What I liked most about Aaron was the fact that he had no idea how hot he was. At age 19 he was at his physical peak: six foot one, buzz-cut brown hair, solid muscles, and a self-conscious smile surrounded by dense, dark stubble. Even at noon the five o'clock shadow of his beard was noticeable above his lips, on his nicely clefted chin, and down his rugby player neck all the way past his adam's apple. The stubble trailed off there but a couple of inches below the hair picked up again, thicker than ever as it curled over the collar of his t-shirt. He had hairy forearms too, and even when he wore long sleeves you could see the soft tufts on his wrists poking out. What was under the rest of Aaron's clothes I could only fantasize about. After all, I was his physics professor.
Aaron had been a student in my class during the spring semester. It was a small college, one that encouraged faculty to interact with their students. I had invited him to dinner a couple of times with some of his classmates, and since we hit it off it seemed natural enough to have him over on weekends during the summer while he stayed in town to work with the local landscaper and make spending money for the coming year. Certainly I had nothing sexual in mind. He was a stud, but I was in the closet. What's more, I didn't want to jeopardize our relationship. I was a new member of the faculty, only eight years older than Aaron. He looked up to me as a mentor of sorts, a big brother.
One July Saturday we decided to kill some time by playing a game of one-on-one basketball in my driveway. He was a superb athlete, fast, strong, and not only younger than me but also a couple of inches taller. Even so, I played hard, not wanting to let him off too easily. We worked up quite a sweat. Moisture plastered his gym-grey t-shirt to his torso; there were dark circles under his arms and trails of sweat down his front and his back. The workout was having the same effect on me, so I pulled off my shirt and tossed it on the side of the driveway. We kept playing, and I couldn't help but enjoy bumping up against him as we chased after rebounds. Aaron's shirt was now totally soaked. He had to be uncomfortable. "Take off your shirt for Chrissake," I said. "Aren't you hot?"
Even though we were both flush with effort, I noticed his face turn a darker shade of pink. He kept playing and for an awkward few seconds didn't answer me. "I'm okay," he managed to say.
After our game we headed to my back deck and fired up the grill. As I made burgers he gulped down ice tea and made small talk about his job and summer school classes. Then he fell silent. "You know," he finally blurted out, "I'm really embarrassed about..." His voice trailed off as he hesitated. "About what?" I asked. "You have nothing to be embarrassed about."
"It's just that I'm really hairy. In high school, some of the guys made fun of me because I have so much hair on my chest. I hate to take my shirt off. I haven't really even dated many girls because I'm afraid what they'll say when they see me without a shirt on. I rubbed my hand on his solid shoulder. His head hung down, afraid to make eye contact.
"Hey," I said, "it's okay." I told him that a lot of people got turned on by hairy guys. The hair made them look more masculine and rugged.
"I don't know," he said, "you tell me." He reached into his shorts to pull out the bottom of his shirt. Slowly, he peeled the sweat-damp fabric up and over his stomach, his mid-section, and then his chest. "What do you think?" I was afraid to answer, only because before me stood the most mouth-watering young stud I'd ever laid eyes on. He was definitely not too hairy, at least not for my taste. His shoulders, upper arms, and back were smooth. But there was a thick mat of brown hair swirling over each of his well-defined pecs and feathering over his collarbone. It was especially thick at the center of his chest, and from there it descended in a heavy trail of fur that spread out again over his washboard abs. It got more dense beneath his navel and trailed still lower down into his shorts.
He looked up at me, waiting for my reaction. "You're a stud," I told him. "You've got nothing to be ashamed of." He looked relieved. "You really think so?"
"Of course I do. Check out your abs," I told him, "you've got a six pack. Your chest is solid," I added, "and it even looks like you're building up some really powerful lats." He smiled when I said that and lifted up his arms to flex. He really did had a great V-shape, and his biceps and shoulders nicely framed his sweaty, hairy armpits. "Thanks," he said, "but what about all the hair?"
"I love it-" Oh shit, I thought to myself, why did I say that? I tried to back-pedal. "I mean, it really does look good on you. You were meant to be hairy. It just suits you." His smile got broader and more confident. "Well I love the hair on your chest, too," he said, jutting out his finger and grazing it over the light hair that fanned over my pecs. "C'mon," I giggled, "that tickles."
Then he stuck his hands under my arms and started to tickle me for real. "Cut it out," I yelled, laughing my ass off. Then he got more aggressive, grabbling me in a bear hug and slamming me down on the deck. He pinned my arms over my head with one hand and tickled me with the other. I couldn't control my laugher. His muscular body pressed down on me. I breathed in the sweet smell of his breath and the scent of his fresh teenage sweat. Soon, there was something else I couldn't control: my hard-on. I struggled to turn away from him, but he just pressed down more firmly. He ground his crotch against mine-and he was hard too!
Keeping my arms pinned, he stopped tickling me and stared into my eyes. He had a serious look on his face. "Here goes," he said, and then he pressed his mouth onto mine. I opened my lips and his tongue slid between them. He let go of my arms and placed his hands on the sides of my face as our tongues did battle. I ran my fingers over his close-clipped scalp, pulling his head closer as I reveled in his smell, his taste, and the feel of his stubble brushing against my chin.
Our tongues never lost contact as I rolled over on top of him. Now I held his face in my hands while his palms ran firmly up and down the length of my back. I withdrew my tongue, kissed his lips, and then licked the hollow of his neck, his adams's apple, and the cleft of his chin. I paused when I saw his wide grin. "What?" I asked.
"It's just that I've been waiting for this for a long time."
