After the Last Class

Eighteen-year-old Jonáš offers his much older teacher a massage. When he returns after class, an ordinary favor begins to take on another meaning.

(All characters depicted in sexual situations are fictional adults aged 18 or older.)

I am nineteen and in my final year at a secondary school in Jihlava. But this happened a year earlier, shortly after my eighteenth birthday.

One day before PE, my classmates sent me to ask the teacher if we could play table tennis. When I entered the office, I found Robert sitting at his computer. He was sixty-three at the time, and a massage video was playing on his screen. He was awkwardly kneading his right shoulder with his left hand, grimacing with every movement.

“Sir, could we play table tennis instead of volleyball today?” I asked.

Robert paused the video and looked at me over his shoulder.

“If you set up the tables, sure.”

I pointed at the screen. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing serious. I’m just terribly stiff. I must have overdone it on my bike yesterday.”

He was in amazing shape for his age. He ran regularly, cycled, and paid close attention to what he ate. Whenever he wore tight running or cycling shorts, I could not take my eyes off him. Especially the pronounced bulge that was impossible to miss beneath the stretchy fabric.

I stepped behind him and placed my hands on his shoulders.

“I can give it a try.”

“You don’t have to,” he objected, though he did not get up.

“It’s fine. Maybe I can loosen it a little.”

I began kneading the muscles around his neck and right shoulder blade. Even through the sweater, I could feel how tense they were. At first he sat rigidly, then lowered his head and let me continue. After a moment, he exhaled softly.

“That’s where it’s worst.”

I ran my thumbs over the spot and pressed harder. Just then, the bell rang.

“I have to go,” I said reluctantly. “I’ll come back after classes and finish.”

Robert hesitated, then nodded. “If you want to.”

I wanted to more than he could have guessed.

The last class dragged on forever. As soon as it ended, I waited for the corridors to empty a little and headed back to the office. Robert was at the same desk, entering something on his computer. When he saw me, he pushed the keyboard aside.

“You really didn’t forget.”

“I promised.”

I stood behind him and placed my hands on his shoulders again. My fingers kept slipping over the sweater, and I immediately had an excuse ready.

“This isn’t working very well. The sweater’s too thick.”

Robert pulled it over his head and set it on the chair beside him. Underneath, he wore a pale shirt. I massaged him through it for several minutes before remarking that the stiff fabric was still in the way.

This time he glanced at me, as though wondering how far I intended to take this. Then he unbuttoned the shirt and removed it as well.

When I placed my hands directly on his bare shoulders, I was starting to get hard. Robert’s skin was warm and his muscles firmer than I had expected. I circled my thumbs around his shoulder blades, but gradually slid lower and then forward along his sides to his chest. My fingertips passed over his nipples, which were raised and hard.

Robert inhaled but said nothing.

“If you lie on your stomach, I could do your whole back,” I suggested. “But your trousers would get in the way.”

Again, I expected him to stop me. Instead, he stood, unfastened his trousers, and pulled them down. Underneath he wore tight gray boxer briefs. He did not even need to be aroused for the bulge in them to stand out. I stood behind him with my penis hard as a rock, watching him undress in front of me.

Robert stretched out on the narrow padded table by the wall. I started at his shoulders and worked down along his spine. My palms moved over his back, hips, and lower back. The lower I went, the slower my movements became.

When I reached the waistband of his boxer briefs, at first I let only my little fingers trail over his ass. With each pass, I covered a little more. Eventually, as I massaged him, I lightly slipped one finger between his cheeks.

He did not stop me then either.

“While you’re at it,” he said after a moment, “could you do my legs too? They’re completely stiff after that ride.”

“Sure.”

I moved to his calves and slowly kneaded them. Then I worked up past his knees to his thighs. The firm muscles loosened beneath my fingers, and Robert breathed with contentment.

“Turn over,” I said. “I’ll massage the fronts of your legs too.”

He did as I asked. When he lay on his back, the gray boxer briefs stretched tightly across his crotch. I wanted to throw myself at him at once. Instead, I began at his ankles and forced myself to move slowly.

As I massaged his inner thighs, I tried to touch his bulge in ways that might seem accidental. Once I brushed it with the back of my hand, then again with my little finger. Robert did not move. I could no longer stand the uncertainty. He would see how aroused I was as soon as I straightened up anyway.

I finished the last stroke, withdrew my hands, and said, “There you are, sir. All done.”

Then I grasped his crotch through his boxer briefs with my whole hand and gave the large bulge a brief shake.

Robert jerked his head up. “What the hell are you doing?”

I released him at once.

“I’m sorry. I… couldn’t just keep looking at it.”

He stared at me for a moment. He looked angry, confused, and somehow taken aback all at once. Then he sat on the edge of the table.

“Are you gay?”

“Yeah.”

My heart was pounding so hard that my chest hurt. Robert lowered his eyes and rubbed his forehead with one hand.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

He searched for the right words for a long time. “Have you ever rimmed anyone?”

His choice of question surprised me, but I answered without hesitation. “Yeah.”

Robert drew a breath. “I’m embarrassed to say this. I’ve been married for thirty years, and my wife has never done it to me. I’ve always wanted to know what it feels like.” He looked at me. “Would you do it to me?”

“Gladly.”

He turned his back to me and pulled down his gray boxer briefs. It was the first time I had seen him completely naked. He bent over and braced his hands on the padded table. I stood behind him, licked my lips, and spread his cheeks with both hands.

At first, I touched him only with the tip of my tongue. Robert flinched slightly but stayed in place. I began licking him with slow strokes and gradually pressed more firmly. I circled my tongue around his opening, returned to the center, and pushed deeper. His body relaxed in front of me, and muffled moans rose from his throat.

I held his cheeks firmly. Now and then my palms slid down to his thighs and stroked their taut backs before I spread him open again and continued. His moans grew louder, and with every one of them my penis pressed painfully against my trousers.

I slid one hand forward between his legs. I found his penis and meant to close my hand around it and start stroking him.

Robert immediately pushed my hand away.

“No. Not that.”

I drew back. “Okay.”

I did not try again. I returned my hand to his thigh and, for a little longer, did only what he had asked for. I teased him with my tongue until he signaled that he had had enough.

He straightened, and I stepped back. His boxer briefs remained on the floor. I picked them up and, instead of handing them over, quickly hid them away as a souvenir. Meanwhile, Robert pulled on his trousers, fastened them, and put on his shirt and sweater.

“Could you kiss me?” I asked.

He stood facing me. After a short hesitation, he answered, “All right.”

I pulled myself toward him and kissed him. It was not the cautious kiss he might have expected. I pressed my lips to his and kissed him with all the tension that had been building in me throughout the afternoon. At the same time, I grabbed his penis through his trousers again.

This time, he pushed me away with nothing but a look. I stepped back, smiled, and reached for my bag.

“Goodbye, sir.”

Ever since then, whenever we are alone, we exchange teasing smiles. Sometimes I slap his ass. In front of everyone else, though, Robert acts as if I were any other student.

There is still some time before my final exams. I keep hoping that one day I will leave that office with more than another memory—that I will get to suck him, swallow his semen, and finally see him with mine on his face.

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