Brains Over Brawn
By
MaineBoyXY@aol.com
Kneeling there, naked, I couldn't believe that I'd gotten myself into
this fucking predicament. There I
was, a senior, captain of the soccer
team, one of the most popular guys in school, humiliating myself in front
of this sophomore math nerd. As he
held my head by the hair with one
hand, I saw the other reaching for his fly and lowering his zipper.
I
shuddered as he reached in, and then did a double take as I saw the long,
thick cock he produced. Fuck, who
the hell would have known that this
scrawny geek would be hung like that? But
then, who would have known
yesterday that I'd be here on my knees in front of him, getting ready to
suck his cock?
It all started Monday when that jackass Jason Martin told me about the
mid-term. Jason was on my team, but
he was a crappy student. We were
both in Mrs. Gresham's Intro to Calc class, and Jason was scared
shitless that he was going to fail it, and that if he did he wouldn't
make the grades to graduate in the spring.
I felt OK about it; I wasn't
a crappy student. But when Jason
told me about his foolproof plan to ace
the exam, my ears perked up. I was
looking at graduating with a 3.2 or
so, but slamming this mid-term could bump that up to the mid-3's, and
that would only look better when I closed the deal on this soccer
scholarship.
I mean, the plan sounded simple. Mrs.
Gresham was a new teacher, and she
didn't lock her file cabinets. She
figured that the lock on the
classroom door would keep anyone from getting into her stuff, but Jason
and I knew that you could use a credit card to get passed the door lock.
We'd done it our junior year when we T.P.'ed our coach's office in the
gym after we won the regional championship.
So all we had to do was wait
until after everyone left for the day, head into her room, find the
exams, and copy the questions. Since
Coach liked to leave right after
practices, he'd given me a key to the gym side door to lock up after
everyone left for home. It was no
big deal, Coach trusted me: his wife
and my Mom worked at the bank together, and he'd known me since I was a
kid.
So, we used the key to get into the gym, and then from there broke into
Mrs. Gresham's room. When we went
through her file cabinet, we hit the
jackpot! Not only were the exam
questions in there, so was the answer
key. Now all we had to do was copy
down the answers. So we did.
On
Wednesday morning, I wrote the answers in pencil inside my shirt cuff.
When the exam started that afternoon, I surreptitiously unbuttoned my
cuff and I could see the answers by tilting my hand while I colored in
those annoying little bubbles on the answer sheet.
By the middle of the
exam, I was flying high; I knew I was going to pull this off.
That was right about the time I looked up and saw him.
Ryan, Mrs.
Gresham's little ass-kissing teacher's aide.
He was some kind of math
whiz, and he had brown-nosed his way into becoming the aide during his
period study hall, probably to make himself feel important.
He had been
walking up and down the aisles, smirking and lording his superiority over
the seniors struggling over an exam I guess he thought he could bang
through in five minutes. Early on,
I'd kept an eye on him, just to make
sure I didn't look obvious while he was on my aisle.
I guess he'd
changed his pattern of alternating aisles though, because I didn't even
realize he was on mine -- he had changed to walk down my aisle from the
back of the classroom, not the front. I
had just flicked my wrist when I
caught the motion of movement at my side.
When I looked up, his gaze was on my cuff.
He turned his green eyes to
mine and mouthed silently, "Busted."
My blood turned to ice.
Instantly, my mind played through the scenario:
being expelled for
cheating, losing the scholarship, all of my college applications being
rejected for an honors violation, my parents finding out, Coach learning
of my betrayal of his trust. My
heart was pounding like I'd just
finished a sprint, and by the time my brain returned to the present, I
realized that Ryan hadn't broken stride. He'd kept walking; there he
was turning the around to walk down the next aisle.
Had I imagined it?
Then, I saw him as he turned his head to me, and I saw that wicked smile.
I knew what it meant. It meant he
wasn't going to rat me out, he wanted
something from me. I didn't know
what it was, but I felt my pulse
slowing to normal as I realized there was going to be a way out, that
maybe I hadn't ruined my whole life all because of that bastard Jason
Martin and his fucking ideas. After
that, I buttoned my cuff. I don't
know why, the damage was done, but I was too shaken to keep up the act
now. I'd made a close escape with
Ryan, but I didn't want one of my
classmates to catch me, I guess. I
finished the last half of the exam on
my own.
When Mrs. Gresham announced that time was up, I noticed that Ryan was
standing beside the door. No doubt he wanted everyone to see him there
as they left, so he could smile condescendingly at them.
I wonder why
Ryan hadn't had the shit beaten out of him by anyone yet.
I knew he'd
want to tell me about his planned trade, so I made sure I was the last to
turn in my answer sheet at the desk, and the last to head out the door.
When I got to him, Ryan caught my wrist -- the one with the cuff evidence
-- and guided me out the door. He
looked around to make sure no one was
within earshot.
"Do you have any more exams?" he asked.
"Not today, my last one is Government tomorrow."
"What are you doing now?"
"Going home to study for it," I answered.
"So you actually study for some of your exams, Alex?" he asked
sarcastically.
I felt like laying into him right there, but I knew it would be a
mistake, considering he could still rat me out, and I was still wearing
the evidence. "Yeah," I
muttered, defeated.
"Mrs. Gresham, I'll be back in a minute to help clean up.
I've got to
run to the restroom," he said, ducking his head back through the
doorway. He released my wrist.
"OK, let's go."
"Go where?"
"To your locker, you need your stuff before you leave, right?"
I was a little confused, I thought we were just going to work out the
trade, but he had more in mind. We
went to my locker and I grabbed my
last book, the Government text I'd use to study, and my jacket.
He then
walked with me until we got to the men's room, and directed me inside.
He checked to make sure the stalls were empty, then turned back to me.
"Take it off," he said.
"What?" I asked, completely lost.
"The shirt. I want it.
So you can't back out on me later."
"Come on, Ryan. I know you've
got me by the balls, just tell me what
you want and I'll do it. I don't
want to get expelled one semester
away from graduation."
"Then give me your shirt. I
don't want you destroying the evidence
before I get what I want."
There wasn't going to be any way out of this.
I knew if Ryan went back
now, he'd tell Mrs. Gresham. Sure I
could run home and wash the pencil
out of the shirt, but he'd tell her, and she'd look at my answers, and
the fact that I had the right answer to every question the first half of
the exam would back him up. I mean,
I'm an OK student, but I'm not a
fucking nerd. We both knew, though,
that later on, after the exams were
graded, his position to accuse me would be weakened without proof.
I
didn't know what he wanted, but I figured it had to be fairly
innocuous. He probably wanted me to
be his friend or something the rest
of the year, so he could tell people how cool he was that I liked him.
Fuck, was I wrong.
Anyway, I unbuttoned my shirt and handed it over.
I guess I didn't
notice him staring at my chest while I took the shirt off, but he just
grabbed it from me and told me that was all for now.
He'd call me
Friday night, and I'd better not have any plans.
He left the bathroom,
and I put on my jacket, zipped it up and went home.
***
The phone rang at about 7 o'clock on Friday night.
I knew it would be
Ryan before I answered it.
"Hey, Alex, got any plans tonight?" he asked needling me.
"No, I kept my social calendar clear just for you, Ryan."
"Listen, jock boy, you'd better make an attitude adjustment, because I
own your ass now, don't I?"
I shuddered. Great, a pompous nerd,
and now he owned me. But he was
right. "Yeah, I guess you do.
So what do you want?"
"I want you to come over to my house.
We'll talk about it when you get
here." He gave me the address.
My family is comfortably middle class,
but Ryan's house was apparently nestled in the upscale part of town.
I
hopped into my Civic and drove over. When
I got to Ryan's place, it was
huge. Brick Victorian, three
stories, manicured lawn and hedges. I
never pictured Ryan having come from this kind of background, but
thinking back I realized he was pretty preppy for a geek.
A lot of the
math-science-computer losers wore ratty jeans and T-shirts, but Ryan wore
khakis and button-down oxfords like I did.
He wore glasses, but they
weren't thick, Coke-bottle glasses, just thin, steel-rimmed ones.
Most
nerds have long, kind of unkempt hair, but Ryan's blond hair was always
neat, in a fashionable, average-length style.
As I parked in the empty driveway, I realized that if Ryan weren't such
a pretentious, ass-kissing jerk, he wouldn't be that bad of a guy,
probably. Maybe it wouldn't be so
bad being his friend for the rest of
the year; maybe it would mellow him out and do some good.
When I rang the bell, I almost expected a servant of some sort to answer,
but when the door opened there was Ryan, beaming.
"Hey there, Alex. Found the
place OK?" he asked jovially.
"Um, yeah, nice place." He
was being way too nice for some reason, and
it caught me off guard.
"Come on in, can I get you something to drink?"
"Nah, I'm OK, let's just get down to business."
"All good things come to those who wait."
After negotiating the maze
of hallways, we entered a kitchen that looked like it belonged to the
head chef of a five-star restaurant. It
was an immaculate collection of
tile and stainless steel. Ryan
walked over to the refrigerated, selected
a bottle of water, and twisted off the cap.
He hoisted himself up onto
the counter and started swinging his bare feet gleefully.
"Soccer's over for the year, isn't it?" he asked.
I answered that it
was.
"It must be a lot of work keeping up with classes and your busy social
life while practice and games take up so much time," he commented
nonchalantly, and then took a swig of water.
His eyes never left me.
"I do OK," I replied.
"Until Wednesday."
I looked at him darkly. He was an asshole. "That
was the only time
I've ever cheated, and it wasn't even my idea," I retorted.
His eyes brightened as I realized my mistake.
"Oh, really?" he asked
rhetorically, a note of enthusiasm in his voice.
"We can get to that
later. I guess you're curious to
know what the plan is, aren't you?"
"Yeah, I guess so, I just want to get this over with."
"Well, it's not going to be that simple."
He hopped off the counter,
leaving his water behind. He walked
over until he stood less than a foot
in front of me. "I think this
is going to be a bit of a long-term
proposition. You see, you're going
to be my bitch from now on." As
he
said it, he took his eyes off mine, and looked down at my crotch.
It only took a split second as my right hand pulled back, but he backed
away before I could punch him. "Don't be an idiot, Alex.
Like you
said the other day in the restroom, I've got you by the balls.
Think
about it, expulsion. The
humiliation. What are those
colleges lining up
at your door now going to say? What
are your parents going to say? What
are you going to do if you piss your life away on a Calculus exam?"
Every word was true, and I'd known it that split second after he'd
caught me Wednesday afternoon. "But
I'm not gay," I said.
"I don't care," he retorted.
I looked him over. He was a couple
inches shorter than my 6'2", and at
least 30 pounds lighter. There was
no way he weighed more than 140.
"Why don't I just beat the crap out of you now?
It's Friday, the
earliest you could blow the whistle about the exam is Monday, and
they'll be graded by then. And,
it's going to look awfully strange
that you didn't say anything about it Wednesday when you caught me,
isn't it?"
"Because I've got the shirt, and you don't know where it is.
It might
not even be here, right? And if it
were, could you look through the
entire house to find it? Besides, I
think going in all beaten up on
Monday is going to be plenty of back up for my story.
Face it, Alex,
you're screwed."
He was right. I was screwed.
I was completely and utterly defeated.
I
looked at the floor, and when I did, he knew I was done.
He walked back
to me until his body nearly pressed into mine.
He grabbed a fist full of
my brown hair, and turned my head so he could stare into my blue eyes.
I
felt his other hand slip between us, and close around my crotch.
I felt
like I was going to throw up. I
clenched my eyes shut.
"Open them," he commanded in a stern voice.
I kept them closed as
imagined scenes of gay sex whirled around in my head.
I felt his grip
tighten on my package as he repeated his order.
"Open them."
I opened them, and his eyes left mine and moved to my lips.
"Leave them
open," he said, and then moved in. I
felt his lips on mine. He pulled
a millimeter away. "Kiss back,
Alex." I stared at a fixed
point on
the wall behind them as I felt his lips press against mine.
I kissed
him. I felt his tongue graze my mouth, and I opened for him.
He
released my hair as we kissed, and I felt his hands on my back pulling me
into him. They slid slowly down my back to my ass, and he left them
resting there. I wanted to break
away, I wanted to run, but my mind kept
showing me in front of Mr. Perkins, the principal, with my Mom crying in
the background and Dad shaking his head in shame, Coach frowning, and
college admissions doors slamming in my face.
He broke the kiss and stepped back. I looked at him, and his face was
flushed. I turned my gaze to the
floor at his feet, and on the way down,
I saw a prominent bulge in his crotch. "Do
you want to go upstairs to
my room, Alex?" Still looking
at the floor, I nodded. "Look
at me,
and tell me. Do you want to go up
to my room?"
I looked up to him, and I heard my voice answer from somewhere in the
room, "Yes, Ryan, let's go to your room."
With that, he turned, and we walked back down the corridor to the
stairway. It was wide and covered
in richly toned plush carpeting. I
followed him up two flights of stairs, down another hallway, and into a
large bedroom. One wall was paneled
with large windows, and the curtains
and shades were open onto the December night.
The room was painted a
deep lapis, and where most guys his age would have posters of rock bands
or pin up girls (or guys, I guess), he had oil seascapes.
There was an
antique bed in one corner, maybe of mahogany, and an armoire stood at its
foot. A bookshelf lined the wall
perpendicular to the windows, and
opposite the windows was his desk. It
was an elegant room.
He turned to me. "You can get
undressed here." I looked at
him. For
some reason, I was surprised at his suggestion, and then it just sunk
in. I looked at him blankly, and
then I began fingering the buttons on
my shirt. I removed it, my
undershirt, and my khakis after slipping off
my shoes, folding each and laying them on the desk.
When I stood only in
boxers and socks, he motioned me over to him.
"This doesn't have to be
bad, Alex." He reached up and
began to stroke my bare chest with his
fingertips. His light touch and the
chill made me break out in
goosebumps and the hair stood up on the back of my neck.
I'd fucked a couple of girls before, but this made me feel like a virgin
bride. He was being tender, but I
knew the malice that lay behind the
facade. "Do you want to
undress me, Alex?" I looked away. "Alex?
Look at me," he demanded. I
looked at him. "Do you want to undress
me?" I nodded.
"Tell me."
Again, I heard my voice from somewhere in the room, "Ryan, can I take
your clothes off?" He smiled
and lifted my hands to his collar. I
undid each button slowly, and then I pulled his shirttails out from the
waist of his khakis. I slipped it
off his shoulders and then took hold
of his undershirt. He raised his
arms over his head, and I tugged it
off. I dropped the undershirt to
the floor.
"Fold my clothes and put them on the desk with yours." Mechanically, I
picked up his shirts, folded them and laid them on the desk.
When I
turned to walk back to him, his shirtless body registered with me for the
first time. He was basically skin
and bones, and I could see ribs below
his small, pink nipples. His chest,
like mine, was virtually hairless.
"Stop! Take off your underwear
while you're over there," he
instructed.
I looked at him, and then I looked down at my almost naked self.
I
looked back at him, and I saw that his bulge was still poking into his
trousers. I wanted to beg not to have to go through with this.
"Alex?" I looked up at his face.
"Take off your underwear," he said
softly. With that, I hooked my
thumbs under the elastic of my boxer
shorts and slid them to the floor. I
picked them up, folded them, and
laid them on the desk with the other piles of clothes.
When I turned
again, I saw him staring at my crotch. "Come
here," he whispered.
I returned to my place in front of him. He
put his hands on my
shoulders, and gently pressed down. I
knew what he wanted, so I bent my
knees and kneeled. He moved one
hand to my hair, and began to muss it.
The other went to his fly, which he unzipped.
He reached in and pulled
an 8" cock as thick around as an Eisenhower silver dollar.
I was
stunned. He was rock hard, and a
dribble of precum oozed from his slit.
"Alex, I know this is going to be your first time sucking cock, so I'm
going to go easy. It's not going to
be as bad as you think it is. Once
you get used to the idea, it will be fine.
You've had girls go down on
you, right?" I nodded.
"Then you know what to do."
I looked up at him. He smiled, not
his usual asshole smile, but a
friendly smile. I wondered whether
he thought we were going to become
lovers. It didn't occur to me to
wonder whether I might want us to. He
took a half step in and used his free hand to guide his cock to my face.
I felt the slimy wetness as the cockhead made contact with my cheek.
I
could feel the heat of it, and I smelled its warmth.
It smelled musky,
like I guess all guys' cocks do, the sort of smell you find in greater
concentration in any locker room. But he was clean, and the smell was
faint. He softly rubbed his cock
over my face, and then pointed it to my
lips. "I'm ready now, Alex, I
want you to open your mouth."
I clenched my eyes shut. "Leave
your eyes open. Now, take a minute
to
think about your options. Then,
when you're ready, tell me."
I looked up at him. He stared down patiently.
I thought about that
bastard Jason Martin, and I thought about all the other scenes.
I
desperately tried not to think that I was kneeling here, naked, in front
of this underclassman, feeling his dick resting on my lips. I sighed,
the smell of his cock reminded me anyway. "I'm
ready," I whispered.
"Ready for what?"
"I'm ready to suck your cock," I said, and with that, he began to
slide it into my mouth. The taste was not what I expected. Even though
his cock was hard as a rock, the head was moist and spongy as it rested
on my tongue. I could taste the
precum, and it was kind of smoky and
bleachy and salty all at once. It
took a couple seconds for the shock of
having a guy's cock in my mouth to wear off.
Then I remembered why it
was there and what I was supposed to do. I
figured that the sooner he
got off, the sooner it would be over with.
I began to suck on the head
of his cock.
"Hey! Cover your teeth with
your lips, dammit!" he yelled down at me.
I'd had teeth on my cock before and I knew it didn't feel good.
I
curled my lips up tightly against his shaft.
I was remembering the
things I liked in a blowjob, so I tried to repeat them for Ryan.
I
started licking the head of his dick as it lay passively on my tongue.
He liked that, because I could feel more precum oozing from his slit.
I
was looking at his face, and I saw him staring at me, with his cock in my
mouth, through hooded eyelids. He
started rocking his hips back and
forth in a gentle roll, sliding maybe two more inches between my lips.
It didn't take long before he closed his eyes and his head fell back.
He started moaning and biting his bottom lip as I kept up the suction and
swung my tongue back and forth under his shaft.
I started to think about
what I was going to do once the inevitable orgasm struck, but he solved
that problem for me. "I'm
getting close, Alex. When I shoot,
I want
you to hold it in your mouth, don't swallow it."
With that, both hands
clutched my head, and his knees began to shake a bit as he pistoned the
upper half of his cock in and out of my mouth.
He was grunting, and I could see every muscle in his wimpy chest and
abdomen spasming, and then I felt and tasted the first shot.
It was
thick like phlegm on my tongue, and it kept firing out, hitting the back
of my throat and the sides of my cheeks, and my mouth became full with
spunk and cock. It tasted like his
precum, but stronger, and I could
feel it pulsing through his shaft between my lips.
There were at least a
half dozen shots, and I didn't think I could hold any more without
either swallowing or gagging. Finally,
he stopped thrusting and left his
cock head and an inch of shaft in my mouth.
He looked down at me, and
his whole upper body was flushed. He
was damp with perspiration.
He smiled at me and panted to catch his breath.
He slowly pulled his
cock from my mouth, and I kept my lips tight to keep from spilling his
cum. When he was free, he let go of
my head. "Open your
mouth," he
ordered. I tilted my head up and
opened my lips, revealing my mouthful
of cum. "You were really good,
I shot a really big load." He
was in a
really good mood, but then, I usually was too after a blowjob.
But, I
had always been on the receiving end before tonight.
He reached his cock
in to dab some cum out, and then smeared it on my cheek.
He repeated
this with the other cheek, my forehead, and then down my nose.
I could
feel it cooling and drying on my face. "You
can swallow the rest now."
The idea was kind of gross, but it had been in my mouth for a couple
minutes now, and his cock had been in there for a while, so I just opened
my throat and let it slide down. "How
was it for you?" he asked, and I
couldn't tell if he was sarcastic or sincere.
"Uh, well, it was...well...." I
didn't know what to say.
He frowned and for a minute I thought I'd hurt his feelings, but then
the look was gone. "Clean my
dick off," he said and plunged it back
into my mouth. I sucked the
residual spunk off it and then he pulled it
free. He began to unfasten his belt
and khakis, and I realized he was
still rock hard. "Well, that's
the preview portion of our performance
behind us. Are you ready for the
feature attraction, Alex?" And
with
that he dropped his pants and briefs to the floor and smiled at me
expectantly.