Date: Wed, 4 Feb 2015 20:12:19 -1000
From: Kyle Weaver <krazytop@gmail.com>
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.


---
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