Preston sat in the armchair tucked into the corner of his bedroom, looking at the male specimen on his bed. His initial impression of him being just a boy was quickly cast aside when he found out the boy was a college freshman. A boy that could in just two or three years be one of his students if he had majored in English Literature. But he had seen the portfolio and some of the drawings within. He was an Architecture major, putting him across campus for most classes.
How had he come to possess such a specimen? Oh, how the stars aligned, or the odds of chance favored him. A mere passing in the old bookstore in town, then another chance encounter at the small independent coffee shop, a couple of doors down. He pictured it, how the boy came to where he was seated on a sofa, satchel laid out on the coffee table with test papers spilling out where he had clumsily removed the novel he was reading. He held the novel up as if he were reading, but instead his eyes had been drawn to him ever since he entered the coffee shop. He had seen him in passing in the book store, and now they crossed paths again. A tall lean build, jet black hair that was wavy and thick, and fair white skin that appeared never to have been exposed to sunlight. He saw it all once the coat was removed, draped over an arm and backpack and portfolio set on the floor, pushed along with the right foot. The white T-shirt hung on the shoulders and the jeans were nice and tight around the ass.
Coffee in hand and coming his way, Preston glanced up over and over, looking at the boy from the front. The prominent nose, the dark eyes, the line of the jaw creating the heart shaped face, and the neck that at first appeared too long but on second thought fit the overall lean frame of the body. And Preston felt his attraction toward the boy like none other. He wanted him, wanted to possess the body, to feel it with his hands, to touch and explore it, to make it his. He wanted it sexually, the way a man could possess another man, and he felt his cock stir with his desire and lust as he watched the boy come closer.
“Excuse me, all the tables are taken, would you mind sharing the sofa?”
“No, not at all, please, sit,” said Preston.
“Thank you,” the boy replied, smiling with too perfect teeth.
The sofa felt too large, provided too much space between them. Preston wanted to reach across with his voice or his hand and get the boy’s attention. He wanted to start a conversation that would lead to a knowing of the person. He laid the novel down across his lap wondering about the best angle of conversation.
“You’re an English instructor?” said the boy.
Preston looked over surprised at the conclusion the boy had managed to reach. He saw the boy nod his head toward the coffee table and his satchel and the test papers protruding out.
“Oh, yes, the test papers. Yes, I teach fourth year lit.”
“That is why I’ve not seen you before. I’m taking freshman English.”
“And I doubt an Architecture major would be taking my classes in the future,” Preston said in reply trying to make it sound like a joke.
“I’m Cole,” said the boy.
Preston had a name to go with the face. The personal identity one used to hold conversation with someone. To garner information about them.
“I’m Preston Kushner.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” said Preston, desperate for their conversation to continue.
“I have a paper to write, one on a short story. I don’t want to pick the usual stories, the ones everyone tends to gravitate toward. I want something a bit different. A bit daring.”
The way Cole said the last sentence, daring rising in tone almost as if it excited him to say it. Preston sat back and considered the question, wondering which direction to go with his reply.
“There are some authors I don’t see students reading, not even when I was in college, but they are still very relevant. Ursula K. Le Guin’s “The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas”, or “Sonny’s Blues” by James Baldwin, or Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery”.”
“James Baldwin…he was gay.”
It was stated as fact, but the tone was questioning, like a lure meant to illicit a bite.
“Yes, would you be interested in exploring authors who are gay?”
Cole blushed, cheeks turning red, but his expression seemed to harden as he looked over at Preston.
“Yes. I think it is important.”
“Important? Why is that?”
“I think we’re being pushed to go back into the closet, and I haven’t even…it seems so unfair.”
“Unfair is the least of it. It’s downright criminal,” said Preston. He fell into thought about who to recommend, Cole sitting quietly, waiting on his reply. There were several to choose from, but one name kept coming to the top of his list. “E. M. Forster.”
“You mean the short story collection published after his death?”
“You know them?”
“I’ve heard of them and saw the movie based on Maurice.”
“Yes, the movie. I suggest you read the author’s version of the story.”
“I appreciate your help, Preston.”
How Cole said his name, softly, almost seductively, or it seemed that way. Or maybe he was projecting. But Cole turned on the sofa, resting the right knee on it, closing the gap between them. Only inches separated them.
“I’d like to pay you back,” said Cole.
“I’m just glad to help a student, and…”
“Maybe you’d like to show me more about the sex between men?”
“Sex?”
“Yes. I’m here for an education. Formal and informal, and I’m wondering if you would like to be my teacher for one night?”
The boy was brash, shockingly straight forward to be in a coffee shop with someone he just met. But it was such a temptation. A lure so lust driven, so lurid, he struggled to find the words to reply. He swallowed, then glanced around the small room to see if anyone had heard Cole. No one was looking their way with a shocked expression.
“I would like that.”
“Can I come to your place tonight? Say around eight?”
“Yes, yes, that works,” said Preston, taking out a business card and scribbling his home address on the back. “Here’s my address.”
“I’ll see you at eight,” said Cole.
Cole was on the bed, naked, down on knees and elbows. The long torso seemed to take the entire bed. The long feet hung off the foot. The thick wavy black hair framed the face as it looked down. Preston came to his feet and moved to the foot of the bed. He saw the nut sac hanging impossibly long. It was so tantalizing how the two orbs sat at the bottom, moving ever so slightly. Maybe they only needed Cole to just breathe normally. And just behind the sac, the cock. It hung long with the foreskin covering the head. Looking upward, Preston looked at the spread ass, smooth skin and tight wrinkled rose bud. He reached out and rubbed the firm right cheek. He dragged his thumb down the crevice, over the tight opening, rubbing it until Cole pushed back. He reached for the nut sac, closing his fingers around it and pulled down until the nuts were tight in the bottom and the skin turning red. Cole shivered from the tugging but held still.
“You’re such a pretty boy,” uttered Preston. He held the nuts tight, then leaned forward, dragging his tongue up the ass. Cole moaned. He licked the ass until Cole shivered and pushed back. Preston rose and used his other hand to rub the wet ass, raking his index finger up and down it. Then he focused on the rosebud, rubbing over its tightness. When the ass pushed back, he smiled, then penetrated it, slowly pushing his finger into it. Holding his hand steady, he watched the ass move on his finger. He felt the tightness slide along his finger tempting him to move it, to work it as deeply as he could get it.
Preston slipped a second finger into Cole and worked them through the tightness until once again the ass moved on them. He tugged on the nuts and pushed a third finger into the ass. He twisted and turned the fingers, pumped them through the tightness until he felt it loosen.
Undoing his pants, belt, button, and zipper, he then slipped his hardening cock free. A few strokes and he was erect. He put it to the wet loosened hole and pulled on the nuts, slowly, watching the ass slide over the head, then inch after inch of the shaft. Cole moaned and Preston could feel the shivering that coursed through the body as his cock sank into its depths.
Preston finally released the nuts and leaned up and over the ass, and he began to fuck. He pushed until hips pressed against ass. He held still while rubbing a hand along the long back. Then he held the narrow waist and tugged outward, slowly, until he slipped free, cock hovering between them. He punched back through the tight opening and pushed until once again pressed against the ass.
The tightness aroused him, made his cock flex as he slowly fucked. Cole moaned and Preston felt the shivering body within his hands. He pulled outward until just the head remained in the ass and held still. Using his hands, he guided Cole to move, to push his ass onto the cock, then pull forward. Preston watched his cock disappear inside Cole then come back into view, over and over, as the ass moved slowly on it.
Preston moaned. He shuddered. The feel of the ass sliding along his cock was pure bliss. He closed his eyes relishing the tightness sliding along his cock. When he opened his eyes, he looked along the long back to the head still bent down. He ran his right hand along the spine until his fingers combed through the hair. He closed it into a fist and tugged the head up and back. The body rose until the hands could barely touch the bed and Preston began to fuck harder, faster, thrusting into Cole’s depths over and over. He fucked until smacking against the ass, the sound echoing around the room. Only Cole’s grunts and moans were louder.
“Fuck me, fuck me,” Cole exclaimed.
Releasing the head, Preston held tightly to the waist, fucking as hard as he could, hammering Cole’s ass. Then he slowed, tugged his cock outward slowly, letting Cole feel every inch. He pulled out and held still to let his arousal decrease. It was too soon. He wanted their fuck to last.
Cole was folded up beneath him, the thighs pressed against the chest and ass angled upward perfect for his fuck. He fucked slowly, undulating on the boy, working cock into him as he relished the feel of the body against his own. How every move was slick and hot for he was sweating with his exertions and aroused state. He felt feverish, almost delirious, as he worked his cock inside of him.
His need rose, pushed him to fuck harder, and he rose on hands and moved with authority. He pumped his cock into Cole’s depths, faster and faster, until smacking against the upturned ass. The bed rocked in rhythm to their fuck.
“Fuck,” Cole exclaimed. Then he grunted with every deep penetration.
Preston fucked until sweat burned his eyes and covered his face and chest. He fucked until so sensitive, so aroused, he couldn’t stop. He had to come. He fucked Cole harder and harder until jamming his cock into the depths of his ass and shuddering with release. He jammed against the ass with every ejaculation until finally spent.
Preston slid off the bed to the floor. He was on his knees with his ass resting on his heels. Sweat trickled down his face and chest and his cock flexed up and down as it descended toward a flaccid state. Feet, then legs came into his view, and he looked up to see Cole standing in front of him. The naked body, the hard cock, and the look of pure lust in the eyes. He reached out and raked his hands up the legs as he rose on his knees. He ran his hands over the round ass as he slipped the cock into his mouth. He worked his tongue around the dripping head then pushed forward, taking it deep into his mouth, the head pushing into his throat.
Cole managed to hold still for a short time, letting Preston suck slowly on his cock. But the manipulation proved too much, and Cole began to work his hips, pumping the cock through Preston’s lips.
Preston would have smiled if able, as he savored the cock, capturing the sweetness of the precum while relishing the feel of it in his mouth. After only a few seconds, the cock swelled thicker, then spurt wad after wad filling his mouth.
Cole stayed that night, giving Preston his body time and time again until they were totally spent. When Preston woke the next morning, he was alone, Cole having slipped out sometime in the early morning hours. He didn’t know how he felt about it. He knew Cole was just passing through. A student who would be gone in four years, while he remained on campus, a teacher who would mold young minds.
He lay on his back, reliving the night, the raw sex with Cole. How it made him feel and he smiled, wondering if Cole had gotten the education he really needed.
Two weeks passed, and Preston was in the coffee shop one afternoon. It was a Saturday, and drizzling rain had everyone inside. The coffee shop was packed, and he felt lucky to get one of the small two-top tables along the back wall. He was rereading an old favorite, The Wind-up Bird Chronicle, when a shadow passed over him. He looked up and smiled at the familiar face looking down.
“Cole, how are you?”
“I’m good. And you?”
“I’m doing well. Would you like to sit?”
“If you don’t mind; the place is packed.”
“Yes, it is.”
For a minute they sat silent, Preston waiting to see what Cole would say. Then Cole asked about the book he was reading and for a long time they talked about their favorite books, which ones they recommended to the other. Then a silence fell over the table once again, until Cole leaned forward, arms resting on the small table.
“I think about it; what we did.”
“I do too. It was nice, don’t you think?”
“Yes.”
“Have you found anyone to give you that kind of pleasure?”
“Yes; but not like with you.”
“What do you mean?”
“So far, most are…” said Cole, hesitating as he searched for the right words. “The guys are either too quick to get off or they are…a bit timid about it.
“Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy it and even if they are too quick, for they can do it two, three, maybe even four times. But…”
“It’s not like with me?” said Preston.
“None so far.”
Preston chuckled, then leaned back. “Cole, I’m thirty-eight, so there is some experience they may not have, a knowledge that there is no need to rush, in fact, just the opposite it preferrable. Find someone who you feel a connection and let life and its experiences unfold for you.”
“There is one guy in my studio that…he just takes my breath away.”
“Have you talked to him?”
“All the time, about our projects, the classes we share, and things like our favorite books or movies or songs.”
“But not about your attraction toward him. Is he gay?”
“That is what I’m not sure about. I mean, what if I’m wrong?”
“That can be a bit embarrassing.”
“What about you? Are you seeing someone?”
“Me? No, no one seriously.”
Cole sat back, looking around the room. He turned back to Preston. “Can we do it again? Would you be willing to do it with me again?”
Preston smiled, chuckled aloud, nodding his head. “Cole, you were a dream to be with. I’d love to do it again with you?”
Preston watched the boy slid down on his cock amazed at how he got there. They had come back to his place and without any pretension, went into his bedroom and slowly stripped each other. They kissed, lips against lips, then against newly exposed flesh. A shoulder, the base of the neck, a nipple. They touched each other, raking fingers over newly exposed skin then along hardening cocks. They sucked each other until fully erect. Then they eased onto the bed.
Preston lay on his back watching his cock come into view then disappear in the boy’s ass. Over and over, slowly, Cole moved on it. He was amazed and thrilled someone so young could be so patient, so arousing in their sex. He clutched at the bed as the ass moved on his cock.
Cole leaned back until resting on his hands, body stretched out. Preston looked at it, the smooth fair skin, the nipples with their hard centers, and the cock still hard, bouncing off the abdomen as Cole moved on his cock. The ass moved up and down, faster and faster, an urgency building in Cole’s fuck. It pushed Preston, made him feel his own lust, and he grabbed Cole’s ankles and held tight as the ass moved on his cock.
“Fuck,” Preston uttered through clinched teeth.
He looked at the long torso, how sweat began to bead up on the skin, and he thought of it as innocent, pure, despite how it tempted him, lured him in such a lewd way. How Cole seduced him, took him, used him for their pleasure. He sat up and pulled Cole against his chest and rolled him to his back. The long legs wrapped around his waist and the arms hugged his neck.
“Fuck me,” Cole whispered.
Preston couldn’t hold back, aroused to the point he wanted to cum, needed to cum. He fucked Cole, hard and fast, jamming his cock into the boy’s depths. He twisted his hips, banged the ass in every angle he could muster, making Cole cry out and beg for him to fuck harder. Cum hit his chest and he knew Cole was coming. Then he caught the scent of the boy’s cum, and it pushed him over the edge. He jammed his cock into the ass and came, shuddering with his own release.
They showered together, once again Cole taking Preston’s cock, taking every inch, until Preston shuddered and jerked with release. They dried each other, climbed into bed, snuggling like lovers, drifting off to sleep.
Preston woke on Sunday morning to an empty bed, and he smiled at the familiar nature of it. He got up, slipped on his robe, and went to make coffee. In the kitchen he found a note from Cole on the island.
Thanks for last night.
I think I know how to approach Landon.
Cole
Preston smiled, chuckled aloud, then looked out the window at the bright sunny morning, knowing it would be a good day.
Preston didn’t look for other students, didn’t want to feel like he was taking advantage of them, but he saw the looks. The blonde in the front of his Seminar in Literature, the redhead he crossed paths when he entered the building each morning three days a week, and the one that reminded him of Cole he had seen in the library when he went to do some research for a new class he was creating. He made eye contact, but never more. Never gave them hope for more. Then he crossed paths with the electrical engineer major. A country boy from the southern part of the state, a farm boy who was the first in his family to go to college. Dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, and a tanned skin tone. It made Preston almost believe in fate or a higher power. The coincidence that brought them together.
Wyatt was a sophomore, not yet nineteen, and had been roaming around the building looking for an economics class that was in a different section of the building. Preston had sized him up, unable to keep himself from doing so. The good-natured expression, the southern drawl when asking for directions, and the blue eyes that looked him up and down, then stared into his own eyes. Then there was the physical body. Over six feet tall, and muscular with a T-shirt stretched tight across the shoulders and chest, and short sleeves stretched around large biceps. Then there was the way the tight jeans fit. Preston could see the cock stretched down the left leg and when the boy turned to point down the corridor, the round ass that filled out the seat of the jeans. The boy was like none of the students he had in his classes.
Preston believed there was no way this boy could be gay. But he knew the fallacy of the notion, and he toyed with the fantasy.
“I don’t know the class, but I know rooms starting with 3-2, like this one, are on the north side of the floor,” said Preston. “You need to go back to the double doors and turn right and you should see this number series after you pass the windows overlooking a courtyard.”
“Thanks,” Wyatt replied, but he hesitated in leaving. “What do you teach?”
“I’m an English Lit professor.”
“Really? I love to read, but…”
“Didn’t think you could make a living reading books,” said Preston jokingly.
“And my parents wanted me to major in something that would be better than farming.”
“I’ve heard of farm families pushing their children to go into other fields.”
“Yes, that is the case for me. Thanks for your help. I should be going, or I’ll be late.”
But Wyatt didn’t go, instead he stood in front of Preston with a look of concentration.
“Do you think you could recommend some books. Something I might like to read for pleasure,” said Wyatt, and the way he said pleasure made the hairs stand up on Preston’s arms.
“I’d need to know more about what you like.”
Wyatt stepped closer, too close for normal conversation. “Could I come to your office after class?”
Wyatt seemed to suck the oxygen out of the air. Preston felt breathless as he contemplated having the male specimen sitting in his tiny office.
“I finish with my classes at three and will be in my office shortly after until about five.”
“I can wait until then. Where is it?”
“Up two floors, room 512. It is along the south wall of the floor.”
“I’ll see you later, professor…”
“Preston. My name is Preston.”
“I’m Wyatt.”
Preston sat in the armchair in the corner of his bedroom. Wyatt stood before him, slowly stripping. First the boots, then socks. Then the T-shirt was pulled over the head and he nearly gasped aloud at the sight of the upper body. It was everything he had imagined. A perfect male specimen, with well defined pecs and an impossible flat stomach. There was even a tattoo above the right nipple to give Wyatt a bit of the bad boy image. It was a bit intimidating to see such a male body. But it was more arousing in its temptation, and he felt his cock stir. The T-shirt was tossed carelessly to the floor. As Wyatt undid his jeans, Preston saw the edge of the sheet of paper sticking out of a pocket, momentarily remembering the list of books scribbled on it.
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay
In the Distance
The Overstory
Kafka on the Shore
On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous
A Boy’s Own Story
With the jeans undone, Wyatt spread them open and Preston saw nothing but bare flesh and pubic hair and more tantalizingly, the base of the cock.
Wyatt worked the jeans down each leg and off. He tossed them over his shirt and stood naked before Preston. An uncut cock hung heavy over its sac, and Wyatt tugged on it until it began to respond, then he moved between Preston’s legs.
“You want to suck my dick?”
“Yes.”
Preston leaned forward, taking the cock in hand stroking it. He watched it thicken and elongate until his thumb and index finger didn’t fit around it and the head slipped free of the foreskin. It stretched out, getting longer and longer until it looked eight, maybe nine inches long. Preston looked up and saw Wyatt watching him with glassy eyes.
“Did you have someone back on the farm that would do this for you?”
“Oh yeah. Hank at the grain elevator loved to swing on my dick. He also let me fuck him. Will you let me fuck you?”
Preston continued to stroke the cock as he contemplated taking it in his mouth, then ass. How it would feel, the fullness of the penetration Wyatt could give him.
“Yes,” said Preston, then he slid his hand to the base of the cock and slipped the head into his mouth.
Preston sucked, worked his mouth hungrily on the cock. He tongued the head, licked the length of it, and buried it in his mouth until he couldn’t breathe. Hands took his head, and he realized their size, how easily they held him, steady and still, taking the cock in a slow fuck.
“I always like to pump the first load into the mouth,” uttered Wyatt.
Wyatt moved faster, and Preston took it, every thrust, until the cock swelled thicker, then gushed wad after wad into his sucking mouth.
“Now for that ass,” exclaimed Wyatt, as he pulled Preston to his feet, spun him around and shoved him on the bed. Face down, Preston felt the larger boy climb on the bed and knee walk up to his ass. His legs were pushed together, and cock smacked his ass, then slowly pumped along the crevice until he buried his face into the bed and moaned.
“You ready to get fucked?” said Wyatt.
Preston reached back and spread his ass so Wyatt could see where he wanted that cock. He felt it touch him, rub up and down then press against his tightness. He moaned and pushed back against it.
“Yeah…you want it bad,” uttered Wyatt.
Preston felt the cock penetrate him, stretch his opening until Wyatt could get the head of his cock inside him. It held still, then pulled out. It touched him again, pressed against his tightness until penetrating him again. Over and over, Wyatt worked cock through his tight opening until he loosened to it. Then he felt inch after inch sink into his ass until hips pressed against him.
“Jesus,” Preston exclaimed as Wyatt began to fuck, to tug outward then push back into his depths. Over and over, the hips pressed against his ass. He felt the fullness of the penetration, how the cock bored deep into his body. Every push inward, pushed his own hips down making his own cock harden.
An arm came around his neck as the muscular body lay on his back, and Wyatt slow fucked him, pushed into his depths and ground hips against his ass. The arm would tighten around his neck making him struggle to breath and his cock flex hard beneath him.
Wyatt rose on his hands, hovering over Preston, and he began to fuck harder, faster, the physical nature of it making Preston gasp for breath. He clutched at the bed as cock pummeled his insides and hips smacked against his ass. The bed squeaked and rocked and Preston wondered if Wyatt would break it…break him.
“Fuck…fuck…fuck me,” uttered Preston.
And Wyatt fucked him. Kept up a brutal pace. Preston felt sweat rain down on him. He was so aroused he wanted to cum. Then Wyatt sank into his ass and jack hammered cock inside him.
“I’m going to…” Preston uttered, unable to finish as his cock erupted beneath him. He shuddered with every ejaculation as the bed became wet around his spurting cock. His ass spasm around Wyatt’s cock as it kept fucking him, pushing him to the point of exhaustion and his cock completely spent. Then Wyatt lay on his back, pushed into his depths and shuddered with his own release.
Preston woke to Wyatt laying next to him, the cover pushed down to just above the cock. He looked at the sleeping form, amazed such a man had wanted sex with him. He looked at the smooth skin, the perfect pecs, flat stomach, picturing how Wyatt had taken him. The rough fuck, then a long slow one in the shower, then a third sometime during the night, waking to find himself being folded in half and cock sinking into his ass.
He tugged the covers down and looked at the flaccid cock. He touched it, pulled gently on the foreskin, then leaned over and kissed it, licked the smooth skin, and Wyatt stirred.
“Go on. Suck me,” whispered Wyatt.
Preston sucked Wyatt until his mouth flooded with cum, then he watched the boy dress, tell him what a good time he had, and eased out heading back to his dorm.
Preston rolled to his back and laughed. “You fool,” he uttered.
Spring arrived on campus with perfect clear blue skies. Flowers bloomed all over campus and Preston knew it signaled the year would soon be over. May always arrived so quickly after the arrival of spring. But graduation was weeks away and he had a class to teach and papers to grade, so he made his way across the campus. As he came to the building, Wyatt came out and he wondered if the boy would remember him or would want to acknowledge he did so.
“Hey professor,” said Wyatt.
“Wyatt. How’s engineering classes?”
“Good.”’
“And how is your reading for pleasure?”
“I got through all the books you recommended last fall. I’m currently reading Blackouts. Have you read it?”
“No, but I’ve heard it is good.”
“Hey, I want to thank you again for, you know, last fall. I was kind of feeling sorry for myself for I was having trouble meeting guys.”
“You were having trouble meeting guys?” Preston couldn’t imagine it, not looking at the muscular body before him.
“Well, guys I wanted more than a quick fuck,” Wyatt replied with a grin.
“I’m sure there is someone out there you can make a connection,” said Preston as he saw one of his students approaching. He saw it as fate, perfect timing, for it was Myles, one of his better students, one that pushed boundaries. There had been reports on Giovanni’s Room, The Line of Beauty, and A Single Man. Myles was bold but not outlandish about it. And Preston knew from overhearing him in conversations prior to the start of class, he had been disappointed with the guys he dated, none of them serious.
“Myles, you got your report ready for today’s class?” said Preston as a means of getting him to come over.
“Yes, sir. This one covers Blackouts by Justin Torres. Have you read it?”
“I have,” Wyatt interrupted.
Preston saw it, the eyes surveying the other, sizing them up. He saw Wyatt’s expression soften and Myles seemed to shine with his smile.
Myles, this is Wyatt. He is an electrical engineer major. Wyatt, this is one of my students, Myles.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Myles.
“I’ve got to get across campus, but would you like to get together and talk about books?”
Preston knew it wasn’t the real reason Wyatt wanted to get with Myles. Myles was the same height but lean in build, one from jogging and bicycling, and with dark brown hair and green eyes, he was attractive, very attractive.
“Sure, I’ll give you my number,” said Myles.
“If you guys will excuse me, I need to get to inside. Myles don’t worry about being a bit late,” said Preston as he winked at him, then turned and headed up the steps.
He wondered why it wasn’t that easy for him to meet someone. He knew he could be oblivious to men looking at him, like at the grocery store or the café he loved to have dinner with friends. But to see Wyatt and Myles making a connection, that was something, and he smiled as he entered the building.
Preston entered the coffee shop thinking about earlier in the day, coming across Wyatt, then Myles, and the two boys hooking up. He hoped it worked out for them, or at least they didn’t hurt each other. He strolled up the counter and ordered his usual, but this time to go, because he wanted to get home to watch a movie he had been putting off.
Coffee in hand, he turned and headed to the door, when he saw Cole sitting along the far wall with another boy. There were two portfolios sitting against the wall, and the boys were leaning in close, Cole touching the other boy’s hand. It was the perfect scene of two boys out together just enjoying each other’s company. He started to speak to Cole, but decided not to interrupt them, instead, heading for the door. As he neared it, he looked over one more time and Cole looked up and smiled. He nodded and smiled back, then reached for the door handle when the door pulled open.
“OH, excuse me,” said Preston.
“No, no, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” said the man coming in.
Preston couldn’t stop himself; he sized him up. About his own height, five foot ten or so, nice build, brown hair cut short, and dark brown eyes.
“Professor,” said Cole.
Preston thought Cole meant him and he turned to reply when the other man spoke up.
“Hey, Cole. Is Landon here?”
“He’s over there,” said Cole, then he looked at Preston and smiled. “Michael, this is Preston, one of the English Lit instructors. Preston, this is my studio professor, Michael.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Preston.
“Same. So, you teach freshman English?”
“No, I teach fourth year courses.”
“Fourth year? How do you know Cole?”
“Long story,” Cole interrupted, as he looked at Michael then Preston. “I think the two of you should get to know each other.”
“Really?” said Preston.
“Yes, since you have more in common than you realize.”
Michael laughed, then leaned close to Preston. “So, that is how he knows you.”
