and says "Sensei", are equally adorable and disgusting.
Da*n it.
Da*n it.
Even in my puberty days, I've never responded this bad to idols, actresses, or models. Why is this happening to me? Does that mean it's true? Am I really in love? Am I gay? Was the problem always has been that I am actually a fu*king gay?! I feel...I feel like a part of me always knew this would happen at some point.
These past few months, my mind has been filled with a desire for Iwamoto. And I hate myself so much for taking it too casually.
I am scared.
Yes, I already knew this is bound to happen.
I knew it and I did nothing to stop it!