What’s My Type—Part 5

By DylanTyler - dylanerictyler@gmail.com
published July 13, 2019
2167 words

Origins of the pen.

What’s My Type—Part 5


I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel good.

And maybe I get carried away.

But the feeling of power. It’s indescribable.

Holding everyone’s future in your hands…

I picked up this pen at a teacher’s convention, of all things. This late-thirties, (then older than me), in-shape guy with a nice smile had a booth all the way in the back. It didn’t look like a lot of people had been stopping there, and I remember thinking that was odd, because he was a handsome guy. I’d stepped into the booth and immediately felt this unnerving energy–like my skin crawling.

But there was something about him.

So he spoke to me, told me he was a professor too, and I sort of got lost in the conversation. I don’t even remember buying the pen or what all we talked about, except that he said—“Use this to create change.”

“Use this to create change.”

Huh. Only those words really stuck with me.

And for years I just kept the pen in my desk. I was a new professor and the whole ordeal sort of scared me? I don’t know how to explain it exactly. It was this beautiful gold pen with red trim down the side that wrote in this blood red pigment. Something beautiful, for sure, but it shouldn’t have been scary. And yet…

Anyway, last year, having forgotten about it, I went to clean out my desk to move to a new office and found the pen. At the time, I’d been casually seeing this guy—he had been a student of mine the year before— but he’d graduated and there was a little more wiggle room as far as social acceptability went. He was a business major who took a couple theater classes on the side, and now he was working part time in the Residence Life Department.

I thought it’d be cute to write him a little sex note and leave it in his office, so I pulled out a loose piece of paper and started writing in that velvety red ink—

“Hey sexy. I want it rough tonight. I want daddy to give it to me.”

He was about fifteen years my junior, so I thought this was funny. He was a cute kid. Sean was his name. Twinky, blonde, but had a toned body. He had these stunning blue eyes with a little spark in them. And of course he was great in bed. It was fun. I felt like I could still get whomever I wanted.

And little did I know, back then.

I was meeting up with him that evening, and I knew he’d check into his office before closing up, so I slipped over to ResLife and left the note on his desk, waving to the all-too-knowing receptionist on the way. And then I headed back to my place a few streets down from campus. I’d shower, pick out something to wear (or not wear), get the wine ready—it was going to be good.

As I stepped out of my car and went to walk into my house, I felt a chill in the air, which wasn’t unusual for Autumn, but it felt unusual nonetheless. I couldn’t place it.

And I showered, thought about shaving (but I know he likes the scruff), and checked myself out in the mirror. I keep in good shape, even now, but that was a particularly good year at the gym. My shoulders were looking impressively wide, and my rock-hard abs and pecs didn’t belie my 37 years. I was fucking sexy. No wonder this kid wanted it.

I got dressed in a tight t-shirt and my best pair of jeans, and then just as I was getting the wine out, I heard a rap at the door.

“Coming, officer!” I shouted, toying. But there was no answer.

“Ooh, somebody’s serious to—“ But I stop because…well… “Oh, sorry, sir, can I help you?”

Standing in front of me was a man of probably about fifty or fifty-five years, very handsomely greyed hair, a muscular build and a beautifully rugged face with this amazing beard—he was dressed in a plaid button down shirt and chinos, with stylish shoes. And his eyes were kind of disarming. Bright blue. There was a blazer in his right arm.

He looked like he was ready to get to work.

“I heard there’s a naughty boy here in need of some discipline.” The words rolled off his tongue confidently, like he’d said them a hundred times before. My mouth must have been hanging open, because he said—

“You want me to fill that up for you?”

How do I respond to that. Yes?

“Listen, mister, You’re totally hot, but if you’re looking for some dude on Grindr, this is the wrong address.”

Then he let me have a full smirk. “But young man,” he said, “I had this lovely letter left on my desk today, and I was so hoping it was yours…”

I was immediately so embarrassed. “Oh my god I am so sorry, that was meant for a friend of mine—this guy I’m seeing.”

“Wow.” He grabbed my shirt collar roughly. “You’re really committed to this whole thing.” Then he pulled me closely and looked straight into my eyes. “Alright, I’ll bite.”

He pushed me backward through the doorway and into my living room. I almost fell over, I wasn’t expecting the force. Slamming the door behind him, he threw the blazer on the ground, never breaking eye contact with me. Then he started loosening his belt.

“Uhm, listen, I really don’t think you have the right house!” I scrambled backward.

“Quiet.” He whipped his belt on the ground to articulate his direction. I got hard instantaneously. “Now, you’ve had your fun, but Daddy’s getting tired of this.” And then in one swift motion he ripped his shirt from his body, buttons scattering, and revealed a leather harness.

And I was so rapt and he looked at me with stern confidence and motioned with his finger down to his pants.

Maybe Sean could join when he got there?

I bounded across the room and got my fingers to work on undoing his pants. As I pulled his slacks down, my mouth started watering at the sight of a pair of leather chaps. His cock was filling out a pouch in the front very well and I was losing it. I inhaled greedily and took in that sexy fucking smell of sweaty, used leather. This was like a dream.

I went to bury my face in it all when he grabbed my hair and pulled my head up.

“Where are my boots, boy?”

“Uhhh…sir?…” He let his eyes drift to the corner of the room, next to the umbrella rack, where a pair of worn, leather boots I had never seen before in my life were sitting. Somebody pinch me.

I crossed over and got them obediently, then happily worked the shoes onto his powerful feet. I looked up to make sure I was doing it right. He looked pleased.

Then he looked expectant.

And then. Well, I didn’t want to make him angry.

“Lick it, boy.”

“Uhm…” I squirmed.

“That wasn’t a question, boy, it was an order.”

I bent over obediently, not having been in this position of submission in a very long time. It wasn’t something I even knew I wanted.

And then I picked his boot. And it tasted like sex. Like earthy, manly sex.

And I wanted more. But as I went to lick his other boot, he pressed his unkissed shoe gently onto the side of my face. There was enough pressure to tell me whose bitch I was without me being afraid for my life.

My cock was going to explode.

“Have you been a good boy today?” I heard from above.


“What was that, boy?”

“Yes, sir… Sorry, sir.”

“That’s better.” He pulled me up off the ground roughly and forced his lips to mine before I could process what was happening. I could still faintly taste a cigar on his breath and as our hands started exploring each other’s bodies, I brushed my own pants and felt a large wet spot where my precum had soaked through.

I felt bad for whoever was supposed to receive this daddy-gram tonight.

Speaking of, where the fuck was Sean at?

But I couldn’t focus, because this guy was forcing his tongue down my throat and I could feel his powerful arms working their way around my torso. And they felt oddly familiar. Like something from a dream.

And he pushed me slowly over to the couch, and as I fell onto it, I pulled him down with me by his harness. That made him grin.

And he flipped me over and ripped my pants down in one fluid motion.


And then he tore my underwear off. And not by sliding them down my legs by fucking tearing them off my body.


“Relax, I’ll buy you another pair tomorrow, babe.”

Babe? But then I couldn’t argue with him because he’d separated my cheeks and his tongue had plunged into my hole.

“Hooooooooly fuck…” No one had eaten me out in a while. I was honestly more of a top, and happy that way. But Jesus. His beard was hitting all the right notes and his tongue was working miracles so who was I to argue.

He was touching a part of me I don’t know if I’ve ever explored. Both literally and figuratively.

“Unghhhhhhh…oh my God…”

“Thanks, I know,” he spoke into my asshole, and the reverberations of his deep voice almost made me cum right there.

I lost track of time, but when I felt him pull away, I looked back to see him unbuttoning the pouch that held in a monster of a cock. It had to be at least ten inches, and it was aimed right at—

“Woah, woah, hey I’m clean and all dude, but I don’t even know you. Are you…?” I hate being a spoilsport but who the fuck was this guy.

And the look I got back—he was dissecting me. It was equal parts confused, amused, and…loving??

And I looked into his eyes. Those gorgeous blue eyes. And suddenly it clicked. It couldn’t possibly be, but…Oh my fucking God.


“There’s my boy.”

And then he sank his cock into my ass.


I shook the memory from my head. Fondly.

Needless to say, I couldn’t keep Sean around forever. I mean, I was never going to marry that kid, and now—well, he’s doing just fine on his own.

And maybe I got a little out of control. But honestly, I’m doing these guys a favor! I’ve never done anything malicious to anyone. Never given them anything they didn’t secretly want, deep down.

And now I’m here, pulling late hours in my office because I have to solve this problem of Katie.

She had to go sticking her nose where it didn’t belong. Sweet girl, a little crazy.

So I rewrite her a new life as a happy, talented, established actress in New York. I feel a little like I owe it to her, all the fucking around I did with her life.

And I’m crossing the last “t” and dotting the last “i” when my phone dings with another nude from Dylan. Guy’s got a great body, but there’s only so many ways you can take a douchey flexing selfie before it feels a little tired.

How can I possibly already be bored of this?

Has all the power gone to my head? Will I never be satisfied?

Eh. It’s not that serious.

“Be over in ten to fuck the shit out of you,” I text him.

Then a thought.

“Be ready,” I add.

I put the sheet of paper with Katie’s fate away, and grab my jacket to head out the door. My cock is already twitching at the thought of plowing Dylan’s waiting hole. And as I walk over toward his dormitory, throwing casual glances behind me to make sure no one has seen me, I have this fleeting thought that I might have forgotten to lock my office door.

I don’t have time to dwell on it though, because my horniness has gotten the better of me and I rap quickly on the door. It swings open.

And there’s my prize, waiting for me. Ass up.

It feels good to be in charge.

Mind control
Wanking material
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