Date: Sat, 25 Aug 2001 15:36:11 EDT From: MaineBoyXY@aol.com Subject: Brains Over Brawn Disclaimer and Legal Stuff: Don't read this if you're not supposed to, either because you live in a regressive community or you don't like erotic stories about gay sex (in which case, why are you here?). If you distribute this story, that's fine, just don't edit it and leave my name on it. Thanks. Brains Over Brawn By MaineBoyXY@aol.com Kneeling there, naked, I couldn't believe that I'd gotten myself into this fucking predicament. There I was, a senior, captain of the soccer team, one of the most popular guys in school, humiliating myself in front of this sophomore math nerd. As he held my head by the hair with one hand, I saw the other reaching for his fly and lowering his zipper. I shuddered as he reached in, and then did a double take as I saw the long, thick cock he produced. Fuck, who the hell would have known that this scrawny geek would be hung like that? But then, who would have known yesterday that I'd be here on my knees in front of him, getting ready to suck his cock? It all started Monday when that jackass Jason Martin told me about the mid-term. Jason was on my team, but he was a crappy student. We were both in Mrs. Gresham's Intro to Calc class, and Jason was scared shitless that he was going to fail it, and that if he did he wouldn't make the grades to graduate in the spring. I felt OK about it; I wasn't a crappy student. But when Jason told me about his foolproof plan to ace the exam, my ears perked up. I was looking at graduating with a 3.2 or so, but slamming this mid-term could bump that up to the mid-3's, and that would only look better when I closed the deal on this soccer scholarship. I mean, the plan sounded simple. Mrs. Gresham was a new teacher, and she didn't lock her file cabinets. She figured that the lock on the classroom door would keep anyone from getting into her stuff, but Jason and I knew that you could use a credit card to get passed the door lock. We'd done it our junior year when we T.P.'ed our coach's office in the gym after we won the regional championship. So all we had to do was wait until after everyone left for the day, head into her room, find the exams, and copy the questions. Since Coach liked to leave right after practices, he'd given me a key to the gym side door to lock up after everyone left for home. It was no big deal, Coach trusted me: his wife and my Mom worked at the bank together, and he'd known me since I was a kid. So, we used the key to get into the gym, and then from there broke into Mrs. Gresham's room. When we went through her file cabinet, we hit the jackpot! Not only were the exam questions in there, so was the answer key. Now all we had to do was copy down the answers. So we did. On Wednesday morning, I wrote the answers in pencil inside my shirt cuff. When the exam started that afternoon, I surreptitiously unbuttoned my cuff and I could see the answers by tilting my hand while I colored in those annoying little bubbles on the answer sheet. By the middle of the exam, I was flying high; I knew I was going to pull this off. That was right about the time I looked up and saw him. Ryan, Mrs. Gresham's little ass-kissing teacher's aide. He was some kind of math whiz, and he had brown-nosed his way into becoming the aide during his period study hall, probably to make himself feel important. He had been walking up and down the aisles, smirking and lording his superiority over the seniors struggling over an exam I guess he thought he could bang through in five minutes. Early on, I'd kept an eye on him, just to make sure I didn't look obvious while he was on my aisle. I guess he'd changed his pattern of alternating aisles though, because I didn't even realize he was on mine -- he had changed to walk down my aisle from the back of the classroom, not the front. I had just flicked my wrist when I caught the motion of movement at my side. When I looked up, his gaze was on my cuff. He turned his green eyes to mine and mouthed silently, "Busted." My blood turned to ice. Instantly, my mind played through the scenario: being expelled for cheating, losing the scholarship, all of my college applications being rejected for an honors violation, my parents finding out, Coach learning of my betrayal of his trust. My heart was pounding like I'd just finished a sprint, and by the time my brain returned to the present, I realized that Ryan hadn't broken stride. He'd kept walking; there he was turning the around to walk down the next aisle. Had I imagined it? Then, I saw him as he turned his head to me, and I saw that wicked smile. I knew what it meant. It meant he wasn't going to rat me out, he wanted something from me. I didn't know what it was, but I felt my pulse slowing to normal as I realized there was going to be a way out, that maybe I hadn't ruined my whole life all because of that bastard Jason Martin and his fucking ideas. After that, I buttoned my cuff. I don't know why, the damage was done, but I was too shaken to keep up the act now. I'd made a close escape with Ryan, but I didn't want one of my classmates to catch me, I guess. I finished the last half of the exam on my own. When Mrs. Gresham announced that time was up, I noticed that Ryan was standing beside the door. No doubt he wanted everyone to see him there as they left, so he could smile condescendingly at them. I wonder why Ryan hadn't had the shit beaten out of him by anyone yet. I knew he'd want to tell me about his planned trade, so I made sure I was the last to turn in my answer sheet at the desk, and the last to head out the door. When I got to him, Ryan caught my wrist -- the one with the cuff evidence -- and guided me out the door. He looked around to make sure no one was within earshot. "Do you have any more exams?" he asked. "Not today, my last one is Government tomorrow." "What are you doing now?" "Going home to study for it," I answered. "So you actually study for some of your exams, Alex?" he asked sarcastically. I felt like laying into him right there, but I knew it would be a mistake, considering he could still rat me out, and I was still wearing the evidence. "Yeah," I muttered, defeated. "Mrs. Gresham, I'll be back in a minute to help clean up. I've got to run to the restroom," he said, ducking his head back through the doorway. He released my wrist. "OK, let's go." "Go where?" "To your locker, you need your stuff before you leave, right?" I was a little confused, I thought we were just going to work out the trade, but he had more in mind. We went to my locker and I grabbed my last book, the Government text I'd use to study, and my jacket. He then walked with me until we got to the men's room, and directed me inside. He checked to make sure the stalls were empty, then turned back to me. "Take it off," he said. "What?" I asked, completely lost. "The shirt. I want it. So you can't back out on me later." "Come on, Ryan. I know you've got me by the balls, just tell me what you want and I'll do it. I don't want to get expelled one semester away from graduation." "Then give me your shirt. I don't want you destroying the evidence before I get what I want." There wasn't going to be any way out of this. I knew if Ryan went back now, he'd tell Mrs. Gresham. Sure I could run home and wash the pencil out of the shirt, but he'd tell her, and she'd look at my answers, and the fact that I had the right answer to every question the first half of the exam would back him up. I mean, I'm an OK student, but I'm not a fucking nerd. We both knew, though, that later on, after the exams were graded, his position to accuse me would be weakened without proof. I didn't know what he wanted, but I figured it had to be fairly innocuous. He probably wanted me to be his friend or something the rest of the year, so he could tell people how cool he was that I liked him. Fuck, was I wrong. Anyway, I unbuttoned my shirt and handed it over. I guess I didn't notice him staring at my chest while I took the shirt off, but he just grabbed it from me and told me that was all for now. He'd call me Friday night, and I'd better not have any plans. He left the bathroom, and I put on my jacket, zipped it up and went home. *** The phone rang at about 7 o'clock on Friday night. I knew it would be Ryan before I answered it. "Hey, Alex, got any plans tonight?" he asked needling me. "No, I kept my social calendar clear just for you, Ryan." "Listen, jock boy, you'd better make an attitude adjustment, because I own your ass now, don't I?" I shuddered. Great, a pompous nerd, and now he owned me. But he was right. "Yeah, I guess you do. So what do you want?" "I want you to come over to my house. We'll talk about it when you get here." He gave me the address. My family is comfortably middle class, but Ryan's house was apparently nestled in the upscale part of town. I hopped into my Civic and drove over. When I got to Ryan's place, it was huge. Brick Victorian, three stories, manicured lawn and hedges. I never pictured Ryan having come from this kind of background, but thinking back I realized he was pretty preppy for a geek. A lot of the math-science-computer losers wore ratty jeans and T-shirts, but Ryan wore khakis and button-down oxfords like I did. He wore glasses, but they weren't thick, Coke-bottle glasses, just thin, steel-rimmed ones. Most nerds have long, kind of unkempt hair, but Ryan's blond hair was always neat, in a fashionable, average-length style. As I parked in the empty driveway, I realized that if Ryan weren't such a pretentious, ass-kissing jerk, he wouldn't be that bad of a guy, probably. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad being his friend for the rest of the year; maybe it would mellow him out and do some good. When I rang the bell, I almost expected a servant of some sort to answer, but when the door opened there was Ryan, beaming. "Hey there, Alex. Found the place OK?" he asked jovially. "Um, yeah, nice place." He was being way too nice for some reason, and it caught me off guard. "Come on in, can I get you something to drink?" "Nah, I'm OK, let's just get down to business." "All good things come to those who wait." After negotiating the maze of hallways, we entered a kitchen that looked like it belonged to the head chef of a five-star restaurant. It was an immaculate collection of tile and stainless steel. Ryan walked over to the refrigerated, selected a bottle of water, and twisted off the cap. He hoisted himself up onto the counter and started swinging his bare feet gleefully. "Soccer's over for the year, isn't it?" he asked. I answered that it was. "It must be a lot of work keeping up with classes and your busy social life while practice and games take up so much time," he commented nonchalantly, and then took a swig of water. His eyes never left me. "I do OK," I replied. "Until Wednesday." I looked at him darkly. He was an asshole. "That was the only time I've ever cheated, and it wasn't even my idea," I retorted. His eyes brightened as I realized my mistake. "Oh, really?" he asked rhetorically, a note of enthusiasm in his voice. "We can get to that later. I guess you're curious to know what the plan is, aren't you?" "Yeah, I guess so, I just want to get this over with." "Well, it's not going to be that simple." He hopped off the counter, leaving his water behind. He walked over until he stood less than a foot in front of me. "I think this is going to be a bit of a long-term proposition. You see, you're going to be my bitch from now on." As he said it, he took his eyes off mine, and looked down at my crotch. It only took a split second as my right hand pulled back, but he backed away before I could punch him. "Don't be an idiot, Alex. Like you said the other day in the restroom, I've got you by the balls. Think about it, expulsion. The humiliation. What are those colleges lining up at your door now going to say? What are your parents going to say? What are you going to do if you piss your life away on a Calculus exam?" Every word was true, and I'd known it that split second after he'd caught me Wednesday afternoon. "But I'm not gay," I said. "I don't care," he retorted. I looked him over. He was a couple inches shorter than my 6'2", and at least 30 pounds lighter. There was no way he weighed more than 140. "Why don't I just beat the crap out of you now? It's Friday, the earliest you could blow the whistle about the exam is Monday, and they'll be graded by then. And, it's going to look awfully strange that you didn't say anything about it Wednesday when you caught me, isn't it?" "Because I've got the shirt, and you don't know where it is. It might not even be here, right? And if it were, could you look through the entire house to find it? Besides, I think going in all beaten up on Monday is going to be plenty of back up for my story. Face it, Alex, you're screwed." He was right. I was screwed. I was completely and utterly defeated. I looked at the floor, and when I did, he knew I was done. He walked back to me until his body nearly pressed into mine. He grabbed a fist full of my brown hair, and turned my head so he could stare into my blue eyes. I felt his other hand slip between us, and close around my crotch. I felt like I was going to throw up. I clenched my eyes shut. "Open them," he commanded in a stern voice. I kept them closed as imagined scenes of gay sex whirled around in my head. I felt his grip tighten on my package as he repeated his order. "Open them." I opened them, and his eyes left mine and moved to my lips. "Leave them open," he said, and then moved in. I felt his lips on mine. He pulled a millimeter away. "Kiss back, Alex." I stared at a fixed point on the wall behind them as I felt his lips press against mine. I kissed him. I felt his tongue graze my mouth, and I opened for him. He released my hair as we kissed, and I felt his hands on my back pulling me into him. They slid slowly down my back to my ass, and he left them resting there. I wanted to break away, I wanted to run, but my mind kept showing me in front of Mr. Perkins, the principal, with my Mom crying in the background and Dad shaking his head in shame, Coach frowning, and college admissions doors slamming in my face. He broke the kiss and stepped back. I looked at him, and his face was flushed. I turned my gaze to the floor at his feet, and on the way down, I saw a prominent bulge in his crotch. "Do you want to go upstairs to my room, Alex?" Still looking at the floor, I nodded. "Look at me, and tell me. Do you want to go up to my room?" I looked up to him, and I heard my voice answer from somewhere in the room, "Yes, Ryan, let's go to your room." With that, he turned, and we walked back down the corridor to the stairway. It was wide and covered in richly toned plush carpeting. I followed him up two flights of stairs, down another hallway, and into a large bedroom. One wall was paneled with large windows, and the curtains and shades were open onto the December night. The room was painted a deep lapis, and where most guys his age would have posters of rock bands or pin up girls (or guys, I guess), he had oil seascapes. There was an antique bed in one corner, maybe of mahogany, and an armoire stood at its foot. A bookshelf lined the wall perpendicular to the windows, and opposite the windows was his desk. It was an elegant room. He turned to me. "You can get undressed here." I looked at him. For some reason, I was surprised at his suggestion, and then it just sunk in. I looked at him blankly, and then I began fingering the buttons on my shirt. I removed it, my undershirt, and my khakis after slipping off my shoes, folding each and laying them on the desk. When I stood only in boxers and socks, he motioned me over to him. "This doesn't have to be bad, Alex." He reached up and began to stroke my bare chest with his fingertips. His light touch and the chill made me break out in goosebumps and the hair stood up on the back of my neck. I'd fucked a couple of girls before, but this made me feel like a virgin bride. He was being tender, but I knew the malice that lay behind the facade. "Do you want to undress me, Alex?" I looked away. "Alex? Look at me," he demanded. I looked at him. "Do you want to undress me?" I nodded. "Tell me." Again, I heard my voice from somewhere in the room, "Ryan, can I take your clothes off?" He smiled and lifted my hands to his collar. I undid each button slowly, and then I pulled his shirttails out from the waist of his khakis. I slipped it off his shoulders and then took hold of his undershirt. He raised his arms over his head, and I tugged it off. I dropped the undershirt to the floor. "Fold my clothes and put them on the desk with yours." Mechanically, I picked up his shirts, folded them and laid them on the desk. When I turned to walk back to him, his shirtless body registered with me for the first time. He was basically skin and bones, and I could see ribs below his small, pink nipples. His chest, like mine, was virtually hairless. "Stop! Take off your underwear while you're over there," he instructed. I looked at him, and then I looked down at my almost naked self. I looked back at him, and I saw that his bulge was still poking into his trousers. I wanted to beg not to have to go through with this. "Alex?" I looked up at his face. "Take off your underwear," he said softly. With that, I hooked my thumbs under the elastic of my boxer shorts and slid them to the floor. I picked them up, folded them, and laid them on the desk with the other piles of clothes. When I turned again, I saw him staring at my crotch. "Come here," he whispered. I returned to my place in front of him. He put his hands on my shoulders, and gently pressed down. I knew what he wanted, so I bent my knees and kneeled. He moved one hand to my hair, and began to muss it. The other went to his fly, which he unzipped. He reached in and pulled an 8" cock as thick around as an Eisenhower silver dollar. I was stunned. He was rock hard, and a dribble of precum oozed from his slit. "Alex, I know this is going to be your first time sucking cock, so I'm going to go easy. It's not going to be as bad as you think it is. Once you get used to the idea, it will be fine. You've had girls go down on you, right?" I nodded. "Then you know what to do." I looked up at him. He smiled, not his usual asshole smile, but a friendly smile. I wondered whether he thought we were going to become lovers. It didn't occur to me to wonder whether I might want us to. He took a half step in and used his free hand to guide his cock to my face. I felt the slimy wetness as the cockhead made contact with my cheek. I could feel the heat of it, and I smelled its warmth. It smelled musky, like I guess all guys' cocks do, the sort of smell you find in greater concentration in any locker room. But he was clean, and the smell was faint. He softly rubbed his cock over my face, and then pointed it to my lips. "I'm ready now, Alex, I want you to open your mouth." I clenched my eyes shut. "Leave your eyes open. Now, take a minute to think about your options. Then, when you're ready, tell me." I looked up at him. He stared down patiently. I thought about that bastard Jason Martin, and I thought about all the other scenes. I desperately tried not to think that I was kneeling here, naked, in front of this underclassman, feeling his dick resting on my lips. I sighed, the smell of his cock reminded me anyway. "I'm ready," I whispered. "Ready for what?" "I'm ready to suck your cock," I said, and with that, he began to slide it into my mouth. The taste was not what I expected. Even though his cock was hard as a rock, the head was moist and spongy as it rested on my tongue. I could taste the precum, and it was kind of smoky and bleachy and salty all at once. It took a couple seconds for the shock of having a guy's cock in my mouth to wear off. Then I remembered why it was there and what I was supposed to do. I figured that the sooner he got off, the sooner it would be over with. I began to suck on the head of his cock. "Hey! Cover your teeth with your lips, dammit!" he yelled down at me. I'd had teeth on my cock before and I knew it didn't feel good. I curled my lips up tightly against his shaft. I was remembering the things I liked in a blowjob, so I tried to repeat them for Ryan. I started licking the head of his dick as it lay passively on my tongue. He liked that, because I could feel more precum oozing from his slit. I was looking at his face, and I saw him staring at me, with his cock in my mouth, through hooded eyelids. He started rocking his hips back and forth in a gentle roll, sliding maybe two more inches between my lips. It didn't take long before he closed his eyes and his head fell back. He started moaning and biting his bottom lip as I kept up the suction and swung my tongue back and forth under his shaft. I started to think about what I was going to do once the inevitable orgasm struck, but he solved that problem for me. "I'm getting close, Alex. When I shoot, I want you to hold it in your mouth, don't swallow it." With that, both hands clutched my head, and his knees began to shake a bit as he pistoned the upper half of his cock in and out of my mouth. He was grunting, and I could see every muscle in his wimpy chest and abdomen spasming, and then I felt and tasted the first shot. It was thick like phlegm on my tongue, and it kept firing out, hitting the back of my throat and the sides of my cheeks, and my mouth became full with spunk and cock. It tasted like his precum, but stronger, and I could feel it pulsing through his shaft between my lips. There were at least a half dozen shots, and I didn't think I could hold any more without either swallowing or gagging. Finally, he stopped thrusting and left his cock head and an inch of shaft in my mouth. He looked down at me, and his whole upper body was flushed. He was damp with perspiration. He smiled at me and panted to catch his breath. He slowly pulled his cock from my mouth, and I kept my lips tight to keep from spilling his cum. When he was free, he let go of my head. "Open your mouth," he ordered. I tilted my head up and opened my lips, revealing my mouthful of cum. "You were really good, I shot a really big load." He was in a really good mood, but then, I usually was too after a blowjob. But, I had always been on the receiving end before tonight. He reached his cock in to dab some cum out, and then smeared it on my cheek. He repeated this with the other cheek, my forehead, and then down my nose. I could feel it cooling and drying on my face. "You can swallow the rest now." The idea was kind of gross, but it had been in my mouth for a couple minutes now, and his cock had been in there for a while, so I just opened my throat and let it slide down. "How was it for you?" he asked, and I couldn't tell if he was sarcastic or sincere. "Uh, well, it was...well...." I didn't know what to say. He frowned and for a minute I thought I'd hurt his feelings, but then the look was gone. "Clean my dick off," he said and plunged it back into my mouth. I sucked the residual spunk off it and then he pulled it free. He began to unfasten his belt and khakis, and I realized he was still rock hard. "Well, that's the preview portion of our performance behind us. Are you ready for the feature attraction, Alex?" And with that he dropped his pants and briefs to the floor and smiled at me expectantly.