Enslaved

An eBook By Heather McVey.

He'd first met Dean four months earlier on an especially bitter October morning when the youth had walked into his German class, which he taught mainly to foreign students, at the Heinrich-Heine University. The sudden quietness in the university's airy lecture hall as his students had turned as if possessed of one mind to stare at Dean in all his startling glory had caused Karl to turn from the blackboard. Even now, months later, he could still recall the electric jolt that went through him as Dean's astonishing grey eyes, the exact color of freshly fallen rainwater swept over him. After that first class, then meeting again later in the night school in which Karl held his creative writing class, they had taken an immediate liking to one another, despite the considerable gap in their years. It was strictly on a platonic, professional level as befitting student and teacher. Their writing interests were similar, for the most part, though Dean was noticeably more serious in his efforts, and over a beer they had since critiqued each other's work on numerous occasions. Karl was certain he wasn't homosexual, yet there could be no denying he'd found it increasingly difficult over the last few months to keep his attraction for his brash, American student under control.

There could no longer be any doubt that he was attracted to a man. Dean may be as thin as a girl, with a soft feminine face, wide, cherry-red mouth which could have put even Snow White's to shame, and long flowing black hair which just brushed his buttocks, but he was still, for all his feminine qualities, a man.

Karl was shocked when the realization didn't turn his stomach. In fact, it hit him, that he really would like to get up close and personal with this sexy and yet incredibly girlish youth.

He chuckled inside; Gosh, he really hoped he wasn't blushing. He'd been married to his Austrian wife Helga for almost thirty years. Although Dean had rarely spoken of his own sexual relationship, Karl had always assumed the younger man was happy with his partner Michael as well. Nevertheless despite his own carefully cultivated contentment at home, Karl, had often found himself fantasying over his sexy student without the slightest hope of a true-to-life tryst with him. He rubbed the bald spot at the crown of his head and took another deep sip of his coffee. "Unmoglich, I...I just can't believe this," he mumbled.

Dean took a deep breath that pushed his tiny, masculine nipples against his tight red T-shirt, leaving nipple impressions that slowly faded from the fabric. Karl crossed his legs and shifted in his seat as his erection grew harder.

"Look, let me apologize now if I've made you in any way uncomfortable, Professor," Dean said. His moody gaze focused on the bistro's floor to ceiling glass window, with its never-ending stream of pedestrians and multicolored umbrellas walking by. "With hindsight, maybe I should have brought it up in a more private setting, but, well, we've talked about sex before. I've told you intimate things about myself that I wouldn't dream of telling anyone else, not even my mother, Karl. As an aspiring writer, I suppose I'm just naturally curious. The whole idea just seems so logical. I mean, it wouldn't be emotional or anything remotely in that direction. It would be a terrific character study, after all it's merely sex we're talking about, isn't it?"

Merely sex, Karl thought. Hell, it would no doubt be the best fuck he'd ever had. True, he didn't know what exactly to expect when it came to anal sex, but damn it all, Dean Thompson was just so sensual. Making love to the youth couldn't be anything less than marvelous. Finding it suddenly difficult to breathe, Karl loosened his tie. He glanced around the crowded bistro to see if someone he knew might be eavesdropping. "Listen, I think we should change the subject. It's not really appropriate for here, someone could hear us..."

Dean cut in his grey eyes stormy. "What you're really trying to say, Herr Professor, is that you're not interested in my proposition."

"Nein!" Karl implored, raking his fingers through his thinning hair he modulated his voice. "No, I never said that, Dean...what is it you Americans say, I'm not knocking the idea. Jesus, I suppose the surprise just needs to wear off before I can talk intelligently about it."

The angry twin spots of color flying like red flags across Dean's high cheekbones faded as his face relaxed back into the celestial planes of youthful beauty. "So you are interested then in making love to me?"

Ignoring the smug tone in the younger man's voice, which sent alarm bells ringing in his head, Karl nodded. "Nein, ya...I mean I think so."

Dean's voice was even smugger. "Oh, you are, Professor. You're interested in pumping my tight ass full of your middle-aged seed. Don't try and talk yourself out of that, man."

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