I was finally able to get a good night’s sleep Friday after a crazy good blowjob and the promise that my secret was safe with Mr. Nash and Bradley. I still had to figure out what I was gonna do about talking to my best friend, and whether I’d admit to him that I like dick, but that was next week’s problem for now. Maybe the most surprising part of my rendezvous with Mr. Nash was his random request to help tutor one of his students. I stopped by to see him Monday after class to confirm the details of his ask.
“Hey, Mr. Nash…” I waltzed my way to the front of the class and maintained a sheepish, cocky, grin. He may have been temporarily in command but we both knew who the luckier one was to have had our little affair.
“Hello Jason. What can I help you with?” He kept a calm tone that I didn’t like. I wanted him to wear on his sleeve how badly I knew he wanted me after getting a taste of my dick.
“Wanted to confirm the…uh…tutoring? This dude, Tucker?”
“Yes?” He looked impatient with me, annoyed almost.
“Right, so…I’m meeting him at his place after school. Why am I doing this again…?” History was by far my best subject but it wasn’t common for teachers to ask me of all people to help out their strugglers. I wasn’t one for being patient with others.
“He asked for help. I gave him my three best students. Susie who is pretty quiet, Jane who is…well, nice but a little out there…and you. He likes football and probably asked me to link you two up since you’re both guys.”
I nodded my head slowly, understanding. “Right…and I’m doing this for…what exactly? What’s in this for me…”
He quickly glanced towards the door before returning his gaze to me, “you’d get…”
I eagerly awaited to hear my prize.
“…the satisfaction of doing something to help another person. Is that so bad?”
I rolled my eyes and left the room.
Our coach had given us the day off of practice Monday, as he usually did after we whooped on another team. This meant I was free to spend my only open afternoon of the school week helping some random dude with his homework.
I pulled up outside of a two-story suburban cookie-cutter house; the kind that all the upper middle class families in our town had. I knew of Tucker from school because he was adjacent to some of the popular circles I ran with; but because I spent most of my time with my teammates, I wasn’t really ‘friends’ with any other guys in school. The few times we’d overlapped in classes since middle school, he’d seemed to be laid-back and easy going though; never a show-off or an annoying little shit.
I pressed the doorbell and heard a chime echo inside. The door immediately swung open. And holy shit.
Tucker leaned against the doorframe, four inches taller than me at around 6’2” (188cm) and with a heap of overgrown, dark brown hair and hazel colored eyes. He wore only a ratty old gray tank top that hung off his lean shoulders, revealing tan, cut biceps that were smaller than mine but still evidence that he was active day to day.
I glazed down his tall frame and immediately made two mental notes. The first was that he wasn’t wearing anything on his feet. I guess it wasn’t that strange, since he was in his own house, but seeing this guy I’d only ever met in passing in the halls or class, be bare foot (and they looked pretty damn big) made him seem vulnerable in a way that turned me on.
The other thing I noticed were his tiny, tight athletic shorts that only came about halfway down his thighs. A layer of sexy hair frilled up between his knee and the bottom of his shorts and just a little higher up was the unmistakable outline of a huge package. I was pretty sure that he free balling and, by the look of it, his huge dick might flop out at any moment from his five inch-seam shorts.
But more than anything, what got me was his smile. I wasn’t one to go for ‘adorable’ but his particular brand disarmed every ounce of toughness in my body. That smile pierced my soul.
“Hey dude!” his eyes flickered in the sun and his voice sounded smoother and a little deeper than I’d expected. Maybe it had been a lot longer than I realized since we’d shared a class together because I never remembered him being this hot.
“Uh…yeah…uh…Tucker?” I managed, my own voice sounding rougher than usual.
“Yeah…Tucker…” he pointed to himself, “we’ve been going to school together for like seven years dude…come on in.” He stepped back, holding the door open.
I walked past him, feeling embarrassed and ridiculous to be here. I hated being out of my comfort zone and not being in control.
“My room’s upstairs,” he said, leading the way. I followed, my eyes embarrassingly drawn to the flex of his calves as he took the stairs two at a time. Even free balling, his butt looked tiny in his shorts. Maybe he was a little slimmer than I first realized when he answered the door?
His house was clean, albeit a little dated, and filled with family photos.
His mom shouted to us from somewhere down the hall “honey! Do you and your friend want any snacks?”
“We’re good!” Tucker called back, laughing towards me as we climbed the stairs.
His bedroom was smaller than mine, which was surprising given the decent size of the house. Clothes were folded and laid out across the top of his dresser as if he’d stopped mid-laundry and never put them away, and there was a guitar hanging on the wall next to a tiny desk. I decided to sit down in the office chair and throw my backpack onto the desk.
“Alright,” I said, all business. “Mr. Nash said you were having trouble? I’ve never done tutoring before, but I’ll give this a shot. Where are we starting?”
Tucker plopped down onto his bed and sat cross legged, his shorts pulling up even further now, revealing soft, pale legs. In this position, the outline of his penis was insane. It looked gigantic and now I wondered if he’d stuffed something fake into his shorts. I forced my eyes back to his face and I could tell that he was watching me with an amused little smirk.
“Yeah I needed some help,” he said. “The 20s…Great Depression and stuff. I can’t keep it straight.”
Something about him was throwing me off. “O…k. Let’s start there.”
I opened a study guide we’d used in my section of the same class last week. For the next twenty minutes, I tried to be the tutor, questioning him about key figures from the era, the politics of the time, and events that I knew would be on the next exam. And the weirdest thing happened: he knew all of it. And he didn’t just know it; he understood it all probably better than I even did. My confusion mounted with every correct answer.
“Dude,” I finally said, closing my notes. “You don’t need a tutor. You probably know this shit better than I do. What the fuck are we doing, exactly?”
He just shrugged, that easy-going smile playing on his lips. “I dunno. I guess I just learn better when someone’s walking me through it. Keeps me from getting distracted.” He grabbed a pillow and put it in his lap, leaning down with his elbows on it and looking positively adorable again. “You’re a really good communicator.”
My brain short-circuited. Was he…flirting with me? I was fairly sure he’d dated one of our cheerleaders, and his vibe, overall, couldn’t have been more straight. This had to be in my head. Either that or…oh no. What if Bradley had told people about me?
“Right,” I said, trying to sound unaffected. “Well, you seem to have it down. So…I can probably just head out…”
“Nah, I need you…I mean, I need your help with this…”
I cleared my throat and felt my heart rate picking up speed, “o…k…uhhh…with what?”
“History, duh.” He grinned a huge smile that complemented his big, fluffy hair.
I launched into an explanation of how the stock market had crashed, the way that the Depression’s effects spread west, and how, eventually, FDR had gotten the country past it.
The entire time, he seemed to be locked onto my every word, as if I were explaining the most interesting thing in the world. Tucker listened intently, his gaze never leaving my face. He’d nod, ask a question that was just a little too simple that forced me to elaborate; to keep talking. He was clearly drawing out my presence for no understandable reason.
Despite the thick layer of confusion and suspicion, I found myself enjoying it. His easy humor balanced my impatient, sometimes ruder, tone. His jokes about presidents or businesspeople of the time even got me to chuckle. After another hour that felt like minutes, the sun was beginning to set already.
“Tucker, you’re gonna be fine for the test. I need to head out,” I said, starting to pack my bag.
“Yeah,” he said, not moving from his bed. “This was really helpful. I learned a lot. Got out of it exactly what I needed.”
I squinted my eyes at him, trying to read what I was missing. “If you say so,” I grunted, zipping up my backpack.
“Hey, Jason?”
I turned. He was looking up at me, his expression open and sincere, but with that same mischievous glint in his eyes that had been throwing me off all afternoon.
“Same time, next Monday?” he asked.
“Seriously? You really think you need more help?”
“I really do…” he almost looked sad, or borderline pouty, saying it, playing up a frown on his face.
“Uhh…okay fine,” I said, “as long as we win Friday, coach will give us the day off again.”
A slow, sexy smile spread across his face. Fuck, I would’ve done anything to see what he had in this little shorts.
“Cool,” he said softly. “I know you’ll win, so I’ll plan to see you then.”
I walked out of his room and down the stairs, my mind verging on being a mess again. I was more confused than when I’d arrived. As I got into my truck, I could just barely make out his silhouette looking down at me from his bedroom window.
After I got home, I took a quick shower and joined my parents for dinner.
“How was tutoring, J?” My dad, a former division one football player, himself, asked me.
“Good.” I always kept my answers simple with him. He intimidated me far more than any other man I’d ever met.
“Good on you for getting another extracurricular on your resume. Make sure the college knows about it.”
“Dad, Iowa already signed me, I don’t need to impress them anymore…”
“Son, you never know if you’ll fuck something up the rest of this year. Knowing you, anything’s possible. Keep ‘em impressed with what you bring to the table.”
“Okay…yessir…I will.” I put my head down and finished my dinner.
Just as I went to get up, my phone vibrated. But it wasn’t the normal feeling from a text message. I recognized it from an app I hadn’t opened in over a week. I retreated up to my room before I dared to open my phone.
Hello there mystery boy
It was Mr. Nash’s profile.
Me: Hey…
Mr. Nash: How was your session?
Me: Weird…he’s smart. There’s no way he needed me.
Mr. Nash: Well his grades say otherwise lately, he bombed the latest quizzes
Me: Weird.
Was I supposed to flirt with him? To ask to meet up? To block his number?
Mr. Nash: I talked to him about our conversation
Me: Who? Tucker?!
Mr. Nash: What? No, of course not! Who do you think…
Oh, he obviously meant Bradley. I was so stupid and paranoid.
Me: Oh. How much did you tell him…
Mr. Nash: Enough…talk to him. He’ll forgive you
I couldn’t help but wonder if ‘enough’ meant that he now knew I’d sucked off Mr. Nash…
Me: How? I don’t know what to say
Mr. Nash: Just be honest. And ask him to forgive you. Make sure your apology really ‘sticks’
Me: Okay. How do I do that?
Mr. Nash: Just see where it goes. I told him to keep an open mind ;)
Was he…was he suggesting what I thought he was? About me and…Bradley?
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