Jake's Study Hall (coll mc mast)

NOTICE: All the Standard warnings about being of age, being aware of your community standards apply to the following story! Please read no farther if you are underage 18/21--or live in a conservative area--or are offended by explicit sexual stories.

This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to anyone is strictly coincidental.

Synopsis: This is a re-write of a story published in 1998. A college basketball jock needs tutoring and another jock who is a mind control expert and wants a chance to work him over.

I met Jake Kerinski at the Lettermen's Club meetings on campus my sophomore year. Here I was, a lean piece of muscle on the Cross Country team, a jock with a brain and a pair of spectacles. And there he was, every sorority girl's wet dream big, long legged, and thick. Jake was the 6'6" forward on our basketball team, me a 145lb long distance runner.

Jeez I love basketball players. Maybe it's cause we're so fucking different, yet both depend on our legs. I'm a leg man myself; a strong ankle and athletic foot just about make me drip. I need my strong, muscular legs to keep my otherwise anorexic body moving at a constant speed. I love my legs, long and defined by the dark fur that covers them, all the way down to my toes. My thick ankles and broad feet support my slight frame up and done hills and into the bedrooms of much bigger guys.

Guys just like Jake, whose thick legs and massive feet, helped him pound up and down the hardwood floors of our gym in practice every day, and during games. I've seen him in the sauna, resting those huge feet on the edge of the tub, flexing those long toes, specially the index toe longer than even his big toe shit yeah! And once after practice in the fall, I found him at the indoor pool, take a nap with his ankles crossed and those big toes flared out begging to be suckled, and tickled. And for a guy his size, and for a guy like me who runs constantly, neither of use had hard callouses on the bottoms of our feet instead, we both have that soft, pale vulnerable look that is so inviting and so tempting.

Everything about basketball players is big. Unlike long distance runners, they need the mass to hang in there when their bodies collide with each other, in that "non-contact" sport. Fuck, I love the way basketball players lean on each other, reach around each other, and put their big asses into one another. There's something almost sexual about the way they work each over other over on defense, and ya can't help but throw a bone when you see those legs bent over along the key during a free-throw, their jock straps outlined by the lights against their sheer shorts. Yeah, basketball payers are a fucking turn on. Big hands, big feet, wide shoulders, firm big butts, and miles of legs, the hairier the better. Jake had grown up in a small town in Mississippi where his dark brown roots were hidden behind summer's bleach blond tresses. Early on, his teen boy testosterone had darkened his hair and caused it to grow around his body, a fur on and under his arms, on his legs and ass and deeply in his crack, as well as a thick bush around his cock, and tufts on his fingers and toes.

He got recruited to us for his rebounding and shooting, not his brain, and that suited me just fine. Oh he was smart enough to just pass his classes, but somehow thinking was not his big thing. Along with his fat, hanging, starchy balls and pea brain, that boy was blessed with dick. His big thing was truly between his legs, and he just sorta did what came natural and with him that usually meant using his big dick. He almost couldn't keep from getting his dick soaked in a tight, wet snatch. It lured chicks like a magnet, and coupled with a broad and handsome smile, he just followed his prick wherever it took him, using his big ass to pound that stake into the hole of any coed who wanted it so he could relieve the constant strain in his balls.

His pale club was 6 inches soft with a girth of 2.5" that swelled to an impressive 9" batton with a five inch girth when he got hard. He has a pale white foreskin that could be stretched beyond this dick knob, and when he had a hardon it had to be popped off his prick tip. His cock swelled from a taut shaft near his nuts, widening till it flared to a fat, greasy knob under that pale, thin foreskin, and arched hard up though it hung down from the weight.

I learned all about his dick when the Letterman Club went up to the cabin owned by one of the alums near the lake for initiations and male bonding. We had a week of beer, boner talk, and initiation crap that made you stiff as a bone, but didn't get you off. Only Andy Rawlings had actually shot a load during one of the pranks, and guys gave him shit for the whole week about spurting with a bunch of guys watching. Fuck, there wasn't a soft dick in the house when he was spraying crud like a race horse, but no one would admit it.

The next morning I came back from my morning run while others were at breakfast, and found Jake, the big oaf, stretched out in the empty cabin by himself. His long, thick legs were dangling off the his bed, the brown fur shining in the morning light, with his pale, high-arched and muscular size 14 feet planted on the floor. His big, thick toes were gripping, and his hairy, pale butt grinding against the edge of the bed, as he slid a huge paw up and down that fat prick with it's oversized knob. With his body pushed down to the edge of the bed, his cock looked like a skyscraper between his huge knees, curving up taut in the air, while the fucker slid his hairy fist up and down the slick stalk. The cockskin would pop up and pop down, peeling away from his fat, red prick tip, wet and sloppy with pre-scum. Each time he'd corkscrew his fist up the shaft, his blunt, callused fingers would graze the piss lips, his thumb rolling the skin over the sensitive knob, making Jake grimace and groan, and push his butt even harder into the bed, his tiny asshole screwing even more tightly shut behind the thick dark forest of brown hair surrounding it. When he'd involuntarily spread his knees from the excruciating touch of his thumb on this prick head, he'd occasionally expose his sweaty little knot when his low hanging nuts would bounce out of the way, or he'd grab 'em and lift 'em and squeeze 'em a bit. All the while his thick toes gripped the floor more intensely each time his big thumb would torture that cock-tip.

I hid just out of sight, behind the door to the bedroom for fifteen minutes looking through the crack at the jam, watching him play with his erect prick, occasionally trailing his fingers and a jagged, broken nail over his jutting tits, and rubbing a finger tenderly down under his sweaty nuts against his hairy, clenched butt hole, never quite penetrating that sacred boy portal. I had my own thick, stubby cock in hand, gently grazing my fingers over the aching knob, knowing that if I ran my fist up the shaft, I'd shoot a load that could punch a hole in the wall and cross the room to hit ole Jack right in the face. At the end of his jerk session, he actually pinched hard upstanding and coned tit, and roiled his fist over the knob of his prick head fast, finally keeping the thin skin off so he could use his rough palm to scrub the nerve-studded flange. Those long legs bucked out and his toes pointed as he stretched every muscle taut, his ass driving into edge of the bed one final time, and his straining, bulging cock shot seven long arcing streams of thick white scum up towards his face and torso and over his left shoulder. He groaned like a schoolgirl, and writhed as his fingers continued to torture the sensitive cock head, but only briefly, because he couldn't take the sensation. I made a mental note that his cock tip would get special attention if I ever got my hands on it.

He lay there for another five minutes, his chest heaving, covered in cum his cock wilting slightly but staying remarkably erect given the cum he'd just had. His hands were palm up on the bed, wet with his starch, but now too dirty to touch his torso or at least that's how he acted. Strange how straight guys love their cocks, and the power of their sperm, but hate the idea of being touched by it or even worse, someone else's gooey gism. I knew Jake was proud of his wand and how much baby juice it squirted, but I also knew he would never admit it. He finally pulled himself up on the bed in a sitting position, his prick still curved upwards but dangling between his thighs, a long strand of white sperm hanging down to the floor. He made a big sigh, looking down on his prized cunt reamer, and plucking some strand of lint from his abundant crotch hair, then picked up his jock strap off of the floor wiping his torso with it. Then he got up and walked slowly to the bathroom to shower, dropping the strap as he strode. Shit you should have seen those long legs cross the floor, his wide, pale feet slapping the boards and his ass cheeks flexing as he moved. He never saw me, nor noticed that his jock was missing when he returned from the shower. Once his cock was satisfied, the dummy just went on like he couldn't even remember what he had just done. I waited until those high, furry buns with their trail of dark brown hair down the crack sauntered into the bathroom, and I grabbed the sticky, soaking strap. I sniffed the sweet smell of his nut cream, and licked off one of the blobs on the pouch. I made up my mind that Jake Kerinski would be in my hands before the year was out.

I finally got my chance after basketball season had ended. Somehow the learning center on campus had persuaded the Coach that Kerinski would flunk out if he did not get some tutoring during the spring. Jake hated school, but loved coeds, so he reluctantly agreed to get some help at the library in order to keep panting after pussy. Rumor was he dated every weekend so he could soak his cudgel into the pit of some sweet pussy, feeling the tight young cunt muscles massage the gism from his ever full nuts. Apparently ole Jake didn't fancy masturbating, and only did it when he was hard up. He'd carry his nuts full of cream, day after day, waiting for some snatch to drain him dry. He ached in a quiet, handsome way to pound cunt day and night on Fridays and Saturdays. Of course the big clod never got as much as he needed, and not because he wasn't drop dead gorgeous. But he was also kinda shy, and so dumb, that some girls thought he was aloof. Every once in a while it seemed he did not know how to get his long fuck finger up a girl's cunny as easy as other guys, in spite of his success on other occasions. Like most college guys, his luck ran hot and cold, but his dick was always hard and his nuts bulging with gism. I figured that during his dry speels, most of his sex came from wet dreams, and nights when deep in sleep he ground that greasy baseball bat into his sheets shooting wads of scum while dreaming of hot lips and tight holes that he could shove it into. Most of his energy went into working that big body into perfection so that he could take his frustration out against other guys on the court.

When I realized that he needed help with his courses, I made sure to become a tutor in the learning center. Not only was it a good way to get into the pants of beautiful but dumb boys, but it offered me the perfect opportunity to get old Jake up to speed with his studies like I was some genius. But since I was not flunking out, and Jake figured another letterman would not be like some fag geek, he decided to let me help him.

Now I had learned about hypnosis and the power of suggestion from one of the faculty in psychology while I pronged him into submission in his office in order to pass a class last year. Some people might not think that a mousy looking intellectual on the cross country team had anything under the hood but this guy new his men. Once he saw me in the buff, my firm butt with its delicate line of blond hairs trailing toward my taut hole, the walnut sized nuts hanging gracefully below my thick cock stem, and that knob a plum to die for. He liked to lick from my long toes up my ankles and all the way to my fragrant nuts and who was I to argue. He was forty, but took good care of himself, and he had the most educated asshole. Once my knob was locked behind his anal ring, he gripped my dick and guided my to his prostate to maul it until I was forced to squirt a quart of cum up his hole to soothe his rectum. In return, he showed me how chemical hypnosis could work to instill the power of suggestion into a weak mind.

He shared a private video tape of one of the dumb farm kids who'd been in his class and he'd practiced on the previous two years, but had just graduated. The kid would respond to a given command once the power of suggestion had been burned into his brain, and every time he came to office hours he'd end up on top of the desk, his jeans at his feet, his shirt up to his arm pits, his arms over his head, and the professor sucking his curved cock while he pinched and pulled the kids tits or tickled the iris of his ass pucker. For two years, the kid didn't figure it out, and when he graduated he must of wondered why he was suddenly feeling horny more often, and his girlfriend must have wondered why she was getting dick more regularly.

The Prof. had given me some of his drug of choice and counseled me in how to administer it to the best effect. I decided from the moment I had seen the tape that old Jake was going to be my test case. The first night we studied together at the center aimed at improving his academic performance, Jake came in wearing jeans, a t-shirt and flip-flops on those big pale veined feet. He fidgeted, and looked bored, but was earnest when I told him that he'd half to put himself in my hands if he wanted to pass sophomore English. Eventually he had his big feet up on the table, flexing his toes back and forth, as he tried to explain what the assignment he had read was about. I watched those long, thick, hairy toes flick and flex as he struggled to make sense of the work, they seemed bigger than the fingers on my hand and damned near well were. I was growing stiff from the thought of sucking them and tickling them until he shot wads of cum from the sensation. But instead I worked patiently, knowing that the more he relied on me, the more he trusted me, the sooner I would be in possession of his gorgeous body and that semi-rigid piece of gristle that he carried in his jeans.

One night, after studying, I asked him if he wanted to go out and get a beer. He jumped at the opportunity, showing more enthusiasm than he had in the first two weeks of studying together. We hit a local hang-out and downed a pitcher, shooting the shit and talking about the chicks who were serving us or came in hanging on guys. About the third glass of ale, when he was distracted by some whiff of cunt that walked by, I slipped a couple of the precious pills I'd taken from the Prof. into his beer. He never even noticed, grabbing his mug, and guzzling down the beer as he stared openly at a redhead with big breasts and narrow hips that gave him a sly smile as she walked by. Within minutes, he had opened up, was talking in a slightly slurred voice, and in his deep bass tones, describing his past exploits. As I looked at his crotch, I could see he'd thrown a bone, and the more he talked, the harder it seemed to get.

Apparently in high school he'd dated one of the cheerleaders, and after much effort he'd gotten her to a drive-in movie. He'd borrowed his older brother's van, because at his height, even in high school, it was tough to go out in a regular size car, especially if you had fucking on your mind. He'd only had hand jobs to this point, and with girls who didn't know how to handle a guys crank. But he had high hopes of banging the cheerleader. He'd heard from one of his buds on the football team that she spread easy, and loved getting her clit stroked by big dick. Well he'd gotten her in the back of the van, on the floor, and he'd gotten a finger up her slot and finger-banged her silly. But she'd surprised him by sliding down from his embrace and the tongue fucking he was giving her mouth as he finger fucked her, and suddenly had his short open and her dainty mouth over the top of his swollen prong. Jesus she'd sucked like a vacuum and by the time it was over, he'd near drowned her in cum, as he slipped his tongue up her slot in a 69. Fuck, he wanted another shot at her, but she went on to the next jock like he was used underwear, and he'd never gotten to bang her. He'd never had a blow job like that again either, and tonight, he suddenly felt like he needed one needed it bad.

I got into a husky voice, and started talking about how much I needed to get my nut too, and wishing one of the waitresses would invite me into the back office for a blow job, I could see Jake's meat starting to leave a wet stain in his jeans. Fuck he was horny, but he was in such a dry spell. He whispered in a low, urgent voice how much he wished he could fuck some chick that very night, and how often he felt like his nuts would explode. In the quiet ways boys talk about their dick need, he just rambled on about pussy and how much he needed it, and needed it that night. I decided from that night on, the word "pussy" would be the trigger for Jake's suggestion since he used it and "cunt" with such regularity.

Slowly but surely, I began to include little exercises in our studies which were intended to help him focus, and I told him they might even help on the court, or when he was out hunting for cunt. He was so receptive I almost shot a load in my jeans out of the exhilarating excitement of what I knew was eventually going to happen. By the end of the month, Jake was putty in my hands. I persuaded him that in order to learn the material, I could help him with a memory trick that I had learned. It started with him concentrating on a concept, which would help him become more focused and thoughtful. He wondered what concept we should use as the subject of our exercises maybe his basketball game? "Shit, that was too complicated" I told him maybe something simple to start with. "What about cunt or pussy", I offered matter-of-factly, "guys can always concentrate on that shit" I laughed. He smiled his goofy, blond airhead smile, and said sure, he could always fucking focus on that. Without his knowing, I had already made him more and more susceptible to the power of suggestion by giving him doses of the drug each time we met. By the time I got him to stare at a lit candle and put him into a waking sleep, he readily followed my instructions. When I got him into a the trance, I made him do a few simple things, and trained him to respond to the term pussy. Then I explained that every time I mentioned the word "pussy," he was to fall into a deep waking sleep, and do whatever I said.

The initial exercises involved his school work tasks, and once he was able to do them upon my command, I moved to other things. At the same time, when he was conscious, I reminded him that we had a way to go if was to get his grades up sufficiently to be able to play ball in the Fall. So like a lamb to slaughter, big Jake Kerinski willingly let me strengthen his response to the power of suggestion. By the time we had reached the end of week four, I was ready to branch out from coursework and push-ups or sit-ups, into the study of boy physiology.

Jake had begun to sweet-talk the same redhead we'd seen at the bar, and then he'd met later at a frat party. He hadn't gotten into her pants, but I knew he was working his way there. One night after we'd finished our exercises, and he was out of the trance, he told me to take a look at his right hand index finger. I asked why, and he broke out into that goofy smile and said that he was gonna root that finger up Karen Tyson's cunt before one more week was out, and then he was gonna replace with his dick. He laughed a hearty laugh, and said that he needed a piece so bad that he might try to get her into bed Thursday night, after late night drinks. I realized that I had to work fast, or old Jake was going to be banging his way out of sexual tension and frustration, and I'd be less likely to get him under my spell. I suggested that we get together the next night, and prepare him for an upcoming midterm exam, and he said O.K., just as long as he was free on Thursday night.

The next night, I got him under almost immediately, and gave him an extra large dose of the drug to facilitate my program. Then I made him strip down to his boxers and begin doing sit-ups first, then push-ups. While he was doing them, I told him that often when guys worked out hard, it made them extra horny. I asked him if he was horny? Like a zombie he answered yes, and then I swallowed hard and ventured where I had wanted to go from the very beginning.

"Jake, I think that while you're doing your push-ups, you should think of Karen tight, wet snatch and throw a boner?"

Jake, grunted, and then I heard him groan slightly.

"Doesn't that thought make you get hard Jake, shit, just the thought of getting your bone inside that hot, tight pussy jesus, she could milk you just gripping your cock eh buddy? Fuck, doesn't your prick did get hard thinking of Karen while you're kinda fucking the floor doing your push-ups?"

Jake gasped, and in his deep voice said, "fuck yeah, man doing these push-ups is making me fucking hard oh shit, my dick feels like it's gonna explode!"

The entire time, his big toes were flexing on the floor, his palms flat and fingers spread, and his boxers covered ass was firm under the white cotton, as he bobbed up and down.

I continued: "Jake, turn over, and do crab bends and think of Karen bouncing on your cock, her on top." Jake obediently flipped over, his hands now palms down and feet down, but thrusting his mid section up and letting his ass almost hit the floor, facing up. Jesus, you should have seen his boxers the fucking things were soaked is pre-jizz, but that must have been early, cause now his cockhead was already sticking out of the slit, soaked in pre-scum. Shit, he didn't even look at it, but concentrated on the exercises.

"Push your boxers down Jake, under balls, so Karen can bounce on yer dick easier .yeah, that's it let'er get on that big dick and ride herself to heaven!"

He stopped the crab lifts, and reached down with both hands to push his boxers down under his balls, and then resumed the exercise, believing that Karen was fucking him while he worked out. Christ, I had him by the nuts! His dick flopped back and forth, trying desperately to stand up, but its weight and curve making it bend one way or the other. His hairy nuts were forced up by the exercises, bouncing one way or the other, looking sweaty and full. I gently reached over him and used my thumb to smooth the sticky drool coming from his cock lips over his taut helmet, and on his circumcision scar, and heard his hiss from the sweet torture of his bloated wand. But I was cautious, and did not get more physical, plus I wanted him to stay horny and over heated. We never got to studying for his test that night. Instead, I worked him out in the exercises hard, keeping him erect and horny with cunt talk the entire time. At the end I told him that he was fucked out with Karen, she'd milked him of three cums, and he should not cum for another week just to gain back his strength. He repeated the words to me slowly and in his deep tones, and after he showered, he came out tenting his shorts with a half-bone. When I brought him out of his sleep, he seemed confused, but pleased when I explained that he was on his way to success with both Karen and his classes.

I told him that we should study again the next night, then he'd be free on Thursday. He agreed, and when the next night was over, he'd been thoroughly brought under control. While he was doing push-ups again, and his hard dick was curved up from the floor skimming against the rug each time he rose and fell, he was instructed not to masturbate, but was to be half hard all day long and every day. He could date Karen all he wanted, and even through a bone with her and make her cum all day long if he wanted, but he was under no circumstances to ejaculate when he was with her. He could eat her out, finger her till she screamed, but if he dipped his wick it was only for her pleasure he was not to cum. He repeated every word, and I tested him once he came out of the trance, by saying "pussy" in the midst of a sentence and seeing him return under the spell---getting down on his knees with both hands behind his head as I instructed, and then licking my palm as I requested. Shit, I shot a load in my own pants as his thick, long tongue slavered my palm and his erection thrust out of the opening of his boxers he was a big-dicked jock without any control of his body.

Some of the better moments I had with old Jake were these:

Jeans round his knees in the study carols in the library, making him jerk his fuckstick and pinch his own tits, while I waited and finally let him cum.  I tickled his ass hairy ass-pucker the entire time, threatening to finger him, and causing his ass to clench and grip to avoid the scrataching fingernail against his nether hole.  When I finally allowed him to shoot his wad, I made him lick his palm, filled with cum, clean.

On another occasion, I had him in his bedroom, legs over his head, and a small vibrating dildo in his own hand, gently fucking himself to a prostrate cum, with his own dick head, just within his mouth, and his tongue slobbering all over it. Every time that dildo reached its destination, against his will, his long, thick toes would curl.  Finally, after making him fuck himself dizzy for thirty minutes with the whirring, buzzing dildo battering his senstive nut, I let him shoot, spewing ropes of cum into his own mouth, slurping it down. Finally, he licked and sucked every drop of jism from his sensitive cock knob, while that little dildo relentlessly hummed up his rectum and against his aching jizz button.

Another time, he was on his hand and knees on my desk, his head down and resting on a pillow.  His big feet hung over the end, and once in a while, I'd scrape my fingernails down them for effect.  His t-shirt was pulled up under his arms, and two clothespins were on each of his pointy tits respectively.  He had a crusty old baseball glove, greased with itching cream, on his right fist as he slid the fuck-fist up and down his long hard dick.  I made him torture his prick for twenty-five minutes, until the little bumps on his cock stalk and dick knob were an angry red and he was groanin' like a son-of-a-bitch.  Then I made him use his own hair brush to soothe the itch, especially on the dick head, and then finally gave him permission to cum.  He filled a plate with thick, white boy cum while I assisted by aiming his spurting dick, and scratching his big, hanging balls.. He dutifully licked the platter clean after I let him stop using the brush on his agonized glans. The next day he told me his dick hurt from  the pounding he had given some pussy the night before.  Sometimes I wondered about ole' Jake.

One night, I took him to a porno film palace in the nearby town, and got his jeans around his knees, and his arms locked behind his head without any restraints.  He served a selective clientele that night, including a couple of marines who loved sucking his tits, while one finger frigged his butthole, and the other jacked and sucked his fuck pole.  At one point, they raised his legs over the seats, and a couple of foot freaks slipped off his size sixteen sneaks, and his damp sweat socks, and sucked, licked, and tickled his toes until he geysered a stream of pent up fuck swill into the air.  Jesus I love it when his body goes on auto pilot.  He gave up four loads that night to the cock hungry men in the theater before I dragged him out.  The marines were a story in themselves. When we left, a group of eight men were stripping them down, and working their hunky bodies in the back row.

A favorite is the dick in the sock trick.  I fashioned a dick sock lined with stiff fur, coated his dick with the itchin' gel, and made him fuck the sock until he had cum three times.  The last time, he rolled over of his back, dug his toes into the bed, and whined as I slid the sock up and down his helplessly hard stalk for the final squirt.  He just drooled the thick, viscous gism, coating his tortured knob, and I soothed it in for five extra minutes, making sure to bristle his glans until he almost passed out.

 Whenever I need a distraction, I just pull ole Jake aside, whisper the magic word, and work off a load of his cum for my amusement.  We've gotten to the point that he has to jerk me off after he shoots his own wad, and after the gism is mixed he licks both up.  Soon he's gonna get a chance to nurse on my dick knob like it's one of Susie's nipples, or her big clit. Whenever we go to a bar, I always look for a both where I can slip my hands under the table, and jerk him slowly, but not let him cum.  Nothing like masturbating a big boy who needs it, and pinching his tits for effect while he surrenders to your roiling fist.  Yeah!