Date: Wed, 4 Feb 2015 20:12:19 -1000 From: Kyle Weaver Subject: Douchebag and the Hole 5 Part V I was very distracted all Monday long. There was a poster for the upcoming football game on the wall outside my class. The pads in their uniforms seemed to accentuate their bulging muscles. I didn't know what sports Duke played seriously, if any, but I knew he took care of his body. I needed to focus. I didn't want to be late. My first class of the day was Calculus. Math was always beautiful to me. Ratios and laws and working through things. I had recently done an extra credit project about the golden ratio, and wrote a paper on all the places it showed up in nature. Things so often had a mathematical, almost formulaic beauty to them: a disciplined, spiral pattern that extended into the horizon. I conjured Duke's eye in my mind, and gazed deep inside. "Holden!" The graduate assistant hissed. "What?" "Stop daydreaming! Switch to cylindrical coordinates. Do it on the board." "Oh, of course." I noticed, with a slight panic, there was something of a bulge in my shorts. I tried to ignore it, solving the problem on the board, but turning a deep shade of red in the process. I was happy to escape to my job at the library. Over and over, I stamped books on the inside cover and watched the door with a kind of furtive compulsiveness, making sure nobody snuck by with anything they shouldn't. I wasn't like Duke was I? Selling myself out, marking things on the inside, living in fear of the outside--the real world? I was over-thinking this. Duke always made me flustered—he made my heart race. His ass was so beautiful as he walked. Then he swiveled, and I saw the real prize. "Excuse me mister. Can you stamp my books to check out?" "What?" I asked. "Oh—yeah, of course," I whispered. STAMP. That first night, he let me suck on his cock for a few bonus minutes, stroking my hair. It was kind of like cuddling. His jeans smelled like him, and when I held them into me, it was like he was beside me. I put my fingers through the zipper and kissed them, like a goodnight kiss, since he wouldn't let me do it for real. STAMP. I shook my head. Duke was just a rebound guy, after all. I didn't feel anything for him. It was purely fun. It was sexual. There was no attachment. He would never love me. STAMP. I was managing myself, wasn't I? Everything was under control. STAMP. "You stamped the same book four times. I think you need to stamp the other three books too." STAMP. STAMP. STAMP. "Here you go," I said, tossing him his books. The poor kid's eyes bugged out and he scampered away. When I got home, the hole was empty, like I found it the night before. My heart pounded, freezing me in place. After a minute passed, a hard, bulging cock slowly slid through the hole. "Get to it, boyhole." I crawled across my bed and leaned into his protruding cock. It was similar to the previous night, except this time, he had no words for me. He lost himself in pleasure, moaning louder and louder until I knew the end was near. Not long after he shot down my throat, I looked through the hole, but he had turned away from me again. Part of me wanted to scream. I turned away, mirroring him, looking at the plastic cup he had given me weeks before. Maybe soon the green laser pointer would dance over it, and I could hear Duke's soothing voice again. I brought Duke's jeans to my nose, covering my face and breathing deep. I held the fabric to my chest. The cups wouldn't work anymore, I suppose. Duke had cut the line days ago, so as to not chafe his cock. But I was almost asleep, and I could dream whatever I wanted to dream. I felt my mouth curl. Duke. Tuesday was just the same. I started to panic a little. Besides saying, "Get to it, boyhole"---would Duke ever talk to me again? Was I even a person to him anymore? Everything was managed. Everything was under control. I tried to direct my breathing. On Wednesday, my mood was a little odd. I had been doing homework facedown on my bed, naked, and my ass was stiff. I heard rustling, and craned my neck to see it. Slowly, Duke's cock crept through the hole until the entire monster projected toward me. I rubbed my stiff ass in my palms. I moved toward Duke slowly, until the edge of my ass grazed his cock. Then, I wriggled slightly, so that his cock burrowed between my ass cheeks. It didn't enter me—it was way too big to do incidentally pop inside—but it did ride up my crack. "Fuck," Duke said. I closed my eyes. A second later, he had retreated. I spied on him through the hole. He had turned away, lying on his side. "Duke," I said. He didn't stir. "Duke—I didn't mean anything. I was just teasing. Please—don't give me the cold shoulder." Silence. "Duke!" I said. "I'm not your boyfriend," he said at last. He turned, anger etched into his eyes, and slammed his fist into the wall. The boom reverberated, and I flinched. He turned away again, and this time, I didn't stop him. Thursday passed slowly. Joey offered intellect, affection, thoughtfulness, class, resourcefulness, and style. On top of that, he was stable, consistent, honest, honorable, considerate, and we had more stuff in common...the list went on and on and on. Duke's cock. I snarled. Duke's body, smile, and attitude. I didn't mean to string anyone along. Joey deserved better. I still had feelings for him. We had good memories. Bubbles and films and fireflies. Cups on a string. Popsicles. What did Duke want, exactly? He was so CONFUSING. It all sort of paved together on the surface of the road in my mind, teasing and tunneling toward the sunset, but never seeming to reach it. I buried my face in my hands behind the library desk. I had NO IDEA what I was doing. "Can I check out War and Peace?" The voice sounded familiar. I moved my hands, then stumbled, knocking the stapler off the desk. "Duke!" I gasped. "Wh—what are you doing here? You read?" "Yes, I read, boy." He mouthed the word `hole' and raised his eyebrows. The light danced in his blue eyes. I bit my lip then sucked my teeth back into my mouth quickly. "We are going to a wine and cheese kickback tonight," he said. "And if I don't want to?" I said. "You want to," Duke said. "Because you want to be close to me." I didn't know what to say to that. "Be back at your room at 8:00. We'll need to get ready." I stamped his book and watched him leave. Then, I scratched the itch on my cheek and picked up the stapler. At 8:00, I was sitting at my desk when I heard pounding on the door. "Open up, Holden!" I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I opened the door and he bowled his way into my room. "We are supposed to be there soon," he said, taking on a rare look of concentration. "Who are we meeting?" I asked, shutting the door. "Some girls from my political science class." "What are you wearing?" "Oh this?" he said. "It's an organic bracelet. It's made out of organic materials. We are protesting the dining common for not serving organic food." "Since when did you care about that kind of stuff?" He shrugged. "Girls dig it." I raised my eyebrows. "And your shirt?" "I was just going to wear a tank top. Girls dig that too." "I'm not sure that they do," I said, trying not to look directly at him. Duke raised his arms into the air, flexing his tremendous biceps. The tangled smells of Axe and sweat emanated from his pits and ensnared me. Duke grabbed me by the back of the hair and made me look into his eyes. "You like it—don't you?" I nodded, my breathing uneven. He pulled me into his arm and my lips grazed his thick muscle. He grabbed my ass and I moaned. "You wanted to get fucked yesterday, didn't you?" I controlled my breathing. "I was just teasing. I—I didn't mean anything by it. I'm not ready for things to get more intimate anyway." "Liar. But it's for the best. I like things the way they are." I gathered myself. "Don't wear the tank top, Duke. This isn't some dirty party. You said `wine and cheese.' That means classy. That means a button-up or polo." "A polo?" "Never mind," I said. "You must have a button-up shirt." Duke shook his head. "I have t-shirts and tank tops. Sometimes I go shirtless. People dig that." "What is your obsession today with the word dig?" "Lighten up, Holden. I know what I am doing." "No you don't," I said. I sighed. "I think I have a button-up that is too big for me. Maybe it will fit you." I rummaged for the large sky blue button-up Erica had given me mistakenly a year or so back. For a minute, I thought I had lost it, but then I saw it peeking behind a few empty hangers in my closet. "Try this," I said. I looked at the floor as Duke pulled off his tank top, but he paused when he was shirtless, grabbing my head and making me look at him again. "You are really nuts about me, aren't you?" he said. His smile curled and his eyes glimmered. I gaped at him, unsure of what to say. He wormed his way into the sleeves and started to button-up. I stopped him at the last button. "Leave that one open." It fit great. His muscles bulged out slightly, but not enough to make him look restricted. The color brought out the blue in his twinkling eyes. "You look spectacular," I whispered. He cocked an eyebrow. "Does it make your boyhole itch?" "Shut up," I said quietly. He pulled me in and breathed in my ear. "That's a yes." I found a suitable grey polo, and we were off minutes later. I felt nervous on the way over. What did Duke want from me? Duke smirked at me. "People won't suspect anything funny between us if we make a concerted effort to hook-up with girls." "I don't want to hook-up with girls, Duke. And I don't really want you to either." "Doesn't matter." He looked around, making sure we were alone. "You aren't my boyfriend; you are my boyhole. There's a difference." I didn't say anything else for the rest of the walk. When we arrived and Duke knocked on the door, it occurred to me that it was customary to bring some sort of food or drink, but it was too late. I swallowed the thought. "Come in. I'm Clarissa." She wore a sleek red dress. The bottom had an asymmetrical slash that caught the eye. Her strawberry blond hair was styled in a braided bun. Duke went red when he saw her and I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. She took us past the kitchen, where a few of the others were sampling wine, and to the living room. Then, Clarissa sat us down across from her friend, who was wearing a black dress with floral rose trim. It matched her bobbing hair. She sported eye glasses with vintage green frames that resembled a butterfly. "This is Victoria." She said, touching her friend's shoulder. Then she gestured toward me. "That's Holden. I'll go get the hors d'oeuvre." Clarissa left the room briefly. "Nice bracelet," Victoria said to Duke. "Yeah," he said. "It's organic. We are fighting for organic food at the dining commons." Victoria leaned forward, pursing her lips. "And why do you like organic food?" "Because it's natural," Duke said. "It doesn't have all that crap in it." "Well, if it's grown with manure instead of in a lab, you might be dead wrong about that," she said. "At any rate, natural isn't the easiest concept to pin down, is it? I mean, is corn natural? People genetically engineered it over thousands of years, picking out the largest kernals in order to plant new corn crops. Is that fundamentally different than what scientists are doing in labs today to create GMOs? Even something like a vaccine might be some `unnatural' creation—but is that the same as bad?" "What are GMOs?" Duke asked. "Genetically modified organisms," Victoria said, frowning. Duke grunted. "I just want the best food available." "But how do you define best?" Victoria said. "If there is this big gluten-free craze, where half the population develops an inexplicable fear of gluten, do you get rid of all gluten just to assuage the masses, even if only a tiny percentage of the population are celiac?" "Celiac? You mean those guys that think they have a bunch of diseases they don't really have? Like the giraffe in Madagascar?" Victoria blinked. I knew that blink. "That's a hypochondriac," Victoria said. Her voice was soft but dangerous. She turned toward me. "What do you think, Holden?" My heart was beating fast. "A lot of research has gone in to testing the costs and benefits of organic and GMO foods. Save a few fairly inconclusive studies about rat epithelium, most studies find no difference at all in health outcomes of genetically modified food versus organic food. Horror stories are the exception, more than the rule, and shouldn't govern everything." Victoria nodded and Duke looked at me like I was tossing out money at a parade in a funny suit. I continued on. "I still think GMO food should be labeled, so people can make their own choices. GMOs aren't without unforeseen problems, either. Genes to resist pesticides may be useful in crops, but genetic crossover can result in weeds gaining pesticide resistance genes and running rampant, which has happened on numerous occasions." Victoria smiled. "And do you want organic food at the dining common?" "I think it's nice if people have the option, though I wouldn't prefer it personally." Duke began to absent-mindedly grope himself, seeming restless. His long pole stretched down his pants-leg. I ripped my gaze away from him, looking right into Victoria's eyes, willing myself to control my running heartbeat. "So even if people are making a choice that you think is probably wrong," Victoria said, "You think they should be allowed to make that mistake?" "Probably," I said. "It can get complicated, when different interests are at odds with one another. It's tempting to be an ideologue, and just try to get others to believe what I believe. Of course, sometimes you need to be a pragmatist, and act more situationally, since there's no single philosophy that works on everything, at least that I've found. The trick is to maintain your integrity through it all." Clarissa sat down beside Victoria, placing the cheese samples between us. Victoria turned to Duke. "So what do you think?" "Are we still talking about organic food?" Victoria rubbed her eye under her glasses. "Indirectly. Would you say you are a pragmatist or an ideologue?" Duke smiled. "Which one of those works out more? You should see my `all-natural' body. We can do belly-button shots. That seems `organic' in a way...am I right?" Victoria sighed. "Why do you even have an organic bracelet?" "I told you," Duke said. "I want better food for the dining common. I want it to be natural." "Maybe you should go into the room with the others," Victoria said, "and drink some electrolyte Cool-Aid. It's what douchebags crave." "Sounds fine to me," Duke said. He got up and left the room. With him gone, I felt like a spotlight was now pointed at me. "Do you still think he's cute?" Victoria asked. For a second my heart stopped. Had I given my attraction away? Then I realized she wasn't asking me. "Alight, alright." Clarissa said. "So maybe he's not boyfriend material. But he might be fun to hook-up with, right? In a `crazy story' kind of way." "It wouldn't be a crazy story," Victoria said. "It would just be sad." "Duke's not that bad," I said. "He just acts rough on the surface. Deeper down—he's worth getting to know. I swear it." "In other news, I'm surprised he's wearing a real shirt for once," Victoria said. "Well, I might have helped a little with that," I said. Victoria moved to my side of the couch and sat down next to me. She ran her hand down the sleeve of my shirt. "Figures," she said. I shivered. "Duke's overcompensating," she said. "He seems like he is trying too hard. But you don't need to try, do you Holden? You have the cute nerd thing down, don't you? With your crew cut, baby brown eyes, and Hollister skinny jeans. The only thing that's missing is glasses. Do you have glasses?" "I'm wearing contacts now." Victoria ran her hand over my cheek. "You would look good with glasses. You should bring them--next time." Usually I would slip my boyfriend into the conversation about now, although that had grown more difficult, given the complications with Joey and Duke. What did Duke want from me? I didn't want to blow his cover. I heard Duke's voice from the doorway. "Woah, Holden. Such a player!" His voice was slurred and his eyes were glazed. Duke sat down between us—or more accurately, he kind of sat on us, rubbing our hair with each hand. "I always knew you two would end up together. What was your name again?" "Victoria." "Are you drunk already?" I asked. He fell on me. "Duke!" I yelled. He was heavy and strong and uncooperative. Eventually, Clarissa and Victoria helped to pull him off of me. "I'll take him home," I said, brushing my clothes off as though they were plagued by invisible dust. "Are you sure you don't need help?" Clarissa said. "I'll be fine." And I was fine. Duke seemed much more competent on the walk home. Beads of water flecked my skin, slowly at first, then faster and faster. It was raining. Luckily, I brought the umbrella. I managed to keep Duke mostly dry, but I became pretty wet in the process. I folded up the umbrella before grabbing Duke's keys from his pocket—and smirking. It was bad luck to have an open umbrella inside. Those sort of superstitions enraged Joey, but he wasn't here. I keyed into Duke's room, stripped us out of the wet clothes, and helped him into bed. I turned to leave, but he wrapped his arms around me from behind, pulling me into him. I sunk back into the bed, relaxing in his arms. I couldn't escape that grip. I had no desire to. I wanted to exist in his arms forever. When I woke up, I was buried in Duke's chest. The whole roomed smelled artificial, like it was coated in cologne. Eventually, I acclimated to the scent. I rolled between his pectorals and inhaled. Duke still felt wet, but it was more from sweat than rain. I opened my mouth slowly, pushing my lips out and encircling his skin. I sucked softly. Duke growled, his eyes still closed. He reached around and groped my ass, one hand squeezing each cheek. "Duke," I whispered. "I think I might be--falling for you." "Shut up," he said. He smiled, leaving his eyes closed. Then—without warning—he grabbed me by the head and pinned me to the bed. "Duke." My ass flexed uncontrollably. He picked my umbrella up off the floor, tightening the strap around my wrists so I could barely move them. Then, he pushed the umbrella half-way through the hole in the wall. Once the canopy was on the other side—he opened it. I struggled, but the umbrella wouldn't budge—it was stuck. And so was I. Duke's fingers danced slowly across my chest. "Duke—that tickles!" I gasped. I started to laugh wildly. "Duke! DUKE!" I writhed around. His soft finger grazed my little chest hairs, lingering on the cusp of my belly button. I could feel my eyes widening. "Duke," I said again, barely getting the word out. He buried his finger in my belly button and wriggled it. I arched my back into the air and whined. "Fuck!" "You are at my mercy." I writhed. His cock began to harden, digging into my thigh. My eyes caught the light on the other side of the room. I realized the far side of his dorm-room was covered in a wall-length mirror. He craned his neck and looked into the mirror with me. His deltoids tightened as he flexed. "I look pretty good, don't I?" I nodded, my mouth half-open. Duke's fingers danced between my nipple and my arm. "God," I whispered. Then, with a vicious slowness, he grazed the hair of my armpit, before making his fingers dive inside. I burst into hysterical, bizarre laughter, bucking and flailing inexplicably. "You were doing pretty well with those girls, weren't you? They seemed impressed." I nodded slowly. "Bet they wouldn't be so impressed if they could see you now—powerless and boned up." "I wasn't trying to show you up," I whispered. "Well that's good," Duke said. "Because you can't show me up, can you?" I shook my head. He raised his eyebrow, reached toward me, and twisted my nipple hard. I screamed out and he covered my mouth with his free hand. "You are my bitch." I nodded into his hand. He humped my leg—then my chest—then my cheek. His flared cockhead was inches from my lips. I turned my face toward it and opened wide, breathing deeply. "Good little boyhole," he muttered. "Lick it." I dragged my tongue over his cock, coating every inch of his monster in spit. "Clean my balls, boy." He dipped his balls into my mouth, one after the other. I swirled my tongue around them, drawing out the strong sweat. My eyes crossed looking at the massive cock that ran between my eyes and out of sight. When Duke pulled his balls out of my mouth, I leaned forward and licked the shaft from the base to the head. "You are so worshipful," he said. "Duke—I..." My voice trailed off. "I care about you a lot," I said softly. Duke grabbed his shaft and pushed his cockhead into my lips. I waited to open up as he coated my lips with precum. He snarled and tunneled his cock into my mouth. "Take care of me, then. Suck it." My lips made clicking and smacking noises as his cock played it. He let out a satisfied growl. He pushed his cock deeper and I struggled against the wrist straps. His cock made the familiar journey past my lips, into my mouth, and down my throat. "You aren't gagging, bitch," he said, stroking my neck. I nodded, breathing through my nose. His cock stretched my cheeks out like a chipmunk. It was amazing how readily my body adjusted to suit his whims. Sparks jumped through me, charging me with servile energy. I loved making him happy. It fulfilled me. Something in me was shifting and breaking and reforming. I felt the phantom twinge in my ass again. His stubborn cock forced its way deeper into my face, digging past my lips. I moaned around the shaft. "Without the partition between us, you can't back away when things get rough." I would tell him I preferred it this way—if I could tell him anything at all. He held the back of my head with both hands. Then, with a vicious thrust, he impaled my face with the length of his cock. I closed my eyes and controlled my stunted breathing. Duke slapped my cheek playfully. "Look at me while I fuck your face," he said softly. "Look at the object of your affection. I've been prime fantasy material since the day I moved in, haven't I? It's time you return the favor. I dreamed of a bitch that would indulge me, open wide and let me use her, and expect nothing back. You'll be that bitch, won't you, Holden?" My ass twitched and my dick got so hard it hurt. I flexed and arched my back, held down by the restraints and Duke's brutality. I nodded around Duke's pole. "You acted like I was a nuisance, but that's all it was—an act. You were just too proud to admit you enjoy the way I am. You like it. You just didn't want to admit it." I slurped and rolled my tongue as much as I could in that position. Slowly, he pulled the full length of his cock out of my mouth, dragging it down my chin, then my chest. He coated my body with my own spit. Then, he leaned in and nibbled on my ear. "Admit it, bitch." "You are right, Duke," I breathed. "I like it. It gets me going." "You like being my boyhole?" "I love sucking your cock, Duke. I love pleasing you. It's like I said--I'd do anything for you." My legs were wrapped around him. I tried to hug him, but the restraints reminded me I was at his mercy. "Faggot," he said, pushing my legs off him. He pulled himself back up my body. His chest glimmered in front of my face, followed by his belly-button, his abdominals, and his crotch. The smells mingled, both natural and unnatural—though the smell of Axe had faded some from the night before. He poked my lips with his cock again. "Finish me off, boy." I drooled and slurped. I felt my throat stretching as he explored deeper inside. "Fuck yeah." He accelerated his thrusts, beating against my face. I flexed, powerless in my restraints. He grazed my neck, scoping out where his cock ventured inside it. "Damn, Holden." He grazed my rock-hard dick. I shivered and thrashed around. "You are about to cum, aren't you? You can't touch yourself, or hump the floor like a dog, yet still you are as hot as ever. It's because your dick isn't the source of your arousal anymore. It's what you've become. What I've made you become." I moaned. Like wheels turning on a night road, he cycled further into the dark. Ideas folded on themselves in my mind. "You are my boyhole." He gripped my hair and made me look up at him. His smug smile stretched across his face. I looked over his body. His wavy, overwashed hair, his crystal blue eyes, his porcelain teeth, his dimples, his strong chin. His looming biceps, dense pectorals, and hilly abdominals. His droopy balls swinging, his swollen cock shaft occupying my face. I bucked, but he held me down. "There's no escaping, bitch." I was desperate for air, but it was as I knew from the start—with Duke, there were no breaks. He twisted my nipple, and I lost it, firing burst after burst of cum straight up into the air. Duke chuckled. "That's right, boyhole. You don't need to be so proud. Pride isn't what gets you off." He tilted my head so I was looking into his eyes. "I get you off, boy." Then, he went wild, humping my face into oblivion. He ground his balls into me on his down stroke, chafing my lips. On his up stroke, he pulled on my hair. "You are my fuckin' boyhole, bitch." He buried his cock full inside me; I gagged uselessly; I looked up, seeing a blurred image of Duke's cocky face. Then, I felt his cock pulsing as little pieces of him embarked deep inside. --- Hope you liked it. I always appreciated feedback: krazytop@gmail.com Tumble me: http://krazytop.tumblr.com/