Date: Fri, 20 May 2016 15:16:03 -0400
From: N Y <ny10233@gmail.com>
Subject: Tutoring the Quarterback

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."