He dropped his jeans and underwear and stepped out of them. Then he lay back on my bed with just his shirt and socks on. I watched him and occasionally looked out the door, like I was keeping watch. He was already partially hard. It was large. Larger than mine and he was laying down with his feet towards me, so I could see straight up between his legs. He had a beautiful dick and balls. I had an immediate reaction and my dick pressed against my jeans as he gently put his fingers on his shaft and started moving them up and down. His dick swelled and I stared mesmerized. My mouth was going dry, and I had to remind myself to take a breath.
As he stroked his shaft with his fingertips, he used his other hand to rub around his pubes and his balls. His hand travelled up and he rubbed his stomach and moved his hands up his shirt to rub his nipples.
I never knew how good looking his body was. His legs were well defined, and he had a soft but solid stomach. He was circumcised with a nice proportional shaft and head. His balls hung there so nice and when he lifted his hips, I could see below them and the curve of his cheeks pressing together to make a tantalizing little crevice.
As he stroked his grip tightened and his hand was more curved around his shaft, pulling the skin up and down. His balls lifted and lowered nicely. He stopped stroking and brought his hand up to his mouth and stuck three fingers in. I saw his tongue on his fingers. He pursed his lips over his palm and squeezed some spit onto it. He lowered his hand and carefully rubbed the palm of his hand along the bottom of his shaft. He used his fingers to spread some wetness on his tip.
Now as he stroked, there was a slight wet sound to it. His breathing had changed, and he tensed up. His legs were straight and through his sock I saw his big toe on his left foot curl up, as the rest of his toes pointed down. He stroked with his right hand, as his left cupped or rubbed his balls. He sometimes extended a finger down past his balls to where his cheeks met. I was breathing noticeably as he increased his strokes. His body was arched, and he was pressing down on my bedspread with his heels and shoulder blades.
He slid his heels up until his knees were bent and the bottom of his feet were flat on the bed. He started lifting his hips as he held his hands steady, one on his shaft, and the other over his balls and the bottom of his shaft. The head of his penis poked repeatedly through the circle he had made with his hand. I stared and swallowed as the wet head appeared and disappeared. He stopped moving and quickly brought his right hand up to his mouth and licked his palms generously and spit on his fingers. Then he returned to stroking, alternating with pumping his hips. His face was turned sideways, and he let out a long low moan. He moved his left hand searching for the pile of tissue paper beside him. He held his body still as he rhythmically raised and lowered his palm. As he brought the tissue close, he squirted. I let out a gasp, and he grunted. He pressed down the tissue and covered the top of his flexing penis. He held it and I watched the shaft bend and flex as his balls shook. Some of his cum overwhelmed the tissue at the top and spilled outward over the outside of his hand.
He lay still. His extended his left leg and his right sagged. The tension in his muscles relaxed. His face was tilted into my sheets and his eyes were closed. His hand still gripped his shaft as it slowly contracted. His stomach and chest rose and fell with his breath and the loudest sound in the room seemed to come from my own breathing. He finally roused himself and raised his head to look down at the mess he had made.
I watched him move the tissue around cleaning up. I didn't doubt that it had been days since he last came. The tissue was getting ragged with the wetness. He found some drops halfway down to his knee on his right leg. When he had dabbed most of it, he sat up and swung his legs off the bed. He stood up and then bent over my bed sheets inspecting them. That was a sight. Then he looked past me to the door, and I guilty looked out the door for the first time since he had started. He slid his underwear and jeans on and walked past me into the hall and then into the bathroom. I heard the water running and a flush then he came out.
He asked, "Do you want to get back to the project? I still have half an hour before I am picked up."
So, we worked on the project and then I drove him home. I kept thinking about his body on the drive. When I came back, I was so worked up, I lay back on my bed and pounded one out. I could have kicked myself when I realized that I could have asked him to watch the door for me and done it in front of him.
Being around him was different after that. I would get excited in chemistry class, and I would fantasize about what he had done, and what I wanted to do. I had a plan. I wanted to get him back in my house and this time I would offer to 'help'. If he let me, I would bend over and lick it when he was most distracted. If that worked, I would put it in my mouth. My plans only went that far, but my fantasies went much further.
I worked on getting him back to my house. I offered to study with him for tests, to have him over for a movie, or to have him over for a special dinner. I kept inviting him over and he kept saying no. I asked the chemistry Professor to assign another group project, but he laughed at me and said, "You're the first student to ask that in 20 years."
I tried one last time at the end of the semester. I invited him over to study for the exam and I told him that he could have some privacy if he came over.
He gave me a judgmental look. He understood the reason I kept inviting him back to my house. He understood what I wanted. The he said. "Nahh, that's ok. I've been hanging out at my girlfriend's house most nights."
The semester ended, and I never really talked to him again. What had happened only took ten minutes of my life, but it left a lasting impression.
