Straight A's E1 | He's young and dumb but so damn hot

Everyone is over the age of 18

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As a first-year education major, I’m pretty interested in teaching! My goal eventually is to be a high school teacher, but I thought I’d get some experience where I can. There’s a peer tutoring center right on my university campus, so that’s where I started. I didn’t have any expectations on who I was going to tutor. But, it was still surprising to see someone in their sophomore year. How can I teach someone that’s older than I am?

When I met him, I understood immediately why. His name is Troy, and I hate to reduce him to this, but the words that came to mind were: young, dumb, but good looking. In the first session we had together, I caught him flexing to himself in the window’s reflection while I was trying to explain something. The glazed-over look in his eyes was only broken when he checked his phone. 

“Why do we need an introduction and a conclusion? Isn't just one good enough?” Troy flipped his hat in the air and tried to catch it with his head. 

“Its,” I wait for him to pick the hat up from the ground, “just customary. People expect to see that format. So, you want to have keywords that signify really clearly that it’s the conclusion...”

I kept talking but I saw his eyes glaze over again. I’m sure he’s here on some type of sports scholarship. There’s no other way he could’ve made it to this school without knowing how to write a proper essay. Judging by how tall he is, I’d say basketball.

“You want to just write for me?” Troy says, ruffling his thick brown hair in the window’s reflection. “How much do you charge for that?”

“ChatGPT is free, you know.” I zoom in on the computer, hoping it would catch his attention. “You can start with ‘In conclusion’.”

“In conclusion...” I wait for him to continue but Troy stares at the computer blankly.

“This paper is about...” I nudged him forward.

“I didn’t read the paper.” He yawns. “What’s it about?” Troy stretches his arms up and leans back against his chair. He’s wearing a loose-fitting black t-shirt with a band’s name that I don’t recognize on the front. I catch a glimpse of his dark pit hair poking through when his sleeves fall back towards his shoulders. Besides that, his triceps and biceps became defined as he stretched backward. I think a basketball player was probably a good guess.

Don’t stare, Joseph.

Troy tilts his head to the right and sniffs his pit. He then reaches into his backpack on the floor and pulls out a stick of deodorant. Putting it under his shirt and applying the deodorant, he looks back at the computer.

“How many words does this have to be again?”

“1500.” I say, watching him switch to the other armpit.

“How many do I have now?”

“250.”

“Well fuck me,” Troy says while putting the lid to his deodorant back on. He smells woodsy now and the scent is making my pants a little tighter. He’s a gorgeous guy and you can almost sense the young dom energy emanating from him. “Well, it’s time for practice. Coach makes us run laps if we’re late. When is this due?”

“It's due,” I take a deep breath as Troy takes off his shirt in front of me. His pits are spectacularly hairy, covering his entire armpit with a thick strip of dense and dark hair. He’s beefy in all the right ways, and at the same time lean in the places where I love to see muscle definition. I exhale quickly and finish my sentence, “next Tuesday.”

“Alright, good. Then I’ll see you tomorrow to finish it.” Troy says as he stands up. He takes off his grey sweats too, and I get another surprise. Tighty-whities. Not at all what I would expect from a jock like him, but if I ever thought this type of underwear was lame, those thoughts were blown out of my mind. He looks like the models on the underwear packets that I used to look at as an in-the-closet gay kid. As he rummages through his backpack for his shorts, I stare at the curve of his bubble butt sticking up in the air.

Some people are so fucking lucky.

I pretend to type on my computer while he puts on his jersey and basketball shorts, determined to not get caught staring when I shouldn’t be.

“Alright Joe, I’m out of here.”

“Joseph.” I look up at his magnificent arms.

“I’m not calling you Joseph. You shouldn’t either.” Troy puts his hat back on. “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” I spot his black t-shirt hanging off the back of the chair. Troy grips my shoulder as he walks past me and leaves. After he leaves, I pull the blinds down on the window and go over to his chair. Grabbing the black shirt, I put it on over my clothes. It was way too big for me but, it did the job.

I’ve always been a horny boy, but never had enough balls to go out and get what I want. Plus, most guys out there aren’t my type. And my type isn’t interested in me.

Oh, my type? I’m wearing his shirt.

The smell of him encompassed my body and each breath I took in turned me on more and more. The shirt was big enough to cover my crotch so I was able to unzip my pants and pull out my stiff dick without fully exposing myself.

Breathe in....

Breathe out...

Breathe in....

Breathe out...

Breathe in....

Breathe out...

The scent of him was really doing it for me. Stroking myself lightly, I pictured him in his tighty-whities, trying to remember all the details of his Adonis-like figure that I stole glimpses of while he was in front of me. Then I pictured him modeling the underwear for me, showing off his plump ass, and spreading his thick thighs for me on the chair that I’m sitting on. Maybe he’d even put one foot on the table.

Breathe in....

Breathe out...

I picture him running his hands up his abs....smiling at me because he knows how much it turns me on.

Breathe in....

Breathe out...

...Touching his own chest...playing with his nipples for me…

Breathe in....

Breathe out...

...Lifting his arms up and showing the dark forest underneath his arms…encouraging me to touch myself to him…

Breathe in....

I held in his smell as I blew my load onto his shirt, wrapping the fabric around my cock so I can have as much of him on me as my cum soaked through to the front. I held my breath until I finished then exhaled his scent.

Fuck, I’m such a pervert.

I take off his shirt and clean myself up with it, smearing the load he got out of me on it. Then, I smell it and savour his scent mixed with my own familiar odor, all the while enjoying the post-orgasm pulses in my head.

An email from the tutoring center pops up as a notification on my computer.

“From Troy: Hey Joe, is my shirt still there?”