BANG. The race was on. I took off with every ounce of strength and speed I had. My legs pumped. I felt like time around me had slowed as I pushed and pushed, staring straight ahead to the finish line.
100 meters to victory. I crossed the line without any recognition of where my opponents were around me. For all I knew, I was the winner or maybe I was last. As I slowed my feet and panted to catch my breath, I looked to the large screen overlooking the stadium and saw my name flash.
1st - Miles Ford. A wide smile hit my face.
Track was everything to me. I loved the rush that came with being a champion sprinter, a division one champion across the entire country. I was only 20, a junior in college, but had already won a national championship both individually and with my college team, a dream of the Olympics the next go around.
My coach met me with a high five, hyping me up for the next big competition scheduled for next weekend. We were halfway through the semester and I was on my way to the most dominant sprinter season our school and conference had ever seen.
I returned to the locker room a winner, again, and rinsed off. I wrapped a towel around my waist, focused on the week ahead and the training I was fixated on before the big meet a week from now.
“Ford,” my coach came into the locker room, which he rarely did, and called my name before I had a chance to dress.
I walked into his office in just a towel. “Sup coach?” I asked
My coach shuffled some papers, removing his glasses and rubbing his nose, seemingly frustrated or exhausted. “Great run again today Miles,” he paused to now rub his forehead, “I don’t know how to say this but the dean called me personally…”
My breath hitched, unsure of where this was going.
“Your grades…” my heart skipped a beat. I wasn’t dumb by any means, but the nonstop practices and meets, combined with my engineering major, had really taken a toll on my gpa the last two semesters.
“Yes sir?” I awaited the details.
Coach gave a large exhale, “I’m sorry Miles but your grades are below the minimum you need to compete next weekend. Unless you figure out something this week, you can’t run.”
I felt tears immediately well up in my eyes. If I lost out on next weekend, I had no chance to defend my title and could kiss any chance at the Olympics goodbye. My coaches had warned me against picking a challenging major when I decided to prioritize track and I’d fucked up thinking that I could balance everything.
I retreated to my locker in silence, my head spinning. I was completely fucked.
I got back to my room and called Jake. He had been the best sprinter our school had ever seen, at least until I got here. He graduated last Spring but he was still my go to for advice and counsel through school and running.
“Hey buddy,” he answered.
“Hey,” I was in no mood for small talk, “Jake I fucked up. My grades are off, I’m fucked.”
A long pause. “How bad?” Jake asked eventually.
“Bad. I have to get my grades up within the week. It’s impossible.” My shoulders slumped.
“Fuck.” Jake mumbled into the phone. 30 seconds of silence as I prayed he had some solution he could recommend. What he came up with, I never would’ve guessed.
“You do have one option…” my heart jumped with hope.
“Whatever it takes.”
His words came out slowly, “I had an issue last year with mine too. There’s a professor. Dawson. Josh Dawson.” I thought I’d heard of a friend or two having him, he was younger and more recent to the school.
Jake continued. “He can get you there but…it’s…complicated…”
“I’ll email him right now. What do I need to do?” I was alive with hope. Hope that my dream wasn’t over.
“You…” Jake was being weird. “He’s into guys Miles.”
I didn’t understand. We both had plenty of gay friends. “Okay? So what?”
“You’d need to, like…ya know…”
Suddenly it dawned on me. “Wait…” Was he saying what I thought he was?
“Yeah…” Jake continued. “Just so know what you’re walking into. He’s a nice guy and there’s no pressure. And he can definitely help. But yeah…just ask yourself how bad you want this…” another pause, “Miles I gotta go. Good luck man.” Click.
Fuck. I knew what I had to do. I had no option and I’d do anything to chase my dream.
Monday morning rolled around and I waited outside of Professor Dawson’s office. He was in the business school, specializing in economics, and was also deeply involved as an academic advisor. My friends had told me yesterday that he was a ‘cool guy’ and the most down to earth professor they’d had in school.
Around 8:17am, he rolled up to his office, a checkered button down, swooping brown hair, a chiseled beard, and dark glasses. He obviously went to the gym and stood out amongst other faculty I’d met. He seemed to be in his early 30s.
“Can I help you young man?” He pushed past me to into his office.
I followed him in, shutting the door behind myself. I tried to dress well, a polo and jeans, but wasn’t one for fashion so I hoped I looked appealing. This whole thing was making me unsure of myself.
“Uhh hi Professor Dawson. My name’s Miles Ford, I’m on the track team. I’m a sprinter.”
He looked at me, slightly confused, “okay. Go on mister Ford, I have a class to run at 8:30.”
I didn’t even know how to broach the topic but tried my best to dive right in without having to say the hard part out loud. “Uhhh…my…my grades are…not the best…and…I’m friends with Jake Baxter and he said you might be able to help…”
Professor Dawson stopping fidgeting with papers & his coffee mug, and looked at me. I saw his eyes travel up and down my body. I felt uncomfortable and wondered if this was how girls normally felt. I didn’t even understand what he might be looking at as his gaze fixated on various points of my body. Seconds felt like hours.
He scribbled onto a post-it note and handed it to me. It had an address on it.
“I can help. Did Baxter explain how?”
“Not exactly,” I paused, “but in general…”
“Okay,” this time he paused again, “that address, 8:00. Only if you choose to though. No pressure."
I nodded, understanding he wanted to ensure I knew what I might be signing up for.
He nodded in return, “okay I have class. Please come clean.”
I turned my head, slightly confused by his comment, but backed out of his office. Clean? Wasn’t I always? What did that mean?
The rest of the day it was impossible to focus. I tried my best to gut through my two classes and my gym session was useless as my mind drifted elsewhere.
I ate an early dinner and showered around 7:00, thinking of Professor Dawson’s comment. I emerged from the shower and wrapped a towel around myself. I stared at myself in the mirror.
I was 5’11” and pale, with big blonde curly hair and blue eyes. I’d had zero issues picking up girls throughout college so I assumed I was at least mildly attractive but realized in this moment that I didn’t really know what that even entailed beyond muscles and other stereotypes, especially to another man.
I looked at my body and studied my torso. I knew I had a six pack and thought that was something girls seemed to like. I had light blonde hair on my stomach leading down to my waistband and a dusting in the middle of my chest. I had no idea if more or less hair was better for what a guy would be into. Did they even care?
I hesitated, then dropped the towel. Looking at myself in the mirror. I had a patch of light pubes just below my waist that sat above what, to me, was a pretty basic dick. I thought about it. A dick’s a dick, I figured, unless it was huge or something.
Mine was maybe a few inches soft, probably between 6 and 7 hard, and my balls were covered in light hair. As I looked at my own body, I realized I didn’t have the slightest idea of what others might be interested in down there.
I turned around, looking at my ass. Smooth, ghost-white, plump. ‘Yep that’s a butt’, I thought to myself. I opened my cheeks a little and saw a bunch of hair buried in my crack, scrunching my nose at the sight of my hole. There was no way that was something others would be into so take that off the board as appealing.
I hoped my abs and face would be enough to draw him in for the grades I needed. It’d been enough for plenty of girls to fuck me at least.
I rolled up to the address in a ride share around 7:55. It seemed to be an apartment about two miles off of campus. I knocked and was quickly greeted by Professor Dawson opening the door.
“Hi Miles, come on in,” he seemed less annoyed by my presence than this morning at least. “Can I get you a drink?” He poured two glasses of a brown spirit.
I wasn’t here for pleasantries. “Okay so what’s the deal?” I chugged the glass for some liquid courage and jumped right into business. He poured me more and I downed the second one too.
“Well…I looked into your grades,” he took a small sip, “you’re a smart man, you had a 3.5 GPA the last two years, I’m surprised you’re in this position.”
“Yeah well I missed a bunch of projects because of meets, so I’m kinda fucked.” I looked at my glass, realizing I’d probably just downed six or seven ounces in under a minute.
“I can get your grades where you need them. Temporarily.” He drank again. “Your friend Jake was very forward last year. He’s the one who made an offer to me.” I was shocked to hear Jake was the one who’d offered himself up. “I felt guilty about it in my position, but it worked out for both sides.”
I wanted to cut to the chase and get this over with, “look I’ll do whatever. I have to run next weekend.” I was desperate.
“Okay…” he thought out loud, “if you want to stop, please just say so.”
“You got it, but seriously I'm all in Professor.” I responded.
“Can you call me Josh here?”
“Okay, Josh.” I responded. “What now?”
“Take your clothes off.” My heart skipped. Suddenly this was real. I’d stared at my body in the mirror knowing this might happen but to now hear the ease of the command and realizing that might only be the start was a shock to my system.
“Okay…” I removed my shirt, shoes, and socks, “what if you’re not interested?” I hesitated. He just stared at me and grinned. I took a deep breath, thankful that the drink was already hitting, and pulled my shorts and underwear down in one motion.
My penis hung below me soft. I felt incredibly exposed. Here I was presented to a college professor, a man in his 30s, with my naked body on display for his study.
He walked towards me and moved around my body. I closed my eyes as I felt his gaze circling me once, then twice. He sat down on a nearby chair.
“You’re beautiful, Miles.”
I blushed, “thanks…I guess”
“Come here,” Josh patted his knee and I walked over. “Lay down across my lap here.”
I laid down across his lap like a little kid, my ass facing up to him, my head face down on the couch. I felt ridiculous. I stared at the ground, wondering what it must look like for him. His view at the moment was probably my pale legs in their light dusting of blonde hair and my ass cheeks just a few feet from his face. I could feel the air a bit inside my crack as this angle forced my cheeks ever so slightly open. I knew he probably was seeing some hair poking out.
WHACK. I yelped, “what the fuck!” I shot up, my left cheek burning from his smack.
“Just relax Miles,” he calmly said.
I rubbed my ass cheek with my hand, feeling a warmth to it. I laid back down across him. WHACK. This time the other cheek. I grunted this time and laid still. He was spanking me.
He continued. Each time now, I stared straight ahead and tried to blunt the grunts of my pain. I felt like an idiot and was completely embarrassed by the situation I found myself in. It was fucking humiliating.
After minutes and with my butt cheeks on fire, I heard him spit. “What are you doing?” I looked back at him.
“Have you ever put anything up there?”
I looked at him like he was crazy, “my ass???” I was confused, “no fucking way.” But I didn’t move. I knew what I signed up for and that this was a possibility.
I felt my cheeks spread, the cool air touching my crack. I knew he was staring straight at my asshole, the first person to ever look at that part of me as an adult.
“Beautiful,” Josh whispered. There was no way it was beautiful, I thought to myself.
I felt a moist finger slide in between my cheeks and grunted when his finger reached the most exposed part of my body. “Smooth cheeks, just some hair around your hole.”
“Jesus…” I was more uncomfortable psychologically than physically.
“Can I?” He asked, checking in again for consent.
“If you really want to…” I was certain no one would find anything good up there.
His finger slowly entered me. It felt so strange to have any physical touch down there and I felt so unbelievably vulnerable. I also found myself worrying about my cleanliness but figured it wasn’t really my problem.
He worked his finger around inside of me as I grunted. It was easily the most uncomfortable I’d ever been in my life, but the pain wasn’t as bad as I expected.
Eventually, I heard a zipper and looked to my side as he took his dick out. He kept his pants mostly on, so my view was mostly limited to a hard, large, manly looking dick with dark hair surrounding it. He started masturbating and reached down into a bag on the ground.
I watched him pull out a large black dildo and my eyes went wide. “Uhhh what the fuck is that…” I was still laid out across his lap.
“This is for that.” With his right hand jerking himself, he slapped my ass cheek with the dildo in his other hand, jiggling my butt cheek.
“There is no chance that’s gonna fit,” I swore he was crazy. He took out lube and put some on the dildo and then I felt a cold liquid hit my asshole.
“Can I try?” He asked.
“Man, I’m telling you there’s no way…” I still didn’t move, not wanting to fuck up my chance at a grade boost, but knowing he was mistaken that that thing could fit inside of me.
I felt it slowly push inside of me. “FUCK.” I screamed, clenching and squeezing, sure that my body was tearing. “That’s NOT going to fucking fit.”
“Shhh.” He massaged my ass cheek as he tried to bring calm. He held it in place, just inside and rubbed my butt like the athletic trainers sometimes did. I had to admit to myself that his kneading of my glute felt nice.
“Are you okay? Can I try to push it more?”
I nodded uncomfortably and buried my head into a pillow.
Again I felt it pushing in. My ass felt like it was ripping apart as the pressure built and built - it burned. “Fuck fuck fuck,” I groaned and grimaced.
“Are you okay?” He seemed genuinely concerned, again stopping to massage my ass.
“It fucking hurts a lot, fuck.” I paused, sensing something ‘off’, “It feels like…” I trailed off.
“I know what you’re thinking and you’re okay, I promise,” he said.
I didn’t believe him, “it feels like I’m shitting myself,” I said, not caring if I ruined the intimacy in the moment.
I tried to look back to check. Josh was smiling at me.
“I promise you're fine. Your ass is so tight Miles...and it's adorable.”
He slowly restarted working the sex toy in and out of me as he masturbated himself. “It’s just an inch or two,” he tried to assuage my anxiety even though it felt like I had ten feet inside of me.
“Ah, uh, ugh, fuck, god, fuck,” I was so uncomfortable and couldn’t stop feeling that same ‘full’ feeling, but every now and then, I felt a weird sense of pleasure hit.
“Mmm agh,” I caught myself involuntarily moan.
“This feel good, Miles?”
I scrunched my nose and looked back at him, “no man, sorry.” I grunted out, trying to forget the moan I’d just let out.
“You sure?” Josh said. He reached underneath of me and I felt him grab my penis.
I hadn’t realized I was fully hard. What the fuck. He stroked me a few times and I found myself ever so slightly meeting his grip with the subtlest of thrusts into his hand. It was subconscious and instinctual. He spit into his hand and slowly rubbed my cock head.
“Mmm,” I moaned in pleasure, before catching myself. “Fuck what...” I was so confused.
Suddenly I felt the dildo leave my ass. I looked back at my butt as Josh quickly pushed me off of him onto the couch fully and got down behind me. Before I knew what was happening, I felt wetness at my asshole and realized his tongue was running up and down my ass crack.
“What are you…?” Again I was confused but I settled into a feeling of warmth and comfort as the most vulnerable part of my body was touched, no licked, for the first time in my life. I imagined the taste and gagged.
I turned my head and watched as Josh sped up, jerking his dick fast while his tongue seemed to feel like it was actually inside of me. I heard his moans and watched as he sat up and aimed his dick down at me.
“I’m gonna cum Miles. Fuck your straight jock hole is so sexy,” he squeezed my cheeks and I watched as his thighs tensed and he shot. I felt warm liquid hit my ass cheeks as his cum accumulated, all along and in my crack. I was disgusted with myself feeling my own body be degraded like this. I buried my head into the pillow in front of me. Josh finished and sat back, pulling up his underwear.
I reached back and felt my ass, a warm sticky substance coating all along my crack and on my right cheek. I panicked. What the fuck was I doing. I grabbed my underwear off the ground and tried to wipe myself, before pulling my shorts back up.
I sat up and stared at the ceiling.
“Are you okay?” Josh asked. Again, he seemed genuinely concerned, despite using the most vulnerable part of my body for his pleasure. Was I okay? I never felt abused or like I couldn’t stop, and while I felt my mind was fucked, I was here and I felt okay. And he was considerate the whole time.
“I think so.” I answered.
“You did really well,” he said. I just stared at him. “I’ll make sure your grades are okay for next weekend.” He patted my shoulder.
“Thanks.” I didn’t know what else to say.
“I can only make a small change though. You’ll have to get them up longer term otherwise I’ll need to go back in again…” I didn’t know if he meant ‘going back in’ the grading system or…me.
I dressed and called myself a ride. I stared at the seat in front of me the whole way home.
When I got home I silently stripped down and made my way to the bathroom. I stared at my naked self. I looked at my dick. Now soft but why did it get hard?
I turned around and looked at my butt. It was red from his spanks. I pulled my tiny, pale, cheeks apart. I could see the remnants of another man’s sperm and it looked and felt like my asshole was more open.
Hair down there mixed with the stickiness, all leading to my vulnerable, aching, opening. A part of me he called beautiful…
I got into my shower. As I washed myself, it dawned on me: my grades were okay. I could run. I could compete. I could…and would…win. It was worth it.
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