Though there is some basis in reality, this is a fictional story. Any resemblance to individuals or places is purely coincidental. Copyright 2020 silverhaireddad@protonmail.com. Comments welcomed.
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After Class Tutoring, Part 1
It was a hot day, but my only form of transportation was my bike. Luckily, my gym shorts and t-shirt let some air circulate as I rode across campus. As a freshman in college, I didn't have a lot of cash, and was trying to show my parents that I could handle my studies so that maybe I could get a part-time job to give me a little more spending money.
And that was why I was riding. I was taking Shakespeare, and it wasn't settling in well with me. The first quiz had been bad for me. I barely got a D. The second one was coming up at the end of next week. I couldn't afford to do poorly in this class, so I had taken the professor up on his offer of after-class tutoring. We had scheduled an appointment for late afternoon, and I was riding toward his office in a small collection of portable buildings on the edge of campus.
The professor was a nice enough guy. He was all into Shakespeare, so I knew that I'd have to make some effort in case I was on the borderline. If I didn't show effort, then he'd have no reason to give me the benefit of the doubt. No one else had signed up for tutoring today, so I guess I was the only one who needed assistance.
As I rode toward the edge of campus it grew less crowded, especially at this time of day. There were tall trees all around, too, so there was some shade to stall off the hot sun. I rode the sidewalk through the small buildings, looking at the numbers on the doors. I was at least headed in the right direction. The professor's office was in a building kind of sitting off to one side of the others. At first I couldn't see the door, but realized it was on the other side. I stopped and hopped off my bike, leaning it up against a rail as I wove the chain lock through the wheels. Then I walked up the three steps to the door and knocked.
The professor answered the door and welcomed me in. "Oh, I see you are a bike rider," he said. "Yeah, it's my only transportation for now. I can't have a car on campus as a freshman and I couldn't afford one anyway!' We both chuckled. He pointed to an overstuffed chair in front of his desk and told me to have a seat. He sat in a chair in front of me. I kind of sunk down into the chair, but it was comfortable. The air conditioning in the office also felt good and I cooled down immediately.
"Tell me a little bit about you," said the professor. So I told my story. First generation college student. Loving the experience so far. Doing okay in my classes, but also struggling with some, including this one. "Why do you think Shakespeare is so difficult for you?" he asked. I really didn't have a good answer. Maybe it was the old form of English used in the writing. Maybe I wasn't knowledgeable enough about English history to have a good context for the plays Shakespeare wrote. Maybe I just didn't know how to study for this kind of class. I had done well in high school and hadn't had to put in a lot of time with the books. College was turning out to be different.
"Do you live in one of the dorms?" the professor asked. "Yeah." "Get along with your roommate." "I guess so. We are on opposite schedules, so I really don't see much of him." "When do you study?" The short questions and my equally short answers continued for a few minutes until the professor had a sense of how I was approaching my schoolwork.
Then the professor launched into an animated lecture about Shakespeare, why he was so important, how his writing demonstrated a unique insight on life, and what made him of such interest to the professor. It was really quite interesting, unlike the more technical lectures in class. I guess I was paying attention, and the professor noticed.
"So what do you think I can do to help you do better on the next quizzes?" he asked me. "I'm not really sure," I said, kind of looking down. "You make it sound so interesting, but that's not the feeling I get when I'm reading for class." I apologized to the professor for not seeming to be as interested as he was. "What you just said made it seem pretty contemporary, but I don't get that feeling when I'm doing my homework."
The professor laughed. "You have to think of your studies like they were a hobby," he said. "For example, do you like to ride bicycles?' he asked. `Yeah, I do," I said. "I often ride off campus to clear my head and work off tension." "How many miles a week do you think you ride?" he asked me. "I'd guess a hundred or so."
"It looks like it," the professor said, the conversation taking a personal turn. "Your leg muscles are well-developed, which shows that you ride a lot." I hadn't noticed that before. I turned my right leg over to look at my calf and agreed that my leg muscles were in good shape. "Do your legs ever get sore?" he asked me. "They are sore right now," I said with a chuckle. "It's uphill all the way to your office." We both laughed. The professor scooted his chair closer to me. "Put your leg up on my knee," he said. It was more of an order than a request, but not said in a domineering way.
I lifted up my right leg and placed it on his knee. My body was still sunk in the chair, so it wasn't an uncomfortable position. The professor wrapped his hands around my calf and began massaging it. "Does that feel good?" he asked. "Yeahhhhh," I kind of moaned. (My legs did hurt!) "Reading Shakespeare should make you feel as good as it feels for me to rub your sore leg," he said. He put my leg down and shifted his chair. "Put your other leg up here," he said. I did as he requested, and once again he kneaded my leg muscles, bringing relief to the tightness from riding so far uphill. "Let's take your shoes off and then let me stretch out your thigh," he said. He unlaced my shoes and took them off. Then he lifted my leg by the ankle, pushing it high overhead. He gently stretched my leg by pushing it upward, then lessening the tension, then pushing again. He held my leg in the upward position for about thirty seconds, then lowered it. He shifted again and moved to the other leg, repeating the stretches. Then he began massaging my thighs on the underside, gripping the muscles and moving them so as to loosen the tightness. His hands inched close to the edge of my gym shorts, but not far enough that I'd have a physical reaction. It felt so good! He shifted back to the other leg and also began kneading my thigh. I kind of sank back into the chair and half closed my eyes. He really knew how to loosen the tightness. As he worked his way from my knee up my thigh, I realized that I was starting to get an erection! I kind of freaked out for a second and tensed up. He noticed. Softly, he said, "relax, just relax and enjoy the feeling." I kind of sank back into the chair as he continued to knead my thigh. The edge of his fingers worked up to the bottom hem of my gym shorts, which were loose anyway. Occasionally they darted up under the hem, getting closer to my now rapidly-growing erection. He just cooed under his breath, encouraging me to relax. The only part of me that wasn't relaxed was my freshman cock, now fully hard and stretching my gym shorts in the front. He kept kneading my thigh, and then his fingers were up under the hem of my gym shorts. "I can tell that you like it," he said softly, and his hand moved a little closer to the hem of my briefs under the gym shorts. As he kneaded my upper thigh and continued to lightly rub under my gym shorts, I just threw caution to the wind and totally relaxed. If the professor was going to feel me up, then he was just going to feel me up! (Maybe it would help me get a good grade in his class!)
I sighed audibly as he continued to rub. Then, almost imperceptibly, his fingers darted over the edge of my briefs under my gym shorts. My cock visibly throbbed at the closeness of his hand. "Ahhh, you DO like it," he whispered. Then, thanks to the looseness of my gym shorts, his hand reached in and covered my crotch on the outside of my briefs. His hand was directly on top of my hard cock. He gently rubbed me and squeezed me through the cotton. I continued to moan under my breath and squirmed a bit as he rubbed my cock through the fabric. "Yessssss....." he whispered as he continued to rub and squeeze me.
If I hadn't already resigned myself to letting the professor touch me, I would have been terrified. The feeling was heavenly and he also certainly seemed to be enjoying himself. He gave my hard cock another gentle squeeze through my briefs and then removed his hand. He gently patted me on my thigh and whispered, "let's get these off." He lowered my leg to the floor and softly said, "lift up your hips." I did so and he deftly slid my gym shorts down and pulled them off my feet. I was now stretched out in the chair in just my t-shirt and briefs, my turgid cock straining the fabric. The professor got in between my legs and began rubbing my left leg with one hand and my right leg with the other. He rubbed long strokes up and around my calves and to my thighs. He rubbed the inside of my thighs all the way up to the "v" in my crotch, both hands then rubbing lightly over my hard cock, squeezing and lightly stroking through the briefs, then continuing back down the inside of my legs. I was almost gasping from the pleasure. "Let's take these off, too," he whispered as he groped me through the briefs. He stood up, and I lifted my hips again and he gently slipped the briefs down, my hard cock flopping with a whap up onto my stomach. He took my briefs all the way off and tossed them to the side, then got back in between my legs on his knees. He continued to rub the inside of my legs all the way up to my crotch, then lifted my balls and rubbed each of his hands up through my pubic hair, lifting up my cock as he did so. He gently grabbed my cock with his right hand and began to stroke it up and down. I let out my loudest moan yet. He continued to stroke me, hefting my balls with one of his hands while he jacked me with the other, then ran the hand through my pubes and up my stomach. "Let's take off that t-shirt," he said softly. "I want you completely naked." He stood up and grabbed the bottom of my t-shirt, pulling me slightly forward in the chair as he pulled it up over my head. He tossed my t-shirt over with my gym shorts and briefs.
I lay back down and felt his hands rubbing all over my thighs and crotch and stomach. He grabbed my cock again and began stroking it slowly. I moaned and groaned and writhed in the chair.
Then I felt something completely different.
The wet warmth wrapped around my cock could only be one thing: he was sucking me! I opened my eyes and looked down and, sure enough, he had engulfed my hard cock in his mouth! I involuntarily reached down and put my hands on the back of his head, gently pushing as his mouth sucked up and down my cock and bucking my hips upward. He eased off my cock and gently took each of my balls into my mouth, rolling them with his tongue and sucking gently. My moan now was one of urgency.
He slipped his lips back around my cock and began sucking in earnest, wrapping one hand around my cock and jerking me as he sucked, and using the other hand to work my balls. He circled his hand as his head bobbed up and down, bringing me closer and closer to the need to cum. I was writhing in the chair, bucking my hips, moaning loudly. I hadn't felt this pleasure before! A low guttural moan started deep in my stomach and began to work its way up as he sucked and stroked. "Oh, fuck," I said. "That's gonna make me cum." "Umm hmmm," the professor muttered back, never taking his mouth off my cock. "Umm hmmm." His suck/stroke combination began to speed up. "Oh, gawd," I groaned. "Here it comes."
My hips bucked up strongly one last time and my cum shot from the end of my engulfed cock straight into the mouth of the professor! He never took his mouth off my cock. I shot and shot and shot, unloading my teen balls into his hot mouth. He kept swallowing and licking the underside of my cock as my orgasm began to subside. Finally, I collapsed back into the chair, his mouth still on my deflating cock. He continued to softly suck until he was sure every last drop of my cum had been squirted. Only then did he take his mouth off my cock. "How did that feel?" he asked with a smile. "That was heaven!" I said in reply. He stretched over to a box of tissues on the shelf next to them, and pulled several out. He gently and lovingly wiped off my balls and cock, making sure that all of the dampness was cleaned up. He reached over and grabbed my briefs, and slipped them up over my feet and legs, pulling them up as far as he could. I slipped them on the rest of the way. He bent down and put his face in my crotch, now covered with my briefs. He nuzzled and took a deep breath. Then he reached over and got the gym shorts and pulled them up on me. He handed me my t-shirt, and I put it on. Then he lifted my feet and put on each of my shoes, lacing them up. "Stand up," he said. I did so. He stood directly in front of me and reached around and squeezed my ass, then worked his hand to the front and groped my now softened junk. "You are a fine specimen," he said. I let out a sigh of satisfaction and smiled at him. "Thanks," I said. "That was awesome."
"Let's coordinate your schedule for the rest of our meetings before the next quiz," he said. I was somewhat surprised, but as he rubbed my crotch through my gym shorts, he said, "I'm sure our work together will get you a good grade. How about tomorrow, same time and place?"
"Works for me!" I said with a smile.
As he walked to his door and opened it, he said "see you then." I unlocked my bike as he watched me from the doorway. Then I hopped on and rode away, dreamily recalling the feeling, and understanding at the same time that I'd get to enjoy that feeling again, tomorrow.