Christmas tree farm

My freshman year of college I attended a private school close to the tri-state area of Tennessee, Virginia and Kentucky.  I grew up my entire life on a farm and was the first person in my family to attend college.  My dad was old school and didn’t think girls needed an education.  To be honest, I was pleasantly surprised when he allowed me to move off to college leaving our working farm one less set of hands.  

The week of Thanksgiving I approached my professors and explained I would not return until all the trees on our farm were cut, wrapped and delivered to various Christmas tree lots the first couple of weeks in December.  The majority of my instructors were agreeable and reminded me I was responsible for any work I missed.  However, I had one professor who was difficult and told me under no circumstances that I missed more than three classes that were inexcusable absences then I could receive a lower grade or even fail the class.  

As an eighteen year old freshman I was frustrated, confused and disappointed that this teacher was so unwilling to work with me.  Being a dedicated son who did not want to let my father down, nor did I want a whooping with his belt due to the fact I was required to return to campus I was torn.  

I worked 15 hours a week in the library on work study.  One night I was stocking shelves and the head librarian sensed I was not my easy going self asked me what was wrong.  I had a secret crush on Mr. Tipton, the library’s director.  So, I knew I could venture telling him my problem.  Mr. Tipton listened to my story and told me he could speak to my professor on my behalf.  As an eighteen year old boy learning to be a man and having limited experience I knew men in authority really got my attention.  

A couple of days went by and one day at the end of class my instructor told me to stay after class.  We spoke and he told me to go get him a coffee in the student union and meet him in his office within thirty minutes.  Of course I did exactly as I was told.  Once I got to his office he was listening to classical music and smoking a pipe with cherry tobacco.  Fuck me....a man smoking a pipe was a daddy turn on for me.  I was getting ahead of myself and lost in the aroma of the pipe I blurted out I loved the smell of his tobacco and we grew tobacco on our farm as our main source of income.  

It was at that time he looked me directly in the eyes and said, “then way is it so important that I help cut and deliver Christmas trees?”  I found my voice and told him my daddy was depending on me and being the only son of the family it was my duty to pull my weight on the farm.  I figured he like my answer and invited me to have a seat.  His smile melted me and again that fucking pipe was getting my mind racing of want, need, desire, lust and I imagined what I would love at that moment was to suck his dick while he puffed on his pipe.  

After I regained my thoughts and composure the conversation turned into another direction.  He knew I was an English majored, worked in the library and even knew I drove a 1967 Ford pickup that he somehow knew was my uncles truck who was killed in Vietnam. At this point once I realized he wasn’t a big bad wolf as an individual I told him it was just important that I would do anything.  He grinned in a simple reassuring way that moved the conversation to another direction.  

At this point my professor asked me to remove his pipe from his hand and place it on his desk.  I did as I was told....however, I raised the pipe to my nose and savored the aroma and honest to god took my other hand adjusted my teenage, rock hard cock. I knew I was pushing my luck and thought this was going to go well or my ass was in trouble.  Good play on words.  Once I turned around my professor told me to come over and unzip his trousers and take out his cock.  I did exactly as I was told.  His Towncraft boxers were wet with precum.  I immediately got on my knees and wrapped my hand around his thick, uncut cock.  As a country boy I’d seen my fair shares of uncut meat.  However, his was so creamy white and seemed to have extra thick skin.  Within minutes I had swallowed his entire thick dick and he was running his fingers through my ginger red hair.  I wanted to drink him cum but he had other plans.  I dropped my jeans to my ankles....he ate my man - teenage hole and told me he was going to fuck me.  I reached around him and grabbed his hand and his cock.  He looked at me confused for a second.  I told him I prefer to sit on his cock and ride him.  He grinned and asked, “anything else you need son?”  

Hell....yep, that’s when I requested he smoke his pipe while I bounce on his uncut cock.  Honestly, in my limited experience at that point this particular fuck was the most amazing, fulfilling man sex I had had and truly to this day is a point of reference when I compare my freshman year college professor fucking me to other situations I explored later in life.

On a final note.  I finished up helping on the farm the 7th of December. As I loaded my truck to head back to campus I put a Fraser fur in the bed of the truck to deliver to a certain professor at school.  About an hour from campus I stopped at a pay phone and called my professor and asked him to meet me in the parking lot next to the library.  When I arrived on campus my pickup truck pulled up to his candy apple red MG convertible.  He was pleasantly surprised when we walked to the back of my truck and I pulled back the tarp revealing the tree.  God, to this day I can still seem the smile on his face as he said....”it won’t fit.”  

Yes, the tree would fit in his MG....but we managed to make it to his cottage close to campus and I carried in the tree and placed it in the corner of his den.  He fucked me three times that night and we never got around to trimming the tree.  

After I graduated 3 years later I moved to Knoxville and completed a masters degree.  When I was admitted to UNC Chapel Hill to complete my doctoral program we both made a clean break of living in Tennessee and North Carolina.  We both got positions at Ohio State and lived a very fulfilling life and had rewarding careers.  I lost my dear Nick in the fall of 2007 due to a car accident.  Today I live on the outer banks and still have my grandpa’s pickup truck.  As the great writer James Baldwin once stated, “We all have history.”  I’m happy to have had the opportunity to make more merry memories and history with my Nick.  Now, you know I’m going to go soon in my restored pick up truck and get a fresh Christmas tree.  Love the ones you are with this holiday season.