Comments? Criticism? I welcome it all, and please also let me know if you enjoyed it. mack.marek42@gmail.com
They call me Big Ben. Real original. Because my name's Ben, and I'm a very big guy.
I'm six and a half feet tall and almost as wide shoulder to shoulder. I'm also pretty muscular. I do go to the gym, but I'm not a gym douchebag, I swear. It's mostly as a stress reliever, and I'm not even a regular. Plus, for being a white guy that towers over the heads of most people, I'm terrible at sports, especially basketball. I literally trip on my shoelaces sometimes.
I buzz my head because I hate hair, and I have a beard which I shave off every couple of weeks when it gets to be enough that it annoys me. And although I have some contact lenses, I wear my glasses most of the time only because my size intimidates people and I hope that making me look nerdier maybe offsets that a bit.
After all, I am a nerd at heart, and a gentle one. I'm studying for my Master's in Mathematics of all things. I like Heinlein books, programming, Zelda games, and binging superhero shows. But cashiers avoid eye contact and nobody ever takes the seat next to me on the bus. I can't help but intimidate people, I'm just really big.
It was a cold Tuesday in March, barely above freezing and raining hard. Most people hate this weather, but the dark gray skies are beautiful to me. I watched as students scurried around frantically, streaming into buildings, shielding their hairdos from the deluge with their backpacks held precariously over their heads. I sat in the break room, sipping coffee and practically meditating to the monotonous patter of the rain against the glass. I'd been working on my thesis non-stop here in this room since 6:30 last night, and my mind was swimming.
The clock flashed 8:56 AM. In a few minutes, I'd have open office hours as a teaching assistance to first-level calculus, so I knew I had to re-energize. The first calculus class is the hardest and for many students, it requires personal attention to really make differentials click. I chugged the rest of my lukewarm coffee, sighed, and snapped my laptop closed. Back to the grind, I guess.
When I got to my tiny office, a student was already waiting, one I didn't recognize. He looked older than most students, maybe in his mid-30s. He was a stout, pudgy black man, bald and clean-shaven. He looked to be about a foot shorter than I was, and heavyset. He wore black slacks and a white and impeccably wrinkle-free dress shirt, while I wore a faded and crumpled polo and plaid cargo shorts. As I approached, he visibly recoiled, not knowing that I was the assistant, and I cringed inside, reminded of my frightening stature.
I smiled goofily, hoping to diffuse his nervousness. "I'm Big Ben, the TA," I said, holding out my hand.
He took it and shook it weakly. "Alex," he muttered. His voice was deep and rich, but quiet and reserved. He made eye contact for only a moment and then resigned to staring straight forward, level with my chest.
I opened the door and gestured for him to go first, then closed the door behind us. The office was dark and cramped and smelled dusty; I was living on fumes the last few weeks with the thesis work, but I made a mental note to dust as soon as I had some downtime.
My office is basically a chair, a love seat, a coffee table, and a dusty and crowded bookshelf. There's no window and it's all lit by those harsh fluorescent ceiling tile lights. I motioned for him to take a seat and sat opposite him on the small sofa. He fidgeted nervously.
He warmed up to me after a few minutes discussing simplifying differential equations, and after a few minutes, I had him troubleshooting his own problems on the whiteboard. As we worked through a particularly difficult problem, I pulled up a favorite cheat sheet online and beckoned him over. He pounced onto the couch next to me to take a closer look and our legs brushed together for an awkward moment. He quickly repositioned, but after a few seconds, he softly moved his leg back until it rested against mine.
I couldn't tell if this was intentional or if he just didn't notice, but I was having a tough time concentrating on the math now. While certainly not conventionally attractive, this man had an irresistible allure about him to me. The way the words rolled off his tongue, the way his brow furrowed up when he was thinking, the cute little mannerisms when he was uncomfortable. And his small, heavyset frame with his gut spilling over his meticulously ironed slacks was exactly the type of man I ogled on the street.
As I felt his body heat permeate through our legs resting against each other and he worked his way through one of the tougher assignments, my sleep-deprived mind wandered to more lustful thoughts.
"Ben... Ben."
I was jarred out of my fantasy as Alex was asking me to reaffirm his work. I just nodded dumbly, still numb from my daydream. I turned to him.
He was looking downward. I followed his eyes down.
Fuck.
I had a massive fucking hard-on. It tented straight up through my shorts.
Like the rest of me, my cock is no small matter, and it's impossible for me to hide an erection. The blood drained from my face and I stood abruptly.
That just made it worse. Now it stuck out at a 90-degree angle, stabbing towards the coffee table. I was panicking, horrified. I didn't know whether to try to pretend this wasn't happening even though I knew this was exactly what he was looking at. I wanted to flee the room, change my name, move to a new state.
Instead, I twisted my head to look back at him.
Was I imagining it? No. His slacks were tented as well. They were too well-pressed to have a crease like that. No, he was staring at my boner and now he had one.
"I-- I'm late for class," he stammered, and began to make a halfhearted effort to stand. He was blushing, and beads of sweat were forming on his forehead.
With sudden newfound confidence, I gently placed my hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down onto the couch. He didn't resist. I didn't say a word.
I slowly lowered myself to the floor, getting on my knees. Gingerly, I moved my hands up his thighs, caressing the insides. He shuddered and I looked up. He had a big, simple grin plastered across his face and his eyes were closed. I reached up and pulled his zipper down.
Evidently Alex goes commando. His cock jumped out from the fly. It was short but thick, with a bulbous dark head, already glistening with precum. I took the head into my mouth, massaging it with my tongue. A quiet moan escaped his lips and his cock twitched in my mouth. I was in heaven.
I felt his gentle hands press lightly against the back of my neck and I slid the rest of his cock down my throat until my face was nestled comfortably in his dank and sweaty pubic hair. I took a deep breath, relishing the scent of manhood. I then relinquished control to him.
Alex gradually pulled my head back and forth. I bobbed up and down on his throbbing cock as he moaned with growing intensity and his sweat began to build up. I could feel his glutes twitching now with excitement. He was close.
Suddenly his grip turned hard and he locked my head in place. With a newfound intensity, he began thrusting his hips, fucking my mouth violently. I wasn't expecting it and damn near choked. I suppressed my gag reflex and took deep breaths through my nose. His cock was pounding against the roof of my mouth.
A hot jet of liquid shot across my tongue, thick and salty. Then another volley, this one hitting the back of my throat. Another load on my tongue, then another. He was fucking my mouth furiously now, and he was groaning like an animal. More shots of his nectar were welling up in my mouth.
I was seeing stars when he finally began to slow. As he slipped his cock out of my mouth I gasped, taking as much air as I could.
After I regained my senses, I stood. His eyes were still closed, that grin still plastered across his face. He looked completely spent. His arms hung limply, his softening cock dangling. He seemed on the verge of consciousness.
My turn, I thought.
I pulled my aching cock from my shorts. He opened his eyes slightly and just admired it wordlessly. He seemed too exhausted to take it--another time, maybe. Instead, I began stroking. With the taste of him still in my mouth, I was already close to blowing my load. He watched passively as I stared down at his face, about to empty my balls.
And then I could hold it in no longer. A big load splattered across his face, catching him by surprise. He closed his eyes tightly and opened his mouth wide in time for the second shot, which hit his tongue directly. The third struck his chubby double-chin and dribbled down his neck, while the next shot a long line across his forehead and began dripping over his smoothly shaven head.
I just kept cumming, as if for an eternity. Another volley on his tongue, then two squirts on his beautiful, clean shirt. Finally I felt it taper off and the remains of my juice dripped down across his shirt and the crotch of his pants. The expression on his face was one of bliss.
All this time without a word. As we made our way back to reality, he slowly stood up, zipping his fly. He looked at me, grinning. Then he turned and opened the door to leave.
"Wait!" I shouted. His face and clothes were literally drenched in cum. He couldn't go out into the hallway like that!
He just grinned even wider, then walked out.