Garrick

By J.W. Martins-Bazinet

Published on Nov 14, 1998

Gay

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Garrick Larson was his name. I can recall the first time I saw him in vivid detail. He looked like a Viking god, big, muscled, mean and more handsome than human being ought to be. He was all the more impressive because he was just 16. At an age when most boys were gawky, pimply and unfinished, he looked like a prototype male, a well finished product. I was your typical 16 year old with all the hormonal upheavals and insecurities to match. I was also coming to terms with the fact that I craved cock. Not that I'd ever had contact with one, other than my own, but I knew that I wanted to do anything and everything a person could with a cock (and not just my own).

I guess that's why Garrick had the effect on me that he had. I thought he was a walking, talking wet dream, just looking at him gave me chills. He also scared the shit out of me. He never smiled, spoke little, had few friends and a natural air of superiority which kept most everyone at arms length.

He'd moved into town with his family during the summer, but I didn't see him until the start of our Junior year. I saw him that first day, not unusual in a high school with only 254 students; I was hooked, but didn't dare do anything more than drool from afar. That all changed the Monday after Thanksgiving.

I was called down to the guidance counseling office during third period study hall. Ms. Jenson, one of the counselors asked if I'd be willing to participate in the "peer tutoring program" as I had the year before. Despite all the fucked up parts of my life I was still a pretty good student, especially in social studies. She said there was a new student who needed help both in Civics and World History. I'd done tutoring with freshman during my second year and had really enjoyed it, so I agreed to do it.

"Good, the student's name is Garrick Larson, do you know him?" Ms. Jenson asked with a big smile.

I was nearly speechless, but managed to stutter out a reply, "not really, I--er--uh--I know who he is, er--er, I've seen him ... around."

Ms. Jenson must have thought I'd lost my mind. She was looking at me real strange like. "Remember he's new, maybe he doesn't make friends easily. Give it a try. He really needs to do well in these classes, his grade point average is suffering and the coach wants him eligible for soccer this Spring." She gave me a wink and an encouraging smile.

She'd misread my reaction. I wasn't reluctant to tutor Garrick, the thought of spending time with him was a dream come true. It was fear that she didn't recognize in my expression. Fear that I'd slip and ruin whatever reputation I might have; fear that I'd do something which would cause my blond god to freak and break me into small pieces; fear that I couldn't have him.

I met him in one of the small study rooms off the school library fifteen minutes after the 2:00 dismissal bell that afternoon. I'd arrive a minute earlier and was already seated at the table when he came through the door.

He stopped and stared right at me. "You? You're my tutor?"

It wasn't the greeting I'd expected, I felt scared and tried not to show it. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"I guess not, but every time I see you, you're staring at me. It gives me the creeps."

This caught me off guard, I hadn't realized I'd stared at him. Had anyone else noticed? I tried to think of something to say, something to excuse my behavior. All I managed was a lame, "sorry, didn't mean to creep you out, it's just that you're, you know, like the new kid in school." And I added in the hope of making him feel good, "you just look so cool and together, I guess I kinda envy you."

He thought a minute, then laughed. "That explains it." You could tell that he ate up the flattery. I gave a small sigh of relief.

He extended his right hand and we shook. "Garrick Larson."

He grip was firm and warm, "Jason Hubbard," I smiled.

"Well I understand you could use some help in Civics and World History. How come you're taking both? Civics is a freshman course."

"It wasn't required in my old school, just Problems in American Democracy and that's a senior year course."

"They're both required here. Let's make up a study schedule. How about one afternoon a week for history and one for Civics. Can you fit in two afternoons a week?"

"I can if you can."

"Good. Do you want to study here or at your place or at my place?"

"I'd rather not study here, if its OK with you? We can study at my house, but I have two younger sisters who'd probably drive us fuckin' nuts."

I took up the hint, "well we can use my house. I live alone with my dad and he usually doesn't get home until after 6:00 so we'll have plenty of privacy. I live only two blocks from school, so it'll be convenient. How's Tuesdays and Thursdays for you?"

"I'm free almost any time, just as long as I'm home for supper by 6:00."

"Good, tomorrow's Tuesday, why don't we start then. Meet me at the front entrance and we'll walk to my house."

"Fuck that," he said, "meet me in the parking lot out back and we'll drive to your house. In fact, grab your stuff and I'll give you a lift home, if that's where you're headed."

"Cool with me, bud."

That night I beat off twice with fantasies of Garrick's cock buried deep down my throat. I'd have to unload often to keep my horniness level down enough so I didn't try to rape the stud. Naked images of him filled my dreams, my hard cock demanded immediate attention when I woke the next morning.

Garrick was really smart, just not focused, he needed to improve his study habits, but with my help he was doing better in both subjects already. By our fifth study session I was madly in love. The more I got to know him, the more I liked him, the more I lusted for him. I tried being cool and thought I was pulling it off. I was wrong.

We'd just arrived at my house and gone up to my room. Garrick seemed a little wired so when he headed right into the bathroom off my room I figured he'd need to take a wicked piss. I didn't hear the sound of splashing water so I thought maybe he was taking a dump. I was startled when I heard him call out to me.

"Jason, could you come in here, I have a problem I need you to help me with."

I thought he might be sick, so I hurried through the door. TOTAL SHOCK!!! That doesn't begin to describe my reaction. Garrick was standing with his back to the toilet facing me. His sweat shirt was hoisted up and his jeans and underwear were clumped around his feet and ankles. He was looking down at and slowly stroking the biggest, hardest, fattest cock I'd ever seen.

Without looking up at me he whispered, "Garrick means straight lance. It fits doesn't it?"

He was looking at me now, watching me has I stood there frozen in place, my eyes on his sturdy piece of cock meat, mesmerized with lust for it. He had me and he knew it.

"I know you've been wanting it for a long time. I need it bad, ain't cum it a warm mouth for a long time. I need it, you want it. Go for it."

The world was moving in slow motion. I walked up to him and fell to my knee in front of him. His wonderful cock was at eye level. It was perfect, straight and thick with a bulbous head, a clear drop of honey liquid formed at the small slit. His balls were huge and tight just below the base of his shaft.

My tongue darted out to lap up his sweet drop. He pushed the head between my lips and entered me, removing his hand as he fed me the whole eight inches. I began to gag and he withdrew enough to allow me to get use to this new oral sensation. In a matter of minutes I was making love to his stiff pole as though I'd been doing it all my life. Once he sensed that I'd become comfortable he grabbed the back of my head with both of his strong hands and began to slowly fuck my face. He wasn't frantic or frenzied, rather easy and loving, moaning softly, whispering how good it felt, how wonderful my mouth and tongue were. I was enraptured, fulfilled by the feelings of warmth which coursed through my body as I nursed on him. His passions were increasing at a pace to match my own. I didn't know what it felt liked to be sucked on, but I was certain it couldn't be any more sensuous or pleasurable than the feelings I was experiencing in servicing my dream lover.

I sensed his need for release as we built toward his climax. I wanted to take it all, to drink down his sexual essence, to savor his life's substance as it gushed from his balls into my mouth. I was taking him to the hilt like an old pro and his pistoning increased in speed and intensity. I reached up with my right hand to caress his balls which were up tight against him. I felt his meaty head expand in size, he rose up on his tip toes, let out a roar and unloaded gush, after thick gush of rich salty-sweet man juice into my hungry mouth.

After I'd drained him dry, he had to push me away from his already softening dick. "Relax Jason. We have almost three hours left. Today I'm the tutor and I think you have lots to learn."

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