Date: Mon, 17 Feb 2014 16:54:33 -0500 From: Lewd Shrewd Subject: The Chemistry Professor -- Chapter 8 Disclaimer: This is a work of gay, erotic fiction; please do not read if it is illegal for you to do so. This work is entirely fictional; any resemblances to real people, events, or institutions are coincidental. Please direct any comments, suggestions, pictorial responses(!), or questions to lewdandshrewd@gmail.com. Readers, keep in mind that Nifty is a not-for-profit organization that relies on our financial support to provide a forum for all these stories. Please consider donating: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html. Thanks, and enjoy! -Lewdandshrewd Chapter 8 The second half of my freshman year of college was fantastic. With my light course-load, blossoming social and sexual life, and good grades, I was on Cloud Nine. Most of the parties I attended didn't end up with orgies, of course, but those few that did happen certainly added to my enjoyment of the year. Toward the end of the semester, I began to focus again on my studies; none of my courses were terribly challenging, but I knew that my soccer scholarship was contingent on excellent grades, and I wanted to make sure that I kept a good GPA. That's why I emailed Professor Edward Rathburne, my linear algebra teacher, for some help. I had a pretty good grasp on most of the course material, but I was having trouble determining orthonormal bases, and the textbook was beyond obscure. "Dear Professor Rathburne -- In reviewing for the final exam, I'm having some trouble with orthonormality and the Gram-Schmidt process. Could we set up a time to go over that material in the next couple of days? My class schedule is pretty cramped during the days, but Tuesdays and Thursdays I have time in the morning, or if you're around over the weekend, I am very flexible. Thank you! -- Rob" Professor Rathburne was a stereotypical math professor, though younger than most of the rest of the department. He was tall, skinny, wore dark, thick-lensed glasses, and had a terrible sense of style. He was a good instructor, though, and I'd come to appreciate his clear explanations of complicated math. I'd never really thought about him outside the context of class, though, so was a bit nervous to meet with him personally in his office. He responded quickly, and -- not unusually for professors at my university -- Professor Rathburne said he was planning to be in his office much of the day on Saturday, so we agreed that I'd meet him there at 4:30 that day. On Friday afternoon, the day before my meeting with Professor Rathburne, I was working out in the university gym with several of my soccer teammates. I was running on the treadmill between Damian and Ryan -- two teammates I'd had the pleasure of playing with at a couple of drunk parties, though we never spoke of those debaucherous nights -- when Professor Rathburne walked in the main entrance, wearing his hideous combination of baggy, striped gray pants, a bright green plaid short-sleeve button-down, and a hideous magenta tie. Ryan nodded toward the entrance. "Is that Ed Rathburne from the math department? What is he WEARING?!" My teammates and I chuckled, but gave Professor Rathburne no more thought as he went to the locker room to change into workout clothes. I'd seen him once or twice in the gym before; it was pretty common for faculty members to use the gym, as it was the best-equipped athletic facility in the area. Damian, Ryan, and I finished our run and moved to the weight room to finish our work-out for the day. I noticed Professor Rathburne at the rowing machine, sweating profusely and paying no attention to his surroundings, absorbed in his workout. He was wearing mesh athletic shorts and a baggy white T-shirt -- much more appropriate attire than the get-up he'd been wearing when he came in. For some reason, my eyes kept drifting back to the professor, as he rhythmically rowed; I didn't notice anything that should've kept my eyes on him, but I caught Ryan and Damian glancing in his direction too. As we began our cool-down stretches, I figured it out. Our new position on the stretching mat by the wall gave us a new angle to view Professor Rathburne on the rowing machine. Outlined by his mesh shorts, stiff against the inside of his right leg, was the thin professor's truly massive cock. He must have been wearing boxer-briefs, or I certainly would've noticed the impressive bulge earlier. I was mesmerized; I had never seen such an impressive dick, and Damian's was pretty huge. My stare must have caught Professor Rathburne's eye, because he gave me a goofy grin and a wave; he looked almost like he was oblivious of the throbbing cock between his legs. I waved back, hoping I hadn't been obvious. Clearing my head with a quick drink of water, my teammates and I headed to the locker room to shower and change. "Did you fucking see that?" Damian whispered as the three of us walked into the locker room. "Not that I look, but that guy's PACKING." "Of COURSE I saw it; how could you NOT see it?!" Ryan replied under his breath, "And it looked like he didn't even know it was there!" "Jesus Christ, he's bigger than you, Damian," I said, just as quietly. I was taking my sweet time getting my towel and clothes out of my locker; I hoped my own boner would calm down before I stripped for the shower. It didn't help that Ryan and Damian were both nearly naked, and trying to conceal their own semi-erect dicks behind their towels. Looking embarrassed, my two teammates headed quickly for the shower, giving me room to undress without worrying about hiding my still-swollen cock. Just as I was standing back up after removing my briefs, who walked into the bay of lockers but Professor fucking Rathburne! Before I had a chance to grab my towel and quickly wrap it around myself, Professor Rathburne was already saying, "We're on for my office tomorrow at 4:30, right, Rob?" As he spoke, he pulled off his baggy T-shirt, revealing a beautifully defined, lean torso, glistening with the sweat of his workout. His mesh shorts soon followed, and the bulge in his boxer briefs seemed almost as big soft as it had hard on the rowing machine. His underwear promptly followed, revealing a 9" soft cock, big, low-hanging balls, and an extremely fit, round ass. "Uhhh, ummm, yeah, uhh, I'll be there," I stammered, forcing myself to turn around, wrap my towel around myself, and tear my eyes away from the geeky professor's awe-inspiring privates. "Good. The Gram-Schmidt process is really challenging, and I've been working on a better way to explain it. I hope it'll come across more clearly than it did in class." Professor Rathburne seemed completely oblivious that I was blushing and averting my eyes, clearly uncomfortable. Were all geeky academics this oblivious?! "OK, great; that'll help a lot," I said quickly, hurrying out of the bay of lockers, toward the showers. I was relieved that I saw Professor Rathburne pull on a different pair of underwear and his baggy pants; he wasn't going to shower there. I turned the shower on full-blast, hung my towel on a wall hook, and stepped in, hoping the water would wash away my embarrassment and erection as effectively as the sweat I was coated with. After a few minutes, my cock was still throbbing; I couldn't get the image of Professor Rathburne's gorgeous package out of my head. I glanced over my shoulders, hoping everyone had left the showers so I could quickly jerk off. Damian had indeed headed back to the lockers, but Ryan was standing at the other end of the showers, facing the wall, hand pumping his own dick. Ryan and I had been teammates for almost a year; he'd fucked and cum on me at a kegger a few months earlier; and I was high on post-workout hormones and the image of my teacher's massive cock etched in my mind. I needed to get off, and apparently so did Ryan. I quietly walked across the shower room, approaching Ryan, whose eyes were closed; his attention was on his long, thin cock, which he was pumping vigorous with his right hand. I pressed my hard cock against Ryan's firm ass, reached around to tweak his left nipple, and whispered in his ear, "That got you going too, huh?" Ryan jumped, surprised by my sudden intrusion into his personal reverie. "Fuck, Rob; yeah, I've never seen a cock like that, and I can't help myself." He turned around to face me, eyes showing embarrassment and horniness at the same time, still stroking his pulsing dick. I replied, "I hear you, man," and indicated my own erection with a grin, which was by now at full-mast, its thick 8 inches wet from the showers and my own precum. I stroked it slowly a few times, letting Ryan know that he wasn't the only one intending to get off. I grabbed Ryan's 7" uncut dick out of his own grasp and leaned down to kiss him. As our tongues played, Ryan's cock throbbed in my grip, and I slowly began sliding the foreskin back and forth over his wet cock-head. He moaned with pleasure, and his hands began to rub my wet body, lingering for a moment on my hard nipples. Eventually, his hands moved lower, fondling my balls and teasing my achingly-hard dick. Finally, after a few minutes of teasing, Ryan broke off our kiss and knelt on the shower floor. He slapped my cock against his own face a few times, gripped it at the base and coaxed a few drops of precum out, which he eagerly lapped up before taking my big mushroom head in his mouth. I hadn't had the pleasure of getting head from Ryan at our kegger orgy; my cock had mostly been buried in the ass of Bruce, the handsome cub who had eagerly ridden me that night. I had missed out -- Ryan was an expert. After a few preliminary bobs on my cockhead, Ryan dove down, taking my entire thick 8" into his throat without the slightest difficulty. I had had several guys try to deep-throat me before, and I'd learned to cringe at the attempt; invariably, it just amounted to smashing my cock as hard as they could against their hard palate. Not so with Ryan; his throat relaxed completely as he slid down my shaft, burying his nose in my blond pubes. It felt almost as good as sliding my cock into a tight, well-lubed ass... and Ryan responded almost as if he had a prostate at the back of his throat. His own cock throbbed with every throat-full and was soon dripping copious amounts of precum onto the shower floor. After a couple of minutes of expert deep-throating, Ryan pulled off my cock to catch his breath and give his own dick a few strokes. "God damn, dude, that's the best head I've ever gotten," I smiled down at Ryan. "Haha, thanks, Rob! Now fucking feed me your cum; I'm about to shoot." I eagerly guided my raging hard cock back to Ryan's lips, and he hungrily swallowed the whole thing. On his sixth dive into my pubes, I felt my orgasm approaching. Ryan must have sensed it, because he grabbed his own cock and started rapidly jerking off while my cock grew in his throat. As his right hand pumped his cock, he brought his left up between my legs, and deftly slid two wet fingers into my tight ass. The pressure on my prostate, the view of my ripped soccer teammate jacking off, and the wet mouth and throat squeezing the entire length of my cock put me over the edge. My back arched, my ass clenched on Ryan's fingers, I let out a deep groan, and my cum shot straight down Ryan's waiting throat. As my third shot filled his throat, I felt Ryan's own warm cum hit my leg, intensifying my own pleasure and making my last two spurts feel as good as the first. Ryan let my slowly softening dick slip out of his mouth and stood up, eyes watering from the intensity of having a long, thick cock stretch his throat, and kissed me. I loved the taste of my own residual semen in his mouth, and reached down to get some of Ryan's jizz on my fingers; I stuck my cum-covered fingers between our mouths and we savored our mixed cum as we slowed our kiss. Finally, having come down from our post-orgasmic high, we broke off our kiss and chuckled at each other. "Well, that's a pretty damn good substitute for that professor's monster-cock," Ryan said as he grinned at me and started rinsing off in the still-warm shower. "I guess we don't need to keep our rendezvous to the keggers, now, huh?" I asked, toweling myself dry. "Whenever and wherever, buddy." That would not be the last time I unloaded down Ryan's expert throat. But now that my hormones had been appeased, I began to think about my appointment with Professor Rathburne the next day. Could I keep my mind on linear algebra and off the massive dick I knew was hiding inside those awful, baggy pants?