BBC on Campus

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• My experiences are in everything I write, sometimes an image that I recall, sometimes much more. This story, however, is fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

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• This story depicts unprotected sex. In real-life, be safe!

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BBC ON CAMPUS

CHAPTER TEN – BIG TEN FOOTBALL ROYALTY

I was in my office one afternoon, working on my thesis, when someone knocked on my office door. I expected to see a student from one of the seminars I taught. Or maybe one of my rock climbing quasi-roommates, even though none of them had visited my office. I had a brief vision of opening to door to see a hot stud, naked and begging to be fucked. I would pull him into my office, shove him onto my desk and force his legs into the air, and in no time my cock would be greased and ready to invade the victim's waiting asshole.

It might have been a mistake to fuck the frat boy Trent and then the hot Prof Kent in my office. Now I kept thinking of fucking whenever I was in my office, when I should have been working on my thesis research. Shaking my head to clear the quick fantasy, I told myself that I needed to get my rocks off more often.

I opened the door, and instead of a college student, a black man filled the doorway. His head was shaved and a thick goatee, flecked with gray, surrounded his mouth. He wore a gold polo shirt that said `Westcliffe Football.'

"I'm Akili Brooks," the man said as he stretched out his hand.

Akili Brooks didn't need an introduction. After being an All-American football star at Michigan, where he was called one of the best cornerbacks in Big Ten history, he had gone on to a career in the National Football League, where he was a consistent pro-bowler. He played 16 years in the NFL, retiring after winning the Super Bowl. Fans still talked how he turned around a playoff game ten years ago by returning two interceptions for touchdowns, both from his own end zone during a two-minute span in the fourth quarter of what had been a losing game.

I hadn't followed Brooks after his retirement, but I quickly surmised that he must be on the coaching staff of Westcliffe's football team. The team's head coach had mentored a half dozen big time college and pro football coaches, and as a result Westcliffe had the reputation of being one of the top places to start a coaching career. Westbrooke didn't offer athletic scholarships and didn't play in the same division as the big time football schools, but in its arena, the school had been very successful. Brooks apparently was following in the steps of the earlier coaches that started at Westcliffe.

Surprised by his presence in my office, I introduced myself and offered Brooks a chair. He refused, saying, "This will only take a minute, and I'm late for a meeting as it is. I was wondering if I could enlist your help. I'm the faculty adviser for the Black Student Union – not the biggest group on campus as you can imagine – but during football season I frankly do a crappy job because of the schedule of away games and recruiting visits. The BSU has an event coming up that I'm going to have to miss, and I was hoping you would step in and help out."

Living in a town dominated by a college, surrounded by six sophomore rock climbers, and spending my days teaching undergraduate seminars, meant I had more than enough exposure to college kids. Jake and Kent weren't college kids, but because they were professors, being around them wasn't a real break. I would have been happier if Brooks had asked me to help out at an old folks' home. But I wasn't about to turn Akili Brooks down. "I'd be happy to, Mr. Brooks," I replied.

"That's great," Brooks smiled. "But call me Akili. Mr. Brooks is my father. Hell, my grandfather." He gave me a warm chuckle. The man could put people at ease as soon as he met them.

"Sure," I smiled.

Akili paused. His stare at me lengthened, just past the point that signaled, at least to me, something beyond a normal conversation between two men. "I have to run, but I'll be in touch with the details," Akili said. He paused again, looking into my eyes.

An unwritten code applies when men look at one another. A quick glance means nothing, perhaps even dismissal. A slightly longer look signals engagement, like when two men are introduced. But a stare that focusses on the eyes and lasts a second too long crosses the line, making straight men uncomfortable – and gay men excited. The problem on college campuses is that college kids haven't learned the rules. Because of the novelty of my 6'5" frame, my light black skin and my long dreadlocks, college boys routinely gave me long stares that meant nothing. But Akili wasn't a college boy, and his stare set off my gaydar.

"Actually," Akili finally said, "if you're free for dinner tonight, I can fill you in then."

Nobody turned down dinner with Akili Brooks. And even if the man in my doorway hadn't been Akili Brooks, I wouldn't have turned down dinner with him. He was a handsome, distinguished man with confidence and a presence that I found intensely appealing. There remained the remote chance that I was misreading the signs and all he wanted to do was discuss the BSU. But I had nothing to lose and everything to gain even if that was the case. "Sounds great," I said.

"Good," Akili replied, his eyes still locked on me. "How about the University Club, say around 8:00 p.m.? That's about the earliest I can make it with football practice and all."

"I'll be there," I replied.

The look Akili gave me made my heart beat a little faster, but with my schedule I didn't have time to ponder the possibilities before showing up at the Club, promptly at 8:00. Akili was already in the restaurant, seated at a quiet booth.

I Googled Akili before arriving. He was 42, having started his pro career at 23 before retiring three years ago. He took a year off after football, but then accepted the Westcliffe job. He was starting his third year at Westcliffe, coaching the defensive secondary. Based on how the Westcliffe cornerbacks and safeties had performed under his tutelage, he was already being rumored as a candidate for high profile coaching positions.

I watched several video clips of his press conferences and was impressed. Akili had the ability to take control of the room and a presence about him that I found intoxicating. Spend a few minutes with him and you were ready to place your fate in his hands. He had that kind of power and magnetism. If he stayed in the college coaching ranks, he would be a great recruiter and coach. His authority on the sidelines would never be questioned. If he opted for a professional coaching job, recruiting would be less important – although signing free agents still required a personal element – but his leadership and command would be no less noticeable. Success is never guaranteed, but Akili had everything necessary to make it happen.

As a player, Akili had been listed at 6' and 200 pounds. I suspected he had never quite been 6' and had put on a few pounds since retiring, but neither was surprising. His head was completely shaved; I assumed because he was balding. I suppose that's the point of shaving your head – to obscure the facts. But you never know. Between Akili's dome and my long dreadlocks, we were an odd combination. To say nothing of the fact that two black men in a Montana restaurant was an odd event to begin with.

The conversation about the Black Student Union took at best two minutes, and then shifted. Akili had played on some top NFL teams and with some great players, and he was happy to relive his experiences. I was intrigued by his inside perspective on players and his stories about being in the NFL.

"I was lucky," Akili said. "Sixteen years and I never had a major injury. In particular, I never had a serious concussion, although when I first started playing, concussions weren't on anyone's radar screen.

"I always thought I would go into coaching when my playing days were over, and the Westcliffe job is a great starting opportunity. I figured to be here four or five years, so the first year I decided to build a house up in the mountains. I love the mountains in the winter, and winter is the only down time in football, so I figured after I left Westcliffe I would still use the house. It was supposed to be finished by the end of the summer, but some Brazilian marble got held up at the west coast ports, and the house won't be finished until next week."

Ironically enough, Akili and I shared something in common, aside from the obvious fact that we were both black men. We were at Westcliffe to study with one of the top guys in the field, pick up a priceless credential, and move on.

"Where are you living now?" I asked. Akili had made a fortune in the NFL – his last contract paid him $10 million a year – so he could afford to buy most of the town if he wanted. I figured his house was in the exclusive gated community of million dollar houses outside town.

"I'm in the Presidential Suite upstairs, which isn't bad and is a lot less of a headache than a house will be." Akili smiled. "Being a confirmed bachelor, I may get lost once in the house I move in."

Was `confirmed bachelor' a signal me? In some circles, it was a euphemism for being gay. Akili asked some questions about my background, and seemed genuinely interested. As the night wore on, I couldn't help but feel that this was a date. We could have settled the details about the BSU in a two minute phone call, or an exchange of emails, so the idea of needing to discuss it in person, over dinner, was a pretense. Perhaps after two years in Montana Akili wanted to spend time with another black man and maybe, as one of the few black men in town, he felt an obligation to take me under his wing. But as the evening wore on and the wine disappeared, I suspected more and more that Akili was gay and interested in me. I sure as hell was interested in him.

Akili had never married. I hadn't seen rumors about him being gay, but that wasn't a big surprise. I decided to test the ground. "What do you think about Michael Sam?" I asked, bringing up the first openly gay college football player to be drafted by the NFL.

Akili's eyes showed sudden caution. This is a subject he's been asked about, and he's careful when he discusses it, I thought. But in another moment, Akili relaxed and smiled. "I admire the kid a lot. He had the courage to take a step that nobody else in the NFL has ever taken, and that says something. I must have watched the video of him kissing his boyfriend on draft day a hundred times. One of these days that kiss will be commonplace, but the first one made history."

I sensed wistfulness in Akili's response. And also resignation. He was gay and envied Michael Sam, but he knew it was a path he wouldn't follow. It's not the decision I would have made if I was in his shoes, but I shouldn't judge him too harshly, I thought. He's a generation older than me, old enough to be my father or Michael Sam's father.

We were the last diners in the restaurant by the time the check arrived and Akili claimed it, rebuffing my effort to split the bill. "I'm asking you to help out with the BSU, it's the least I can do," he said.

As he paid the bill and we got up from the table, I realized the Akili was not going to make a move. He wanted to, but was unsure of himself, unsure of me. I had been in this situation with older men before. Indeed, it had been something of a specialty of mine growing up in Chicago, and later as a college student in Boston.

A step outside the restaurant's front door, I came right out and asked, "Do you mind if I come upstairs for a nightcap?"

Surprise showed on Akili's face, but excitement, too. "Uh, no, not at all," he said. "That would be great."

The Westcliffe Hotel, which housed the University Club, had been renovated a few years earlier and was classy in a Victorian way, with stained glass and ornate wood trim. We took an old elevator with an open grill to the top floor. As soon as we were inside the suite, I made my move to take control.

I pushed Akili against the door and bent down to kiss him. I had 6 inches on him, although he had 60 pounds on me. He gasped and opened his mouth, his big hands gripping my sides and pulling me next to his body.

I explored Akili's mouth with my tongue, finally breaking the kiss. Lust showed in his eyes. "There is one rule tonight," I said. Akili frowned at my diversion. "You are going to do everything I say, exactly the way I order you to do it. Down to the tiniest detail."

I wouldn't have been surprised if Akili told me to go fuck myself and get out. I had made a calculated gamble, and there was no assurance it would work. Two types of men would accept my terms. First, submissive men, excited by the prospect of a dominant stud taking over. Kyle and Jesse were both submissive, although neither fully fit the profile. Kyle was less submissive and more teenaged slut, and Jesse had a streak of defiance and would submit only to the right man. Of the men I had bred in Montana, Kent might be the closest to a good sub.

At the other extreme, confident, self-assured men would accept my terms. Men that were experienced enough not to worry about their ability to handle the situation, but were also interested in pushing the boundaries and exploring what I was offering. Like Jake. I was betting Akili fit into that category, but my play was nothing more than the roll of the dice.

Akili didn't kick me out, but he waivered, contemplating my plan. It was safe to conclude no man had ever said anything like that to him, let alone a young guy barely old enough to drink. I brought my finger to his mouth, saying, "My first instruction is not to say anything. Not a single word. And the second is to take your clothes off. Slowly. I'm going to enjoy watching you undress. I want to see your body. I want you naked and hungry for cock."

Akili stood frozen. He watched, puzzled, as I settled into a big arm chair, kicking off my shoes and stretching my legs out. "I'm waiting," I said. "Do what I say and I promise you this will be a night you'll remember forever. Think about it. You want it, and you wouldn't have become the best cornerback in the NFL if you never took chances."

Akili took a deep breath and started to say something, but I cut him off with a wave. "Remember, not a single word. You'll do everything I say. Everything." I halfway expected him to throw me out.

Akili made his decision, pulling his polo shirt over his head. I was glad he didn't start with something inane like his shoes. The man still had an impressive physique, a light spray of hair covering his muscular chest. He was proud of his body and deserved to be. He dropped his trousers, kicking off his shoes and pulling off his socks. He didn't hesitate to slide his boxers over his hips, standing before me fully naked.

I suppose Akili had stripped in front of men in locker rooms every day during his life in football. Sixteen years in the NFL, four in college. Probably another five in high school and junior high school. A quarter of a century of being naked in locker rooms with other boys and men. But this was different. It was sexual. Only the physical motions were the same.

For a 42 year-old, Akili had a damn hot body. He had massive thighs. I remembered reading about his incredible vertical leap. His cock was cut and beginning to rise from a bushy forest of curly black pubic hair. Akili obviously wasn't into manscaping like the teenaged and 20-something guys on campus I had been balling. Akili's black nuts were covered by a thick forest of hair. The fur covering his ball sack was so dense I could barely make out the shape of his balls. Guys had stared at Akili's balls in high school and college locker rooms before I was born. I wondered how many of the men gazing at Akili's fur balls over that span had wanted to taste the milk inside them. And how many had gotten to sample it.

Akili's dick was not huge but not small. It curved down and slightly to his left. His growing erection revealed he was turned on and gave me all the assurance I needed. "Get me a drink," I ordered. "Bourbon, beer, whatever."

Akili frowned again, wondering what I was up to, but poured a glass of bourbon and added a couple of ice cubes. As he handed the drink to me, I said, "Down on your knees." A brief hint of defiance crossed Akili's face. He would not have taken that order from a white man, but my order carried no racial overtones. He resisted because of my age. As a football coach, he gave orders to men my age, rather than the other way around. But he had come this far and dropped to his knees in front of me. I took a long drink, staring down at him.

I unbuttoned my jeans, fishing my cock from my underwear. A flicker of surprise showed on Akili's face as he was confronted with the size of the prize he sought. He stared at it, snaking down my leg. I had him completely in my control now. He was hungry for me. Hungry for the raw sex I was about to deliver to him.

Akili looked at me with questioning eyes, wanting my cock. I gave him a small smile and said, "Suck it." Whether I was ordering Akili to suck me or granting permission to him to do what he wanted to do anyway didn't matter.

Akili may have been in the closet, but that hadn't stopped him from becoming a masterful cocksucker. He grabbed my cock by the base, ensuring that it got hard fast, and licked the head, his big lips feeling soft and smooth and his tongue darting across my shaft. In little time his wet, warm mouth engulfed my piece. He took my big tool down his throat with no trouble. Jesse and Kent were good cocksuckers. Surprisingly, Alex fit into that category too, despite lack of experience and being straight. He got extra credit for the metal stud in his tongue. Kyle was adequate at best and Sancho was pathetic, but compared to Akili none of them could hold a candle. Jake? Hard comparison, but for my money, I would take Akili. I had forgotten how an eager, experienced man can suck dick.

I leaned back in the chair and moaned, relishing the feeling of one of the best blow jobs I had experienced in a long, long time. I sipped Akili's bourbon, mostly to distract me from the sensations from my cock and to ensure I didn't cum too soon.

It was a surreal. The man on his knees in front of me, naked and making love to my stiff rod, was a famous sports hero, his name and face easily recognizable. He was wealthy, attractive and twenty years older than me. I had only met him only hours ago. But he would be my sexual slave for the night.

Akili deep throated my cock, working both of my big eggs into his mouth, even pulling my legs up high enough to slip his tongue into my asshole. When his mouth wasn't on my fuck rod, his hands were, slowly sliding the foreskin over the head of my cock and then pulling it all the way to the base of my pole, making my rigid dick stand up like a flag pole.

All good things must come to an end, and Akili's masterful work on my dick pushed me to the edge. As Akili's mouth closed over my cock and I felt it slide deep into his throat once again, I closed my eyes and saw stars. Cum gushed from my balls and flooded Akili's hungry mouth. He lapped every drop up, swallowing and savoring my load. No need to clamp my hands on his shaved head and order him to eat my spunk. Akili wanted it on his own. He milked every last drop of cum from my cock, continuing to gently mouth me.

Akili didn't know it, but that was little more than the opening scene of a long play. He had given me such an awesome blow job that I was hornier now that I had been before. And I had been plenty horny before, because it had been several days since I spent the night pumping Alex's rock boy ass.

"You're not done," I said to Akili. "Not by a long shot. That was just the kickoff." I saw the same flare of excitement in Akili's eyes that I had detected earlier. "Keep sucking. My bull cock is gonna live in your holes tonight."

My cock softened slightly but soon was rock hard again. I reluctantly pulled it from Akili's mouth, sliding my jeans to the floor and kicking them off. My shirt came off next. Akili's eyes never left my body.

"Get my cock good and lubed up, unless you want me to fuck you using only your own spit," I said. Akili retrieved a tube of lube and coated my dick. I remember thinking that the tube was going to be empty by the end of the night.

I got to my feet, guiding Akili to the couch, where I put him on his knees, shoving his face into the back of the couch. Guiding my cock to his hole, I pushed the head into his ass. His sphincter resisted for a moment, then relaxed and admitted me. Akili gave an appreciative moan.

I began to pull out and push in, sinking my rod into Akili's hole half an inch farther with each thrust. It took a while, but I eventually claimed the football jock's ass, as my pubes pressed against the black skin of Akili's butt. Now I was ready to fuck.

I rode Akili's ass, starting with short fucks before pulling out farther and farther and thrusting back inside him. With the initial pressure of my first climax behind me, I was ready for a long, marathon fuck.

It wasn't as much of a marathon as I had planned. I fucked Akili's hole a good fifteen or maybe twenty minutes, but the sight of my big black cock disappearing into Akili's black hole and Akili's muscular, mature body beneath me was enough to send me over. I rammed my cock as far into Akili as I could, eliciting a surprised gurgle from the football jock. My balls fired and seeded his hole.

If Akili thought I was done after nutting in his mouth and then in his ass, he was mistaken. I would have started a new fuck more-or-less immediately, but I wanted him in a different position, so I rested my cock until it got past the sensitive stage and then pulled out of his hole. I turned him on his back and immediately re-entered him, driving my cock into his guts and beginning to ride him again.

This time I could see Akili's eyes as I drilled his ass. Excitement and lust shown in his face. Akili's black fuck rod was dripping pre-cum, leaving silvery strands across his abs. I bent down, my dreadlocks covering his face, and roughly kissed him, driving my tongue into his mouth. My cock was in control, plunging into Akili's man hole and turning him into my personal cum dump.

I spent the night fucking Akili's brains out. We catnapped for half an hour here and there, but I was incredibly horned up and Akili must have been into it, too, because he complied with my orders at each step and never said a word. By the next morning in the shower, when I finished fucking his ass for the last time, I had shot seven times, twice in Akili's mouth and five times in his ass.

They say guys are at their sexual peak at 18 or 19, but if that was the case Akili was having a second childhood. He blew five times, and weirdly enough it took him less time to climax with each orgasm. By the last time, in the shower with his ass impaled on my fuck rod, I swear I stroked his dick barely three or four times before he shuddered, squeezing his ass around my cock and discharging a small stream of white spunk.

I kissed Akili for a long time as I was leaving his room that morning. He was still naked, his clothes in the same heap they had been in the night before. We had both fulfilled our ends of the bargain. Akili had done everything I ordered him to, with precision. And I had given him a night he would never forget.

I had a devilish idea, thinking I should ask him to autograph the empty lube tube. I didn't, however. I didn't know him well enough to be certain he would find it funny, and it wouldn't be something I would keep in any event. Akili was in the closet and I didn't want to threaten him with something as silly as an autographed lube tube.

I knew as I left Akili's room that I wouldn't sleep with him again. He was on a path of becoming a big time football coach, and he would be successful. He was personable, smart, knew football, and was willing to work at it despite not needing the money. But that life did not lend itself to being seen with an academic type, half his age, sporting long dreadlocks. Moreover, while Akili had let me control him for one night, to him, it was just that – a one night lark. Submitting to me night after night wasn't part of his makeup. And doing anything different than controlling the men I fucked wasn't part of my makeup. We would both have to rely on our memories of our night of sex.

After our night together, Akili was thankful for my help with the BSU and cordial when we met. But, as I anticipated, he kept an invisible wall between us, treating me as a colleague but nothing more.

My brief fling with Akili caused me some introspection. Akili was the exact image of a man that excited me sexually. I wanted to control and dominate him precisely because of his ability to control and dominate others. But where would hunting for men like Akili get me? Probably a lot of one night stands. Not that a one night stand with Akili Brooks was a bad consolation prize by any means, but I was playing a game with long, long odds.

TO BE CONTINUED...

If something about this chapter or the rest of the story struck a chord, let me know -- I like hearing from readers. Coltonaalto@gmail.com

Chapter Eleven is underway; another rock climber story. I hope you stay tuned.

© Copyright Colton Aalto 2015