Pederastic Eromenos

Chapter 1

My birthday fell just before the cut off line for school, so I actually started kindergarten at age 4. Throughout my life I was always the youngest in my class by 6 months to a year. As a result I was still 17 when I graduated from high school, so I did not head off to college right away.

My life up to this point had always been one of longing, constantly trying to fit in, but more time than not I was on the outside looking in. Girls were of a great interest to me, but I was not to them. I had several girlfriends, but none seemed to last beyond a few weeks. My younger sister was incredibly popular and had many friends, which actually worked to my disadvantage; shutting me out of any social situation she did not want her brother involved in, which was most.

I went to a community college right out of high school, still living at home, and spent most of my time away from school working at a low paying job that I hated. Since my social life was nil, and community college was more like high school that anything else, I witnessed no change in my life.

The following year I was accepted at a small college in Central New Jersey, and could not wait to attend. I was very hopeful that I would finally find a life. The one benefit of living at home and working during my first year of college was that I had saved up enough money that I would not have to work during the school year. I arrived ready for all challenges awaiting me, as I was a good student, but most of all I wanted to make friends and find a much need social life.

Right away I realized that it was not meant to be as I discovered that most of the other students who were attending this school were from Northern New Jersey, New York or Connecticut. I was put in with a group who were all to busy getting drunk and partying with their friends. I was not accepted as I was not from their background, geographically or economically. Most of the other students attending this school had wealthier parents, and were using this school as a stop over to try and get their grades up so that they could transfer to schools like NYU and UCONN, whereas I was very happy to have just been accepted.

I was not even lucky enough to have a real roommate. The individual that the school had originally paired me with chose to not attend at the last minute; instead they stuck me with a junior who was originally supposed to get an apartment off campus with one of his fraternity brothers. He spent most of his time and slept most nights at the fraternity house, and did nothing more than use his side of the room as a storage area, if I seen him once a week for five minutes, that was a lot.

While growing up, despite being close to Center City Philadelphia, I had never really been exposed to the arts. So after several weekends filled with studying, watching football, and trying to get into a few parties, I decided that it was time to get out and see what else life had to offer. I am still not sure if it was boredom or a need to experience new things, but I started taking a bus up to New York City on the weekends. Being that I was alone, and a little fish out of water, I started going to museums and art galleries, where I could spend the day and yet not look completely out of place all alone.

My life would change a few weeks after I started making my trips into the city. I was at a small art gallery one Saturday afternoon, when I meant Jean, French for John. Jean was an older man who I would soon find out was in his early sixties. Jean was a businessman who was in the metropolitan area for a few months on business. We struck up a conversation while both observing the same painting, but it quickly became apparent that I had very little knowledge of painter or of art in general. Jean did not seem to mind, and we spent the next few hours walking around the gallery as he gave me a crash course in art history.

I had to go, in order to leave the city before dark as I was still a little scared moving about all alone in the city. Just as I was leaving, Jean mentioned another gallery to me that I should see, so we agreed that I would meet him there the following Saturday. At this point in my life I had never experienced any feeling towards another man, and after my first meeting with Jean I thought of him as a nice person who I could not believe would have the time for me.

Coming from my background, I was behind most of my classmates in that I had not been exposed to the arts, to how the business world really works (although I was a business major), or to older people actually having time to explain things to me. Though I was just about to turn 19, and trying to act like an adult, it was quite apparent that I was still taking in life as a wide eyed kid. The following Saturday Jean and I spent the day at the gallery talking more about life than anything else; I was a sponge taking everything in. Before I knew it, the gallery was closing, but Jean invited me to go out to dinner with him. I embarrassingly explained that I did not want to walk around the city after dark, but assured me that he would see to it that I made it back to my bus okay.

We went to a little café and for the first time he started to really ask me about myself, my interests and what I was look for in the future. When I explained my major and my lack of exposure to the real business world, he started to tell me everything that I needed to concentrate on in school, and what I should expect once I got out into the real working world. Before I knew it, dinner was over, and he called a cab to take us back to where I could catch my bus. As we said goodbye, he gave me his phone number and told me to call him when ever I wanted to talk, in turn I quickly told him mine as well.

The very next day I was surprised to receive a call from Jean, he said that he had just called me to check up and to see when I would be going into the city next. Up to now, it had never dawned on me that Jean had taken a real interest in me, other than that of a mentor. During our conversation Jean started to ask me about my dating history, or if I had any real prospects. I told him no, to be honest, and then he next surprised me by asking if I had ever considered dating someone older. I was confused, if girls my own age were not interested in me, then why would an older woman? Still I said yes, if the opportunity presented itself, I would consider. Just before he hung up, he asked me if I wanted to come to the city and stay the weekend at his place. I said yes, if he would not mind, what should I bring? We told me that I would not have to bring anything special, just myself and a couple change of clothes.

The thought of spending the weekend away from the campus was exciting to me, yet then as is always the case, I became nervous and called Jean back the very next day. He assured me that I should not worry about my clothes that we would not go to any event that I had to get really dress up for (my wardrobe my limited, and not filled with expensive clothes), and also not to worry about money that he would cover everything. He asked me when I could come, and I said that I only have one class on Friday and would take the bus up afterwards. When he told me that he could take Friday off, I quickly blurted out (too quickly I soon realized) that I could actually skip my Friday class and take the bus up on Thursday. He ended the conversation by saying, "it's a date", and told me that he would be waiting for me when I arrived.

The rest of the week was a blur, I spent extra time studying and getting all of my homework done, so that I would have my entire three day weekend open.

Thursday afternoon I finished with my last class, headed back to my room where I had already packed, called Jean with my expected arrival time and headed to the bus stop. The ride there seemed longer than usual as I was excited, but still I was not expecting anything out of the ordinary, just hoping for a fun weekend.

True to his word Jean was waiting for me when I arrived, he gave me a slight hung when we greeted, and asked to help me with my bags. As it was early evening, he asked if I wanted to get something to eat before heading to his place, we agreed and he drove us to a little place that he raved about. He drove a nice Mercedes, my first time in one, and I spent the majority of the time looking around the car. When we arrived at the restaurant, it was a small place which offered very private seating.

The meal was nice, but Jean started to act a bit more serious towards me than in our past encounters and conversations. He gradually moved closer to me during the meal and when no one was around he reached out and touched my arm several times. It became apparent to me for the first time that he was taking an interest in me, in a way that no one had ever done before. The ride back to his place was a quiet one; he must have accidentally brushed his hand against my arm and leg several times. I had a million thoughts running through my head, I was very confused, and could not figure anything out.

When we arrived at his place, a nice 10th floor studio apartment his company had rented for him during his stay, we entered into a private parking garage. He insisted on carrying my two bags as we took a private elevator up to his floor. His apartment was very nice, with a nice view of the city. Yet due to the location, it offered him a lot of privacy as there were no other buildings with a direct view.

I gave me a quick tour, he had very nice furniture (rented) and I saw that his interest in painting went beyond that of observation. He had several half completed landscapes, and a few blank canvases. I commented that his art was very nice, he smiled and said that he loved to paint, but that all he had been able to do in New York was paint the skyline.

I excused myself for a moment to use the bathroom. Once inside a million thoughts were still going through me head. What was I doing here? What did Jean want? Did I want this? I was nervous, but excited at the same time. I quickly became concerned that I was taking too much time, so I finally decided, to just let thinks happen and arrive at my decisions at that time.

Once I arrived back in his living room, Jean suggested that we watch a movie. He asked if I had any preferences, and I said no. This seemed to put a gleam into his eye and he selected a film from his library, called "Food of Love". Jean asked me if I was familiar with the film and I told him no that I had never heard of it. He mentioned that it was an independent film, but that he thought we would enjoy watching it together. I said okay, and we sat down to watch the movie. The movie turned out to be a coming of age film about an 18 year old and his much older mentor. The film depicts the older male pianist and his much younger assistant falling in love.

I was a little taken aback by the subject matter of the film, yet not at all surprised considering the way the Jean had been acting. After it because obvious what the film was about, and I had not objected, Jean asked me how I felt. I told him that I was not sure, but that I was not offended. Towards the end of the movie, Jean how had been a gentleman up to that point, moved closer to me and put his arm around my shoulders.

Slowly he began to massage the back of my neck and shoulders, ever so gently at first, and then with more emphasis once he did not detect any objections from me. That is as far as he went until the movie was over. Once it ended Jean moved in closer to me and asked if I was uncomfortable, I told him that I was not sure.

The question came next, and I embarrassingly answered truthfully, I had never had a sexual encounter of any sort before. I was a soon to be 19 year old virgin. Jean told me that he was very fond of me, and that he hoped we would become very close friends. I could not respond, Jean then moved his face closer to mine and kissed me very gently on the mouth. My head started to spin, but to my surprise, I did not resist nor was I repulsed.

It was at this very moment that I first looked at Jean as I had never done before. As I had never looked at a man before, much less someone over 40 years my senior, I just remember that I started to compare our similarities and differences. I was five foot eight inches tall, and weighed around 135 pounds. Jean was slightly taller around five foot ten, and weighed around fifty pounds more than I. Jean had dark hair, with some obvious gray, he had aged well and his body seemed to be in very good shape.

Jean moved in and kissed me again, this time with a little more feeling. He finally relaxed a little to kiss him back. This seemed to unleash his desires more, but still he did not try to rush me. Jean knew that I was in a very different position from one that I had ever been in before, he took his time. He kissed me for a minute or too longer, then sat back looked me directly in the eyes and almost pleadingly started to tell me how much he cared about me and that I was someone very special to him.

I finally spoke up and told Jean that I was not sure what I was feeling, but that something felt very right between him and me. At that very moment Jean moved in and touched me, really touched me for the first time. His hand touched my stomach, and it was not long before (to my surprise) I had a noticeable erection. Maybe it was Jean being Jean, maybe it was because he had so much more experience than I, or maybe it was because he really did have feelings for me (above lustful), yet at that moment Jean only reached down and massaged my erection through my pants. He did not try to do more, he only moved closer and kissed me softly again. A minute or two later, Jean slipped his hand inside my pants. He felt my penis and gave it a quick stroke. I was so aroused, excited and confused that I came almost as soon as he touched me.

When I did Jean looked into my eyes, not with lust, but with a sense of caring and kissed me once more. He next led me into the bathroom to clean me up. In the bathroom, he unbuttoned my pants and lowered them to my knees. He then lowered my underwear slightly and reached over taking some toilet paper and wiped up all of my cum. My first sexual experience, a hand job and I came in under five seconds. I felt so beautiful at that moment, confused to, as I was a man, should I have felt this way?

He finished cleaning me up, lifted my pants back up and then we returned to the living room. It popped into my head, was I now Jean's pederastic eromenos? I was not sure what I felt, I know that must seem redundant, but things were not clear, at least not at that moment.

By this time it was getting late, and Jean suggested that we call it a night, that he had a special day planned for us the next day. I slept on his couch, as Jean retired to his queen size bed. I was a little surprised that he had ended it there, but then again Jean was very intelligent, he did not want to push too hard too quickly.

That night I tried to come to grips with what had happened, I had willingly let another man kiss me, touch me; he was the first to ever bring me off sexually. What surprised me most was that I had no regrets. Was I gay? Or was I just allowing myself to fall for this wonderful older man. I finally feel to sleep knowing that I was going to stay with Jean the entire weekend, and that I would willingly participate, if he so desired. There it was, it finally became clear to me, I would not return to college a virgin.

Chapter 2

The next morning I awoke to the smell of Jean cooking breakfast. I asked him how long that he had been up, and he told only a few minutes, that he wanted to surprise me by having breakfast ready. Our conversation turned to the day ahead, as we spoke, I could see that Jean's smile was fading. The weather outside was different than want had been predicted, a heavy rain was falling. Jean told me that he had planned a day out in the city for us, but now that the weather was not agreeing with us, that we would have to change our plans. We ate breakfast; Jean was not a bad cook either.

Trying to raise his spirits, and in coming to grips with my feeling, I asked Jean if he would like to stay in his apartment for the day and he could paint me something? Jean liked the idea, but taking a moment to observe me really close, he asked if I would mind modeling for him. I had no hesitation in saying yes. His next question was if I would mind modeling for him, "full body". I told him yes, and I was aware that meant nude, which in fact I was actually hoping for at this point.

We cleaned up the kitchen, and as Jean went to set up, I went in to take a quick shower so that I would look my best. I took a very warm shower, I cannot stand cold water. I was very hard not to masturbate in the shower, thinking of what was to come. I carefully washed around my private area, as to not arouse myself any more.

I finished dried off, then wrapped myself in a big plush towel and walked out into Jean's living room. I asked him if he was ready, and he said yes, that we wanted me to stand next to the window so that he could paint me against the skylight in the background. I tried to calm down as I walked into the room, embarrassed that I had an erection.

Once I was standing next to the window where Jean directed me, I found it very difficult to relax. This was all new to me, and here I stood excited, yet embarrassed too. What if he did not like my body? I was not ultra skinny, but I did not have much muscle tone either. I could not believe it, was this how girls felt when their boyfriends saw them nude for the first time?

Sensing my feelings, Jean approached me, extending his hand outward to gently stroke my face. He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, and told me to relax. Jean next dropped down to one knee while still looking me in the eyes, and slowly began to peel the towel from my body. His reaction was more than I could have ever expected. He looked up at me after allowing his eyes to soak in my frame, and told me that I was absolutely perfect. I could not believe it but I was blushing at this man who has telling me everything that I always thought that I would be saying to a woman.

This comforted me a great deal, I was finally able to speak, and told him how happy I was that he approved of me. I next mentioned my erection, which as this point was growing painful. Would it matter? Would it mess up his painting? All the nudes that I have ever seen in art galleries never had their subjects in a state of arousal. Yes that may seem stupid to be thinking this, but I was young as so not thinking as an adult.

Jean said that it would make the painting even that more perfect, to know that my body was showing him how much I wanted to be there for him. Yet being the wise older gentleman, Jean could also sense by extended discomfort. He stood up, taking my hand and led me to his couch. Before we get started, I would like to put you at ease, he told me. He sat me down, and then before I knew it, he leaned in close and kissed me on the lips. I returned his kiss, this time with more passion than I had ever returned a kiss before. Jean said not now, we will wait. He next kneeled down between my legs, and looked up at me, his eyes telling me everything.

This is only meant to help you relax he said, lowering his mouth around my swollen cock. I could not believe the feeling as his soft mouth gently engulfed me. My first memory was of the warmth, followed by the gentle wetness of his tongue making contact, sliding up and down my shaft. The slippery feeling was unimaginably, as he started off going very slow, ever so slightly working me up and down.

Next I could feel the pressure, almost like I needed to pee, but this was different. Jean reached around to my behind, and grabbed both of my cheeks, next I could feel the edge of his lips meshing with my pubic hair. Before long, I could not take it, and I reached out to warn Jean. He removed his left hand from my right ass cheek, grabbing my arm, letting me know not to try and stop him.