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tutoring jerry

Chapter One: The Nerd And The Jock

By Desertmac

Nerd. That's the word that probably best described me when I was seventeen. I was a skinny, and in my own estimation, geeky looking boy, 5'10", 119#, with light brown hair and hazel eyes- at least I didn't wear glasses- hiding in a fanatsy world of my own design, rarely daring to peek through the threshold into everybody else's reality, for fear of the rejection and humiliation that seemed to be the driving force of all that was.

I had actually been told more than once that I was cute, but in my painfully shy and insecure mind, that didn't mean a thing. As far as I was concerned, I had only two things going for me: I was smart enough, and had a very active and vivid imagination.

Though I didn't label it as such, I also knew I was gay. Loner that I was, and my family moving every couple of years and sometimes more, I had not had even the usual explorations that most boys have with each other; but I knew what fueled my fantasies, and filed under 'who'd a thunk it', from the restroom of Kmart, of all places, was the proof for me that male to male sex was my bent: three pages of a gay hardcore magazine someone had left there.

It was the most exciting thing I had ever seen in my life-- period. Those images had informed me, entertained me, and sustained me, since I'd found them the year before. Anyway, suffice it to say, I was very much a virgin, except that I had used produce. Yes, produce. I had used cucumbers five times in the last five months. They were small, as cucumbers go, but they had definitely done the trick. They had let me know that I was a 'bottom', among other terms I wouldn't learn for awhile.

Why five times in five months? Because, for some reason, my mom bought almost all of her produce only once a month. There would be seven or eight cucumbers in the fridge, so I figured she wouldn't miss one early on.

The pictures had put my desires into overdrive; but it was a dream that told me of my true nature. Maybe a month after finding the pictures, I had a vivid dream of a bright sunny day in a lush green meadow, overflowing with bright yellow flowers. A guy who I never saw clearly-- but knew was beautiful-- and I were naked, rolling down a gentle slope in the soft green grass, spoon-style, with his dick in my ass. We were laughing, in a state of pure ecstacy. Short though the dream was, I woke up breathlessly happy from it. The night after the dream, I tried the first cucumber.

It wasn't exactly pleasurable the first time; nevertheless, it felt 'right', and I did climax. By the third time, I knew I was born to get fucked in the ass and suck cock. The fifth time, I was using a pretty decent sized one, and loving it; just waiting for the chance to feel the real thing.

Being a bookworm, sci-fi loving nerd, was what provided me with my first sexual experience with a human. My English teacher, Mr. Janke, who I had a crush on, asked me and a couple of other nerds, if we would be willing to tutor any of the people who were needing help, meaning, of course, jocks or stoners.

It was 1977, and we were in the far flung suburbs southeast of Houston, in a whitebread middle class sub-division of gigantic proportions called Friendswood, close to Clear Lake City/NASA. At the time, Friendswood was one of, if not the biggest ever planned communities in the nation-- an instant city of it's own. Being the generous soul that I was, I said yes. Mr. Janke paired me with a jock named Jerry Loring.

Jerry was eighteen, 6'2", 180#, with close cropped, wavy light brown hair, hawk nose between high chiseled cheekbones, under infinitely deep brown eyes. He wasn't what you'd call G.Q., or spectacularly handsome in the usual sense; but he was, what I call, a 'character', his face ruggedly handsome, angular,and gorgeous in my eyes.

As I said, he was a jock, and he had the most perfect body I'd ever seen; not all bulky like the football players, but sleek and sinewy, agile and sexy. Nowadays, you'd say: cut & ripped.

Mr. Janke asked me to come back to his classroom after last period to meet Jerry. I, of course, knew who Jerry Loring was, and saw him all the time; But I was certain he had never noticed me, invivble as I was. I knew he was on the swim team and the basketball team. He also participated in track and field, but the practice schedules prevented him from getting on the team.

I had gone with my only friend Barry, to the locker room, back at the beginning of the school year, so he could interview the star members of the basketball team for the school newspaper, and Jerry was one of those he interviewed. I had hung back by the coaches office, trying not to be noticed; but I had noticed him, in his silky, clingy basketball shorts.

I had had to keep my backpack in front of me as I watched all the studs in the locker room in various stages of dress. My eyes were trained on Jerry Loring more than any other, even though he was already suited up; and he became the object of my fantasies for months. Though I didn't quite realize it then, or identify it then, I was falling in love with him from afar, the unattainable. All of a sudden, I was about to be around him a lot, and close up, for awhile.

When I walked into the room, he stood up from the desk that you'd swear couldn't posssibly fit him if you hadn't seen him in it. He strode to me to shake hands as Mr. Janke made the introduction. I looked to Mr. Janke as he spoke, 'cause I was comfortable with him. I looked down at Jerry's huge hand swallowing mine, studying its wonderful masculine features, as he said something to the effect that he was looking forward to studying with me.

I was doing what I always did, freezing up. Paralyzed, I was unable to think or speak or react. My eyes stayed fixed on his hand, though my excellent peripheral vision took in the awesome form beyond the hand, the well worn and faded Levi's stretched around solid, muscular legs and a bulging basket that I knew dreams were made of. I blushed at my thought as his words filtered through.

"Danny? Hello? Mr. Janke said you were real shy, dude."

He waved his left hand in between our handshake and my gaze to get me to look up.

"Hey, I don't bite," he said with humor and warmth.

I knew I had to look up. I couldn't have anticipated being hit by a train. When our eyes met, I literally felt like I'd been slammed in the gut. I was slackjawed, crimson faced and trembling like a toy poodle. THOSE EYES. They actually, physically took my breath away.

"Hi." He said again, still holding my hand, as if I'd evaporate if he let go.

"H--H--Hi." I think I said, not sure if any sound actually came out.

"Dude, it's ok." He tried to be as comforting as he could, while not comprehending how anybody could be so debilitated by shyness. He didn't realize that it was HIS presence, HIS eyes, the electrically charged connection with HIS hand, that was cutting off my oxygen. He looked to Mr. Janke with a 'this is wierd- what do I do?' look on his face and let go of my hand. Mr. Janke saw the distress on my face and stepped over, putting his arm around my shoulder.

"Don't worry, once you get to know him, he'll talk your ears off!" His jocular tone and arm around my shoulder seemed to bring me back. I remembered to breathe.

"Tell you what," He released my shoulder, turning me to face him. "Jerry has about an hour before he has to go swim. Why don't you two just get aquainted and sort out where you need to start." He said to Jerry, while looking at me. Then to me, he said,

"You remember what I told you to concentrate on with Jerry, prepositions, conjunctions, you know. I have a bunch of papers to grade, so I'm going to the teacher's lounge to smoke while I'm at it."

I was able to smile by that point, and nodded agreement. Mr. Janke smiled widely and turned to leave. Jerry motioned toward a cafeteria table against the wall.

"Why don't we sit over here?"

He picked up his books and moved to the table, patting the chair next to him as he sat down. I moved to sit down and caught his scent. Oh God, how could I possibly concentrate on sentence structure with his heavenly, masculine scent giving me a woodie? I laid the only book I had with me in my lap and scooted up against the table, pretending I was looking at the books he was searching through.

"Here. This is where we are right now."

"Ok." I said. I stared at the page blankly.

"So, what now?" A tinge of impatience in his voice.

"Um... well... do you understand what a preposition is?"

We got started. I relaxed, he realxed. I came to realize that he wasn't a stupid jock at all-- no mouth breather-- he knew how to express himself and just didn't think he needed to officially know what a transitive verb was to do so. I agreed that he didn't need to know all these terms to function in life, but he needed to know them long enough to pass the tests; and I convinced him that I could make it, if not enjoyable, at least not a drag to learn.

As we got into it, we were alternating between two open books, and he scooted his chair closer, til our thighs were touching. I was hard as a rock and leaking a mess in my briefs. The coarse brown hairs on his forearm would brush against mine, making it hard to concentrate.

At times, when he would crane his neck to see what I was pointing at in the book in front of me, our faces would be only a couple of inches apart. I would breathe in his intoxicating smell, studying his face in my peripheral, and be afraid he could hear my heart racing.

I wanted to just kiss his cheek, lick his jaw, nuzzle into his neck. I found myself staring at his strong, chiseled jaw, his light five o'clock shadow, his prominent, high cheekbones, and the extraordinary up-close side view of one of those golden brown pools of magic that could make me swoon with a fleeting glance. Time flew by.

He must have looked at his watch when he suddenly jerked upright, causing me to jerk in reaction.

"Oh shit! I'm late! Gotta go!" He hurriedly gathered his things as he stood up, putting his bulge inches from my face. I tried not to stare at it, looking up at him, towering over me.

"Well, uh, hey, we got a good start." he stated positively. "Can we get together tomorrow, same time, an' do it again?"

"Yeah! Uh, yeah. You did--" I, thankfully, stopped myself from sounding like a teacher giving brownie points, "--uh, yeah, we got a good start. Tomorrow then, right here."

"Thanks, Danny. See ya then," and he sprinted out of the room.

"Thankyou, Jerry." I said to empty space.

I just sat there for a few minutes, remembering the heat of his thigh touching mine, his arm jostling with mine as we turned pages back and forth, wondering how I was going to handle being this close to him three or four days a week until finals, two months from now.

That night, I whacked off three times to fantasies of him. (There were no cucumbers in the house. I considered a carrot, but couldn't find one even somewhat smooth.) In one fantasy, he pulls up on a motorcycle, and tells me to climb on. He takes me to a deserted stretch of beach and tells me to drive, putting me in front of him.

As we drive along the endless beach, I feel him getting hard behind me. We're both in sweatpants, with no underwear, and his dick is working its way between my buttcheeks, and he whispers in my ear, (yeah, I know we're on a motorcycle and he's whispering, but its my fantasy, ok?)

"Do you feel how hard my dick is for you?" Real sexy like.

"Yeah," I say.

"I've wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you, you sexy boy," he growls in my ear.

He starts running his big strong hands all over my chest, stomach and crotch. I stop the bike and he kisses my neck, mumbling sexy things, sending tingles all over my body. He climbs off and stands with his portruding member by my face, tenting the sweatpants. I reach out and grab the huge endowment through the cloth, feeling its strength and power.

He says, "I want you to suck it, Danny."

I pull the sweats down til it pops up, hitting me in the face, rigid, and drooling pre-cum. I take it in my mouth and savor the essence of his manly flesh, sucking the huge pole, effortlessly, all the way down my throat, working it feverishly as he face fucks my willing mouth.

He shoots an enormous load of sweet cum in my mouth and down my throat, while stroking me to orgasm. He then climbs back on behind me and rips my sweats right off my body.

He says "I'm gonna fuck you in the ass, Danny. Do you want that?"

"Oh yes!! Oh, Jerry, YES, FUCK ME!"

He uses my cum as lubrication, working it in real slow-- 'cause I have to work the cucumbers in really slow-- then he fucks me hard and heavy, laying me out on my stomach, face between the handlebars. Of course, we go at it for hours in my fantasy, and he kisses me and tells me how much he loves me, over and over again. And he tells me he could never go back to women, now that he's had me, and he says he's going to tell Brenda Stilleno (his current girlfriend) to get lost, 'cause he loves me now. Ahh, fantasies.


The next day, we met in the classroom again. I was considerably more at ease. I just kept my lap hidden from view, and managed to not hyperventilate when his arm or thigh would come into contact with mine. He caught me staring at his face once, when he was looking over at the book in front of me. When he turned his face to mine, I averted my eyes-- but not before I saw his quick change of expression, a questioning look that I couldn't decipher.

I found it hard to look him in the eyes after that, afraid he was able to see the pitiful look of puppy love in my eyes. At the end of the session, he stood up and stretched, again putting his ample basket inches from my face. I forced myself not to look. I wasn't about to risk a scene where he'd stomp my ass and run out and tell everyone at school that I was a little faggot. Even worse, would be losing the opportunity to be with him-- any amount of time.

For two weeks, four days a week, we met in Mr Janke's room and made quite a bit of progress. Well, he made quite a bit of progress. I however, was driven to distraction. All day, everyday, every single day of the week, I could think of nothing but Jerry. I started wearing my shirt tails out and carrying books with me at all times to hide the boners I'd get at all odd and innapropriate times-- not that there were any appropriate times. I had quit my job at the Sonic Drivethru for the last semester of my senior year to make sure I wasn't distracted while finishing up and doing SAT's etc... But I couldn't focus on much of anything but Jerry. Being with Jerry, seeing Jerry, breathing Jerry...

I was on cloud nine, as they say, and completely, totally, absolutely, entirely, wholly, utterly, in love with Jerry Loring. He was the nicest, most beautiful guy in the world. To be so strong and powerful, and competitive and aggressive at all these sports he played, he was so gentle and kind to me. At least I had gotten to the point where I could look directly into his eyes and talk to him without hyperventillating. His smile sustained me, his eyes sent me into the stratosphere to dance in the stars. There were times when I almost came in my jeans just looking at him. My masturbation fantasies were going at twice a night, and I had made a showing of eating cucumbers by themselves, hoping mom would buy more-- and she did!

And I knew, of course, that that would be as good as it got. I knew I could love him all day long, and I knew that was as much as I'd ever get out of it. Reality sucks, but it's, well, reality. I knew I could never even hope to have a gorgeous stud like Jerry Loring even consider wanting me. Even if he were somehow-- in some alternate universe-- into guys, he would never be interested in a pitiful, skinny little nerd like me. But hey, as long as I was aware of that, it kept me from doing something stupid and blowing it all.

"Why don't we meet at my house tomorrow," he looked into my eyes as he stood, once again putting his massive bulge inches from my eyes and lips. "Instead of here, 'cause I don't have any practice here at school tomorrow, but I gotta do some strength training. I got a Nautilus machine at home." He looked at me expectantly, and continued before I could reply, "If you come over at, uh, 3:30, I should be about through with my workout. Sound cool?"

I kept my eyes on the team logo of his tee shirt, glancing quickly up at his eyes to confirm, and back down to the logo.

"Uh, sure. Ok. 3:30."

I glanced back up into his eyes and quickly looked away. He leaned down and wrote his address and phone number on a piece of paper as I watched his arm muscles flex.

"Here ya go." He started to hand it to me, but stopped in mid motion. "Um, you got a way there? A ride, or your own car?"

"Uh, no, but I can probably find a way." I looked down at his feet.

He thought for a moment. "Let's see... what time is your last class over?"


"Oh, cool! Mine too! Meet me in the lot around by building 'D'. I almost always park there. I drive a white Camaro. Cool?"

"Yeah, cool!" I enthused. He smiled and I melted.

"See ya then, Danny!" He turned and bolted from the room.

Oh my god! I was going to be with him in his house! Maybe alone! I looked at the address and saw it was in the most expensive section of Friendswood, which had just been named one of the most desirable places to live in the country. I was beginning to agree with that.