Beau Cycle 07 Tutor Nerd by Jon Hold Copyright © 2002, 2005, 2016 jonhold@earthlink.net
This story was inspired by Harry Bush's drawing titled "I Was the Nerd Who Got to Tutor the Captain of the High School Football Team." The drawing makes me wish I'd done a little tutoring in High School myself!
This is a cycle of stories inspired by the art of Beau. I do not have the entire series of his pictures that have been posted to the web. These stories are my imagination of the time surrounding the static slice of time shown of young men growing up by someone I consider a superior artist. Your fantasies will be (I hope) different than mine. I hope that my fantasies will be entertaining anyway. Beau, if you see this, wherever you might be, thank you for some wonderful time in a different place that you have created. I hope I can find the rest of your work.
Jon Hold 26 Feb 2002, 2016
Tutor Nerd
As a member of the Honor Society, I sort of got volunteered to do tutoring. I didn't really mind. That is, until they told me that I was going to have to tutor Mick Shaunnesy, the biggest Jock on campus and Captain of the High School Football Team. SHIT! Not only were the members of the football team a bunch of excess hormone laden dumb hicks who's balls weighed more than their brains, but the whole bunch of them were the meanest bunch of homophobes I'd ever heard of and the main reason I didn't take any gym classes. I had to leave the exclusive private school I'd been attending in The City when my dad got promoted and took over the branch office in this hick town. It was a hell of a step up for my dad, making a vice-presidency the next step, but one hell of a step down for me, including having to attend public school. I went from wearing a suit and tie and being respected for my agile mind, to having to wear jeans and a t-shirt (even slacks and a nice shirt would get me laughed at) and being definitely on the outside socially. Hell, I couldn't even speak the garbled mess THEY called "English". It was like a fucking foreign language to me.
I was supposed to meet Mick in front of the school after my last class, Honors Math. When I got there Mick was in the middle of a group of jocks, cheerleaders and groupies, very much the center of attention. Unsettled, unhappy, and very much out of my depth, I got up on the concrete balustrade next to the stairs and leaned back against the stone lion (Roar! Yeaaaaah Liooooons!!! Sure. I guess it was better than the Buzzards, or Skunks, or... I drifted off into a fantasy where the jocks were nerds and the nerds were school heros.).
"Hey. Hey! Wake up! Rodger?"
"Huh? Waa..." startled, I woke up. I guess I'd dozed off. "What is it?"
"Your name, Rodger?"
"Yeah."
"Are you the one who's supposed to tutor me?"
"If you're Mick Shaunnesy I am."
"Yep!" his patented, ear-to-ear grin spread across his face. "I'm me all right. How long you been waiting."
"Since right after the last bell."
"How come you didn't come over and tell me you were ready?" "What?" I said, climbing down from the balustrade, "And disturb the great hero amidst the slavering multitude?"
Mick gave me a questioning look, like he wasn't quite sure if he'd been insulted or not. I just turned and headed back up the steps. "Where ya' goin'?" the big jock asked.
"Study Hall." I answered, barely civilly. Like, duh! Where else?
Mick looked, believe it or not, half-way between embarrassed and unsure. He actually kicked at the turf in indecision. "Do we have'ta?"
"What. You want to study out here?" I couldn't figure out what was going on.
"Uh... Could we... Like... Maybe.... Maybe we could go over to my house?"
I just shrugged my shoulders and motioned for him to lead the way. If Mick didn't want anyone seeing him getting help studying, that was fine by me. Suddenly full of energy again, Mick half bounced his way to the parking lot and his beautiful '57 Chevy [it wasn't restored. It was new!]. I got in the passenger seat about the same time the engine thundered to life. It was so cool, riding in a fantastic car with the school stud right through the High School entryway and straight through downtown out to where Mick lived. It was common knowledge that any girl sitting where I was sitting was going to get her brains fucked out. When we got to Mick's house, the cool part of it was that, unknown to me until then, he only lived a few blocks from my parents house.
Mick parked off to one side of the concrete driveway and hopped out of the car. On the way into the house he explained that the business his parents owned stayed open until nine and they never got home until 9:30 or 10:00. After raiding the kitchen for snacks and soft drinks, Mick led the way to his bedroom. Pointing to his desk, Mick started stripping off his clothes and said, "Make yourself comfortable. I'm gonna catch a quick shower."
Typical jock. Mick stripped naked right there in front of me and walked into his bathroom scratching his pubes like it as the most natural thing in the world. I sat there stunned, listening to the water being adjusted in the next room while my ever willing boner tried to rip a hole through my jeans. Mick had left the bathroom door open and I could see his naked butt sticking out from where he was bent over adjusting the taps. I actually had to wipe drool off my face. Just sitting there listening to him splash around in the shower had me hornier than I'd ever been in my life. I decided that I'd get through this session somehow, hopefully without giving Mick a reason to beat the crap out of me. But the first thing the next day I was going to tell the faculty advisor that I couldn't tutor Mick any more. I'd come up with some sort of excuse. Like, I'd suddenly caught polio of the dick or something.
Mick startled me out of my reverie when he walked back into his bedroom, buck naked, drying his hair with a towel. It's a good thing he had his head covered with the towel because it was impossible for me to rip my eyes away from his crotch. His blond pubes were darker wet than dry. And it was obvious what caused the big bulge in his Levis'. The tall, lean athlete had the balls of a young bull. Heavy, pendulous balls in a long hairless sack that bounced between his thighs as he moved. The lush growth of hair shrouded the upper attachment partially hiding the stretching his scrotum took from his heavy nuts. Big nuts. Big heavy suckers obviously full of hormones and juice and the power of life. What had me so amazed though was Mick's dick. Less than two inches of thumb-thick dick. My God! The school stud was a dickless wonder! My balls weren't nearly the size of Mick's... but at least I had a dick!
If Mick noticed that I was staring, he never let on. Just finished drying himself and then wrapped the damp towel around his narrow waist. Damn! He gave me more bone with that towel accenting his goodies than he did totally naked! I prayed that I'd make it through this session without making a total ass of myself. I promised that I'd NEVER be alone with Mick again! EVER!
Mick grabbed a straight-backed chair and swung it over next to where I was sitting at his desk and plopped himself down in with his legs spread wide, the towel pulled tight, and his chin resting on his arms on the back of the chair.
"Well, What shall we study first?" he asked, all bright and peppery.
"Uh," I answered brilliantly. "Uh... where's your books?"
With a half-hurt, half-surprised look, Mick asked, "Do I need them?"
"Only if you actually want to learn anything."
That statement was followed by ten minutes of watching Mick's beautiful body as it bent and twisted and contorted as Mick searched through his closet, dirty clothes pile, under his bed and through an old toy chest at the foot of his bed. He finally managed to turn up his algebra book, history book, health science and business math books. He had no idea where his English book was. I sighed and grabbed his business math book as Mick happily plopped back down into his chair. His leg was pushing against mine and the heat from his body was making me sweat. I took my glasses off (I just need them to see well at a distance) and got to work. It took me about two minutes to realize that the main problem Mick was having was that he didn't know his times tables. He rummaged around and found a brand new pack of green 3 x 5 cards and I had him make up a set of flash cards, starting with 1x1 = 1 and ending with 12x12 = 144. I shuffled the deck and we went through it once, very haltingly. Mick was a little embarrassed about not knowing them, especially after he challenged me and I popped the answers off as fast as he could flip the cards. I told him not to sweat it, that he'd be just as quick as I was once he memorized the tables. Daunted, he didn't think he could memorize all those numbers. I got mad at him and told him to quit acting stupid. That I could tell how smart he was and that playing the dummy was fine, as long as he was willing to BE a dummy!
After that I laid out the cards in ranks so he could quickly glance up, find the right card and flip it over for the answer. Then we did his business math homework and he was amazed how easy it was when he didn't have to stop and figure out that 3x4 =12 every time he saw it. When I asked him how fast he thought he'd be once he had all those cards in his head instead of scattered across his desk, he just got a big grin on his face.
Mick had an "F" in algebra, and didn't even want to try to learn. It was just "too damn hard!" I showed him how to set the problems up and explained what the x's and y's were all about and showed him that we could use ANY letter, not just the scary x's and y's. Once Mick got the idea he went through his homework like it was nothing. Then he got angry. "How come Mr. Horner never showed me this stuff?" he demanded.
"Because Mr. Horner's a fucking idiot and can't even learn how to piss without getting it all over himself!"
Mick laughed his ass off and we high-fived over that. Then Mick stopped and looked at me. I mean, really looked at me. "You know, you ain't nearly the geek you look like."
"Gee. Thanks!"
"No, no! I mean it." Mick flustered, tried to explain himself. "I mean, with those glasses and the way you dress and stuff... well, everybody just figures that you're some kind of nerd. But you really are smart." Punching me in the arm, the powerfully built jock went on, "You ain't half bad... for a little weasel..."
"Hey!" I popped back. And the next thing I knew I was in a slap-fight, just like Mick did with his good buddies. I got my face slapped pretty good, but was giving as good as I got until Mick slid backwards off his chair and fell on his ass, his legs going spraddledewampus as his towel flew off. I had a wide-open view of the most desirable real estate in the county. "OK, OK! I give!" Mick said, laughing as he got back to his feet, wrapping his towel back around his firm belly.
Laughing, I pointed for him to sit back down in his chair. "Let that be a warning to ya. Fuck with a nerd and you'll end up naked in school some day!"
"God! Could you imagine being naked in front of Miss Haskins?"
I visualized Miss Haskins, Mick's English teacher. Nine hundred and elevendy-seven years old, dried up, humorless old maid with a cherry so old that it was rotten. I shuddered all over, stuck my tongue out and made a face. "Yecch!"
Mick responded in kind and we had a good laugh, although I ended up with a bruise on my arm where Mick punched me after I suggested that he actually had the hots for Miss Haskins and wanted to see her naked. That brought on a break and we raided the kitchen for more cokes and snacks. Back in the bedroom, I put my loot on the desk and headed for the bathroom. I left the door open just like Mick had and, standing in front of the commode, whipped my favorite piece of flesh out and started peeing. Mick startled me when he came up and stood beside me with his towel over his shoulder. Taking hold of his little stub and pointing it down, Mick grunted once and then sighed as his piss stream joined mine in the toilet. "Damn that feels good!" he said in relief. I couldn't believe that I was standing there pissing into the same pot as the school's star athlete. I quickly shook off the last few drops and hunched my hips back to suck my peter back into my jeans. Mick didn't say anything when I quickly retreated from the bathroom. He just joined me back at the desk just as if nothing had happened.
"What now?" I asked.
With a grin on his face, Mick reached over and grabbed his Health Sciences text. I took the book from him and opened it at random. "What are you studying right now?" I asked.
Mick looked me right in the eye and, with a big grin on his face, said, "Human Sexuality!"
'Oh, SHIT!' I thought. I'm gonna die of embarrassment. I'm supposed to teach human sexuality to the guy who's only laid like, about half of the girls in school. I asked Mick some questions and it soon dawned on me that Mick might have been getting his dick wet with a different girl every night since he was five years old, but he didn't know diddley-squat about sex or even his own body. I guess that became pretty clear when he asked me how the bone got in and out of his dick without tearing something up. I just stared at him in disbelief and then shook my head.
"What?" he demanded.
"Bone? BONE!? You think there's a bone that makes your dick stiff?"
"Yeah! Of course! What else would get it hard like that?" Mick said with a know-it-all attitude.
"How about blood, dummy! The veins close up and your heart pumps your dick full of blood. THAT'S what makes your dick stiff. There's no 'Dick-Bone'!" and I started laughing.
Mick got all red-faced. "There is so! No way blood could make my dick as hard as it gets."
"Ever heard of hydrostatic pressure?" I asked snidely.
"Hydro...who? What the fuck are you talking about!"
I could tell that Mick was confused and about to go all testicular. I wanted out of this tutoring assignment, sure I did. But... I didn't want Mick mad at me or anything like that. Besides that, it wasn't his fault no one had really bothered to try and educate him. After all, he was just a dumb jock, wasn't he? Well, he didn't seem all that dumb to me. Pretty smart as a matter of fact. Just ignorant. And like my real Dad said before he died, "Ignorance is curable. Stupid comes built-in." I decided to take a shot. Searching my head for an example, I said, "You ever played with a balloon?
Huffing his breath like he was offended, "Of course!"
"Well, what's a balloon like when you take it out of the package?"
Puzzled, Mick looked at me, "It's, well, it's like rubber....:
"Yeah. Like rubber. All limp and floppy." Mick nodded his head. "Just like a guys dick before it gets hard..."
"Yeah...?" Mick said uncertainly.
"What happens when you blow it up?"
Mick looked puzzled, then thoughtful. I could see comprehension spread across his face with his dawning smile. "It swells up and gets hard!"
"Yeah. Just like your dick. Only your dick fills up with blood. Normally blood flows into your dick through the arteries and out through the veins. But when you get horny, the veins contract and keep the blood from leaving your dick. Your heart keeps pumping and your dick fills up with blood." Sweeping my open hand, palm up, towards his towel covered crotch, I made like a magician, "Voilà! a hard-on!"
Mick looked down at his lap. "You mean...?"
"Yep! That's why your dick throbs with the beat of your heart."
"Wow!"
"Look," I said, pointing at his crotch, "open your towel up."
Without even thinking about it, Mick flipped his towel open.
"Now get hold of it down by the base. Feel any bone in there?"
"Naw."
"Now keep hold of it and get a hard-on. See if you can feel a bone go into your dick, or if it just swells up."
Mick let go of his dick and blushed. "You making fun of me?" He asked suspiciously. "You trying to get me to do something stupid so you can tell everyone?"
Exasperated, I stood up and undid my pants and then pulled my pants and undershorts down around my knees before sitting back down. My raging eight incher jutting straight up from my lap. "You more comfortable now? You can tell on me if I tell on you. This is a Scientific Experiment! We're not playing around. You need to know this stuff for Health Science."
Mick looked down at my boner and then grinned. "Gotcha all hot and bothered, huh!" He didn't make any big thing of it though, just took hold of the base of his dick with his left hand and started playing with his foreskin-covered dickhead with the other. Pretty soon he was bone hard and about halfway jerking off. "Man! That's somethin'!"
"So. That thing have a bone in it?" I asked, staring dumbfounded. Mick's dinky little pecker had swollen up until it was not only longer than mine but even fatter than mine got at it's hardest.
"No, man! That's hydrostatic pressure!" said Mick with a huge grin on his face.
Grinning back I said, "Wanna learn some more?"
"SURE!" Mick enthusiastically agreed, flipping his dick and rubbing his balls.
I pushed my pants down around my ankles and Mick and I did a little 'Show and Tell'. Touching both myself and Mick as I pointed out the proper names for things, how balls were testicles and the sack was the scrotum, and the meatus, and the corona and what was inside, using a picture in the health book, and how everything worked together and how the pee and cum kept separate and all that stuff. At one point I was holding Mick's balls in my hand and he was drooling all over my forearm as I described why his scrotum wrinkled up as it shrunk. I asked Mick if he wanted to take a break and he was emphatic that he wanted to keep going so I turned to a cutaway drawing of a female and started in on the parts of a girl and why guys were ready so quick, but why you had to get a girl going with foreplay. That took some explaining because Mick was used to having girls be ready for him any time he was ready.
I described how a girls tissues swell up also and how her clit was just as sensitive as a guys dickhead. Mick kept fondling himself and I could tell he was getting hotter and hotter. Explaining erogenous zones. I touched Mick here and there and he readily responded with great pleasure. I went to more and more sensitive places until I ended up lightly, ever so lightly running two fingertips up the side of Mick's pendulous ball sack. He had to grab my wrist and stop me --- laughing that just a little more erotic shit and he was going to pop his load all over the wall. I laughed and made a kissing sound of fake sympathy.
"But, what about when you fuck them up the ass?" Blushing, Mick went on, "I mean, how come that works too?"
I tried to explain about the nerves back there and how the girl had a g-spot and guys had their prostate right back there and why the ass was so erotic for both men and women. Mick was still sitting on his chair but I was standing up with my elbows on the desktop, pointing out stuff in the book to Mick.
"You mean," Mick said, looking me right in the eye, "That's why some guys like to butt-fuck each other?"
I blushed but looked Mick right in the eye and nodded my head. "I guess so."
"Like, a guys butt," and I felt Mick's hand gently touch my butt, "can be sensitive like a girls?"
"And feel just as good too, I guess." I ventured.
Wordless, Mick and I stared at each other as he sat there and I leaned on the desk while his hand explored my ass. It obviously wasn't the first time Mick had handled an ass, but I was pretty sure it was the first time he'd handled a guys ass. "You know," he said, coughing to clear his constricted throat, "I always did like butt-fucking better than pussy-fucking. It's tighter and you can't get anyone pregnant that way." I just nodded, as if to say, "And?" Mick went on, "Wanna do a Scientific Experiment?" and a big grin spread across his face, that devil-may-care excess hormone jock expression that meant, 'we're gonna get in trouble, but so what!'
Hotter than I'd ever been in my life, looking at the big drooling monster in his lap and all but drooling myself, I nodded and groaned out, "Yeah."
Mick grinned even wider and slid smoothly up out of his chair and over my back.
Fini
3707 words
The strongest reason for the people to retain the right to keep and bear arms is, as a last resort, to protect themselves against tyranny in government.
---Thomas Jefferson
----- Politicians should read science fiction, not westerns and detective stories.
---Arthur C. Clarke
I can't write Haiku. Something about syllables. I don't understand.
—-/TB