Tutoring a Sexy Young Thug

I am happy to share my stories. But, French of origin, thank you for your understanding for my English which remains very imperfect!

___________________________________________________________________________________

"What you're doing here is really a very nice gesture, Maxence!" Says to me the head of the association which organizes tutoring for youngins with learning difficulties in Saint-Denis (a very disadvantaged suburb, north of Paris).

"I was lucky enough to benefit from the best schools in the country, which allowed me to become an engineer. I see it as a civic duty to help these young people who need it." What I don't tell her, of course, is that I'm also completely crazy about all these young, dark-skinned immigrants I see when I take the metro that crosses this suburb to catch my plane at Roissy airport: I like their toned and well-formed bodies, guessing their young cocks that their tracksuits show off, seeing through their insolent attitudes express their somewhat boorish, arrogant and dominating side.

"Since maths is somewhat your speciality, I am going to entrust Djamel to you. He is 19 years old kid, still in high school, 3 years behind. Yes, 3 years late! I don't hide from you that it's a bit difficult case: the 2 young ladies who tried to tutor him gave up after only 1 or 2 sessions. They were only 20 or 21 years old: that's why I now want to entrust him to a young man with a bit of maturity. Your 26 years and your professional status will help..."

I receive the next day, as agreed, an email detailing the axes of the tutoring, the contact details of Djamel's family and confirming me that the first session will take place at their home this Friday at 6 p.m.

When I ring the doorbell of the apartment in this filthy building in Saint-Denis, an Arab-looking woman opens the door. She smiles at me and says as she let me in, "Welcome Maxence! I'm glad they send us a young MAN. Djamel needs this tutoring so badly... Even if he will always be my little angel, I have to admit that he is becoming difficult... Since his father left and even more since he came of age, I have a lot of trouble make him obey... So evening homework comes always after football, his pals and the girls!"

I don't have time to answer, she has already opened the kitchen window and shouts "Djamel, come upstairs right away! For your math class... Yes, right away!"

She closes the window and says to me, "Go to his room: he'll soon be here. I have to go to work: every evening, I do 4 hours of cleaning in office buildings... Good luck, Maxence!"

Djamel's bedroom looks a bit like my bedroom as a teenager: posters on the walls, clothes scattered on the floor, video game cassettes, a PS installed in front of a gigantic screen (I didn't have that!), a messy bed...

As the wait is long, I approach the bed to sniff the crumpled boxers he left on his bed. It stinks of guy's balls and sperm. When I open it, I see whitish traces that are still damp. There are many of them. I can't stop licking them! I notice above the pillow that the wall is covered with traces of old dried drippings; the wallpaper is discolored... With the boxers and the wall, I understand that Djamel has abundant sperm! Of course, my cock can't stay at rest in this testosterone impregnated universe...

The noisy arrival of Djamel in the apartment makes me throw his boxers back on his bed and sit down at the cluttered table that serves as his desk. Not a single book on it, but dirty clothes and cans of soda...

Seeing this shirtless sweaty tall guy (6'3'' at least), with an adult build and a muscular chest and a hell of a 6-pack, rush into the room, I'm a little taken aback but manage to say, "Hello Djamel. I'm Maxence, the guy who should help you a little in maths..."

He's all sweaty and wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and says, "Yeah, that's what I heard... Math sucks! But we can always try... We'll see if you last longer than the chicks they've already sent me!"

While he welcomes me (!), I detail his body. As the heat wave still strikes in this month of September and these suburban apartments of course do not have air conditioning, his bod is all glistening with sweat, showing off his amber skin. The football his mother told me about explains the very muscular thighs sticking out of his shorts. Shorts so soaked that they stick to his cock, obviously a good size! Without being overly muscular, his body is very toned and well cut. He must weigh 175-180 lbs, without a gram of fat!

How can a 19-year-old boy already be so physically developed?

"Djamel, I suggest that today we just talk a bit to see where we start from and how we are going to work together..."

He listens to me with no real attention, wiping his body with a towel he found on the floor. Without answering, he turns vaguely before putting his fingers in the top of his shorts and dropping it to the ground. The guy is really neither shy nor modest!

He shows off me his bubble butt, covered with dark hairs, the density of which increases as it approaches his dark crack. While he is drying his brown hair, which is quite long and curly, I can even see his dick moving with the movements of his body. His shorts weren't lying: he has a big cigar, quite dark, with a nice pink round glans. Pointing forward, on 2 big hairy balls, his resting cock isn't very long (just over 4''?), but is quite thick... He puts everything in a tight boxer that compresses well his ass and prominently displays his cock which he now has pointing upwards.

"Shit, it's always the same thing! These boxers are all too small for my gear!" He says to me, laughing and turning around to see the rendering of his ass, and he continues, "Make yourself comfortable if you want... It's much too hot in here and we're among guys, right?!"

"It is true that it is hot. But I have to keep an outfit in line with my tutor status..."

We get down to business by looking at what causes him the most problems in math. There will really be A LOT of work because in fact EVERYTHING is a problem for him! Starting even with his understanding of French!

"It's clear that I'm much better at football than at school! Instead of looking at my notebook, people should look at my strong thighs instead! Look how muscular they are!"

"Yes, yes, Djamel... You have beautiful thighs, very powerful! But I'm here to help you progress at school... We're not actually going to start with maths (I see him smiling -- it's true that he looks like an angel!), but we're going to first have to work on your French a bit. The only thing I ask you to do for Wednesday evening is to write in one page about the coming weekend, what you will have done, what you will have liked or disliked..."

"A whole page?!"

"Yep, Djamel... A whole fucking page!"

He offers me a cold soda (it feels good!), we talk a little more and I go home. In my Parisian comfort...

The first thing I do: I get comfortable and finally release my cock, stretched to the maximum since my meeting with this handsome and sexy Djamel. I jerk off quickly thinking of this young guy full of vitality, his body full of testosterone, his round and hairy ass, his big brown cock, his football buddies in front of whom he must not fail to proudly show off his fat cock in the air, the good big bursts of spunk he must spit... What makes me cum like never before!

Same scenario on Wednesday at 6 p.m.: his mother, waiting in his room (this time with drippings still wet on the wall above his bed!), Djamel who arrives sweating, who changes clothes in front of me (getting stark naked, drying himself for minutes and putting on this time sweatpants... In commando mode!),...

To match the local color, I also came in tracksuits... But with boxers underneath!

Me sitting on his chair, he stands up in front of me as I read aloud the sheet of paper he handed me (the writing is very irregular and I correct here the spelling and syntax errors for your understanding):

"It was a good weekend for me. Friday night I went to the cinema in Paris with some buddies and we ate hamburgers. We tried to flirt with Parisian chicks, but we couldn't fuck. Saturday I had a football match. We won 3 to 1. We partied in the locker room and I won the biggest dick contest. Sunday with Toufik we flirted with 2 girls. Good sluts who sucked us off. We swapped because mine thought my cock was too big. I tore the pussy of the second one well who also cried when I gave her a big facial. That was a very good week-end!

Finally, a poem, for girls:

At the picnic the sick chick

Licks my big big dick.

I squirt quick my big big sticky jizz

On the chick's lips and cheeks.

My big big prick still leaks jizz.

The chick licks her lips.

My big big dick stinks.

Her cheeks are still sticky."

"So, what do you say?" Djamel asks me with a slightly anxious look... And adding naively, "Hearing you read my poem, that put my dick to attention! Look, man!"

I did notice the front of his tracksuit swells outrageously, which of course woke up my libido and... my dick! But I force myself to come to my senses and tell him, "Djamel, we're going to focus on your exercise. It is very good to have kept your commitment and to have written this..., this... document. There are a lot of spelling mistakes and the syntax is very rough. But, we're going to rework all that kind of things by Christmas and you'll see that we'll get there!" He smiles, a little reassured.

His smile fades with the rest of my speech, "On the other hand, Djamel, we also have to work a lot on what I would call... moral values. Your life can't just turn around football, chick pussies and your big big dick! You have to open up to other areas of interest: for example, you could have given information about the film you're talking about... Your text reveals a very strong tendency to glorify yourself and think only of yourself. A strong selfishness emerges. Also, your relationship with girls suggests that you only see them as sexual toys to satisfy your own pleasure, with also obviously a real problem to obtain (or not) and respect their consent... Finally, the bragging that you show about your dick is pretty cheap..."

As I see his moist eyes, I realize I've gone too far. I pat his forearm a bit and smile at him kindly and say, "Don't worry, Djamel, I too was 19 and behaved like a pretentious little prick... But I'm going to fight with you, for you... We will progress together! I was probably a bit harsh because, you see, for example, your poem is built on a lot of rich assonances and alliterations..."

"What are these fag things?"

"It's the fact of repeating the same vowels and the same consonants in a whole series of words! And I understand that you spent a lot of time and energy to write it! It might be a bit too descriptive, but it's very straight forward: you did a fucking real good job!"

I feel, despite my compliments, the anger rising in him and he says to me, "Anyway, the French you are all fags! You, you're like my football coach who stares at my ass in the shower and starts getting hard when he sees my upright fat cock! Like him, you're ready to kneel in front of me to suck me off! You believe I didn't see you checking my ass and drooling over my big cock only a few minutes ago?! In fact, you're jealous because I'm better hung than you!"

In fact, he is right this "little" prick! Anger has given him back all of his arrogance, pride, and alpha male charisma. I admire his fiery gaze and his body glistening with sweat. As if to back up his words, he runs his hand over the front of his tracksuit where I can see his dick pushing the fabric. I stare at the bulge longingly...

He understands that he has control over me. That I am ready to be dominated!

Djamel then lowers the bottom of his tracksuit and wedges it under his big balls. His cock is already stiff and proudly looks at the ceiling. He jerks off slowly in front of me, defying me with his insolent gaze. I lick my lips. He smiles ironically. He lets go of his cock and wiggles his pelvis to make it wobble in front of his hairy abs. His dick is so long that his big pink glans rubs the hairs of his navel where it deposits precum...

As I'm at a good eye level (and I'm a good connoisseur!), I see that his rod must be almost 10'' (not bad for a young guy of 19)! As for the girth, it's approaching the one of a RedBull can: no wonder he wins the competition for the biggest dick on his football team! I'm sure his buddies don't miss taking a good interested stare at his fat manhood proudly swaying in between his strong hairy thighs when he parades through the locker room!

A little hypnotized by his big snake which undulates and taken in my thoughts occupied by all these young guys with their dicks in the air in their locker room, I didn't feel the hand that Djamel had just passed behind my head... He doesn't need to insist that I bring my mouth closer to his big glans, which frankly stinks a bit of piss!

And I suck his dick enthusiastically. I lick his balls. I take most of his big cock deep in my throat (Yes, I have a big welcoming mouth!). It makes him moan with pleasure. He shoves it all the way into my mouth, almost choking me. I have to grab him by his firm buttocks for him to withdraw: a long trickle of saliva stretches between my mouth and his throbbing cock.

He sticks his big stiff dick again in my mouth, goes back and forth a few times, withdraws again and finally sends 12 or 13 big jets of a very creamy and very sticky cum. I have it all over my face and in my hair; it's dripping on my T-shirt and tracksuit...

"Wow Djamel! You are one hell of a good juicer! And you really know how to use your big big cock!"

He smiles, feels his balls a bit (to check if there's still a little juice left?!) and throws one of his dirty boxers in my face so that I can wipe myself off. Then he says to me, very sure of himself, "Now that you've seen that I'm not lying about my big fat cock (he laughs), nor about my copious jizz, show me what you are capable of! Come on, dude!"

Even though I know I'm going to lose, I stand up to him. I pull down my tracksuit and see him smile when he sees me jerking off my cock. I'm usually happy with it, but my 7.5'' actually seems really short compared to its monster which is still at attention. We now jerk off in front of each other. I start moaning. Him too. Without warning, he squirts again and shoots on my chest and stomach 8 or 9 heavy spurts of the same concentrated cum. It triggers my own emptying which is limited to 7 or 8 jets which fall to the ground because Djamel slipped away, just in time!

Happy with his victory without question, he laughs and throws again his old boxer already full of his sperm in my face. I wipe myself without saying anything.

We pack up our cocks which are starting to get back to their usual size and I leave saying we meet on Friday (not without having slipped his boxers full of his gooey spunk into my pocket -- I often sniff it and it always makes me cum in a minute!)

Our collaboration has been beneficial to everyone: Djamel's school results have only improved month after month! For his part, he rewarded me with good shots of his sperm so concentrated and so sticky! But I always put my tutoring before sex: at each session, we started with 30 minutes of serious academic work, then spent half an hour (or more!) to our exchanges of sperm...

Everything went kind of out of control at the end of the year, when Djamel started to bring some of his football teammates for the second part of our sessions: it always ended up with my face covered in their abundant juices, after sucking their young big brown cocks!

Delighted with the results obtained by Djamel in high school, the tutoring association of Saint-Denis is counting on me for a new tutoring as of next September; I was told about a "young Algerian aged 19 who thinks more about his boxing fights than his high school lessons..." I can hardly wait!

THANKS FOR READING!