I'm a grad student in biology at a big state university in the midwest. Late last summer I got a call from my advisor. "How would you like to stop having to TA next semester?"
"That sounds nice, but I think you know I need the money." TAing was the worst part of my life as a Ph.D. student - a time-consuming, obnoxious task shepherding clueless undergrads through their mandatory science classes. (Sorry if you're an undergrad reading this.)
"You'd get paid double what you are now."
Now I was suspicious. "What's the catch?"
"It's a high profile position, and you can't mess it up."
"Come on, just tell me what's going on."
"You'll be tutoring Mikey Randolph in science."
Mikey - he was on a first-name basis - was the junior quarterback on the football team and the figurative and literal Big Man on Campus. I had never actually seen Mikey in person; we lived in different worlds. I was working toward my Ph.D. and toiling away all day in a dank, dark lab, while he was living the high life as the campus' biggest stud while Mel Kiper and Todd McShay debated his draft stock on ESPN.
I was worried that Mikey would be even stupider and lazier than my normal students and that this job would involve me doing all his homework for him. Then again, trading the supervision of an entire TA cohort for hourly sessions walking some dumb jock through his assignments was an easy decision. I happily accepted the offer.
The day before Mikey and I met for the first time I took a quick look at the syllabus. He was taking basic geology to satisfy his science requirement, a class widely known as Rocks for Jocks. Anyone with a pulse, even the spaciest sorority slut or the laziest lacrosse lunk, could get a B in Rocks for Jocks. Nevertheless I read through the material and got ready to walk this man-child through his pretend college classes.
Our sessions were scheduled for Wednesday nights in a special area attached to the football stadium with a library, classrooms, computer lab, and other academic rooms reserved for athletes. I had to show my ID to security to gain admittance. It was like walking into a hidden chamber - normal people were not allowed to use these facilities, built with millions of dollars in TV revenue and donations from delusional sports boosters.
I was thinking about how much nicer my lab would be if a fraction of the funding for this boondoggle had been diverted to the biology department when Mikey arrived, on time, and we shook hands. He was an extremely good looking - and large - guy. It was almost comical how closely he fit the QB archetype. He was a legit 6'5", probably about 210 pounds (though the media guide said 230). His hands were huge, which could only mean one other thing (big feet, duh). He had an old-fashioned lax bro style haircut and his wild mop of brown hair contrasted starkly with his pale white skin. There was no way Mikey could get tan unless he had paid someone to spray it on. He moved with perfect balance and symmetry and was clearly a freakish athlete, the kind of guy who could easily dunk a basketball and hit a 300-yard drive, too.
The first half of the semester it was hard to get a close look at his body - he wore a baggy university-branded hoodie and extra large workout pants to all of our sessions. I couldn't help but stalk him online, though, and he was clearly stacked - and hung. There were dozens of hot photos of him playing in games, but my favorite was a series of pictures taken at the team's preseason media day. Media day is a gold mine for ogling jocks as the whole team dresses up in their skin-tight uniforms, but without all the pads and cups to block the view. I jerked off for a couple weeks to a photo of him and the other quarterbacks with their arms crossed, jerseys hiked up showing their taut bellies, and cocks bulging through their white football pants. Mikey looked like he was not only the tallest and buffest of the bunch, but the most well-endowed too. You could see the outline of his cut cock and balls as the white pants rode up his crotch. I couldn't believe the newspaper published the photo, it was borderline vulgar. Add the square jaw and cocky smile and he was pretty much the hottest guy I had ever been around.
During our tutoring sessions sex was far from my mind, though, or at least as far as it can be when a gorgeous hunk is sitting inches away from you. I didn't want to screw this up and risk getting bitched out by my advisor - hell, probably the athletic director and the dean too - for letting the golden boy fail his class, let alone making a physical pass at him. We had a room to ourselves, but there were dozens of other so-called student athletes getting their homework done for them right down the hall. And most importantly, I needed the extra money.
Happily, it ended up that my fears about having to deal with a clueless jock were unwarranted. Only minutes after meeting him it became clear that Mikey was a sharp guy and didn't need much help. He was far from studious - understandable given all the distractions in his life - but the class he was taking was way too easy for him and both of us knew it. After the third week of walking him through a homework assignment he could have easily completed without me, I asked him if this was really necessary.
"Very," he told me with a serious look on his face. "All the starters get one-on-one tutors for all their classes, whether they want it or not. It's just part of the deal."
At any rate, on top of my lower workload and higher pay, Mikey had turned out to be a courteous guy who was nice to be around and look at, so I had no problem with this setup. Before we knew it midterms rolled around and we had a study session that basically involved me telling him what the exam questions were going to be (I had been given a sneak peek of the test).
The day after the exam my advisor called my cell phone, which hadn't happened since the initial call to hook me up with Mikey. Nobody could accuse the guy of being a doting mentor.
He launched right in: "I assume you heard about Mikey's grades."
"No, what happened?"
"He got an A. Great job, Paul."
"Thanks. I'm glad it's working out." I didn't mention the fact that a Labrador Retriever could have been his tutor and the result would have been the same.
"Me too. This makes both of us look good. Keep up the great work and let me know if you need anything." I filed that one away in my favor bank.
The Wednesday night after the midterm Mikey arrived a few minutes late, which was unlike him. When he got in it was clear this was going to be a different kind of session. First, he was carrying a six-pack of Budweiser.
"Hey Paul, thought I'd bring a few brews to celebrate acing the test. That cool?"
I hesitated a bit but hey, it's not like anything critical was happening in these sessions anyway. I gave him a thumbs up and motioned for him to toss me one, which he did. The cans echoed loudly as we cracked them open in the small, windowless room.
"Thanks to you I got an A on my midterm and the coach was so happy he looked like he wanted to make out with me." He winked, which was one of his favorite things to do and made me melt inside a little every time.
The second thing that was different was his appearance. He had a two or three day layer of stubble on his face, mostly concentrated around his goatee area but it still made him look more masculine. Instead of his usual baggy bro-wear, he had on a white tank top, skin-tight gray lycra workout shorts and flip flops. Just like those media day photos, the outlines of his dick and sack were showing clearly through the shorts. I tried but almost surely failed not to be obvious about checking him out as he walked in.
"I'll never say no to a beer," I said, trying to keep my eyes up and attitude calm.
It being the week after the test, there wasn't much class material to cover other than a short assignment that we finished in about 15 minutes. But it only took that long for him to rip through his first beer and open up another for himself as well as for me. I had a good bit left in my first one, but downed it and then started on number two.
"This isn't like you," I said. "You're usually very serious about this stuff. Is everything okay?"
He leaned back, stretching his arms up and then locking his hands behind his head. I got a whiff of sweat and deodorant and a peek of his pink nipples, which were silver dollar sized and hard. His underarms had small patches of brown hair the same color as his mop top but the rest of his upper body looked almost totally hairless. And the guy was fucking jacked - not roided up with veins popping out everywhere, but well built through natural athleticism and a lot of hard work in the gym.
"Well, now that you mention it, I broke up with my girlfriend on Sunday."
I was surprised, not only that he had a girlfriend - though if I had thought about it for five seconds, of course he had a girlfriend - but at the timing. "The day after the game?" Mikey and the rest of the football team had gotten their biggest win of the season, on the road at our big rivals.
"Yeah. She was cheating on me."
"Oh shit, that sucks."
"Yeah. I found out that every time we left for an away game she was sleeping with the left fielder on the baseball team."
"Damn." Dumb bitch, I thought to myself... though then again, if I could fuck both the quarterback and the baseball MVP then I'd probably do it too. "Sorry to hear that."
"So I'm ready to get a little rowdy," he said.
"I bet."
He downed the rest of his second drink and cracked open the final two cans in the six-pack, handing one to me and then taking the last for himself. I still had half of mine left to go and tried to say no, but he insisted. "Go on, dude, you don't have anything else to do tonight, do you? And you deserve it."
I shook my head and said, "Sure, what the hell." I gulped down the rest of my second beer, giving myself a bit of a brain freeze in the process, and threw the can across the room toward the tiny trash can in the corner. It hit the rim and clattered onto the ground. "Shit!" I said, as both of us laughed.
I was starting to get a little buzzed after basically chugging two beers and not having eaten anything since lunch. Two beers was nothing to a hulking giant like him but 145-pound, hungry me was feeling it.
Once I had opened the third beer he asked, "So, are you dating anyone?"
We had not gotten personal in the slightest so I wasn't sure how to respond. "No, not really." I had a townie fuck buddy but we hadn't hung out in a couple weeks. I didn't elaborate, not wanting to weird out my student (and golden goose).
He took a good look at me and then after a couple seconds he asked, "Are you gay?"
"Yeah," I responded. "Why?"
He was still looking at me intently. "Just wondering. I thought you were but didn't want to say anything."
"Yeah, I'm not in the closet or anything, it just didn't come up at all." Which was true.
"It's cool. There are a couple gay guys on our team, they aren't out though."
"Yeah, because ESPN would want to talk to them."
He smiled. "Exactly."
He unlocked his hands from behind his head, crossed his arms and put one foot up on the table. Two and a half drinks in I couldn't help but start to check him out. The guy was just...BIG. He had big feet, big calves were probably the same size as my thighs, and thighs that probably weren't much smaller than my torso. His workout shorts rode halfway up his thighs, which were scattered with some soft brown hairs that were wispier than the ones on his calves. His bulge, well, bulged. His meaty lats and delts protruded from under his tank top and the way he crossed his arms made his biceps look even bigger than usual. When my eyes made my way back up to his face I saw he had been watching me.
"You are in really good shape," I said. I was trying to change the subject but realized that I failed miserably.
He smirked. "Yeah, but it's kind of my job. All we do is work out, work out, work out. You know what they say about all work and no play."
"Yeah, it makes Mikey a dull boy."
He reached back to scratch his neck, then slowly moved his hand down toward his crotch and pretended to absentmindedly adjust his junk. I could see the outline of the head of his dick, his shaft and his balls through the thin material and his bulge was clearly getting bigger.
Once I realized that I was openly leering at my student's crotch it became clear that I needed to get the hell out of there before I did anything stupid. "I think I should be leaving," I stammered, and started putting my stuff away, not wanting to get into any trouble.
He grabbed my book out of my hands, holding it above his head and smiling. "No way. You have to finish your beer first."
Okay, I thought, sitting back down. He knows what he's doing. Let's just see where this goes.
I joined him in leaning back, grabbing my beer and putting my legs up on the table.
"Well that's too bad about your girlfriend," I said. "Got anyone else on the horizon?"
He put my book back on the table. "No, not really. Though to be honest, when you're the quarterback it's not hard to find a replacement." I must have given him a sarcastic look because he added, "I'm not saying that to brag, that's just how it is."
"It's cool, I get it," I said. "Well, I don't get it, but I see what you are saying."
We sipped our beers in silence for a couple minutes. There was serious sexual tension building up in this little room, and I was desperately horny for Mikey, but he was going to have to make the first move.
I got to the bottom of the third beer before he did and tossed it across the room. Swish, right into the trash can. "That's more like it!" I said, momentarily (but only momentarily) distracted from the hot, barely clothed jock next to me.
Perhaps Mikey had been building up his own courage, too, liquid or otherwise, because he grabbed my hand and put it on his thigh. This was really happening.
I squeezed it, or at least tried to squeeze it - the thing was a solid hunk of muscle and felt hot on my cold hands. He slowly moved it in the direction of his groin. It took all my willpower to keep it where it was.
"Paul..." he said.
I didn't say anything.
"I could really use a blow job."
I tried to play it off, nervously chuckling, "Who couldn't?"
He didn't flinch. "From you."
A shiver went up my spine as I thought about him shooting his cum down my throat.
I desperately wanted to do it but responded, "I'm not sure this is a good idea."
"This won't change anything."
"I can't lose this gig."
"Seriously, dude, don't worry. I won't go running to the authorities saying that you made me do anything - they wouldn't believe me anyway!" With his other hand he reached up and tousled my hair, which never fails to make me melt a little bit.
Perhaps he felt my guard dropping because once again he started to move my hand closer to his cock. This time I let him do it. Both of us moaned once I grabbed it, first softly, then harder. I looked up at him for one last confirmation and he nodded, almost desperately. "Let's roll," I thought.
I got up and situated myself in between his legs. He sighed as he spread open his huge trunks and I started licking his balls through the thin lycra material of his workout shorts.
"Oh fuck yes," he muttered.
His crotch was a bit damp and salty, and it got even damper as I massaged his sack with my tongue. After I got his balls wet I moved up to the shaft, which was snaking its way toward his left hip, licking it from bottom to top. At the tip precum mixed with my spit to form a large wet spot.
I backed off, about to ask him to take off his shorts, but he was obviously on the same wavelength as me because he quickly raised up his butt, yanked them off and threw them onto the ground.
"Take your tank top off, too," I said. I wanted Mikey totally naked. He complied wordlessly.
A seriously impressive cut tool popped straight up in front of me. It looked to be about eight inches, with a big, pink mushroom head that flared out into a pyramid. The top half of his shaft was pink and the bottom half was white like the rest of him, with big veins running up and down on both sides. Getting fucked by that thing would take some doing but damn it would be hot. He had a surprisingly nice set of pubes, but his balls and inner thighs were mostly hairless. His sack hung so low it was resting on the chair. I tried to stick both balls in my mouth but was only able to get one in at a time.
"Duuuuude," he moaned as I licked his sack. "I used to have a guy blow me freshman year and it was so fucking good. Do you swallow?"
"Mmm-hmm," I responded, which is all I could say with my mouth full of balls.
"Fuck yeah." He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. I took a look at his worked-out chest, big nipples and taut abs as he enjoyed my blowjob. I couldn't believe it, but I was officially sucking off Mikey Randolph.
Once I was done with his balls I slowly started making my way up his shaft, licking in a circle all the way around while working it with my hand. My hand barely fit around it. Then I licked all the way around the deep ridge of his cock head, tongued his slit and then started lightly sucking on the head. He started moaning, which made me worry a bit about whether anyone could hear, but there was no way I was stopping now.
I stared up at him, made sure we were making eye contact, and then inch by inch took his whole shaft down my throat. Louder moaning and a funny look on his face as he watched his dick disappear turned into an audible gasp when I felt his pubes hit my nose. His bush felt a little moist and smelled musky, and my mouth and throat were filled to the brim with quarterback cock - I was in heaven. "Holy shit, dude," he said. "Nobody's ever done that to me before."
I kept looking straight into his eyes as he got deep throated for the first time ever. I moved all the way off his pole, licked his big mushroom head and then swallowed it all again. His mouth was slack-jawed and he muttered "Oh my God..." before closing his eyes and trailing off into a very happy place. I wondered what he was thinking about. His fingers tickled my ears and hair as he put both his hands on my head and started guiding his pole in and out of my mouth.
After a few minutes of that I pulled off his cock to give my throat a break and started slowly jacking him off. His dick looked wet, red and mean. It might have only been a few days since he had gotten any action but he was clearly ready to explode. Mikey was young, hung and full of cum that needed to be released.
"Holy fuck, dude. I had no idea that was possible." He was panting as he watched me jerk him off. His chest and abs were starting to get sweaty and looked even more defined than they did before. A couple drops of sweat ran down the sex lines in between his hips and his groin.
I put his balls back in my mouth and he started groaning again. His crotch was starting to smell ranker, both from his sweat and my spit. From his sounds it was clear this wasn't going to last much longer, so I decided to cop a feel while I still could. I ran my hands up his massive legs, felt the ridges of his abs, got to his nipples and then tweaked them pretty hard. His body jerked and he yelped out loud but was smiling.
This was the hottest head I had ever given, but I was becoming increasingly worried about the people outside. I moved into 'finish him' mode, swirling the bottom of his shaft with one hand (or however much of it I could fit around my hand), playing with his balls and taint with the other, and going at his cock head with my tongue. "Fuck, you are good at this," he said as he started to squirm. I picked up the pace even more. His dick got even harder and bigger. He put his hands back on my head and picked his ass up off the seat to try to fuck my face but gave up once he realized I was doing a better job on my own.
It was only a matter of time before he was going to blow, and when he did it was with a loud yell that anyone in the neighboring rooms had to have heard: "Fuck fuck fuck, I'm going to cum!" He squeezed me between his thighs as he released a massive load of sperm into my gullet. It's a good thing I wanted to swallow because my scrawny body was totally immobilized. His body jerked and shivered and he let out a loud grunt with each volley of cum, which tasted thick and sweet. After ten or twelve of them he let out a long sigh, his muscles relaxed and he fell back in a heap in the chair. After doing my best to milk out as much splooge as possible without being too rough on his now-sensitive head, I gingerly let his cock fall out of my mouth. It fell out with a splat and looked like a giant snake lying on his left thigh.
Mikey started laughing. "Holy shit, Paul. That was fucking amazing." He didn't look shy or weirded out as I stared at his naked body and wiped drops of his cum from my mouth.
I didn't say anything as he put his tank top back on, then got up and put on his shorts. I got a look at his hairless ass, which was a giant hunk of white muscle. He plopped back down on the seat. A second wet spot from the last bit of cum oozing out of his cock appeared on his shorts to go along with the wet spot from before.
He looked at me with a low-key, sated smile, like what we had done was the most natural thing in the world. "You have no idea how great that was."
I was still on my knees in front of him.
"Do you want to cum?"
"God yes."
"Go ahead. I want to see you jerk yourself off."
I all but ripped off my belt, pulled down my jeans and started going to town. Of course at this point I was rock hard and had been leaking precum like nobody's business.
"Nice cock," he said. My seven-incher wasn't as big as his but it looked just as impressive, or even more so, on my smaller frame. I was staring straight at him, now slack-jawed myself, as I whacked myself off. He wasn't naked any more but he didn't need to be - the sight, smell and taste of his body was burned into my head.
Then Mikey got up off the chair and positioned himself behind me. "Stand up." I did, and his big hands started kneading my shoulders, arms and back. He was so powerful that it almost hurt. Then when he reached down and started to jack my dick I couldn't take it any more. My body convulsed, I collapsed into him and I blew my biggest load in months, with two big globs traveling three feet onto the chair where he had been sitting and then a few more spurts gushing out in a stream onto the floor. I felt like I was going to melt in his arms.
When I was done splooging he licked his finger and made a face. "Salty," he said. I fell back onto my chair with my pants around my ankles, still in a post-orgasmic haze. He packed up his stuff and put on his backpack.
"Well that made me feel a lot better," he said. "How about you?"
"Hell yeah."
"Cool. I won't tell anyone about this if you won't. Deal?"
"Deal."
"Great. See you next week."