Disclaimer: Erotica is not a how-to manual. I find, when you want to know something, you can often just ask. ;)
Note: I wrote this story a while back and found it recently. I figured I would post it to get me back in the swing of things, since I am planning on posting some of my new stuff in the coming year. I haven't posted for a while, but I'm glad to be back. Feel free to message me.
The Douchebag and the Hole
Part I
"What the hell is that?"
I was staring into space when I saw it.
A hole.
In the wall.
"Um...what do you mean?" Joey asked. He was my boyfriend. He was on the phone with me, in the middle of some story about rust on bridges, and naturally, he had no idea what I was talking about.
"Joey—I gotta run. See you in an hour or so?"
"Yeah, see ya soon," he said.
I hung up and studied it closer.
The hole was just large enough for an eye to look through. A single, crystal blue eye split the light--so that within it the white specks rippled up and down. A voice behind the wall let out a deep laugh and the eye disappeared.
"Seriously?" I said weakly.
This was not how I had envisioned my freshman year at college.
I shoveled my homework to the side, grabbed my keys, and stood up. Fifteen second later I was banging on the door to the room next to mine.
It open slowly, and there he stood, smug, his porcelain teeth and wide dimples smirking down at me. I could smell the Listerine mouthwash on his breath. His chiseled face smelled like peppermint. His dark brown hair was coated in gel and groomed into perfect identical spikes. His sleek black tank top was too small and rode up his abdominal muscles in little waves. I could smell the Axe deodorant smothering his trimmed pits as he brought his arms up leisurely and tucked them behind his head. The curve of his smooth, prominent biceps distended as he flexed for no apparent reason. His slimmed eyebrows caved, his blue eyes widened; the light in them twinkled mischievously.
I cleared my voice. "There is a hole in the wall between our dorm rooms," I whimpered.
"Nice to meet you too," he said, holding out his hand. "I'm Duke."
I scowled, then recovered and cleared my face. "Holden," I whispered. I held out my hand and he caught it, crushing my bones slightly as he shook it.
"Sorry dude," he said. He turned to the side, licked his thick pale lips, and stared at his own bicep, flexing it again. He seemed to suddenly remember I was there. "Yeah, man. I was trying to make a hole in the wall to hang this oversized naked shot of Paris Hilton, but I think I might have made the hole too deep."
"You think?" I said, raising my eyebrows.
"Well, it's all good man," he said, smiling.
I didn't know what to say, so I just looked at him, which he seemed to enjoy.
"I was afraid I might get lonely in a single dorm room," he said casually. "Now it's like we have a double, but it's twice the size of everyone else's double. It's cool."
I snarled. "Look—Duke—I chose a single specifically so I wouldn't have to worry about people watching me when I do my homework and get dressed and shit. If you want to be more social, you should switch to a double, not drill holes to the rooms of people that you hope will be your friends."
He grabbed my shoulder and rubbed it. "Calm down Holden." He gripped my shoulder harder. "Wow. I'm holdin'—Holden!" He laughed.
I blinked.
He smirked. "Come on, lighten up! You were going to meet the people that lived in your hall sooner or later. You can't just hide in there all day. Classes haven't even started yet! How much homework can you even have! College is supposed to be--fun."
"College is about studying," I said softly. "Why did you get a single in the first place?" I whimpered.
"Well," Duke said, flexing his arms again, "I wanted my own personal man cave to take bitches, cuz I get laid so often."
"Of course," I said trying not to flinch. "Fix the hole," I said. I turned and left.
Our hall was co-ed, and the cubbies in the bathroom had been filled with girls' endless supply of hygiene products. My eyes lingered on one neatly organized cubby—it contained row upon row of colognes, body washes, and aftershaves.
I resisted the urge to knock it all over.
There was a bucket on the floor filled with stuff that had been left from the previous semester. It had a small label written on it in spray paint.
I smirked, wondering who thought we would want to reuse some old sponges. That umbrella did look usable though. It certainly rained enough to make me think twice about it.
I did my thing, washed up, grabbed the umbrella, and headed out.
--
I took the subway to meet my boyfriend Joey. He was a couple hours away, but I needed him.
"He drilled a hole in the wall." I whined. "He didn't even apologize! He is so smug about everything too."
"He sounds like an idiot," Joey said. He started to rub my shoulders. That's what Joey liked to do when he wanted head. It made my mouth water. I smiled. I sunk to my knees and kissed Joey's shorts. He whipped his shaggy, black hair to the side and moaned. I sucked on the outline of his hardening dick. His belt slipped off.
I pulled his pants down and his dick sprung up. It filled out gradually and brushed against my face. I focused my eyes and licked the glistening tip.
I reached down into my pants and started to pump. As his dick slowly slid past my pouty lips and across my drooping tongue, my hand traced over my own miniature doppelganger. I smiled around his shaft. I loved how his was a little bigger than mine. He was more of a man than me—in form and function.
I sucked. He moaned and bucked, tracing my hair with his hands.
"Holden," he whimpered.
Precum leaked across my tongue and coiled down my throat. I suckled his tangy dickhead and sweet strings spun out. They slowly coated the inside of my mouth. I moaned and swallowed, forcing his masculine essence down. I gripped the base of my own dick, gasped, then swallowed his dick to the root. It flexed and swelled, pressing at my mouth and neck. I gagged on it, letting my constricting, cum-coated throat massage his shaking dick to the edge.
"Damn, Holden," he squealed.
Joey widened his stance, petting my hair, before resting his hands on my shoulders. He rubbed them in slow circles. I mimicked the motion on my own dick and balls. Then my tongue danced on his deep-seated dick.
He howled and pulled on my shoulder blades, grinding his balls against my lower lip. I felt crotch sweat stick and roll down my chin. I squeezed my balls and hummed.
"God, you are so sexy, Holden," he whispered.
I started to thump my sticky fist up and down. My watering mouth pumped back and forth on his shivering dick. I squeezed and swallowed. I shivered and hummed. I rubbed and lapped. I closed my eyes.
"Holden—you are so—intense today. So—hot."
I briefly retreated my reddened, beat lips. "What do you like about it?"
"It's all good," He said.
Something about those words reverberated in my head. The air tasted fake; I was short of breath. In my mind, I imagined Joey's muscles grow, his smile bend arrogantly, his hands grip my head.
"It's all good," The echo of Joey's voice curled deeper in my mind, into something else.
"Oh fuck," I whimpered. My balls lost it. I jacked my dick quickly, clamping my eyes shut as I pumped. I gasped; my eyes shot open; and my contracting dick released. Ropes of cum soaked my boxers, my body shook, and I couldn't stop sucking on Joey.
"Oh Gaawwwd," Joey groaned. "Oh fucking god," he whispered.
His load flooded my slurping, sucking mouth. I swallowed all of his hot cum and I kept swallowing until his dick was empty and had softened between my lips.
"What was that?" Joey said, laughing slightly. "You are never this horny."
"I've just been dying to see you," I said, letting my gaze linger on the waves in his hair.
I spent the night and most of the next day with him, studying (there were assignments due on the first day of class) with frequent distractions that involved me complaining about Duke, Joey giving me a shoulder rub, or both.
With classes about to start, I couldn't avoid Duke anymore. I returned to my dorm, making good use of that umbrella, and wanting nothing more than to sleep--but I couldn't help but notice it out of the corner of my eye.
The hole.
In the wall. He hadn't fixed it. In fact, if anything, it looked larger than it had before. I scowled, groaned, then yelled, "Fix the hole, Duke!"
There was no answer. Just labored breathing.
I snarled and put my eye up to the hole.
Duke was on the other side. He was lying faceup—shirtless--in bed with the beside light on. Streams of sweat irrigated his rolling abs. His tongue hung playfully out of his mouth, pinned between his porcelain teeth. One flexing arm was tucked behind his head, his pit hair trimmed in an unnatural planar. A strand of sweat coiled down the curve of his prominent bicep. His other arm flexed as it reached under the blanket covering his lower body. It moved back and forth, faster and faster; Duke's trimmed eyebrows furrowed; his breath grew sharp; his bright blue eyes twinkled; his lines of sweat widened and broke.
I couldn't stop looking at him.
The angle he pointed his cock at made it impossible for me to guess what it looked like.
I frowned and turned away.
I woke up the next morning gasping. My hair was on end; my sides were drenched in sweat; and I was shivering. Then I realized it.
I had a wet dream. I peeled myself out of bed and smothered my face with my hand.
What was wrong with me?
I frowned at a piece of paper lodged in the hole in the wall. I snatched it.
Hey Holden,
You moaned like a bitch in heat last night! If that keeps happening, it might make it hard to sleep. If you could jack off beforehand, I would be much obliged.
Thanks,
Duke
I crumpled it into a ball, snarled, and tossed it in the bin.
What a fucking idiot.
--- Tell me if you want to see more. All feedback is appreciated of course. --krazytop@gmail.com.