Disclaimer and Legal Stuff:  Don’t read this if you're not supposed to, either because you live in a regressive community or you don’t like erotic stories about gay sex (in which case, why are you here?).  If you distribute this story, that’s fine, just don’t edit it, and leave my name on it.  Thanks.


The response to the first two chapters of this story has been quite flattering.  Many of you have made suggestions (since I solicited them) about particular acts or scenarios you’d like to see appear somewhere in the course of the series.  Those suggestions are the reason I’m elevating the author’s note for this chapter from a colophon to a preface:  since I begin incorporating some suggestions with this chapter, this warning should precede rather than follow it.

Some suggestions I found remarkably appealing; some, disturbing.  Bear in mind that, while suggestions were solicited, the story remains mine and I will exercise more than merely editorial discretion over it.  To the extent that my imagination can fathom an act and the motivation for it, I will attempt to bridge it with what’s been kindly described as my canon.  Not all suggestions will appear in this story--if you really want to see a story that contains an act I don’t incorporate, you can always write your own (but many of them won't comply with the Submission Guidelines).  Some will appear (though I will not endeavor to research their mechanics as I typically do for my other work), and they may not be compatible with the expectations of readers of my other stories, like Brains Over Brawn and Simon And Sir.  I expand on this in a new disclaimer on my FAQ site, and I have corrected the URL to that site in my standard story header.

Finally, I reiterate that this story will end when reader interest, manifested by email feedback, ends.  I respond to all appropriate emails, though the volume may necessitate brevity on my part.  As a result of excessive spam and viruses, I have blocked some domains; I apologize if this obstructs your attempt to contact me—my FAQ site includes alternative means of doing so.  I also delete unread emails with unsolicited attachments or emails larger than 15K in size; this is intended to limit virus exposure and prevent my mailbox from exceeding its allocated limit.  Positive and constructive negative comments are welcome.

On the Advice of Counsel
Chapter Three
By MaineBoyXY
(for story list and FAQ, go to maineboyxy.freewebsitehosting.com)

I stood and walked to the desk, my eyes locked on the jock strap laying on it.  I reached down and picked it up, finding it sodden with Andrew’s cum but not especially soggy; his cum was so thick and viscous that it hadn’t soaked into the material.  I couldn’t believe that he was going to make me wear this all day, leaving it to dry against my skin.  I paused, holding it in my hand, feeling my own cock bob and drool.  Suddenly, without any conscious intent, I raised the jock up to my face, closed my eyes, and breathed in deeply.  The scent of him, concentrated into the rich essence of his sperm, shot through my brain.  Goosebumps erupted on my skin, and I felt the ripple building in my balls as if I were going to cum.

Quickly I pulled the jock away from my face and tried to regain my composure.  I definitely couldn’t cum now!  Christ, what was wrong with me?  I’d just sucked off an intern in my office, humiliated and blackmailed, and not only was I hard as a rock, I was on the verge of blowing my own load just from the smell of his!  I was trembling again.  Nevertheless, I looked down at the splooge-coated jock and raised it to my face again.  Again I breathed in deeply.  The scent was heady, pure eros, and it nearly made me dizzy, as though I’d been sniffing markers or rubber cement.  My mouth watered.  I wanted to taste it, to rub it over my face.  I wanted to trace my fingers along his cooling slime then feed it to myself greedily.  I wanted to lick the pouch clean, then stuff it into my mouth to chew on, to suck on, my saliva mixing with his spunk.

“Holy shit,” I muttered to myself as I shook myself to consciousness and again pulled the jock away.  The pinnacle of lust waned and conscious awareness returned.  I had to wear it.  If it wasn’t dried to my crotch when we got to his place for the weekend, there was no telling what the consequences would be.  I bent over and stepped into it, slowly pulling it up my legs, trying to keep the cum from spilling or smearing on my legs.  I stood, hesitant, the pouch just below my nuts.  I sighed and pulled them up, my balls settling down into the goo and then forcing it up and smearing it over my pubic region.  The slime had cooled and two realizations hit me like a truck:  my package was now soaking in his cold spunk, absorbing its smell and moisture; and, I liked it.  I reached down and tucked my hard on into the pouch and then squeezed my basket in my hand, massaging it.  My whole body tingled again.  My nipples were hard and it felt as though every pore was panting for breath.

I sat, in fact almost collapsed, into the chair.  It was a good thing I didn’t have any meetings today.  Even without the aroma, from which I was certain there would be no escape, I wasn’t in a frame of mind for doing any work.  Nevertheless, I had to try to put things in order; someone might stop by the office.  I rose, walked bowlegged to my clothes, and put them on—except my suit.  I left the jacket and trousers hanging behind the door.  I returned to my seat, making sure the shirt tails didn’t rest on the jock.  When I wheeled under my desk, everything looked normal.  No one could see my bulging jock or my naked legs.  They’d just smell the cum.  Fuck.  I didn’t have an outside window and, even if I had, on the 15th floor, it probably wouldn’t have opened.  I didn’t dare open the office door to let the smell dissipate; anyone who walked by would notice and the open door would just invite guests, whom I desperately wished to avoid.  I made a mental note that, at some point, I’d need to buy some air freshener for future crises like this one.

For future….  I was already resigned to the inevitability of my situation.  I’d be blowing Andrew every morning.  I was not only beyond objecting to it, I was preparing for it!  Was it just resignation?  Had I simply surrendered my resistance, or did I actually want it?  I couldn’t really want him to come in and make me blow him off every morning, could I?  I couldn’t deny the erection in my jock, soaking up his cum and drooling its own pre.  I reached over and opened my brief case.  Work would be futile, but I could at least shuffle some papers around for appearance’s sake.  God help me, though, if anyone actually came in.

My door stayed shut until slightly after six.  I’d buzzed Jessie, telling her I was buried in a case and asking that she intercept anyone headed for my office.  I’d missed lunch and I was famished.  Jessie probably noticed, knowing my daily routine at the deli, but I hoped that she just took at as evidence of how busy I really was.  Meanwhile, I’d been sitting in my office, idly perusing documents, my mind full of images of Andrew’s cock and ways he would use it on me.  I hadn’t seen the rest of his body yet, but I had a detailed mental picture and it, too, occupied my thoughts.  In the afternoon, after scratching at the itch of the dried cum crust in my jock, I’d put the rest of my suit on, but I’d still been too anxious to try to step out.  Consequently, my stomach was empty and my bladder was full; even if I’d dared leave the office and risk being smelled, I couldn’t remove my cock from the jock to piss without disturbing the cum crust that glued them together.  Not that I’d have been able to piss through the erection that persisted all day long.  So that’s how Andrew found me when he popped into the office unannounced after he’d finished his work for the day.

The opening of the door startled me.  In only two days, my office had changed from the minor fiefdom of a lesser vassal to a prison.  My warden strolled in, casual and unaffected, pausing only for a second to sniff at the air.  “It doesn’t smell that bad in here after all,” he said once he’d closed the door.  “I was done about fifteen minutes ago, but Jessie has been guarding your office all day long.  She sure does look after you.  Maybe she’s got the hots for you.  If only she knew what we know,” he smirked.  “Anyway, I waited until she left just to make sure the coast was clear, at least on this floor.”  He’d crossed the floor to my desk, standing next to me as I looked up at him blankly.  He reached out his hand and brushed the back of it over my cheek.  I felt my expression turn to one of pleading as he looked down at me, smiling softly.  His eyes were half closed as he turned his hand and began stroking my lips with a single fingertip.  I closed my eyes and opened my mouth slightly, leaning back in the leather desk chair.

“Yeah,” he murmured softly.  He slipped his finger into my mouth slowly, and I closed my lips around it, sucking gently.  “Damn, you must really be horned up.  Did sitting in here soaking in my cum put you in heat, bitch?”  Eyes closed, I nodded as he slowly fucked my mouth with his finger.  “Well, fuck, I’d really been looking forward to putting you in your place this weekend, Robbie boy, but it looks like you’re already there.  Mentally, anyway.”  He withdrew his finger and used it to wetly caress my lips.  “We’ll still do some stuff to get the physical part right.  I guess it’s easier for you if you’ve psyched yourself up, and I don’t guess I care.  I mean, I’m not going to do anything less than I’d already planned, but maybe you’ll be more OK with it than I’d thought.

“Are you ready to head over to my place and start your training?” he asked.

“Yes sir,” I answered.  I’d been in my office for almost eleven hours.  Not only was cabin fever setting in, but my lust was out of control.  Simply seeing him again had triggered a new desire in me.  The constant stimuli of the feel of his cum, first wet then dry, against my cock and nutsack, and the smell of it that I’d been convinced—apparently without reason—still permeated my office and my own body, had had my hormones churning in my blood stream all day long.  Coupled with the blowing him this morning and yesterday afternoon, the adrenaline rush of doing it my office both times and running to the courthouse in desperation to make the filing deadline yesterday, and the fact I hadn’t jerked off since Wednesday morning, had me more fucked up than I could remember.

“OK, Robbie boy, get up and come with me.  You won’t need anything except your car keys.”  I followed him out of my office, through the halls, down the elevator, and to my car in the parking garage; my hard on led the way as I trailed after him like a puppy once more.  He went to the driver’s door and held out his hand.  Humiliated but knowing better than to protest, I handed him the keys and went to the passenger door.  “In the backseat,” he ordered.  The backseat of the convertible was small, but I climbed in and sat submissively.  He too got in and adjusted the seats for his additional four inches of height.

“I want you to take off everything but the jock strap while we’re on the way.  Fold your clothes and hand them up to the passenger seat,” he commanded.

He wanted me to ride in my own car naked!  “Please,” I began.  My eyes met his in the rear view mirror as his narrowed.

“If you argue with me, bitch, I’ll make you ride back there with the top down!  Do you want that?”

“No sir!” I exclaimed.

“I didn’t think so.  So get to it.”  He started the engine and backed out of the parking place.

It wasn’t a long drive to his townhouse, but it felt like it.  It was fairly large and in an upscale area, not far from my own condo in fact.  He pulled into the driveway, produced his own keys from the pocket, and hit the remote for the garage door.  It opened and we pulled in as the door lowered into place behind us.

“My room mates are supposed to be at the beach this weekend,” he explained.  “If they’re not, that’ll just give you more dick to fill your mouth and cunt, right?”

“Yes sir,” I replied.  I obeyed his order to get out and we entered what turned out to be the second of three floors through a door off to one side of the garage.  He led me on a brief tour, my inferiority obvious as I wore nothing but my bulging jock and he wore his suit.  This ground floor housed the kitchen, dining area, living room, half bath, coat closet, and foyer.  Downstairs, where I expected a full SM dungeon, was a utility area with the hot water heater, washer, and dryer, and a room that appeared to double as a game room and gym.  Several pieces of weight training equipment stood on one side and on the other were a pool table and an average sized television with a few gaming systems connected to it.  A ping-pong table stood folded in another corner.  Upstairs lay the bedrooms—there were three—an office/study room, and a full bath.  He led me into the bedroom adjacent to the office.  It was obviously his room:  it smelt faintly of him, an aroma I’d become intimately familiar with all day long, and there were pictures of him and presumably his friends along the dresser.  His room, not surprisingly, must have been the master bedroom because another full bath opened off to one side.

The entire townhouse was immaculate and his room was no exception so I concluded that it was either his or leased in his name, and that he demanded cleanliness of his tenants.  Nothing about him led me to doubt that his demands were met.  His room consisted of a dresser, a walk-in closet, the master bath, a bed, a bookshelf, and a large, plush armchair with ottoman.  It was very respectably sized, with matching furniture and color schemes.  He turned to me and stood an arm’s length away, looking down.  He reached out with both hands and grasped my nipples, squeezing and twisting them.

“Ow!” I cried instinctively, my hands moving up from my sides before I sensibly stopped them and forced them back down.  He smiled and chuckled.  He twisted harder, pulling them out from my chest.  I whined and writhed but offered no real resistance.  I turned my eyes to the floor and noticed his cock was at least half hard.

“See, Robbie boy, I told you.  You’re a natural.  You instinctively know better than to resist me.”

“Yes sir,” I whimpered.  He continued working my tender nips, twisting one way, then the other, holding them firmly out from my chest.  He rolled them between his fingertips, watching me futilely shift my weight from side to side and arch my chest out to him.  My hands made fists at my sides.

“This isn’t anything compared to what you’re going to feel by the time this weekend is over, cunt,” he said.  That rich baritone with its lazy but accurate enunciation seemed to reverberate.  “And you’re going to love it.  When you go back to work on Monday, it’s going to be all you can think about it, what I did to you this weekend.  What you begged to have done to you.  What you did to yourself just because I told you you had to do it to earn the right to suck me, or feel my cock in your pussy.  Yeah, Robbie, when this weekend is over, you’re never going to be the same.  You’re going to be mine.  Hell, you’re already mine, but not like you’re going to be on Monday.  I own you now, but by then, I’m going to own your soul.”

“Yes sir,” I whimpered again, writhing as he abused my nipples.

“Good,” he smiled.  “You agree.  That’ll make things easier for you.  But not much.  Now let’s get started.  Go ahead and undress me.  Hang up my suit and tie in the closet, then put everything else in the hamper in the bathroom.  I like things neat, and it’s going to be your job this weekend to keep things that way.  Among other things,” he added ominously.  “Start with my shoes.”

I knelt in front of him, the hardwood floor pressing into my knees.  I untied his oxfords and slipped them off of his feet.  I raised his trouser cuffs and removed his socks, pulling them down off one calf, then the other.  He watched me closely as I rose, then I moved behind him and slipped his jacket off his shoulders.  I folded it neatly and laid it on the bed.  I returned in front of him and unbuttoned the waist of his trousers, unzipping them as well.  His erection was obvious as my hand moved over his crotch.  I slipped his braces over his shoulders, then knelt again to slip his feet through the trouser legs.  His silk boxer shorts appeared in front of my face between his fluttering shirt tails as I pulled the navy suit free.  Just seeing the hard rod jutting out from under his shirt, still covered in silk, made my mouth water.  He no doubt saw me as I swallowed hard in anticipation as I rose.

I unbuttoned the braces from the trousers and moved to hang the suit on a cedar hanger in his closet.  I folded the braces and laid them on the dresser.  I picked up his shoes and looked questioningly at him.  “There’s a shoe stand in the closet floor, and two free shoe trees.  You can figure it out.”  I looked in the floor and there was the stand, one pair of shoe trees and one free place for the black oxfords in my hand.  I returned and untied his tie, slipping it from under his collar.  I hung it on the tie rack in the closet.  Slowly, I unbuttoned his shirt, starting at each barrel cuff, then from the neck down.  I lifted the shirt from his shoulder and down his lean arms.  I removed the collar stays and placed them beside his braces, tossing the shirt into the floor with his socks.  I turned back and saw him standing there, wearing only a white, crew t-shirt and his black boxer shorts.  The contrast between them, and the way they complimented the cream coloring of his skin and the onyx of his hair and eyes, made my cock leap in my jock.  He noticed that too.

“Come on, cumdump, finish up.  I’m hard and ready to start working on you.”  I took his the tail of his undershirt and raised it over his head as he lifted his arms.  Slowly, I revealed his smooth chest.  It was chiseled to perfection:  strong abs, defined pecs, impeccable shoulders.  Watching him lower his arms was like watching the gently rolling sea as each muscle and tendon contracted and relaxed.  It wasn’t that he was bulky or built; he was simply so lean that there was nothing but skin stretched taut over muscle and bone.  He indulged me a moment as I stood in awe, staring, mouth agape, at his torso, his shirt still balled in my hands.  “Yeah, you thought you were in shape.  And you are, you’re fit, tight, firm.  But now you see why I’m the master and you’re the fuckslave.  I’m the real man, right?”

I nodded wordlessly.  “Go ahead then,” he encouraged.  “You can kneel down and take out your other master.”  I obeyed, dropping to my knees, tossing the shirt aside, and reaching for his boxers.  As my fingers grasped the material, he reached and pulled my face into his crotch.  He buried my nose in his balls, working my face from side to side in his groin.  “Yeah, feel that?  Feel those balls and that hard cock?  Smell that manscent, bitch?  Does it smell like you remember it?  Does it smell like that cum you’ve been soaking in all day?”

“Yes sir!” I mumbled between his legs.

“You know you’re gonna taste it again, right?  You know you’re gonna drink from it, feed from it, worship it, right?  You know you’re gonna feel it ram up that pussy and fill you with my baby juice, right?”

“Yes sir!” I screamed, consumed with lust.  I hadn’t been fucked since my second year of law school.  My ass was probably so tight, it would be like my virginity had grown back.  I’d fingered it a few times, sure, but no dick had been inside it for a three years, and certainly no dick as long and thick as Andrew’s.  The thought of him raping me both scared and aroused me.  He took my hair and pulled me away, throwing me away from him so that I sprawled back on the floor.  He hooked his thumbs under the waist band and shoved them down.  They slid freely down his lean, muscled legs and puddled at his feet.  His 8.5” cock pointed up acutely towards his chest, his balls dangling low between his thighs.  His nuts were huge, the size of extra large chicken eggs.  That explained the copiousness and viscosity of his load.  Completely subconsciously, my hand moved to my crotch, still covered with my glued-on jock, and I began to massage my package, my eyes locked on him.

“What the fuck are you doing!” he screamed down at me.  His eyes were on fire as he pounced upon me, straddling my thighs, seizing my hands and raising them over my head.  He pinned them with one hand as the other clutched my balls.   “I didn’t tell you to touch yourself, you stupid fucking faggot!” he continued.  He tightened his grip on my nuts, squeezing hard, pulling them down away from my body through the jock.

“Oh God!” I wailed, writhing under him.  “I’m sorry, Sir, oh God, I’m sorry!  Please, master….”  The pain in the pit of my gut was agonizing as he twisted my full balls.

“Shut up!  Shut up!” he yelled.  “Stop wriggling around and look at me!”  I fought for self-control as I willed my body to becalm.  I opened my eyes and looked up at him, frowning angrily down at me.  “Do you submit to me?  Do you accept me as your master?  Are you my fucking cuntslave?”

“Yes sir!” I shouted back at him.  “You’re my master!  I’m nothing but your fucking cuntslave, Sir!”

He released my balls and hands as I lay panting beneath him.  “Don’t ever touch yourself without my permission again, or I’ll tie them up and beat them until they swell up as big as mine, do you understand, cuntslave?”

“Yes sir,” I moaned.  I needed to wrap my hands around my sore nuts and soothe them, but I dared not move, let alone touch my crotch.  He remained there, his eyes burning into mine, for several silent minutes.  My brain burned.  I’d declared him my master.  I’d declared myself to be his cuntslave.  He had been squeezing my nuts, but that hadn’t been why.  I hadn’t agreed with him out of self-preservation.  What was it?  Had I spoken the truth about myself before I’d even consciously acknowledged it?  Had he plumbed the depth of my soul to expose what lay there at its base?  Was that the underlying foundation to my ambitiousness, my aggressiveness at work?  A subconscious need to be taken, to be humiliated, to be made into a slave?  I stared up at him, my eyes wide in fear, fear that I’d learned something of myself in those seconds of reflection.  He stared down at me, watching me, almost watching my brain as it processed my new thoughts.  Slowly his frown faded and was replaced with a smirk.

“OK, then, cuntslave.  I think we understand each other now.”  He rose and turned to the bed.  “I’m a little musky from the day at work.  I need a bath, and you’re going to give it to me.”  He lay down on the bed, lying on his back, spreading his limbs to the far corners of the queen-sized mattress.  “Wash me.  Wash me with your fucking slave tongue, bitch boy.  Wash every fucking inch.”

I stood slowly, the pain from my balls still rippling through my gut.  I moved to the bed and knelt beside him, resting my weight on my forearms and knees as I lowered my mouth, tongue outstretched, to his sternum.  I pressed my face close to him until my wet tongue made contact.  I smelled him again as I breathed deeply.  I licked.  I washed.  My cock throbbed.  Other than fine black hair on his limbs and the bush in his pits and around his cock, he was smooth from the neck down.  He tasted slightly salty, but what was remarkable was the amount of heat his body generated.  After his sternum was coated in slobber, I made my way to each nipple in turn, licking it carefully, then gently sucking it into my mouth.  I licked my way down his chest to his navel, but as I began my descent towards his cock, he reached down with one hand and pulled my head up again, burying it in his armpit.  There wasn’t much stench there, just a faint residue of deodorant.  The chemical tasted acrid on my tongue, though, and it began to dry out.  He held my head in place there for some time before he switched hands and then pushed my face over to the other side.

When he was satisfied with that side, he shoved my head away.  “Get down there and do my feet now.  Pay attention to my toes and the soles.  When I think you’re done, I’ll turn over.  Then you can start at my shoulders and work down to my ass.  Be prepared to spend a lot of time on my ass.  And I want it clean inside and out.”  As I knelt at the foot of his bed and started licking the bottom of his right foot, I thought about rimming him.  I’d never done it to anyone and the thought had never appealed to me.  How does a guy stick his tongue in another guy’s ass?  I continued licking his foot, passing my tongue between each of his toes, then sucking the length of each toe into my mouth.  It wasn’t filthy, but I obviously knew where I was licking and there was a definite footy, sweaty taste.  After I repeated the process on the left foot, he turned over and repositioned himself, face down, in the center of the bed.

I started at his shoulders, as he’d ordered.  His entire back was hairless from where his scalp ended at his neck to the tops of his thighs.  I licked my way down to the small of his back, passing smoothly from side to side as I went.  Finally, I came to the moment of truth.  His hard buttocks were no real challenge; they were really just two mounds as an extension of his back.  There was clearly a psychological effect of realizing I was literally kissing his ass—if one could consider open-mouthed tonguing a kiss.  But it paled in comparison to the significance of the seminal act.  His back and ass, like the rest of his body, were firm and lean, the skin tight over the muscle.  The effect was that his buttocks were already fairly spread, revealing a somewhat shallow crevice.  I placed a hand on each mound and pressed them gently apart, and I saw his pristine hole.  There was no sign that it had been invaded, ever, by any object.  Tentatively, I leaned down and, as my face drew near, I coincidentally drew in a breath.  The scent was surprisingly void of any fecal odor, which I had dreaded.  It smelt musky, like his crotch and armpits.  My mouth was watering.  Encouraged, I began in the patch of skin between his crack and ball sack and took a long sweeping pass up between his cheeks, right through the center of the valley.  He moaned approvingly, and it gave me new heart.  I repeated the motion, then turned my head slightly to each side to work my way up and out over the crest of his ass flesh.

“Don’t forget the inside,” he reminded.

“No sir,” I reassured him.  I bent down and pressed my tongue to his entry.  I paused only briefly, knowing that this was the biggest mental barrier.  I pressed my face deep into his crack and I jutted my tongue out, sinking into him.

“Oh, fuck yeah, bitch!  Fucking eat that ass!” he cried out as his ass rose to meet me.  The taste wasn’t what I expected.  It was moist, humid, smooth, there was a salty tang, a hint of bitterness, but no discernibly fecal taste.  I was awash with relief.  In fact, I think I was so happy not to have been grossed out that I began to feast at his asshole, pistoning my tongue in and out, withdrawing it completely only to plunge it back in.  It occurred to me that I was really fucking him with it.  I opened my mouth wider and wrapped my lips to form a seal and began to suck his ass as I licked it, using my the tip of my tongue to trace spirals around his sphincter, corkscrewing in and out.  “Oh fuck!  Oh fuck!”  he kept moaning rhythmically, until it became a Vedic chant.  His hips were in regular motion, rolling his ass under my mouth, and I grabbed them with my hands to hold on.  I loved the sounds he was making, the obvious pleasure I was responsible for inflicting on him.  My cock was wild in the crusty jock I still wore, throbbing and pulsing and drooling.   My tongue was nearly exhausted from its work elsewhere on his body, aching with exertion from entering and reentering his tight hole, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop.  It’s not that I feared punishment for stopping too soon; I was truly getting off simply on pleasuring him.  Was that a sign that I  really was his bitch?  Was it just a natural expression of lust?

My jaw began to ache and my tongue muscle burned.  At last, the bucking bronco threw me as he raised his hips and rolled over on his side, pulling his ass away.  His eyes seemed glazed as he looked at me, his face flushed and glistening with perspiration.  “Oh, man, I almost shot my load!  Damn, you eat good ass, Robbie!  You’re going to be doing that a lot!”

“Yes sir,” I replied.  I found myself grinning inexplicably as I reached up to wipe the slobber off my chin and cheeks with my hand.  He reached down to his cock and firmly squeezed the head, massaging it.  The whole rod looked bigger than I’d ever seen before and it was covered root to head with slimy precum.  He closed his eyes for a few seconds, still squeezing his dick, regaining control over this lust.  When his breathing had returned to normal and his cock had subsided a bit, he reopened his eyes and looked at me calmly.

“I think we need to finish getting you ready.  We’ve got a long weekend ahead, and I’ve got a lot of loads to dump in your holes.”  With that he rolled and rose from the bed, making his way towards the bathroom.