I smiled sheepishly and she couldn't resist grinning despite herself.
"Well that just means we're going at it again later. How long do you need to recoup?" she asked.
I put my leg on the floor and stepped off of my wife and the bed, "Fifteen or twenty minutes." I replied.
"I'll go check on Mason then. Don't get dressed, I want to go again in a few minutes while Mason's still down."
"All right, woman, keep your pants on. Er, off." I said, aware of how lame the joke was. "I need to check my email for a paper, I'll be right back."
I walked to my dresser and opened my sock drawer, pulled out some clean boxers and slipped them on. As I went down the hall to my study I heard Virginia in Mason's room cooing at him and rearranging his stuffed animals in the crib.
My study is the last room at the end of the hall where my computer and work things are. Filing cabinets, folders, and papers everywhere, scattered and in piles. I sat down in my chair in front of the computer and turned it on giving it a minute or two for the system to load. I opened my browser window and went to my school email account, entered my password and found the email from Matthew in my inbox entitled, "Critical Essay, McPherson".
The essay was in a Word file. After opening the document, my eyes skimmed over the essay, glancing at the length and the format of the paragraphs. Already I caught a few grammatical errors. I chose the "file, print" feature. As the paper slowly printed out on my rather old machine, I looked at the email address from which Matthew had sent the letter. His handle was "SoccerBoi1987". I leaned back in my chair, waiting for all five pages to feed out of the paper slot and rest in the tray.
SoccerBoi1987. 1987. I did the math quickly in my head. 18 years old. He looks much younger than that, only about 16 or so. I knew that he had been on the soccer team since the beginning of class when I had all my students stand up, give their name and one thing about them. Matthew's one thing was that he loved soccer and had been on the school team since his Freshman year. Being a fan of the sport myself, I couldn't wait until Mason was old enough to start playing himself. I anticipated teaching him all my moves and best plays. I suppose the reason why I liked Matthew so much was because I sort of looked at him as what I hoped Mason would be when he was that old. Strong and honest. Matthew has blonde medium-length hair and brown eyes and a sweet smile. The girls loved him, too. His girlfriend, Lana, was one of the more popular girls, always sitting with the in-crowd in the cafeteria when I walked through.
It was then that I did something stupid. Innocent, but stupid. I got curious and my mind started to wonder what, if anything, Matthew did on the internet. I never really gave much thought to the fact that my students are online, talking to people all over the world and finding information that my generation was never privy to. Seeing Matthew's email address meant that he knew enough about the web to set up and use an email account. So what else might he know how to do?
I highlighted Matthew's email address, right-clicked and copied it. Opening a new browser window I went to google.com where I pasted the address in the search field and pressed the search button. The results loaded quickly, and at the top of the list was a link to a geocities personal webpage. In the description for the link there was a fragment of a sentence, presumably taken from the actual page, which included the email address I had use for my search. I clicked on the link.
The site had no index. No front page or anything, just a few folders listed one beneath the other in the database of the page. The first folder was "favs". I clicked on it and found a listing of various images, all of which were big names in professional soccer leagues. The second folder was called "index" but had nothing in it. And finally, the third folder, labeled "stuffforlana" was the only one left. I clicked on it and was presented with three pictures and a video clip. I clicked the video first. It was called, "webcam_July17_05". Immediately my Windows media player opened and started to load the video. And that's how everything in my life changed. This video was the spark that ignited the fire that consumed me and destroyed my life.
I was looking at Matthew, smiling at me from the screen.
"Hey Lana. I thought I'd, uh, make ya a new video. And I, uh, hope you enjoy it. Ok."
Matthew pulled off his shirt. My hand darted for the mouse and clicked the 'X' at the top of the screen. The computer stalled. Ctrl, alt, delete, still stalling. Nothing happened on my computer. The modem emitted a strained buzz as it tried to sort out its processes, but the system was old. And still the video played in front of me. I couldn't even turn the sound down. Mostly it was just the subtle whisper of silent air against the microphone, but every now and again the shuffle of clothes being taken off sounded within my little study. I got up and quickly closed the door so Virginia wouldn't hear. I continued to try and exit out of the video and cursed at myself for my stupidity and curiosity. Matthew was in his underwear now. Tight white briefs that bulged out in the front, tenting with his erection. His upper half disappeared as he stood near the webcam. Then there was banging on the microphone and the boy took it away from his desk and positioned it elsewhere in the room, likely on a shelf or something high where he could angle the camera to get a good view of his bed.
Once the camera was in place, Matthew walked to the bed and laid down, putting his hand over the crotch of his briefs and rubbing it. With is other hand he pinched at his nipple. I realized that I was staring at it and forced myself to look away. I spun my chair around to face the door of the study.
"Ahhh," I heard Matthew moan with pleasure and couldn't resist turning back around to see what he was doing.
I faced the screen again just in time to see Matthew whip out his penis. It stood about five inches tall. He was uncut and his hand went slowly down and then back up his shaft. The foreskin collected around the head and then backed off with each stroke. To my horror and great surprise I found my own cock stirring.
I got up and walked around the room, pacing in the small space. I noticed then that the humming from the modem had stopped. Surely now I could turn off the video. But as I leaned over the desk and pointed the cursor at the 'X' again, my eyes fell upon the video as Matthew pulled off his briefs completely. He turned over and got on his hands and knees so that his ass was exposed to the camera. Oh, god what an ass. Smooth and tan and perfectly rounded. I could see the small puckered hole, like a rosebud imploring me. That small orifice. My mind instantly imagined something stuck into it. A pencil, a finger. No, something bigger. Something that would appreciate the tightness of this boy's young asshole. My cock.
I was having trouble breathing. The situation was far too erotic for me to handle. I didn't know what to do, so I dumbly followed my instincts' lead, letting my hand go to my cock and pump it as hard and fast as I could. I stared intensely at Matthew's ass. The boy's shoulders were on the bed while his ass was still held up by his legs spread apart. His penis hung beneath that delicious butt and he continued to jack himself off. I was sweating profusely. I gasped for air and I almost felt like crying. I wanted the boy so badly.
In my mind I was shouting, "I HAVE TO FUCK HIM! I HAVE TO FUCK HIM!" I saw his body swaying back and forth there on his bed as I imagined fucking him. And within only a few seconds I let loose a stream of semen thicker than the one I had delivered just fifteen minutes before in my own bedroom with my own wife. Another load sprang from my cock. My balls tightened and my hand unrelented. I groaned loudly and pathetically, unable to resist Matthew's beautiful naked body.
When it was done, I collapsed in my chair, still looking at Matthew on the screen with a long splatter of cum over his digital image, oozing down from where I just shot my load.
"Oh God... Matthew..." I whispered hoarsely.
I was exhausted. I reached for a tissue and brought it to the monitor. Lovingly, tenderly I touched the cum and Matthew's body, wiping it carefully clean.
A knock at the door. Panicking, I tucked my penis back into my boxers and closed the video of Matthew. "C-come in," I said.
Virginia poked her head through the door. She was back in her sweater.
"Mason's up now and I don't think he'll be ready to go down again for a while." she looked disappointed.
"Maybe later then," I said reassuringly.
She smiled and closed the door again. I heard her banging around in the kitchen finishing up the dinner she had neglected and knew that I should just leave Matthew's page and never go back to it. In truth, the experience scared the hell out of me. The feeling of wanting something, someone, anything as badly as I had wanted Matthew just then was frightening. It gripped me and I couldn't control it. I closed the browser and went back to my room to dress and get ready for dinner.
* * *
Throughout dinner and the rest of the night all I thought about was Matthew. Running through my head, I saw him spread his gorgeous ass for me, just for me, over and over again. Around 9:30, Virginia wanted to have sex again. I was definitely turned on, but I longed to go back into my study to jack off to Matthew's video again and look at the other pictures I hadn't had a chance to view yet in that, "stuffforlana", folder. But I didn't dare go back into that study. Not only to avoid the temptation but because part of me was deathly afraid that Virginia would know exactly what I was doing, even though there's no way for her to know at all. So I made love to her again that night. It was tedious at best. I fucked her and massaged her clit and she sucked my cock. But my skin seemed repelled by her, as if she and I were magnetically charged and pushing away from each other.
