Even Hotter Dads: The DILF Anthology II
Click on image to enlarge.
by Lori Perkins
Category: Erotica/Erotic Romance/Romance
Description: Nothing is sexier than a man who loves his kids. In this second volume of stories celebrating hot dads, you'll find young dads and older dads, gay dads and straight dads, vampire dads, a father of the bride, and even, in true Ravenous Romance style, a M/F/M threesome. Contributors include: Jon Jockel, Stacy Brown, Rebecca Leigh, Savannah Chase, Garland, KT Grant, Kilt Kilpatrick, and Trinity Blacio.
eBook Publisher: Ravenous Romance/Ravenous Romance, 2011 2011
eBookwise Release Date: July 2011
1 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [184 KB]
Reading time: 119-167 min.
The Negative Confession
by Jon Jockel
* * * *
It was never easy for me, being a gay college instructor. I lived surrounded by such a homophobic state--homophobic both socially and politically. The state legislature had passed one anti-gay law after another. Gay state employees had been fired, and openly gay teachers had been denied tenure. Between the political climate that even a professor of Egyptology had to live in, and the fact that I was by temperament quiet and conservative--as my family had always been--coming out of the closet was never something I gave much thought to. The facts of the state's and the university trustees' conservative politics didn't leave me much choice, which never really seemed like a problem.
Besides, mine isn't exactly a "gay" field. Egyptology is as dry and conservative as any academic discipline could be. We study the dead--the long dead--and we really don't have anything to do with the twenty-first century and its social movements. I've met a few openly gay Egyptologists over the years, mostly younger men and women, but even they tend to be very discreet about their relationships. Nobody "cruises" at an Egyptologists convention--well, at least no one I was ever aware of.
For that matter, the kind of students who enrolled in my classes weren't exactly the "out and proud" kind either. Their focus was on the present and the future, not the distant past. And Egyptology ... well, let's just say my courses were never all that challenging. I tended to get the kind of students who were looking for an easy, undemanding A or B. A lot of our campus jocks signed up, which is something I really didn't expect when I started teaching. I guess if I'd thought about it, I'd have guessed it. But as I said, I lived in the world of the past.
The past, for me, equals ancient Egypt. There had been attempts by historians to find evidence of gay people in the ancient kingdom. There had even been claims that a few of the pharaohs must have been gay. But that argument never seemed convincing to me. How can you know about the sex life of someone who's been dead four thousand years? And there were even a few myths about the gods engaging in homosexual activity. But they were just that: myths, made-up stories about imaginary beings.
And then there was the Negative Confession. We know from the scrolls commonly called the Book of the Dead that when an Egyptian died, he had to make a formal statement to the gods denying that he had ever committed any of a long list of sins--and one of them was homosexuality. In my mind, that clinched it
Ancient Egypt was my world. I lived there, mentally and spiritually, much more than in the present world.
Of course, that didn't mean that I didn't feel all the usual urges. And it wasn't always easy to be discreet, even in a buttoned-down Southern school like mine. Temptation was always there. I resorted to pornography now and then, but I never really found it satisfying.
As I said, I got lots of athletes in my classes. I had always been attracted to younger men, and these were the cream of the crop. When the weather was warm, they came to class wearing nothing but shorts and tank tops. Lean, muscular bodies, beautifully toned. And they all had the most upbeat personalities and the widest smiles.
Needless to say, standing in front of a classroom gave me ample opportunity to look straight up their shorts. And these guys weren't exactly shy about showing their bodies. If the guy was really attractive--what is usually called "hot"--just the sight of the bottom edge of his boxers or his athletic underwear could be so very exciting. More than once I had to stay carefully behind my lectern so they couldn't see how aroused their mere presence made me.
Of course I got lots of girls in my classes, too, and I was always glad for that. Girls tended to be the better students, more prone to take my classes seriously and apply themselves diligently. Some of them were pretty attractive, I suppose, but I also got a lot of "plain Jane" types--serious students, female geeks. When I got really aroused, keeping my focus on the plain girls helped me get over it.
And there was a fair sprinkling of religious students who signed up for Egyptology 101, as well. They were very earnest, very devout, and, as a rule, they were looking for "proof" of all the Bible stories about pharaohs, miracles, plagues, seas parting, and so on. They were always quite disappointed when I told them that there is no archeological evidence to support the Bible stories about ancient Egypt. But they wore their conservative religious views on their sleeves, and I can't imagine they'd have been happy having an openly gay professor telling them their cherished beliefs had no basis in fact. They'd have complained, and the university would almost certainly have sided with them.
So, no, on the whole I always felt much safer in my closet. At the age of forty-three, I was still a virgin. It didn't bother me much, and I had every intention of staying that way. I had constructed my life very carefully and with a lot of thought for staying hidden. Life was secure, practically airtight, as tightly wrapped as one of the mummies in the university museum. It was lonely, but it was what I knew. When I died I would have no trouble making my Negative Confession.
Until he showed up ..
* * * *
It was a week before the start of the fall semester. New students flooded the campus, learning their way around, meeting new people, experiencing new things; old students were getting reacquainted and re-acclimated. Brilliant sunshine bathed everything.
My Egyptology 101 class was scheduled to meet in one of the large lecture rooms, a space that held more than two hundred students. The class list was well under a quarter of that, but I needed all the audiovisual aids that only a large classroom could offer. I spent an afternoon checking out the facility, making sure everything was ready for my first lecture.
I was just leaving the lecture hall and heading back to my office when I heard a voice behind me. A deep, masculine voice, yet somehow soft and even gentle.
"Excuse me. Are you Professor Stephen McFarland?"
"Yes, I am." I turned to face him.
And I was smitten immediately. He was tall and thin, with thick, curly blond hair. His eyes were the deepest green I had ever seen. He had a peaches-and-cream complexion, peachier and creamier than any on record. And he was smiling the most angelic smile. Sunlight bathed him and made him seem almost to glow. Except for the way he was dressed--jeans, t-shirt, sneakers--he was exactly the way I had always envisioned the god Horus, the Divine Son, the embodiment of divine power and the personification of the sun.
I had an instant erotic reaction, and by instinct I held my notebook in front of myself to hide it.
"Hi." He beamed. His hair, lit by the sun, gleamed exactly like Horus. "My name's Jared Donovan." He smiled, and his teeth were as white as the whitest cloud. Of all the young men I'd ever seen on campus, he was far and away the most beautiful.
I put on my best professional manner. "Yes, Mr. Donovan. What can I do for you?"
"Please call me Jared." He took a step toward me. His manner was easy and confident, and even the way he moved was so sensual I could hardly stand it. "I want to enroll in your Egyptology 101 class, but they told me at the registrar's office the class is full."
"Yes, I'm afraid it is." I moved toward him, too. I wanted to be as close to him as I could get. "But there are always exceptions. Why are you interested in the class?"
"Well ..." Again he smiled.
And I melted. I would gladly have gotten down and worshipped at his feet, kissed them, made him my god. But ... no. Restraint. My whole life was a monument to restraint. "Yes?"
"Well, it's just that I've always had a thing for ancient Egypt. I guess it's because I saw The Ten Commandments at an impressionable age." He chuckled. "I've read a lot about it, and when I visit a city I always check out the Egyptian section of the museum. So I guess I want to learn as much about it as I can."
It wasn't what I expected to hear from him. Or from any student, really. Between that and his awesome physical beauty, I just stood and gaped.
"Oh. Sorry." I pulled myself together. "Yes, that all sounds promising. I'm sure there's room for you in the class."
He smiled, still again. I melted, still again. In the sunlight, his hair might almost have been a halo. I wanted him in my class, I wanted more of him. I quickly wrote out a note to the registrar?fs office instructing them to admit him to the class. When I handed it to him, he shook my hand. His touched thrilled me. My erection got even harder.
He smiled and thanked me again, then took the note and left.
* * * *
Jared Donovan. Horus, come to earth. That night I could think of nothing else.
I realized that his tall, thin build was, well, Egyptian. He had the beautiful, lithe body of those men in all the ancient drawings: slender hips, broad shoulders.
There is an Egyptian legend known as "The Contendings of Horus and Set." Horus, divine son, was heir to his father Osiris. But Osiris' evil brother Set was jealous and plotted to deprive Horus of his birthright. So he lured him into a homosexual relationship. In some versions it didn't amount to much more than mutual masturbation, others were more explicit. That way Horus would never be able to make his Negative Confession to the other gods, you see, and would never be recognized by them.
And so I fantasized. Jared Donovan--tall, lean, Egyptian--was Horus. I was Set. We fondled each other's bodies. We kissed. We stroked each other to climax.
No! He was a student and I was his teacher. It would be so unethical to ... Other teachers had had affairs with students, and a lot of those escapades were common knowledge. But those professors were straight. In a school like mine, that made all the difference.
Even more to the point, I had no reason to think Jared might be gay. There wasn't a trace of it in him. And there was certainly no reason to think he'd have any erotic interest in an older man.
No, the closet I lived in was safe and secure. I couldn't let myself fantasize about any other life.
And yet, he was so ...
I masturbated three times that night, thinking of him. Or rather of him and me together. Then I fell asleep, only to dream more sexual fantasies. I was an Egyptian slave, worshiping the god Horus, who was Jared. We kissed, we made love. I worshiped every godlike part of him: kissed, licked, sucked. He bent me over and penetrated me, filled me with his divine essence, made me into a god to share his heaven. All the other gods were arranged around us, watching, smiling at our lovemaking, approving of our passion. There was no Negative Confession that night.
When I woke, my stomach was wet with semen. The dreams that night had been rapturous, but it was over. I had had an ecstatic reverie, but it had only been a dream. And I knew it could never be anything more. Jared was straight, and there was no way I could ever seduce him. And I was his teacher, or would be shortly. There was no way I could live with myself if I breached professional ethics in that way.
Jared was safe. I knew I would never touch him.