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tutoring jerry

Chapter Two: The Workout

By the time lunch was over, I could barely function. By my last class, I was a basket case. My last two teachers both asked what was wrong with me. I asked the latter if I could be excused, saying I didn't feel well. Being a good boy all the time has its advantages, because she didn't question or hesitate, giving me a blank hall pass; meaning I didn't have to go to any particular place.

I wandered from building to building, heading for building 'D', through it and to the parking lot. There were two white Camaro's in the lot, so I sat down on a planter ledge in the sun, as it was pretty chilly out. That last half hour dragged on for an eternity.

Finally, the bell rang and everybody poured out of the building, some going home, and some going to their next class. I lit up when I saw him coming, then my face fell when I saw he had his arm around Brenda Stilleno, and her arm was around his waist.

No doubt, she was beautiful, with long blonde hair and big tits. He was smiling, listening to something she was saying. I was green with envy, wishing I could be in her place. That would be enough for me. Even if we never did any more than that, and I really wouldn't expect any more than that, it would be enough for me.

As they approached, I caught his eye, and saw the recall of our 'date' appear on his face.

"Hey, Danny! What's happenin', dude?"

"Nada." I smiled and looked at the ground.

"Brenda, this is Danny. He's helping me with my English shit."

She smiled a perfect smile, and said, "I didn't know you were having any trouble in English?"

"Oh hell yeah. Me an' English don't get along real good." He said in an exaggerated Texas accent.

Neither he nor I were from the south, both having been here a couple of years; just long enough to start using "y'all" in place of "you guys" and such. I had lived longest in Arizona, and he, I found out later, was from Ohio.

"Oh. Well, if there's anything I can do to help..." She let her sentence fade as she noticed me staring at Jerry's box. He followed her gaze to me, and I looked down at the ground just in time, I think, for him to have missed seeing what she saw.

I was so busted! Would she say anything? God I hoped not! I glared at my backpack, picking at a snag in the nylon.

"Baby, I gotta go. See ya tomorrow." He leaned down and kissed her casually and started to the car. I stood up and followed.

"Y'all don't work too hard! Nice meeting you, Danny!" She said and turned to go back in the building.

He showed off a little, burning rubber as we left the parking lot. He had the windows down and the stereo blasting Aerosmith, "Walk This Way".

"Cool car!" I yelled as we drove. "I love Aerosmith." I added. He nodded and shifted gears.

I watched as he worked the stick for maximum effect, plastering us into the seats each time he shifted, his knees sprawled on either side of the steering wheel. Damn, he was just so sexy! I was thrilling to the feel of speed, in a muscle car, with the sexiest guy in the world driving-- showing off for me!

Before I knew it we were pulling into the driveway of a big, beautiful, two storey, ultra modern white house. We walked up, and he opened the iron gate to a lushly landscaped courtyard.

"Wow! You must be rich!" I blurted out.

"Well, we aint rich, but we're... comfortable, as dad says." He responded as we went through the massive double wide front doors.

"What does your dad do?"

"Him and mom both work for NASA."

"Oh, cool." I replied as he led me through the foyer, down the hall to a workout room, with a full-scale Nautilus machine on one side, a treadmill, benchpress and some free weights to the other side.

The room was floor to ceiling mirrors, except the side that was solid glass, looking out on a flagstone patio, with a pool and spa just past a white concrete gazebo. There were doors to a full bath and a sauna, behind the treadmill. I had never been in such a big, beautiful home, and tried not to gawk. Apparently, no one else was home. He turned to me and said, apologetically,

"Since ya had to come early, I guess you're gonna have ta hang out while I do my strength training. I gotta do it first."

"Oh, no problem. I don't mind at all," I said, perhaps a little too enthusiastically.

He went over and sat on the padded bench press and started taking off his shoes and socks. I stood awkwardly by the treadmill.

He looked up at me, "Hey, maybe you can spot me some."

"Sure!" I lit up, then wavered, "Whataya mean, 'spot'?" I didn't want to sound ignorant, but had to know what I had just committed to doing. He chuckled.

"Uh, like, hold my ankles when I'm doing sit-ups, that kinda thing."

"No problem! I'd love-" I caught myself, "I can do that." I blushed and turned away to hide it, realizing there were mirrors everywhere.

He stood up and went to a built in bank of drawers and pulled out a pair of those silky, clingy gym shorts, like the ones I'd seen him in that first time, and a white tank top. He went back to the bench, tossed them over the bar, and turned so that I had a side view of him as he started doing what I had fantasized last night he would do-- what I was now so afraid he would do-- taking off his clothes to change.

Suddenly, I was like a cornered wild animal. I started to hyperventilate and my hands grew sweaty. I looked around frantically for an escape. I could tell I was not going to be able to handle this without betraying my desires-- and had to get out of there as fast as possible, grasping at possible excuses to give, anything to get out of this extremely uncomfortable and potentially disasterous situation.

He pulled his tee shirt up over his head and held it there for a moment. Seeing the graceful arch of his back, from his shoulder blades to his waist, his six pack rippling with motion, his pec's stretched up with his arms over his head, I was just as suddenly frozen in place. Impulse to flight vanished, leaving me involuntarily holding my breath, mouth gaping.

I mentally slapped the hell out of myself to snap to, just in time, as he pulled the shirt off his head and looked in the mirror, instantly drawing my eyes to his in the reflection. He had a smirk on his face. I couldn't read it at all. I couldn't tell if it was snide or humorous. Little wonder I couldn't read it, since I looked away instantly. I was flushed still, unable to escape his scrutiny with all the mirrors.

He undid his Levi's and started pulling them down, looking up into the mirrors at me, even as he bent down. I turned my back to him and focused on the Nautilus machine. I thought to myself, 'Look, you're here like you wanted to be. You've got to get a hold of yourself and stop falling apart everytime you look at him! If you constantly lose it, he'll know you're in love and, at best, tell you to fuck off. At worst...'

"Do you ever work out?"

I jumped at his voice and caught his eye in the mirror, through the bars and pulleys.

"Uh, no, but I'd like to. I sure need to." I looked down at my body, "Obviously."

"Well, it wouldn't take much to get you into shape, really. I mean, you're skinny, and that's a lot easier to come from than bein' fat."

He stood facing me, shorts in hand, wearing only his jockstrap, sizing me up. 'Keep control of yourself! Be casual!' I kept telling myself.

He stepped over to me and put his hand on my shoulder, physically turning me to face him as he inspected me.

"Well I could never have a body as perfect as yours. I mean, look at you! You're so big and strong and... perfect."

I brazenly looked him up and down at the same time, taking in every bulge, contour and vein, finally settling my eyes on his chest, with its light spread of curly brown hair just reaching and encircling his somewhat oblong, quarter size nipples. My gaze valiantly resisted the impulse to follow the treasure trail leading down his sixpack to the taut, flat belly and bountiful jockstrap; letting myself be satisfied that I'd been given an opportunity to drink in his entire, almost naked body with impunity.

"Sure ya could!" He stepped back and eyed me again. "Take yer shirt off," he commanded.


"Take yer shirt off," he repeated. "Let's see what we should start on," he said all business like.

I flinched. Just when I had begun to be able to act normal, he was doing this! I froze.

"Uh... I don't know what..." I stammered, looking around for a distraction.

"I wanna line you out with a basic program. I mean, like, I can help you with getting in shape, like a trade for you tutoring me." He smiled enthusiastically.

"Aw, you don't hafta... I couldn't do that," I said sheepishly.

I looked back down at his chest. He saw where I was looking and flexed his pec's and bicep's in a shameless display that made my cock jerk and my asshole twitch.

"Yes you can! And I want to!" Then he added coyly, "I know you want to have this," as he flexed and slowly gyrated his whole body into poses, more sensually than athletically. My eyes shot up to his, trying to glean just what he meant by that last statement and action.

He was teasing me! He had a mischeivious look in his eyes; but I was way too inexperienced to figure out what kind of tease it was. At that moment, I really didn't think it was sexual at all.

"So take yer shirt off-- hell, change into something you can work out in, and we can get started right now!"

"I... I don't have..." My mind was reeling.

I couldn't process all this fast enough. Between the visual treat, the tease and its ambiguity, and that he was telling me to change clothes right here and now- in front of him, because it was natural to do so in this setting, just as he had, my poor synapses were frying.

"Oh, duh! You need some shorts to change into." He laughed and went over to the drawers, digging through a lower one than before. He produced a pair of dark blue gym shorts, with a slit up both sides to the waistband.

"Here, these are my sisters' old pair. I think your waist is about the same as hers."

He fished out a small light blue tee shirt and tossed them both to me. I caught the shirt, but dropped the shorts, and bent down to pick them up. Then I stood there, wondering how I could get out of this, while my libido wondered how fast I could get into this. I knew, sure as shit, that I would get a hardon if I took off my pants.

Jerry turned and pulled on his shorts, then positioned himself on the leg press bench, reaching up to adjust the weight setting. I decided 'What the hell? I might as well give this a try!' It was so awesome that he was willing to work with me like this in the first place; and it would mean more time with him, in a more intimate setting than tutoring!

So I went ahead and changed clothes, and didn't even get a hardon. I glanced in the mirror and saw him watching me at one point. I just hurried and looked down at what I was doing.

"Here, try this setting," he got up and motioned for me to sit. "Now, here's how it works."

He explained to me how the machine worked, and then he explained the difference between strength training and pumping iron. I needed to pump iron, which was using less than maximum weight, pumped more vigorously to bulk the muscles up faster; while strength training, what he was doing, was using the maximum weight he could handle, pumped slower to build real strength.

I mounted the bench and started pushing. It was easy; which he noticed and quickly added more weight. He told me to do thirty repetitions and move to the next station. He did curls while I did my leg presses.

I stared at his huge bicep's, straining and spasming as he slowly curled his fists up to his chest. And the beauty of it was that it was ok to stare, now that I was learning and doing this too.

We worked our way around the machine in about a half hour and took a break. We went back down the hall and over to the large kitchen where we sat and drank some Gatorade. It tasted gross, but he told me that my body needed it when working out. We took some back to the weight room and he sat at the bench press.

"I'll go first, and you can spot me. Like, when I have the bar up by the rest, you should always be ready to pull it onto the rest, if I can't do another rep, see?"

"Yeah, I understand."

"So you stand there, behind it. Here goes."

He grunted and tensed his body, as he pulled the barbell off the rest, holding his breath until it was lowered to his chest. Each time he raised it up til his arms were straight, I let my hands hover at it, ready to pull it onto the rest. In between, I took in his beautiful body, muscles all tense and straining, sweat soaking his shirt to his chest and abs. His hairy armpits turned me on, as I looked down at them. I had never thought of armpits as a turn on before, but his were. The silky shorts were plastered to the huge mound, making my mouth go dry.

When I thought to look, I noticed that he was pressing #250! Wow! I realized that if he were to actually need me to, I probably wouldn't be much help with the bar.

He did twenty reps and stopped, breathing hard. He sat up and gulped a bunch of Gatorade, then stood and took off all the weights and put some back on. He had forty pounds on for me to start with.

"Ok, your turn. Did you see how I did it? Exhaling as I come down, straightening my arms all the way up, without letting my elbows lock unless I'm ready to let it rest?"

"Yeah, I got it." I said eagerly.

"Oh, and don't look at the bar, look at me while you do it."


'It would be hard not to,' I thought to myself. I laid on the bench and took the bar in my hands, Jerry adjusting my grip for each hand. As I started to pull the bar off the rest, I looked up at him, like he'd said to do. I gasped aloud as I looked right up his shorts and saw that his right nut had escaped his jockstrap and was held tight to the side of the pouch, all the wrinkles stretched out.

"What?" He asked, thinking something was wrong.

I let the bar go to the rest and started laughing.

"What?" He asked with a smile spreading across his face.

I debated whether to tell him or not; but knew I had to tell him something, so I tried to speak.

"Your... left... no, your right...nut..." I managed between laughs as I pointed up to his shorts.

I don't know why it struck me so funny, but I couldn't control my laughter. He blushed a little and started laughing too, as he pulled up the flap of his shorts and saw the errant testicle. He stuffed it back in, and our laughter subsided.

"Ok. No more distractions. I'm ready." I stated resolutely. We both still had smiles on our faces, and both burst out laughing as soon as I tried to take the bar off again.

"Are they still in there?" He asked.

I tilted my head from side to side, looking up his shorts on purpose and reported to him.

"Yep, all secure."

We both giggled some more, then I started to press the weights. I did fifteen reps, and was wearing down, and he started encouraging me.

"Come on, danny, one more, come on!" He kept his hands with the bar all the way up and down.

"That's it! Yeah! One more, come on, you can do it!" He seemed to really enjoy this part, and to please him, I managed to struggle out the twentieth one. I let him take the bar out of my hands and my arms fell, dangling and tingling as I gasped for breath.

"Atta boy, Danny! You did good!" He smiled and I grunted. He handed me the Gatorade, which still tasted awful, and did not seem to satisfy my thirst at all, but I gulped it down.

"Alright. Last thing. Situps."

He went over to a white gymnastic mat in the corner and laid out on it. I followed and got down on my knees at his feet, grasping just above the ankles, on his shins. I gave him a nod that said 'I'm ready'. He slid his left hand into his jockstrap, and adjusted his package.

"Don't want anything falling out again." He chuckled.

'Let me do that for you!' I wanted to say. Instead, I just laughed. He started doing his situps as I marveled at his gorgeous body, flexing and undulating, every movement felt by my hands, his toes occasionally brushing my shorts. This, of course, got me aroused, and I had to get up on my knees more doggie style, to move away from the stimulation.

I couldn't believe how stimulating it was just holding his ankles in my hands, the wiry hairs between my fingers. EVERYTHING ABOUT HIM was sexy, stimulating! His jockstrap made a huge mound in his shorts, which were damp and stretched over the mound in a way that highlighted the outline of his wide, thick manhood, arcing down a ways, til I could plainly see the outline of the corona.

My mouth went dry. 'Goddamn, it's so fucking big! I can't believe it's so fucking big, and still soft! Was it this big looking awhile ago? Yeah, I guess it was, But I just never got this good an angle to view it til now. Wow. I wonder how big it gets when it's hard?' I focused on the feel of the girth of his shins in my hands. 'Wow. God I wish I could find out- with my mouth!'

"Thirty-seven, thirty-eight..." He counted out loud. I made myself think of something else, lest my erection burst through my briefs and shorts. "Forty-nine, fifty." He let his body relax, and I just held his ankles.

"Wow, you're amazing!" I said.

"Whataya mean?" He raised his head to meet my gaze.

"Well... you just are!" I blushed at my stupidity, and looked around, searching for words.

"I mean, you're so big, and so damn strong and all..." I trailed off.

He considered my statements a moment, and replied.

"Thanks. As you can see, I work hard at it." He paused. "It's great when someone... When I know someone appreciates my... The work I put into it."

He felt awkward, and so did I. There was a pregnant pause. Finally, I stood up. Fortunately, that little exchange had allowed my arousal to subside enough that I could stand up without embarrassing myself further.

"Uhm, would it be alright with you if I skipped the situps this time? I'm not used t' this, and I'm just worn out." I pleaded.

He laughed and jumped up, grabbing me around the waist and behind my neck, catching me off guard, wrestling me around as I let out a girlish yelp, then laughed with him. I struggled more to keep him doing it than to get out of it. His powerful arms drew me into him, and he gave me noogies! Yes, noogies! I hadn't had noogies since fourth grade, with Benny Simon! That year, I swear he rubbed most of the hair off my head, and I got him some too.

I pushed back into Jerry, pulling hard enough at his arms to feign a semblance of resistance; all the while laughing and squealing with delight, urging him on with defiant blurbs. "I'm gonna kick your ass!" and "Just wait til I get you where I want you!" Which made him laugh and do it harder.

I just luxuriated in the feel of his body against my back and butt, his sweaty arm around my neck, his delectible odor assaulting my nostrils. The body heat and sweat seemed to intensify the tactile sensations. I could feel his firm pecs and rippling abs like they were imprinting my back, and his hot, thick meat in its pouch, pushed adamantly into my ass.

I didn't know-- 'cause I had never felt it against me before-- but it sure felt like it was firmer, or fuller than an entirely soft dick should be... but then, it was so big, I guess it would feel fairly firm in a pouch like that, even soft. And his balls, as I had seen, were so big, they must have made it portrude even more. My own pecker was semi, but still contained.

Eventually-- way too soon-- he let me go.

"That's what happens when you don't finish your program!" He laughed. I rubbed my tender scalp and said,

"Well, just wait til I get bulked up! I'm gonna kick your ass and give you noogies!" We laughed and he motioned to the bathroom.

"Sure, you bet," he snickered.

As we turned to go, I snapped around in a macho 'I'm gonna kick your ass' arms out, menacing look; which made him laugh even harder. I couldn't keep from busting up too.

Then I realized he was directing us to the bathroom. Together. At the same time. Both of us. At the same time. Oh shit.

"Oh man, the shower is gonna feel sooo good!" He said from behind me, as I stumbled numbly into the bathroom...