Rocks For Jocks

ROCKS FOR JOCKS
By Natty Soltesz 
(Freshmen magazine, August 2008)
Illustration by Steven

I was taking a summer physics course to bone up on my skills and pass some time. The campus is pretty deserted in the summer and the mood is nice — quiet and serene. There was this one guy who always sat in the front row, not that it did him much good, educationally speaking. Nick Anthony was what you might call an oaf: a big, dumb jock with a thick neck and an even thicker skull — and a prime candidate for “Rocks for Jocks” — which is how the rest of us referred to the Mickey Mouse science prerequisite typically snatched up by athletes and underachievers.

But Intro to Physics was where he’d somehow ended up, an unwitting cog in the tyranny that is a liberal arts education, trying to wrap his head around Newtonian mechanics and kinetic theory when I suspected he’d rather focus on the trajectory of a football sailing through the air. He was trying so hard, intently taking notes as our professor explained equations on the board. But you could tell it wasn’t getting through.

I stared as much as I dared. He always wore athletic gear — thin white T-shirts that hugged his buff and beefy bod and blue silky track pants with buttons going down the sides. A few times he wore a sleeveless Texas Longhorns shirt. His arms were so tan and toned. I lived for the days when he came in wearing his mesh basketball shorts, his ass flexing as he walked, his package flopping up front — Jesus! He had short dark hair and a stubbly face with sensuous lips. I’m sure he had no trouble getting laid on a Saturday night, but physics just wasn’t his forte.

The prof and I had become friendly by the third week of the course. He asked me if I’d consider tutoring Nick and racking up some extra credit in the process. I didn’t need the credit, but I enjoy tutoring regardless of whether I’m fantasizing about the pupil sitting on my face, so I said yes.

We were formally introduced one day after class. Nick shook my hand in his big paw, smiling. He seemed like a genuinely nice guy, and we walked out of class together. I offered to meet with him that night.

“Well, yeah, tonight,” he said, “but I got this girl I’m supposed to see . . .”

“Oh. No worries, if you got a girl,” I replied. “We’ll do it some other time.”

He said tomorrow worked better for him, and I figured some lucky girl was going to be freshly fucked by then.

Thirty hours later, Nick pulled up to my off campus apartment in his mom’s Cavalier. He couldn’t have dressed any better — that goddamn sleeveless Longhorns shirt and the mesh shorts. I was dying.

I offered him iced tea, and we sat down at the kitchen table. I guess I was a bit older and wiser than Nick, but only by a couple of years. That said, I never planned to seduce him — at least, not at first.

We started on some equations. He wasn’t getting it and began to get frustrated. My place was hot and I didn’t have AC, so after a half hour I suggested we take a break and try to catch a breeze on my back deck. Nick sat in my patio chair and downed the rest of his iced tea.

“So,” I said. “You went out with your girl last night?”

“Yeah … well, we didn’t really ‘go out,’ y’know?” Nick said, smirking at me to see if I got the gist. I laughed.

“And you’d rather do that than work equations? Unreal.”

Nick sighed. “Man, I really I hate this stuff. I dunno why it’s supposed to be important.”

“Well, you’ll probably never use it again. But it’s a requirement, right?”

“Yeah. Coach says I have to get at least a C. I dunno why I suck so bad.”

“You’ll get it. Besides, it’s not that important in the grand scheme of things. I’m sure there’s other stuff you’re much better at.”

“Yeah, you could say that,” he said, giving me a sly lift of his eyebrows.

Fuck it, I thought. “So you’re a real stud, huh?”

“Yeah,” he answered, chuckling.

“I’m not surprised,” I said, leaning forward and putting my hand on his beefy thigh. “You’ve got a really hot body.” I boldly ran my hand up his shorts, almost caressing his balls before taking it back down. His eyes simply followed my fingers, as if transfixed from the sensation.

“Bet you got a big cock too,” I said, putting my hand on the front of his shorts. His dick was half hard. It jerked against my palm. “Yeah, I knew it.”

Nick was clutching both sides of the chair as I stroked his cock through his slick black shorts. For the first time since I’d seen him, he came alive. His breathing quickened; his body rose and fell with each breath.

I got down on my knees and pulled off his shorts. I didn’t need to ask permission, his body language said everything — it was his clearest, most confident voice. I slipped his briefs down his thighs, and his huge, hairy schlong lurched out. It was as thick as a python and stood up tall. He had a big sac of nuts that languidly draped over the space between his front and back ends.

“Fuckin’ nice dick,” I said, stroking it up and down, admiring it for the pure piece of beauty that it was. It felt good to give him an honest compliment after all those strained attempts at mathematics. Nick moved his hands up under his shirt, feeling his chest and tweaking his nipples. “Take it off,” I said, helping him to pull his shirt over his head. And so I had him naked, his hairy chest and rounded midsection looming over me, his dick like a monolith towering in front of my face.

I couldn’t help a little moan of satisfaction as I went down on him. Nick involuntarily jerked upward, sending his cock back into my throat. It slid so easily back there. Again and again I slurped his cock all the way down to the root. It was strangely effortless for such a big dick, but I guess I was especially hungry.

Nick’s eyes were closed, his head thrown back and facing the ceiling. He opened his eyes, took my head in his big hands, and thrust his hips in and out, mindlessly fucking my throat. I felt like I could have been a sheep or a cherry pie; all Nick knew was that he had his dick in something warm and suction-y, and he was good to go.

I licked and sucked up his sweaty nuts, my tongue venturing to the surprisingly smooth space underneath. I let his cock rest against my face then ran my tongue up the side of it. I kept going, trailing my tongue along his salty stomach and the smooth sides of his chest, finally closing my mouth around his neck. I found his lips and sucked on those for a while. Nick kissed back, his tongue forcing its way into my mouth. It made my knees weak.

When I came off and looked him in the face, Nick seemed a little addled. Confused.

“Are you gay?” he said.

“Uh . . .”

“Cause you don’t, like, talk girly or nothing.”

“Huh,” I said, getting back on my feet. “No, I guess I don’t. I just . . . enjoy doing this for guys sometimes.”

“OK,” he said, apparently willing to accept that explanation for the time being. His dick still throbbed against his stomach. I took it in my hand.

“Have you ever had your ass eaten?”

“Huh?”

“Stand up,” I told him. “Brace yourself against the chair.” His back was broad and muscular, with a smattering of fuzz on his lats. And, sweet Jesus, his ass. It was incredible: huge and firm, covered in a dusting of hair. He arched his back, spreading open his cheeks to reveal a lightly hairy crack and a dank, pinkish-purplish butt hole.

“Brace yourself,” I said again, and dove in. I buried my face in that butt, tonguing up and down his crack, squirming my tongue against that tight yet relaxed asshole and jamming it inside. Nick seemed taken aback at first but he quickly adjusted, holding firmly onto the chair, which allowed me to push my whole face against his ass. He was moaning, and from the way his asshole squinched and tightened, I could tell he was still rock hard. I took his cock in my hand and stroked him as I ate him out.

“You like it?” I asked. It was an easy question; we both knew the answer.

“Uh-huh,” he grunted. It occurred to me that Nick wasn’t wired to think about complex things. He was an animal, programmed to only react to external stimuli.

“Say, ‘Eat my fuckin’ ass.’”

“Oh, eat my fuckin’ ass.”

“Shit, man, I want you inside me,” I said. From the look he shot back, I could tell that’d require some guidance.

I led him back into the kitchen, then ran and grabbed some rubbers from my nightstand. “I want you to fuck my butt, man,” I explained, stripping off my clothes. I swept the books aside and positioned myself on the kitchen table, drawing my legs up to my chest and showing him my smooth and ready asshole. I’ve got a pretty sexy body — lithe and smooth and well taken care of, not that Nick necessarily noticed or cared.

Maybe he’d never fucked anyone in the ass before, because for a moment he just stood there, his dick hanging out in front of him like a truncheon, his puzzled eyes on me lying on the table.

“C’mere,” I said and leaned forward, pulling him by the cock and bringing him close to me. I took the bottle of lube and slicked up his dick. That he understood; he started fucking my fist like it was a reflex. I lifted my legs again and brought a dollop of lube to my butt hole. Now he was getting it. I grabbed hold of his hips and positioned him at the entrance to my ass.

“Go easy,” I said, knowing that it was falling on deaf ears. Once his dick was against me, the blunt head getting massaged and drawn in by my tight, pulsing asshole, he was gone. He sunk that fucking thing all the way inside me, inch by fat inch until his balls were pressed tight against my cheeks.

“Uhhh,” he moaned, looking me in the eyes as he inched back out. I was struggling a bit — it wasn’t often I got a ride on a dick of Nick’s size — and though he wasn’t ramming it in, he wasn’t being particularly gentle. He was a stud jock with his cock in a nice, hot, tight hole, and we both knew how good that could feel.

It didn’t take long for the discomfort to pass. And when all was said and done, Nick was actually a pretty good lover. He fucked me with clean, even strokes; slow and steady but never timid or unsure. His cock felt incredible inside me, sending me to a place beyond thought or control. All I could do was let the sensation of it wash over me. I wondered if this was how Nick felt day to day — just feeling, not thinking. It wasn’t such a bad thing.

Nick was tweaking his nipples, watching his fat, thick dick plunge in and out of my tight butt. I reached up and brought him down to me. His mouth found mine, and we made out as he continued to luxuriously split me in two. He started to pay a little more attention to me; it was almost as if the thrusting relaxed him and freed his mind to explore my body a little. By now it was obvious that I was the first guy he’d ever messed around with. He felt my smooth chest with his big hands, feeling down my stomach and even grabbing my cock for a few tentative strokes.

I was too close to the edge for even that, and I knocked his hand away. He grabbed me by the waist then, and I’m sure we looked like what you’d have seen if King Kong had fucked that blond chick. He was a beast, a fucking machine, but he worked me over with a certain savage grace that had me panting.

“Shit, man, I want you to come all over my face,” I told him. He processed this immediately, sliding out of me and ripping off the rubber. I slid down off the table and got under him, feeling up his tree trunk thighs, running my hands to the twin boulders of his ass and drawing my fingers in his crack. With my other hand I stroked my dick, acutely aware of the well-fucked feeling in my ass. Nick’s breathing was so modulated, his body working in perfect harmony to bring himself to orgasm. I pressed my finger to his butt hole, and slowly slipped it inside.

His mouth dropped open. His eyes shut tight, his forehead crinkled up. In a matter of seconds he was shooting heavy jets of cream that splattered across my face like paint on a Pollock canvas. I lost it then, my come spurting up like a fountain out of the top of my fist and landing in between his big feet. Nick grabbed my head and held me steady; the next shot went right into my mouth. I opened up for him, taking more of his cream on my tongue. With each shot his butt hole tightened around my finger.

“Fuh … fuh,” he grunted, looking down to see his dick spewing on and in my face. When he’d shot all he could, he leaned back against the wall, running his hands over his body, basking in his orgasm.

I grabbed a towel and cleaned him up. I sopped up his dick and ball sweat, along with the lube and splooge that still dripped from his floppy cock. He lifted each arm dutifully, and I soaked up his underarm sweat. That towel went unwashed for a good week or so afterward.

“Thanks, man,” he said to me.

“Maybe we should get back to work?” I suggested.

“Guess so,” he said, shrugging.

“You don’t have to put your clothes on. I mean — not if you don’t want to.” The lovable oaf just smirked at me and put on his shorts. I don’t think I could’ve focused on the material anyway if he hadn’t.

We hit the books again. It took another hour or so, but by the time night fell Nick was starting to get it. It was pretty cool to watch his eyes light up, to observe his obvious relief when it started to make some sense.

He thanked me again on the way out, and, of course, I thanked him right back. “I’ll see you in class, and we’ll set a date for when you can come again,” I said, not mentioning my plan to get him to sit on my face and feed me a few loads during study breaks, maybe take him for another ride once we’d finished.

“More equations,” Nick said.

“What else?” I replied. “We’ll get you that C, no matter how hard it gets or how long it takes.” Nick stared at me for a few moments then he reached around and grabbed my ass. He gave me a quick peck on the lips.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said, giving me that sly lift of his eyebrows again, which made me swoon a little. I lingered in the doorway to watch his muscular butt bounce as he walked to his car. Then it came to me — I’d just promised Nick unlimited tutoring and as much sexual servicing as he could handle if and whenever he wanted it.

Maybe that dumb jock had a few things to teach me as well