The sun rose over the city of Boston, waking up everyone's favorite chocolate-skinned, pretty-faced urban charmer. The name is Alphonse Bertrand and I'll be your storyteller for the day. The following story takes place during a rainy day of Spring Break 2008. I am taking some well-deserved time off from the school. Oh, only about a week. But what a week...for it's Spring Break! I need to clear my head, you know. A lot of shit has been happening lately and it's starting to get to a brother.
I am a student of the Boston Military Institute, a small private school located on the Boston Harbor. Not far from UMass Boston, whose library we share. The school has four thousand students, and focuses on preparing them for service in the United States armed forces. The Boston Military Institute is quite unique in that it's one of the few all-male colleges left in the United States of America. In the 1960s, a lot of previously all-male schools went coed. The Boston Military Institute or BMI didn't. We're a modern-day boys club and proud to be, even into the twenty first century. The student body is all-male, though we have both male and female professors. I wish there were more all-male schools in America. Especially in an age where male students are now the minorities on college and university campuses across the country. Something has got to be done to change this alarming national trend. Fortunately, BMI appeared to be doing it by focusing on male education.
One thing BMI is particularly famous for is varsity athletics. The Boston Military Institute Department of Athletics sponsors Men's Intercollegiate Alpine Skiing, Baseball, Basketball, Football, Cross Country, Swimming, Soccer, Gymnastics, Volleyball, Rifle, Ice Hockey, Wrestling, Track & Field, Rugby, Rowing, Sailing, Golf, Tennis and Lacrosse. Over thirty percent of all students participate in one varsity sport or another. Our collective sports teams, known as the Troopers, compete in the NCAA Division Three. I'm the starting quarterback of the Football team. We've had a good season, recently taking down Bridgewater State College and Worcester State to capture the D-III Title. We showed the New England Football Conference we were a force to be reckoned with. Once and for all.
Yeah, I was attending a kick-ass school and playing college football. The Head Football Coach said I might even make it to the NFL Draft this year. It was supposed to be the time of my life. Unfortunately, things weren't going so well. At the beginning of the semester, I met someone who changed my life forever. James Ferdinand, the interim Dean of the Criminal Justice Department at the Boston Military Institute. A six-foot-tall, big and muscular, jet-black, long-haired stud who looked so good in a business suit, it ought to be illegal. This stud hailed from Atlanta and was an alumnus of BMI, where he did his undergraduate work, over a decade ago. The man looked good enough to eat. He taught only one class, Beginning Forensics. I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame, so I signed up for his class. He was so fine, and also bright and articulate. And he was single. Imagine how I felt when he finally noticed me. Yeah, the finest man on the faculty was giving me the look. What's the look? All men and women who are gay or bisexual have an innate ability to spot their own kind. Some call it gaydar. I call it the special Awareness. The professor asked me to come by his office later to discuss my work, and I eagerly accepted. I showed up at his office alright, right after football practice.
Once I was inside, he closed the door and we didn't do a lot of talking. The professor grabbed me and kissed me, then next thing I know, he had me ass up on his oak desk. He stroked my dick. I was hard as hell and damn proud of that, too. I'm about eight and a half inches long and somewhat thick. Also, I'm uncut. My parents didn't let the doctors butcher me for obscure religious reasons. Some of my lovers found this intriguing, but most didn't care. The professor and I stroked then sucked each other's cocks. Then, he put on a condom and took me. I grunted as he worked his nine inches into me. The man knew how to fuck. Gripping my hips, he began to give my ass the pounding of the century. Hard and fast, he slammed his dick into me. His cock was stretching my backdoor to previously unimaginable girths, and I was loving every moment of it. I screamed passionately as this man's magic stick took me to heaven and back. Yeah, we hooked up that day and it was fun. And this was only the beginning. For three months, professor James Ferdinand and I had our affair. I was going out with a fine girl named Mary Shane from UMass Boston at the time. A five-foot-ten, blonde-haired, green-eyed Irishwoman built like an Olympic athlete, Mary Shane was every man's dream girl. Except that I was a man with very different dreams. We had been together for sixteen months. She was alright but didn't light my fire the way professor James Ferdinand did. I soon dumped her and focused all my lust and attention on him. We had our fun for two months, then one day out of the blue he ditched me. Just like that. I was hurt, to tell you the truth. Serves me right for thinking with my dick rather than my brain. I put the professor and his heavenly body out of mind by focusing on going to class and playing football. To ease the pain of getting dumped, I scratched the words CLOSET CASE in bold letters on his precious red Hummer.
If only that had been it, as far as my troubles were concerned. But there was much more to come, unfortunately. I found out that my parents, Olivier and Jeannette Bertrand of Providence, Rhode Island, were getting a divorce. This caught me by surprise, to tell you the truth. I thought my parents had a rock solid marriage. Then again, most people are surprised when things like that happen to their families. So many African-American and Haitian couples are splitting left and right. What's up with that? Oh, well. I decided to chill in Boston for a couple of days. I only had about five hundred bucks in my bank account. The Boston Military Institute doesn't give out athletic scholarships. And it costs twenty grand a year, plus an additional three thousand if you live in the dormitories, which I did. Hailing from Rhode Island, I couldn't exactly commute to the Boston Harbor every bloody day. It would cost me a fortune! After paying for this semester's full tuition, I was basically broke. Thankfully, this was my senior year. Next year, I would be hitting the work force, armed with a bachelor of science degree in Criminal Justice.
Time for this brother to have himself some fun. I tried to beat the stress, but nothing seemed to work. I went to the movies and saw Street Kings. It was pretty good. I can't wait to see Batman : The Dark Knight and Iron Man. I'm a fan of superhero-themed action movies. They're the best. Still, I felt lonely in the big city. Most of the guys from BMI were out of town. The majority of them were wealthy young men from prestigious families. I was just a kid from Rhode Island with big dreams. Still, I found a way to end the loneliness and beat the stress. I went to get myself some booty. The curative effect of fine booty on a stressed mind is something most men are familiar with. So, I got dressed in some killer outfit and hit the streets. I wore an Italian red silk shirt, black Denim jeans and black leather boots, all under a black leather sports coat. As I walked through the streets of Boston, I was aware of men and women checking me out. This is really nothing new. At six-foot-two and 220-pounds of hard-bodied black stud, I was not the kind of man who went unnoticed for long.