9

It was too late. All too late. He felt his bermudas were suddenly - yet gently - pulled down. He felt his member swelled in response to - A HAND!?!! - stroking it.

"Aah.." came the voice, "as expected.."

"ARE YOU DR-" he could not scream. In his dunkard state he could only moan in submission at the - clumsiness of a - TONGUE?!! "First..time..?" his tongue was numb, he was about to drift to sleep.

"Y-yesss.." came the drunk reply. "I..he..wanted to hurt you..I resolve to protect you..I thought..I have a purpose to live..after my divorce.."

Every single syallable was emphasised with a warm wet - and sometimes very cold - sensation. "I want..to..protect..you..so..I..must...have..you.."

He could not do anything. The tongue and lips were clumsy at first - he gasped. "I-I cumed.." CUMED?!!!! WHOSE MOUTH IS THAT?!!

He heard a whisper..a polite whisper...

"May I..cum..in..you?"

***

One moment led to another. And there was improvement in every new moment. He did not know who it was. Or perhaps he knew. There was a huge weight above him - a very huge and heavy weight. Yet he felt protected by this weight and nothing could tear him and the weight apart. Curse that mixed-up heritage of a human! No manners to wait for a response!

He hated it. Every single moment of it. He had no say. He could only react. Yet his body jerked in welcome with every stroke, every lick, every search of himself, from his skin..to within..he loved how he was stroked, touched, carassed, forced..yet he hated it, "Get off..Ian.." he was about to dream in slumber..

"Ian..I am not.."

"Who..are you..no..you're not.."

His teacher whispered into his ear

I am..