Disclaimer: Sorry about the longer wait. I should be back to updating each story about twice a month. Don't forget...erotica is not a how-to manual. I find, if I don't know something, it often helps to just ask. ;).
Part VII
I texted Erica a frenzied version of my thoughts.
I think, in some fashion, I wrote about Duke, Joey, organic food, our old high school orchestra, and then the meaning of life--but I started to forget what I wrote as soon as I sent it, and I was too afraid to read back what I had just sent, in case it was even worse than I thought.
Maybe Erica would finally realize how crazy I am. She could just delete the message and shun me from now on. I tried to relax, but as the minute ticked by and my hairs stood on end.
I exhaled when I finally got a response.
<Holden--Why don't we have a slumber party like we used to? I'll bring icecream and the maraca.>
I forced a smile and messaged her back. <Are you going to come all the way out here?>
<Sure, I wanted to see your campus anyway. I'm on my way.>
I lost track of time, staring out the window, looking for fireflies. The bugs were nowhere near me now—there was little more to be seen than the persistent halo of light cast from the street lamp, fighting on and on through the fog.
The frosts of late autumn had scared the creatures into their winter hiding places.
The icy hail storm spanning the last few days was the last straw for them.
Erica had arrived, and I was eager to go down and greet her.
She was unmistakably weird. Over her shoulder, she lugged a big satchel like Santa Claus, though it was a little early for that. When I hugged her, the contents of the bag swung around and banged against my back.
"Oww."
"Oh, you big baby. Did you want to go out and clear your mind? I'll treat you to Gu Shan."
I shook my head. "I kind of want to curl-up like I'm dead."
"Okay," she said, rubbing my shoulder.
We got boxes of food to go from the dining common, walking briskly through the mist. A happy laziness consumed me once I was back in my room. I collapsed on the bed and Erica curled up behind me. She had told me once, years before, that the innocence of my cuddling was the first thing that really tipped her off that I was perhaps—less interested than she was in romance, at the time.
I was happy to be touched. There was no partition between us; not precisely.
Sometimes I wished I was attracted to girls. I hated myself for thinking it, yet, it would definitely make life easier in some ways.
But it was nice having what I had with Erica. I don't think straight guys get that too often. It's hard to imagine Duke cuddling jock buddies, or anyone really. Maybe his girlfriend after he fucks her, I suppose, but maybe not.
I sighed.
Then, I grabbed the cup with the little hole in it off my desk beside me—and slammed it back down so that it crumpled with a thud.
"Are you okay?" Erica asked.
"I'm—fine," I said. "What are the movie choices?"
Erica pulled up the bag. "Oh—we should probably refrigerate this before it melts everywhere."
She handed me a carton of Cherry Garcia ice cream and I put it away in the mini-fridge. Then I microwaved some popcorn, in case dinner wasn't enough. In the meantime, she laid out the movie choices on the bed.
The Last Unicorn, Funny Girl, Anastasia, Pete's Dragon, The Little Mermaid.
I pushed them about, trying to decide, and uncovered another one. "Oh—this one—definitely."
We started to eat the bland dining common food as the opening credits rolled.
Basically, it was about a man with six fingers who killed some guy's father and was ill-prepared to die.
It wasn't long before Erica fetched the ice cream. Frozen, goopy bubbles floated along the surface, trapping the moment in time after the cream melted and refroze. Like a photograph, or perhaps a sculpture, I felt it had a kind of artistic quality. Erica dug through it with a spoon till it looked a little more like food instead.
She handed me a spare spoon from the bag, and I tried not to think about where it has been.
I sighed and took a bite.
When the film ended, Erica revealed she had brought Pumpkin Pie ingredients, and after some whining from me and prodding and poking from her, she convinced me to go with her to the kitchen to make it.
The fact that we just had dessert a few seconds before seemed lost on her.
"The secret ingredient is cloves," she said, with an aura of knowing. "Not a ton, mind you. But enough to taste it. That's the difference between a mediocre pumpkin pie and a good one."
"Why do you have two pie pans?"
"The recipe makes two."
"TWO? What am I going to do with two pies?"
Erica shrugged.
Erica was a very messy baker, and the kitchen looked like a warzone before all was said and done.
We played a few games of ping-pong while the pies were in the oven. The smell wafted over us, and I let it distract me.
"Are you okay?" Erica asked.
"I'm going to text Joey."
<Want to meet us for a picnic at Cherry Hill tomorrow? Erica might come too. I want to talk to you, but I don't want it to be too formal. It is okay if you don't want to go.>
His response came faster than I expected.
<I'm still kind of mad at you.>
<Does it help at all that I feel really bad?>
"What was that about?" Erica asked.
"Just asking him if he wanted to talk."
"I think I should confiscate that. Do you really think you have a clear enough head to talk right now? The message you sent me earlier sounded like... well...how to explain? First, you jammed your phone into your forehead. Then, naturally, you typed a bunch of random letters on accident. Afterwards, in a concussed state, you vomited your thoughts into cyberspace. Finally, you had a near-death experience, which caused you to have a violent fit of shaking and button-mashing—"
"Alright; I get it; Geez! I just asked him to meet us at the park tomorrow for lunch. Assuming you are willing to go."
"Fine. I guess. I just think it is actually good for you to take a step back from romance for a little bit. Not saying I'll get in your way if that's what you want. It's just--Joey and Duke aren't the only two guys in the world, you know? Do they really make you happy?"
"God; I don't know."
We went back to my room--and caught Duke in the hallway.
He had just showered. He was shirtless, and may have had nothing on under his towel. The folds of his muscles were clearly defined in the fluorescent lighting, which cast a series of shadows on him that made him look even brawnier than usual.
"Those for me?" he asked, smirking.
I ignored him, keying into my room.
"Are you really gonna act like this?" Duke asked. His hand drifted beneath his towel and then his fist seemed to tighten there. "What is this even about?"
"Have a heart," Erica said, shifting between us as I walked inside.
"Don't be like that. I've been making his fantasies come true. If you only knew..."
"You've been toying with him."
"So he did tell you. Or at least, he told you his side of the story. What he hasn't admitted—is that he likes being toyed with." He nodded at me and blew me a kiss, grinning from ear to ear.
"No he doesn't."
"Yes, he does. He likes being pushed around. He likes being sort of--a slave for me."
"Go away!" I yelled.
"Why don't you tell her?"
Erica moved to shut the door, but Duke jammed his foot in the way.
"That was before I knew—you had a girlfriend," I said softly.
"Is that what this is all about?"
"You are traffic-jam slow," Erica said, shoving Duke with both hands.
He stepped back, his eyes flickering, his mouth partly open in surprise, but still smiling.
Erica slammed the door. She turned back toward me. "I hate to tell you, but you've fallen for an idiot. God help you."
"Fallen for? What do you mean? I'm not in love with him."
"Never mind," Erica said. "Let's do a mad-lib."
She asked me for a bunch of nouns and verbs and adjectives and filled in the blanks in her little booklet.
By the time she was done, she told me a story about how a duck-like duke named Dick got diarrhea and needed a chipper exorcism.
Before we went to sleep, Erica pulled out Maria the macaroni maraca—an art project we made together when we were about six. It consisted of a maraca with two googly eyes glued on, and a mouth and nose made out of macaroni pasta. We used to do make-believe with beanie babies, trolls, Barbie dolls, and Maria (usually she was some kind of dancing queen). Erica "did" her voice in this warbling falsetto that broke a lot.
"I'm Maria, and I dance Flamenco, baby!"
I wrinkled my mouth as Erica shook the maraca. Eventually, she got me to smile.
The next day, we brought sandwiches and a pumpkin pie to the park. We took some pictures with the statues of Balto and Alice, then rented a kayak for an hour.
It was peaceful, paddling around on the lake, making silver streaks in the water that rippled and stretched into the distance. The lines fractured up ahead where the sunlight pierced the water, seeming to get lost in the glare.
My phone buzzed, and I closed my eyes for a moment.
My curiosity won over.
<I'm here.>
"What is it?" Erica asked.
"It's Joey—he says he made it."
We turned in the boat and found Joey waiting at the top of Cherry Hill.
He was well-groomed as usual, save his shaggy black hair, which, for whatever reason, could never be contained. His eyes twinkled a little in the sunlight. A navy-blue polo hugged his chest. He was built nothing like Duke, but his lithe, tight form had never been cause for complaint.
I liked the way his body felt when he wrapped his arms around me.
When I got to the top of the hill, I leaned in for a hug.
He draped his arms around me, with a tentativeness that slowly morphed into tenderness.
"So—you said this was a picnic?" he asked.
It occurred to me I may have let the hug linger too long. He was still on edge, after all, and might read into it. As for me, I wasn't sure I had the room in my mind to be mad at him and Duke at the same time. Not that I wanted to test that out too thoroughly.
"Yeah. You'll never guess Erica's secret ingredient in the pumpkin pie."
"Is it love?"
"No. It's rust from the Brooklyn Bridge."
"Very funny."
Joey had brought some quiche squares and string cheese. We shared our sandwiches and pie—appreciating the invigorating sting of the cloves.
As the day progressed, Joey's expression seemed to soften. It was making me nervous. He had brought checkers to play if I wanted (tables with boards painted on them loomed up ahead). He decided to teach me a variant called Othello, in which you build rows and steal your opponent's pieces by boxing them in.
He beat me, but I put up a fight for a while.
"You guys can be such nerds," Erica said. "I'm having more pie."
"Do you guys want to come back to my place again tonight? I don't want to be alone."
Erica smirked. "Don't be afraid to tell me if I am intruding."
"I like having you around," I said.
We headed to Flushing for dinner. The Golden Shopping Mall had gotten a bit grungy and rickety over the years, but it still had a bunch of gems, like the old Dumpling House (lamb, chives, pork, shrimp, and squash baked into a big greasy bread roll) and Siruyeon a few buildings down—a must for Erica. We could never miss the Korean rice cake waffles with fresh fruit and cream. Erica tried to pay, but Joey overruled her.
I felt a familiar sense of warmth in my dorm room that night, in their company. I tried to not think about it anymore.
We watched Pete's Dragon, forming a chaotic but comfortable clump of bodies on the bed, with me in the middle. As the film progressed, I leaned closer and closer to Joey till I was on his shoulder. "I'm sorry."
"I know, babe," he said.
Babe?
He really wasn't one for pet names. Perhaps this was his attempt at trendiness—he sensed me changing, and was willing to try to keep up.
If he only knew the pet names that really got me going. My gaze fell to the sealed off hole in the wall, then jerked back to the movie. My body stiffened and my lips twitched, and I willed myself to forget.
Erica turned the television off after the credits rolled. "I'm going to bake some cookies for my study group tomorrow, if that's alright with you."
"What ingredients don't you have in there?" I asked.
"Oh, shush."
"You remember where the kitchens are?"
"Yep. Text me when I am done."
She grabbed her bag and the door clicked shut behind her, and Joey wrapped himself around me again.
"I missed you, Holden," Joey said. "And—I'm sorry I kicked you out that day. I'll never do it again, I swear. I'll never ask for more than just a little privacy."
"I'm sorry too," I said. "I'm sorry I went crazy. It's not just that you are miles smarter than Duke—it's that he doesn't think anything through. He makes everything up as he goes along. He's a clusterfuck of randomness ending in disappointment—like the TV series Lost. I don't think I can live like that. And I feel terrible, like I abandoned you so I could test-drive some random guy, and—"
I fell forward into the chest area of Joey's polo, and he rubbed my back and shoulders until I lost track of time.
"How long has it been?" I asked. "Should we call Erica back?"
"Not yet," Joey said. He pulled me up—and kissed me. He started to unbutton my shirt.
"Joey," I said softly.
He ran his hands up my chest, feeling me flex under him. He palmed my pectorals, then pinched my nipples.
My breathing was slow and deep as he ran his hands over my chest.
When he tweaked my nipples again, I arched my back and bit my bottom lip.
"I can always tell what you want," Joey said, "from how your eyes twinkle."
I tried to be decisive.
My heart was thumping in my chest; my eyebrows furrowed; I bit my tongue.
Then, I reached forward and pulled off Joey's polo.
"I missed you, babe," he said.
I smiled. "I missed this so much."
He leaned in and nibbled my nipple. A barely perceptible, thin path of hair ran from my belly button to the space between my pectorals, and Joey peppered it with kisses, moving down.
"Oh god," I said softly.
He smiled as he unbuttoned my jeans, rolling them all the way off.
Everything was happening so fast.
Maybe Erica was right. I felt my thoughts refracting; I couldn't quite focus.
Joey traced the surface of my underwear. He rubbed my ass; he grabbed my balls; he caressed my dick.
"That feel good babe?"
I whimpered softly.
Slowly, he pulled my underwear away, and my dick flipped up. A few drops of precum flecked Joey's cheek around the corner of his lip.
He smirked, looking up at me, slowly licking his lips clean. We held gaze for a moment.
Then, Joey sucked my whole dick into his throat in one quick motion.
"Fuck."
It was okay, I decided. I needed to get over him. I let my guard down—and let my thoughts roll away.
Joey smiled, sliding off my dick and licking my balls in a slow circle. He grabbed my legs, pushing them into the air, and dropped kisses on my thighs. I threw my head back and bit my lip, gripping my own legs, pulling them up into the air, and exposing my little hole.
Joey groped my ass. "I think you know what you want."
I moaned, my eyes half-shut.
Joey dragged his tongue slowly along my crack. I struggled when he did—the movement seemed to short-circuit my brain, putting my doubts to rest. Joey only did this on very special occasions, as a kind of snap reminder.
He lapped leisurely, making me unwind.
"Do you like this, babe? Do you like me toying with your hole?"
I was leaking all over.
"Fuck me," I said, no longer whispering.
He kissed his way back up the path. Then, he whispered in my ear. "You ready, honey?"
"Yeah, big boy." I said. "Enough of the baby stuff. Be a man--be bold enough to take me."
"Geez Holden. When did you become such a sex fiend?"
I grabbed his dick and positioned it at my hole, cocking an eyebrow.
He smirked and shoved inside.
I cringed. A pulse of pain coursed through me, replaced quickly by a soothing, freeing stretch. I felt full of him as he thrust in; I felt bare as he pulled out.
Part of me lamented the way sex inevitably ends with emptiness. I despised how I would cling to him to stave it off--but I shook the thought away.
I had to exist in the moment.
He packed inside me now, draping his arms around me; he held me in his warm arms; he leaned in—and kissed me.
Our lips played; I felt the slightest brush of tongue. I felt a pang of longing.
"I need it," I said, my eyes suddenly red-hot. "I need this closeness."
Joey brushed the hair out of my eyes. He kissed my cheek. "Everyone does, boo."
He cycled in and out of me.
He flicked my nipple and I giggled.
"Harder, Joey. Fuck me harder."
"If I go much harder, it's not going to last."
I grabbed his ass and pulled him in, making him take me.
My eyes rolled back, and my thoughts flashed to the time I was on the floor, my hands around Duke's strong ass, pulling him into my face.
"Oh, fuck," I whimpered.
"So eager," Joey said, kissing me again. I slid my tongue into his mouth but he pulled away.
Duke left me wanting. Now, even Joey found me desperate.
"So sloppy, babe," he said, half-stifling a laugh.
He formed a firm grip against my forehead and held me into the pillow. I looked up—and panted.
His body wormed against mine as his dick pumped in and out of my ass.
I bit my tongue softly, and growled.
"Make me your bitch."
"Don't talk like that, babe."
I wrinkled my lips. I reached up and pinched his nipple.
"Holden," he whispered, batting my hand away.
"Maybe I should top you," I said.
"Maybe not." He licked his lips. "Gosh, you are a real firecracker tonight."
He folded my legs up toward my chest, pulled his dick most of the way out, and loomed above me. Slowly, he slid back inside me till I felt his pubic hair flatten between our skins. I could sense the vulnerability under his flesh—seeming to jump between us like electricity--the crackling softness of stress breaking little by little.
He kissed me on my cheek as he drew out again. "You wanna get pounded, don't you?"
My mouth fell half-open, and I nodded.
He crammed his dick back in and I felt our bodies collide.
We wrapped our arms around each other; the distance closed; his lips met mine.
This time, he let me get a little sloppy. He was more focused on humping my hole. I let out a moan that buzzed between our lips.
"You really want it rough tonight, don't you, Holden?"
"I need it. I--miss this. You know I crave the feeling. I like how you know what you want—and you take it."
"Not sure that's a perfect description of me, babe."
"Oh shut up," I said, pulling him toward me again. I kissed his neck. I was gentle at first, then I bit down harder.
Joey gasped. His form expanded; he was sweaty now, and he glimmered in the falling dusk.
My eyes drooped, half-closed. His outline, under the silvery lamplight, wrenched at my memory.
"Mmm, yeah, that feels good," I said. "I've been waiting for this."
"It wasn't really about waiting, babe. It's about—"
"Shhh," I said, covering his mouth with my palm.
He pouted into it.
"Fuck me," I said.
He exhaled—and crashed down.
I groaned, making no effort to be quiet. "God, that feels good."
Light played in his eyes. His emotions built up there, where they wouldn't be silenced or contained.
He snarled and drove his dick deeper inside me. My free hand traced a trail down his back and I squeezed his ass again.
Faster, harder, and deeper he slammed. He knocked my cupped hand away from his mouth; he hung his head over me; I could hear his breathing against my ear.
My vision went blurry.
He stretched deep inside me, and I felt my body soften like butter. In this form, I could float away like a bubble, or sink in a heap to my knees.
"Mmm, yeah," I said. Images collided in my mind, and I let them.
With four more escalating thumps, he buried himself full inside me.
"Mmmn, Duke," I moaned.
The light in his eyes flickered as he erupted deep within.
It sent me past the edge.
I writhed around, my mouth half-open, as he glowered down at me.
I shot on myself; then I shot again harder; it rained down on my chest, my chin, and my stomach.
I looked up at Joey, a prickle of fear coursing through me.
"Let's--forget you just said that," he said.
Though his hesitation was salient, he leaned in gingerly, and our lips mingled. I felt myself softening as I wrapped my arms around him again.
That's what it was all about.
It had to be.
Amnesia.
I cursed myself for even thinking about him.
I belonged with Joey. We had always been together; I knew nothing else. There were bound to be hiccups along the way—but we made sense.
I had forgotten a basic reality; I needed it hammered into me.
Guys like Duke didn't give a shit about guys like me.
His gang hung out on the other side of the block; I fell into different circles. Trying to make it work was like fitting a square peg into a round hole.
It was hopeless.
It was a phony and vain motion, the same as running on a treadmill to try to get to the moon.
And as easily as Duke made me forget those things—that's how easily I would forget him.
Feedback always appreciated! The folk that sent me messages really kept me inspired and gave me willpower to stay productive. I might not always get back to you quickly, but that doesn't mean I'm not enormously grateful for kind words and constructive ideas. Kudos to you. :)
email: krazytop@gmail.com