Cam Schedules Our Next Session, and I Get a Surprise

The semen in my underpants had long since dried when Cam returned to his room, freshly showered, a towel around his waist. I couldn’t help but gape at his glistening six pack. He was a powerfully built young man, and, in the wake of what I’d seen, I felt particularly small next to him.

“You done?”

I nodded. After Abbie left, he’d spent more than enough time in the shower for me to finish his paper.

Cameron picked up a pair of pants and pulled his wallet from his pocket. He counted out three hundred dollars in twenties.

“You went above and beyond. I appreciate that. Seems like you enjoyed yourself too.”

“Uh, yeah. I guess so.”

“Let’s do this again next week. Maybe a little cheaper now that we understand each other. I’ll try and throw some pussy your way if you don’t bust.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, then looked down: a small round stain darkened the front of my pants. I shook my head as if that would clear it. A hundred bucks a week to write some easy papers and watch him fuck beautiful girls? Was this real life?

With his money in my pocket, I headed back to my dorm. My first order of business was to jerk off to the memory. That was my second and third order too, actually.

I couldn’t get it out of my head. When I woke up, I remembered the look of ecstasy on Abbie’s face. As I drifted off to sleep, I saw Cameron’s cum leaking out of her.

I didn’t know if my brain could handle another study session like that, especially since I needed to start preparing for the national writing center conference soon. Even after masturbating multiple times a day, my mind never cleared.

A surprise interrupted my thoughts. Two days before my next off-campus meet with Cam, Abbie walked into the writing center and sat down for my last tutoring slot of the evening.

“Hiya Andy,” she said, tossing her curly brown hair out of her face. “I thought I’d find you here.”

I’d seen this girl at her absolute sluttiest, begging for cock, but now she sat next to me in a skirt and a cardigan, the picture of girl-next-door innocence.

She smiled, “Relax, I’m actually here for some help. This assignment makes no sense.”

As she organized some papers on the table, I took a deep, deep breath. Slowly, the tension in my body lifted.

The tutoring sped by. Once she understood the assignment, we were able to make a thesis statement and structure her essay. We both started packing up when it ended.

“Are you off now?” She asked.

“Yeah, the writing center closes at five.”

“Oh,” she grinned and leaned close to me, “Do you want to walk me back to my dorm?”

If she hadn’t said it so conspiratorially, I would’ve assumed it to be a genuine request, but, given our circumstances, I realized there might be something more to it.

I swallowed, “Sure.”